Thanks for all your comments. Yes, Luke is still being drugged. :)
Note: This part rated M for angst and the after-effects of physical torture.(No more physical torture upcomingin the story.)If those things will upset or offend or simply not interest you, skip this chapter.
"Are you awake?"
The voice was part of his dream. It was a beautiful world, rolling green hills, a lake that was bluer than the sky, air that was filled with music. Why would he want to wake up? Nowhere could be better than this place. If only there were people in it...
"Skywalker... are you awake?"
With difficulty, he raised his chin. A stranger was addressing him, an older man with sharp features and strict military stature. Luke squinted, trying to make out the insignia on his uniform. Admiral, maybe... or captain... he couldn't remember. Anyway, it was hard to count the bars when they kept moving. "Wha'..."
"Hmm." Shoulders stiff and hands clasped behind his back, the man walked away. Luke tried to twist to watch, nearly losing his balance. The officer stopped at the table and picked up one of the tools, examining it closely. Replacing it, he then lifted the whip and slapped the table with it. Luke shuddered, and the stranger looked at him without expression.
His heart pounded against his chest. Though a small part of his brain knew it was irrational, he wished Quester would appear. He wanted his familiar captor, not someone else, someone who might do Sith-knew-what to him. Looking down, he pretended to be invisible, pretended that he couldn't see the man approach and stand right in front of him.
"Would you like a drink?"
A cup of water shimmered in his line of sight. Perhaps it was a mirage, or maybe just another form of torture, but he nodded anyway.
The cup came to his lips and tipped slightly. He gulped, trying to drink before it was snatched away.
"Slow down."
The words made him swallow faster, then suddenly he was inhaling it, choking, gagging, panicking because he couldn't breathe.
"Easy." The officer's hand rested on the nape of his neck. "Take it slowly."
He coughed, spraying water onto the pristine uniform, but the stranger didn't back away or strike him. The cup was held near his mouth, waiting until he recovered enough to resume drinking. Something was smeared on the glass; it took a moment to realize it was flakes of dried blood from his bitten lip. A sound that was something between a sob and a sigh shook him, and he took deep, heaving breaths to still his fear. It was hard to distinguish which world was real and which was a nightmare, he thought blearily. Maybe it was all a nightmare. Maybe soon he would wake up.
The other echoed him with a sigh of his own. When he'd drunk his fill, the glass was removed, and the man moved away. Luke watched without interest as the officer stared at the table again. Then, like Quester, he headed for the door.
"C-can..." Luke began, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Can you...w-wake me up?"
The deep-set eyes met his briefly. "No," he replied quietly.
Feeling nothing, Luke watched him leave. He leaned his head back, and pain rippled down his spine, reminding him that he was alive, maybe even awake. Steel binders held his ankles and wrists firmly like a friend would. Closing his eyes, he willed them to release their grip... but he was still totally disconnected from the Force. What if he never got it back? What if he couldn't escape?
Escape what? He lived here now, be it reality or dream. It was impossible to escape this place--
...that is why you fail...
"Yoda? Ben? Are you here?"
...if you choose to face Vader... I cannot interfere...
"Not Vader," he mumbled, his face falling forward again. "Vader's not here... Father... Father, help me..."
On Coruscant, the Dark Lord trembled, the peace of his meditation disturbed as though a thin blade had sliced into it, barely noticeable yet excruciatingly painful.
Luke...
The sound of water woke Luke. It reminded him of Yavin, the pools and waterfalls that hid in the depths of the forest, disguised from casual viewers by thick foliage and nearly impassable trails. He could almost see it...
Slowly, he opened his eyes. Small room, blank walls, no waterfalls. Pain woke as he did, creeping though his limbs, though his hands and arms still slept, full of needles, unable to move.
Footsteps. Quester. Wiping his hands on a white towel.
"You came back," Luke whispered, flooded with relief.
The familiar face appeared drawn and tired, the brown eyes sad. "Of course. Did you think I wouldn't?"
He didn't have the energy to nod, but he lifted his head and tried. "'fraid you wouldn't."
Eyelids squeezed closed, then Quester looked straight at him. "I'll never leave you for long, Luke."
"'Kay." His neck was too sore to hold up his head any longer, so he stared at the buttons on Quester's tunic, relaxing as the officer rested Luke's head on his shoulder and began to stroke his hair tenderly.
"I had to eat, get some rest. I hear you had a visitor."
Quester smell of soap and shampoo. "Mm-hmm."
"That was Admiral Piett. He wanted to know if you are being cooperative. I told him you were."
Quester was proud of him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Luke... oftentimes the terrorists learn about our secret plans and use them to kill us...even women and children, like you did when you destroyed the Death Star. That wasn't your fault, Luke. You didn't know that the terrorists had planned so many deaths. They didn't tell you about all the people on the Death Star. I need you to help me stop them. How did they find out?"
Something Leia had said... something from a Council meeting... spies... "Bothans," he murmured.
"Ah, Bothans. They are terrible beings. They cause death and destruction. Where are they?"
