Not only didn't he remember falling asleep, he didn't even remember getting into his bunk. When he woke it was— geez, it wasn't quite 2100, not even Lights Out. Tentatively he reached for his father and when he focused closely, he wasn't surprised that Vader was at work at his desk.

I see you! he gloated.

I never should have taught you that trick. But there was a smile beneath the grumble. It is good that you are rested. Now you need to be discreet and speak to no one.

Uh-huh, he agreed, intending to do no such thing because he had to find out what was going on. Dad… thanks for being there.

Where else would I be?

That made him smile despite his dejection. I mean thanks for staying with me through everything and getting the database back. You sticking around meant a lot to me.

Hmm.

What was that? Immediately he was concerned. Are you okay?

Yes. You're welcome. I'll always be here for you, Bug. If I'm able.

Great, a qualifier. Luke frowned slightly. Okay.

I'm a bit distracted at the moment. I have a lot to accomplish in a short time.

Oh. Should I leave you alone?

No. The… the specialized medical team is here preparing their equipment, rearranging the surgical suite, and generally disrupting the ship's medical routine. TwoOneBee is exasperated and exhibiting behaviors that are annoying. My… the surgical intervention will begin in three days.

Three?! Already? Well, that was good, but his dad sounded worried. Luke stopped thinking and simply felt. His dad had a head-load of feelings. Anxious, excited, nervous, scared— they tumbled around each other. It was like everything Anakin Skywalker had ever felt was bound up in anticipation of what was going to happen. Which, for a change, seemed a completely normal reaction from his father.

He sent the impression of a hug. I'll be with you for the whole time, Dad, he reassured. I won't leave your side. When should I come?

Now.

Now? Like tomorrow?

No. Now. Tonight. You're awake. There's no point waiting until morning.

Tonight?! But—I mean, okay! His dad must really need him. I have to pack and tell everyone—

Wear your armor and bring only those most precious possessions you can't live without for two weeks, like your purple shirt and Berrie.

And my hairbrush.

Which you won't need when you return to the Alliance.

Oh. Right. He frowned at the reminder. Not that he begrudged his dad the hair— it had been his own idea after all— but his hair was just getting to the length where it looked really good. Now he'd have to start all over. Okay. First I need to stop by and see how the investigation is going and if—

Be cautious. Take your things to Yahoo first. If anyone suspects you, disable them and leave without indulging in an extensive discussion. You know that you become confused when you elaborate on your stories. Minimize your words. Less is more.

Luke sighed.

And remember how to arrive on my ship. Armor, cloak, head down, hood pulled over your face. Someone will meet you in the hangar and escort you to my office.

Okay. Should I…? His question trailed off because he didn't actually have a question. Okay. See you in an hour or two. And...

And you have no more questions. Move it, Bug.

Anyone else might be offended by the curt command. But no one else was affectionately called 'Bug' by Darth Vader and that made everything okay.

Luke took a quick shower and redressed in… hmm. Well, out of respect (and to impress any Imperial who saw him) he decided to wear his black Sithly outfit under the armor. But this time with the wrap boots, which were much more comfortable for long hikes on the Executor than the fancy leather ones. After he strapped on his armor and fussed with the glove fasteners, he threw his 'most precious possessions' in the carryall and marched into the central room.

"I have to leave for a couple weeks," he announced. "Family emergency."

The others looked at him. For no apparent reason, Wedge started to giggle. Zev slapped down his cards and almost knocked over a glass of something that smelled like Mos Eisley. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you!" he retorted with as much sass as he could manage. "I'm leaving all my stuff. You guys can wear whatever you want, but don't mess them up. And leave the mirror where it is! Admire yourselves in it but don't break it."

"Luke, you can't just... You know the situation is…." Zev began, then stopped.

"I'll tell Rieekan before I leave, and Narra if he's in the hangar." He shrugged, trying to look regretful but all he could think was that he'd be with his dad very soon and everything would be better. "Sorry, Sir Zev. When you gotta go, you gotta go!"

