Please read the new "The Truth: Interludes, Chapter 14 - Night Shift" before this chapter. (In which Boss drops in on Luke who is sheltering in his ship)

# # #

He wasn't sure why the encounter with Boss had been unnerving, but at least it had distracted his thoughts from the fate of Cris Andres. Sort of. He resisted reaching out to search for the doctor's life because that would only cause him more distress. Maybe Andres had been overcome by the fumes and was dead. Maybe he hadn't gone back to sleep and went for a walk instead. Maybe he hadn't betrayed Luke after all.

Betrayal.

That was what was bothering him. This was the first time he'd been on the receiving end, and he didn't like how unsafe it made him feel. Suspicious now of things he couldn't even name. This was what he'd felt from Commander Dreis. He had betrayed Boss's trust over and over. No wonder the officers were so cautious around him. If it wasn't for his father, they would have kicked him out of the Alliance ages ago.

Luke hugged Darth Fluffy to his chest and sealed Yahoo's entry. Dad? Can we talk?

Yes. Come here.

Not that gray place again! Was that the Voi— Oof! Give a guy some warning!

He was sitting on grass, and when he focused he could actually feel it cool and damp against his hand. Tiny wildflowers were scattered around, delicate shades of pink and rose against the green. A wide waterfall cascaded in the distance, and he thought he could feel the spray of mist in his face. "Naboo. Your paradise."

Anakin Skywalker nodded and plucked a few flowers, holding them to his nose before he tossed them on Luke's head. "Your mother had a dress with these flowers all over it."

"Must have been messy," he teased, brushing the blossoms away. He studied his father who'd chosen to appear as a much younger man, maybe only a few years older than Luke. "Have you found out anything more about Dr. Andres?"

Anakin stretched out his legs and leaned back on his elbows. "His contact was a fellow student, Kalee Sinthus, first in their graduating class at the Academy of Medicine."

"Andres was third. He said the higher two— So this guy is his friend?"

"Apparently, but she is also a recent employee of the EmPal Surgical Center, hired mere days ago. Which may save her life."

Luke widened his eyes in mock surprise. "What? You're going to be merciful? Who are you and what have you done with Dad Vader?"

This time a handful of grass was tossed at him. "It's not mercy, Son, it's tactical. It would be suspect if two co-conspirator physicians died at the same time many sectors apart."

"Yeah." He slumped forward, arms resting on his crossed legs. He picked at the grass. "So you really think they were conspiring? I'd hoped…."

"Andres was not your friend. Do not regret his demise."

Luke flinched. "I don't think he's dead yet. Maybe I could—"

"If he is still alive, with that level of gas toxicity he is brain dead."

"Oh." He gathered a few flowers and made a tiny bouquet. He stared at it. Was he considering a floral memorial? He threw the blossoms to the side. Maybe he was insane. Morally deficient anyway.

"Their first communication involving you directly was earlier tonight after you and the doctor talked. The messages Andres sent her had not yet been opened, so they have been deleted."

His head lifted quickly. "Then we're in the clear?"

"Perhaps. Gallia is tracking to be certain they were not intercepted or diverted. And after the body is discovered, you will need to search the doctor's quarters for backups of his work. I doubt he was that thorough—but we need to be."

He nodded. "Okay. And I promise to be more careful about what I say to people."

"Good," his father said, although Luke heard 'It's about time'. "Today you must begin moving whatever belongings you wish to retain to Yahoo. Hopefully in a surreptitious manner."

After a tsk and an eye roll, he protested: "C'mon! You're not really going to make me leave if Palpatine hasn't found me! And what's with the big words?"

Anakin sat up. "Would it be such a hardship to be with me?"

"Oh please! No! But I'll be there in a couple weeks for your surgery, right? That is," he added uncertainly, "if you're still going through with it."

"Yes, with revisions to the plan. I'll bring the surgeon and other essential staff to the Executor. The surgery will be performed here instead of Carosi."

"Dad— is that safe?"

"Luke, the ship is a city. It has multiple medical facilities, including surgical and recovery centers— as you, unfortunately, should recall. You and TwoOneBee will be there to be guard against anything...untoward...that may occur."

Untoward? "Okay, but—"

"And don't worry about bringing your clothes. You know everything is duplicated."

"I suppose. But I need my purple shirt."

"That's—"

"And Berrie. And my pajamas and robe. And my new hairbrush. And my embroid—"

"You don't need enumerate your possessions. You are far too materialistic."

"Yeah, right. Can we walk?"

"Even your incorporeal self can't sit still," his father observed as they both stood.

"Like father, like son!" His grin faded. "Speaking of… Dad...is there something wrong with me?"