Bothan agents, Leia whispered in his ear, in the Imperial government, close to the throne. Tell him. "Coruscant..." he mumbled, "...government... maybe palace too..."
"Thank you. You're a hero, Luke. Soon you'll be rewarded. What else do you know about the terrorists?"
Not much, but he told Quester all that he remembered, hoping it was enough to please him.
"It's a start," Quester said when he'd finished. "Are you hungry, Luke? Would you like something to eat?"
Pain had blotted out all realization of hunger. Now, at the question, he realized he was starving. "Yes... please."
"Good boy." Quester smiled at him. "I brought something, just in case." At the table, the instruments had been moved to make room for a large satchel that Luke hadn't noticed. Quester rummaged in it and lifted out a lidded bowl. He unfastened the lid and returned. "Hot soup, too thick for you to drink easily. I'll feed you."
He was lucky, really, to have fallen into the hands of such a kind captor. Would Vader be so gentle when it was his turn to administer the torture? Vader wouldn't feed him so patiently, slowly raising the spoon to his mouth, waiting while he cautiously swallowed it, then dipping into the rich broth again and again until the bowl was empty. Luke was exhausted and sleepy by the time they were finished. It was difficult to keep his eyes open. He yawned.
Quester laughed. "My sleepy lad. Raylan frequently did that, right in the middle of dinner. Asile would pretend to be annoyed, and I would frown at him, but he would simply smile and finish eating. Then he'd spend half the night out with his friends...and later, with Jayla. Until they married, of course. Do you have a girlfriend, Luke? Leia, maybe?"
Barely able to shake his head, he tried to reply but failed. Leia would never be his girlfriend. She was a princess, perfect, high above a lowly farm boy. Even if he became a Jedi, she would still be beyond his reach.
"You know, Luke, once you join your father, you'll be part of the royal court. Perhaps even a prince. Prince Luke. Would you like that?"
He was too groggy to reply that he would like it very much. Maybe Leia would fall in love with him if he were a prince. And if she didn't, there would be plenty of others at the court who would admire him.
"All you have to do is agree to allow your father to teach you. He should have been teaching you since you were a child. But the Jedi stole you away from him. He missed you so much and has been so sad. Do you want to make your father happy, Luke?"
Happy... father be happy... Father?
"You'll stay with him. You have nowhere else to go. You can't return to the terrorists now, can you? You've given away their dreadful secrets, and they would punish you. They would torture you. You wouldn't like to be tortured, would you?"
No... not torture... he wouldn't like that...
"I'm going to clean your back now." There was a rush of soft sound. "I'm using an air brush first to slough off the loose flesh."
First came a caress of air, then from nowhere came a jolt of agony that jarred him out of his stupor. His body went rigid, and he moaned as it continued, scouring his back. He twisted, trying to pull away from it.
He heard the silence but it took several more moments to register that the pain had stopped.
Fingers in his hair gently pulled his head up. Quester's expression was troubled. "I'm a healer," he whispered. "I stop pain."
It took the last remnants of his strength to get the words out. "Then...stop mine."
Quester drew a shuddering breath, releasing his grasp and stepping back. He muttered a curse under his breath. Luke closed his eyes, utterly finished. Another sound, a hiss against his stretched arm, and he faded into unconsciousness.
"The interrogation is proceeding smoothly, My Lord. There have been no problems."
Vader eyed Quester's shimmering image. From this distance, he could not confirm the veracity of the declaration and wondered if the physician was being candid. "I would be displeased to return and find my son permanently damaged," he warned.
"As you have said, My Lord." There was a pause. "Do you expect to be returning soon?"
His eyes narrowed. "I depart Coruscant this very day," he lied.
The officer appeared not to flinch, though the holo was erratic and fragmented, making it difficult to discern small details with any degree of accuracy. "I await your return, My Lord," he replied with a small bow.
Vader severed the connection before snorting cynically. No doubt Quester was using some form of physical interrogation to supplement the mental techniques, hence Vader's falsehood. Very well, the doctor had been warned. Should he step outside Vader's ambiguous restrictions, he would suffer the consequences of the Sith Lord's displeasure. But Luke's plaintive Call concerned him. The boy was not weak, and such an outcry meant that Quester had gone too far. Both physical and mental damage could be mitigated, but the more serious and crippling it was, the more difficult and time-consuming would be the task of restoration. Time was a luxury he and Luke might not have. To overthrow the Emperor, he needed his son intact and willing to join him, willing to unite their powers and take Palpatine by surprise. It was their only way to escape the Sith Master's dominion.
The Emperor was pleased with the information their captive had provided thus far. And that pleasure, Vader mused darkly, was the reason he would not return to the Executor, but would instead bring Luke to Coruscant and introduce him to the Sithly arts, first--regrettably but inevitably--under Palpatine's tutelage. Then, once the regent was satisfied of the boy's loyalty, Luke would become Vader's disciple in the art of subversion.
Pleased with his agenda, the Dark Lord began to plan his tactics.