Wedge laid his head on his folded arms, his shoulders shaking. Luke still failed to see what was funny. They seemed to be out of control tonight. Some of them were only half-dressed. Sloppy. Maybe even a little drunk. In the old days, he would've used liquor or spice to cope with traumatic events, but he couldn't do that now because he'd promised his father.

And actually, he seemed to be coping perfectly without assistance from substances. Other than pie. And milk.

"Maybe you can bring back a couple tubs of chanilla?" Porkins asked, and Hobbie nodded enthusiastically, chomping on the end of an unlit cigar.

"I'll try." He hesitated and looked at Zev. "Have you heard anything about…?"

"They found three more bodies, but haven't said who they are. Who they were."

"And they're still checking security footage, trying to spot anyone behaving like...suspicious. Have a good trip, Luke," Wes added, his words slurring slightly. "Hope your dad is okay— if that's what 'emergency' means. But you're prolly going shopping. Hobs—your play. C'n we get back to the game now? I still have my pants on."

"You're always the first one to get naked. You lose on purpose," Hobbie accused.

Ugh. Gross. Another reason why he didn't play card games with them when Narra wasn't around. "Later," he muttered as he went out the door. Great, security footage. Well, he supposed that was to be expected. He just hadn't expected it. What else hadn't he thought of?

There was more than the usual nighttime activity around the base, but Luke managed to skirt around Narra who was talking with Rieekan. They were watching work crews wearing respirators shovel through the twisted, smoldering shell of the officers' barracks. His nostrils twitched. The entire area smelled sour, like smoke and burned metal and fumes from every material, organic and otherwise, that had been in the building. He tossed his bag into Yahoo and resealed the door again before heading their way. K'riade and the carpenter shop crew were salvaging boards and sweating while loading them onto haulers. If he didn't have to keep his Force a secret, he could do this for them and it would be really easy. It was so frustrating. All he did here was tell lies and hide his abilities. And blow up barracks. It wasn't like it used to be— before this he'd simply been useless, although extremely decorative. Now he was a deficit. A danger.

Stop moping.

He ignored Vader. "Hi, sirs."

Narra turned and frowned, studying his armor. "Where do you think you're going dressed like that?"

"Family emergency. I have to leave for a couple weeks. How's it going here?"

"Family emergency," General Rieekan repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Uh… same thing it means for everybody. I have family and there's an emergency."

"Indeed." Rieekan and Narra exchanged a look that made Luke want to apologize for having a family, having an emergency, killing people, blowing up a building—

But he didn't. He held himself straight like a professional whatever. "For maybe two weeks, then I'll be back."

"And while you're gone, should we expect an attack?" Rieekan asked bluntly out of nowhere.

"What? No, why?" Oh. Well…. Yeah, he supposed he had mentioned something about a possible attack by Palpatine & Company. Or maybe they worried that the Executor was leaving. He could see why they'd be wary after being safe for so long. Safe because of him. Because he was practically a hostage. Even though he could come and go as he pleased. "You mean, will you still be protected? I don't know. I don't… I mean…. But there could be an attack any time, right? There are always people who… don't do as they're told… right?"

Really, if he was going to talk to the Alliance Council, he'd have to practice. Maybe he needed a class in public speaking. Elocution. He cleared his throat. "Anyway… did Boss explain our plot to you? I mean, I know you know the basics, but what about the extra details? Just in case."

"In case of what?" Narra demanded, his brow creasing.

They were so dense. Luke sighed. "In case everything falls apart while I'm gone for a couple weeks. Like if communications go down, don't panic. Did he tell you that?"

"All he said was 'don't panic', which is not what we tend to do under any circumstances," Rieekan stated quietly. "However, we will try to hold ourselves together while you're gone. Is there something more we should expect?"