Anakin headed in the direction of the waterfall. "I don't know how to answer that. Please specify."

"I'm serious!" He trotted to keep up with his dad's long strides. "Sometimes it seems like I don't belong. I mean… like I don't belong to myself. That I'm someone else. Somewhere else. And that… I'm always faking it. I don't feel the way other people feel— I just pretend so I can fit in better. That probably doesn't make sense."

"It does." The waterfall grew silent, though the water still tumbled and the mist remained visible in the air. "You're trapped between two worlds."

"That's what I told Boss. The Rebels and the Empire."

"No. Bug, your high level of midichlorians separates you from ordinary beings. You exist inside the Force, powerful as a god, yet you live as a simple mortal." His father draped an arm around his shoulder, then rested his hand atop Luke's head. "As a Jedi, I always felt out of place. Like I was, as you said so eloquently, someone else. I always knew that I didn't belong, that I wasn't a true Jedi— I was 'faking it'. Even though I could express myself as a Force being, I never quite fit the Jedi mold, possibly because I began training so late—or because I knew what it was to love someone. Two someones. My mother and Padme."

"Oh." He wrapped his arm around his dad's waist, hoping his closeness could offer comfort to fill some of this well of sorrow. "Did that change when you became Sith?"

"In a way." Anakin sighed. "For years, the Jedi masters criticized me. I interpreted their teachings too freely, some said. I wasn't disciplined. I was impulsive. I was impatient. I was disobedient— even though my ideas were always better and successful."

"Always?"

His father shrugged. "There may have been one or two incidents that didn't go as planned, but they all worked out in the end. Except, of course, for the End."

Luke leaned heavily against Anakin, whose fingers began carding through his hair. "And for every trait the masters criticized, the Chancellor offered praise. I was naive, believing his approval was altruistic when he really wanted me for my power. He created me for his own ends."

Luke considered the words. "Do you mean that literally? That he...made you?"

"I think so. Of course, I cannot be certain because he is elusive about my Force lineage. My mother told me I had no father, so Palpatine may have used alchemy to create me."

That was creepy when he thought about it. "But that means he isn't really your father, right? Your mother hadn't… didn't…?"

Anakin glared and released him, taking a step back. "Absolutely not! Why would you think something so depraved?"

"Okay, sorry!" Luke flushed. "He's not an embodiment of the Force, right? Because if he was, he'd be 100 percent Force, and how could we defeat him if we're only 75– oh, 78 percent Force? But if he isn't 100 percent, then…. Wait, you said he killed his master. How?"

"He stabbed him in his sleep."

"In his sleep? How did he get close enough? Why didn't his master sense him? Eww…." Luke grimaced. "They weren't… you know…."

"Again— how has your mind been so corrupted that is the first thing you consider?"

"Hey! Maybe I inherited—"

"I am cutting off your access to every database in the galaxy. And no more watching vids that I have not authorized."

It was an empty threat, but Luke feigned contrition.

His father looked skeptically at his downcast expression and continued. "I don't know how he did it. Maybe drugged him. Used the alchemy his master taught him. Poisoned him. I don't know. Shall I ask him for pointers?"

Luke clucked his tongue and folded his arms. "Tell me more about how you didn't fit in. And why I don't fit anywhere."

"You fit with me, and I with you. The Force binds us. Perhaps it makes us renegades. I received too much discipline that I rejected, and you received too little. There is no one else in the galaxy like us. Everything about us is ferocious. Our anger, our battles, even our passions."

"Ooookay." He wasn't sure about that last thing. "What about Leia? Is she 'ferocious' too?"

"Her circumstances are different. She was raised in a royal court and indoctrinated in protocols and discipline from childhood. She does not have your volatility. Nor mine."

"Yeah. She's probably 'encumbered with pointless scruples'." When his father ignored that quote, Luke continued, "I've been thinking about what you said."

"I'm flattered."

Luke ignored his father in return. "About blowing up that ship and not caring about it. The lives, I mean."

"And?"

He pursed his lips. "I still don't feel bad about it."

"Why would you? Do you 'feel bad' about killing your deceitful doctor?"

Well. Good question. "I did at first," he answered slowly. "Before I knew what he was doing. Now… no, I don't feel much of anything. Does that make me Sith?"

"It doesn't make you anything," his dad snapped. "Do you enjoy killing?"

Ouch. "Not… exactly. But it's exciting to shoot down ships."

"You know this because you have shot down… how many?"

"Oh, stop!" His face heated. "Not very many, but that's not the point. Does a Sith enjoy killing?"

"I take it you're referring to me."

"Ugh." He managed to roll eyes again and sound disgusted at the same time. "Fine! Yes, you! Do you enjoy killing?" He figured he already knew the answer but waited in case there was a denial.

He didn't expected a correction.

"I enjoy winning and will take all steps necessary to do so. That is all killing is, the means to a desired end. Although…." His dad paused. "Sometimes it's for pure satisfaction. I enjoyed it when I was a Jedi. All the Jedi did. They preached pacifism while threatening with weapons, while I went straight for my lightsaber." Anakin chuckled at his last words, then sobered and stared into the distance. "When I turned Sith, my old master said that I had become the very thing I had sworn to destroy. Little did he know that thing had always been in my heart. But then he sliced off my limbs, so maybe he had known all along and was just waiting for an opportunity to justify an attack. He always had to be right, you see."

The sound of the waterfall returned. It was so loud that it vibrated like a stampeding herd of banthas. "Geez. Maybe you're being a little paranoid." And can we NOT talk about Obi-Wan for a change?! "And nobody is your master! Not Kenobi and not Sidious!" His dad turned around and stalked away. "Wait up!"

Anakin whirled. His eyes were changing, glints of gold piercing through the blue like streaks of lightning. "I have been too protective of you—again. You are not afraid… but you should be. You do not understand what it means to be Sith and what will happen if Sidious captures you."

"Join him or die, right? Well, fine, then I'll die! I'm not gonna become like you!"

His father stared at him wordlessly.

"I mean, not the reporting to Sidious part," Luke corrected quickly, worried that he'd hurt his dad's feelings. "Everything else—I want to be like you. Well, not everything else, but… But I don't want him to take me and— separate us."

Anakin wasn't mollified. He shook his head, amber curls glinting in the sunlight. "So easily you say you would prefer to die. Luke, that would not happen. Unlike me, there is nothing merciful in him. You would be tortured until you turned. And tortured after you turned. Physically, mentally, emotionally—he would use his Sith powers on you. Your life would be hideous beyond belief. I should have told you earlier, but I didn't want to frighten you."

"Go ahead, frighten me," he said uneasily. "I need to know the truth."

"The truth terrifies me. He wouldn't kill you. He would use me against you, and you against me. Our attachment would turn us into prisoners, easily manipulated with threats to the other. He would do the unimaginable to you, but he would never kill you. You would try to die, hope to die, beg to die. But he won't allow it. You would wish with all your heart, struggle with every bit of Force in your blood, use your mind to its fullest— when you were able, when it wasn't clouded with agony. No matter what you try or how hard you wish or fight or defy, he will do the worst thing he can— he will make you live."

Oh. It wasn't only about him. This was his father remembering. Luke didn't know what to say. The threat to himself was in the future. But all this had happened to his father. Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader. This was his reality. He was caught in the grip of a monster that held him and tormented him in ways— his dad was right— in ways that Luke couldn't imagine.

"We're going to kill him." He swallowed. "Even if we have to sneak into his room at night and stab him. We'll poison him. We'll beat him to death with sticks. We'll slice him apart with our lightsabers. We'll feed his body to rats. We'll make him eat a bomb and detonate it. Dad." He wrapped his arms around the rigid, shaking form of his father. "No matter what it takes, we'll kill him."

# # #

The alarm went off just after 0700. Luke, sat up, groggy after a few hours of deep sleep. He vaguely remembered his dad influencing him to doze off. Good thing, because after the descriptions of what Palpatine would do—

Cris Andres. Luke bolted into the fresher to be sure he didn't look like he felt. Everyone would know by now. Cris was dead and someone would have found him. Or maybe he wasn't on early duty today. Maybe he would just lie there until— Ugh.

He headed to the mess hall, trying to walk slowly and confidently. No one could suspect he was involved with the death as long as he remained calm. On the other hand, he was hardly ever calm so maybe he appeared suspicious already.

Whatever. He needed to stop pretending and be himself. And right now, himself was anxious, his stomach didn't feel right, and his hands had a faint tremor. Plus, GUILTY was probably etched across his forehead.

"You were out early." Wedge smiled crookedly. "Trying to score points with Narra?"

"No, I was just fiddling in my ship." Luke managed to smile back. "Then I fell asleep."

"Didn't get much shut-eye, by the looks of you."

"Thanks a lot." He was grateful for both the banter and someone to walk into the mess with him. It made him feel less conspicuous. People would say, here come Wedge and Luke, instead of why does Luke look guilty, what has he done? "Anything new?" he asked casually.

"Not that I've heard. Boss is probably still chatting up Narra."

Oh. Right. The memorable visit with Commander Dreis had been buried under a few other thoughts.

Wedge pulled open the door. "After you, your lordship."

"I—thank you, my good man." He'd almost stumbled verbally. The title sounded so natural. He could be a lord, Palpatine would make him one in exchange for endless suffering.