Luke sighed. "Sorry, I'm not the best at explaining stuff." Stuff? Did he really say stuff? He had to do better. "No, I'm not leaving because of that. It's personal stuff." Force help him, he'd said it again. "Anyway, that's about it for now. You can com me if anything happens or if you need backup from...well, if you need backup. But please get the Alliance Council together when I come back. I can explain our plan fully then." He paused before asking hesitantly: "Did you find Dr. Andres?"

The commander nodded. "What was left of him— Sorry," he added when Luke flinched. "It appears that the origin of the fire was his room."

"Oh." Luke's heart thudded rapidly, and he clasped his hands behind his back to hide their sudden shakiness. "Do you know what happened?"

"The survivors say there was always disagreement about the temperature in the barracks. Too hot, too cold—they argued like little children. Apparently last night someone turned the air conditioning on full blast, and Dr. Andres lit the portable heater he kept in his room—against safety regulations. Whether it ignited something flammable, or carbon monoxide built up until he was unconscious and then someone else lit something— we may never know. He was shockingly careless."

"That subjective opinion will not appear in the official report." The general eyed the commander, then Luke. "And you will not repeat it."

"Oh," he said again. This was the confirmation he had hoped not to hear. It really was his fault. Cris was dead— four others were dead and— "What about injuries? Were people badly hurt?"

"There were two cases of serious burns. They've been shipped out to a trauma center. Other than that, there were minor injuries from debris, mostly cuts and a few broken limbs. Commander Dreis likely would have been killed too, if he hadn't turned away when you called to him."

And healed him, don't forget that part! "Oh."

Cheer up, his father murmured dismissively. You were only responsible for a few casualties. It could have been worse.

Luke didn't answer for fear his dad would bring up the Death Star. Perhaps Vader realized that and became abruptly silent. He almost sniped back a reminder of 'Burns, Dad, not funny' but managed to keep that horrific thought to himself.

"However, we're not ruling out sabotage," Rieekan continued. "Security footage is being reviewed. We're looking for any unauthorized people who were out here last night."

"Oh," he said, and wished he could find a better word. "I was out here."

"You aren't unauthorized," Narra said tiredly. "Even though you should have been in your bed instead of your ship. Did you notice anything suspicious? You sensed something was wrong."

"Yes, but I didn't know what." I didn't know I would blow up an entire building! I was just killing one guy… I had to protect me and my dad, it wasn't like it was pointless. It wasn't murder for no reason. "I didn't know it would… it would be this big. I thought it would be a little thing like… like Boss breaking his leg." Yeah, something unimportant like that. Something that only hurt one person.

"It's unfortunate that your gift isn't more precise," the general said quietly.

He was taken aback first with shock, then anger. How dare Rieekan criticize him? And talk about the Force like it was— Well, he didn't know what. It wasn't a gift! It wasn't something he could unwrap and use, or something he could turn on and off, up and down, like a thermostat. Or an air conditioner in a barracks.

It's time to leave, his dad urged.

"Yeah, unfortunate," Luke echoed tonelessly. "I have to get going. See you in a couple weeks. I hope you can get the Council to meet with me. Maybe taking down the Emperor will make up for not foreseeing the destruction of a barracks."

That's enough, Luke. Leave now.

Narra bit his lip, but Rieekan's expression remained solemn and neutral. The general nodded. "I'll do my best."

Whatever that meant. It had better be 'best' enough. Reluctantly, he let it go without persisting (only because his dad was watching).

"Have a safe trip," Narra told him. "I hope everything's all right with your...family."

It will be better than all right. He inclined his head. He would be with his dad, and his dad would be a new man after the surgeries. A happier man, a hero like he'd always wanted to be, and that was all Luke cared about right now.

Everything else was too hard to think about and not as important. He needed his dad's logic, his prosaic way of looking at things, and his dad needed him… although he wasn't quite sure why. They were two lost people alone in a galaxy that would never understand them. Why? Why didn't more people appreciate how amazing and how special they—

Luke. Stop the melancholic drama. Get in your damn ship and leave.