The hall was crowded with Day Shift scarfing breakfast, although he saw two Night Shifters sneak in, hoping to get off duty early and doing a quick about-face when they saw Boss. There was a lot of talking, but no one was subdued or sad. They didn't know about Dr. Andres yet. He went through the line with Wedge, not hungry but obligated to get his normal protein breakfast. At the end of the counter, a few purple flowers had been placed clumsily in a water glass. They'd be fine for the memorial later.

What is WRONG with me? What a horrible, unnatural person he was. No matter what his dad said, he wasn't normal… well, okay, he wasn't normal, he was unique, but he should have more scruples. He should be encumbered with lots of them.

When they joined the others at their usual table, the first thing Luke did was gulp down his milk. He was so thirsty; he felt dehydrated, like he hadn't had a drink in years. It was gone so fast that he stuck his tongue out to get the few remaining drops.

"Have mine," Janson said, pushing his milk over. "I hate the stuff, I don't know why I got it."

"So you could give it to me, obviously. Thanks!" He decided to ration it and guzzled only half. "What's new?"

Zev shrugged. "I just got here. Hey, Boss!" He raised his voice. "Anything new?"

Damn! He didn't need Boss—

Narra and Dreis both turned their heads. "Not much. Anything you know about, Luke?"

"Uh…." His eyes widened. "No. Why would I? I mean, how should I?"

Narra crooked his finger. Luke slumped, but stalled by finishing the milk first.

"What did you do now?" Hobbie asked with interest.

"Nothing!" Nothing that they knew about anyway. He clambered over the bench and stood in front of the two commanders, hands on his hips. "What?"

"What sir," Boss corrected.

"I'm not on duty yet." It seemed like the best camouflage was to be his most obnoxious self, the worst they could expect.

"You're going to have a good day," Dreis observed to Narra, who rubbed his forehead.

"Boss said that you were feeling uneasy earlier, maybe a premonition of trouble."

Luke bit his lip, waiting for a question. Narra just raised one eyebrow and Luke caved. "Yeah. I dunno." Maybe a little Jedi hocus-pocus would help his cover story. "I feel that something isn't right. Or something's going to happen. I don't know what. Not an attack," he added when Boss opened his big mouth. "That would feel different. This is… smaller." Like a deceased physician. Tick-tock, a dead doc. He almost giggled irrationally, then looked pointedly at Dreis. "Maybe someone's going to fall off a ship and break a leg."

Garven Dreis sighed. "All right. Be sure to let us know if you figure out what the problem is."

"Absolutely, my not-boss Boss!" He saluted smartly and waited until Dreis walked away. "Anything else, Commander?"

Narra shook his head. "Let's have a quiet day, shall we?"

"I'll try," he promised, although it wasn't really a promise. Like he'd told his dad, sometimes a promise was more like a hope. "Still, you never know—"

His words froze on his tongue. Sensations bombarded over him— screams, fear, loud, very loud, bright lights— His gaze blurred. This was—

"What is it?" Narra had risen. The Rogues were looking up from their meals.

"No," he whispered, and bolted, jumping over benches and swerving around people, racing to get to the door, hearing others calling, a few scrambling up to run after him. He tumbled into the central yard. Boss was halfway across, not pausing to speak to anyone, heading toward the—

"NOOOOO!" Luke screamed, and Boss turned around and Luke thrust out his hands, Forcing Boss to the ground and—

The officers' barracks disintegrated.

There was a sudden roar of fire that glared orange and yellow and blue, and flying debris— screams, fear, loud, very loud, bright lights—

A wave rippled across the ground like a sea swell, knocking him off his feet. He shielded his head as cracked boards rained down, slapping against his back and legs. Luke squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated, building a wall of protection around Boss and himself and extending it over the others who were ducking near the mess hall.

He lay there, momentarily dazed, listening to shouting, to burning timbers that popped as flames lapped through them. Turning his head, he saw Boss lying prone, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. He staggered to his feet and made his way over, dropping to his knees. A long shard had speared Boss through his side and he was bleeding out into the dirt. Luke grabbed the wood with his fists—

Don't pull it out, his father warned. He will bleed to death. You are unhurt.

He felt alarm in the statement that was a half-question even though his dad could sense his condition. I'm all right. I need to— I need to help him.

You will heal him and the splinter will ease itself out as you work. I will guide you. You can do this.

Okay. He had a mission. This was something he could do. He was a Healer. He was good at it. He had to concentrate on Boss and not think about…

There was a roaring noise as walls collapsed inward.

...the barracks.

Wild, star-like embers swirled in heat drafts.

...the officers.

Someone screamed in pain.

...the officers' barracks.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut.

What have I done?