Dark Times: Chapter One

Network

Part 10

The door to his private office sliced open and Rhovan turned from the monitor screen on his desk, forcing a smile as Ayrn sauntered in carrying a small data pad. He suspected the Major enjoyed visiting the detention centre, suspected that he took a sick delight in viewing the pain and suffering inflicted on others.

"What can I do for you, Ayrn?" he asked, leaning back into his chair.

Ayrn grinned. "Just wondering what you'd got from him. The General is anxious to know." He spun the monitor toward himself, his smile growing at the sight of the Rebel spread in a stress position against a wall. Muted gasps came from the speakers as the youth expressed his exertion. "How long has he been like that?"

Rhovan ignored the last question, though he was quietly impressed by the Rebel's stamina. He had seen men in the prime of their fitness last less time in a stress position than this injured boy, but he was not about to divulge any information to Ayrn. "The General knows my methods, Ayrn," he explained. "Despite what has happened, he knows better than to ask for results this early. Why are you really here?"

The Major's smile turned devious. "We've received some interesting news, so I did some digging on your Rebel. Thought you might like to hear what I found."

He tossed the data pad to his counterpart then gave a running commentary as Rhovan scrolled through it. "I put your pilot's description and first name through the data base on Rebel suspects. There were several "Lukes", lots of blond haired, blue-eyed idealists. But only a few known pilots who fitted his description, and only one of them is named Luke."

"He might not be in the data base, Ayrn," Rhovan told him, glancing up from the pad. "We don't know every member of the Alliance."

"Look at the name I highlighted."

Rhovan looked down, eyes widening in surprise. "Skywalker? That's the pilot Lord Vader has shown an interest in."

"Your pilot fits his description perfectly," Ayrn announced, looking pleased with his discovery.

Rhovan read on. "It says here Skywalker's from Tatooine. That he carries a lightsaber and has Jedi abilities. Levitation, un-natural displays of strength. Mind control?" he finished with astonishment. He gestured to the monitor, voice thick with scepticism. "The pilot was completely unarmed when arrested and has shown no such skills."

Although he was still on his feet when he had no real business being so.

"Lord Vader is on his way as we speak."

"What?" Rhovan looked shaken at the news. "You've alerted him without solid proof?" This had to be the most foolish act Ayrn had even taken in his attempt to climb the Imperial ranks.

Ayrn shook his head. "No, apparently he was on route just as we caught the Rebel. Got me thinking about why the Dark Lord would becoming here."

"Perhaps because of the weapons plant? Perhaps because of the closed supply lines and shipping lanes? Perhaps because of the terrorist activities?" Rhovan threw back at him, enjoying the fleeting look of fear which passed over Ayrn's thin face - after all he had been in command of the search for the Resistance and the Rebel. Rhovan handed the pad back to the soldier.

"There's more on it," Ayrn told him. Then he explained. "The Resistance operative with the boy has been identified as Giltaln Forel."

Rhovan frowned, leaning forward to take the data pad again. Then glanced up in surprise. "The architect?"

"Didn't he designed your prison facilities?"

"Yes," Rhovan responded, tightly. "I considered him an associate."

"As did I, and the General, " Ayrn added, with some contempt and disgust in his tones. "It makes one wonder who else may be involved with the Resistance."

Rhovan shrugged, handing the data pad back to Ayrn. "Well, his betrayal hasn't..."

A cry emanated from the monitor catching their attention. Rhovan glanced at the screen. The Rebel had fallen and his guards were trying to reposition him without much success.

"Duty calls?" Ayrn suggested, smirking.

Rhovan switched the monitor off, stood and tugged down the jacket of his uniform. He had to get in there quickly before his guards lost their patience and beat the boy to a silent pulp. "So it seems," he answered laconically. "And what of yours?"

Ayrn glanced at him sharply, eyes narrowing in resentment of the reminder. "I'm doing mine," he stated, curtly. "I thought my information might help with the interrogation."

The Primary Interrogator sighed, smiled and shook his head. Ayrn had the petted lip of a toddler. "I'm sorry, my friend. I have had as little sleep as our young guest and I am eager for this business to end. Tell the General I will keep him informed of my progress."

Aryn nodded. "Of course."

They exited the room together. Ayrn headed for the turbo lift and Rhovan watched him leave with envious eyes. He would much rather be headed in that direction himself, would much rather have mundane and routine duties to attend to, would much rather have any other job than the one which he was so good at. He turned and walked quickly down the cell bay toward the interrogation suite.

Luke had no track of time, had no sense of how long he had been maintaining the forced stance. The strain on his shoulders and back was terrible, the muscles of his upper arms becoming tight and bunched. Beads of sweat ran from his pores, making his skin slick, stealing much needed moisture from his parched body. His back cramped rhythmically, his legs felt heavy, his feet numb. The shoulder wound burned, the damaged muscles beneath compelled to work despite their hurt His whole body trembled violently.

He blinked sweat from his eyes, shut them against the thudding of his head. Even breathing was difficult, each intake of breath caused pain to lance through his chest from his cracked ribs.

He had briefly considered defying his captors. Had been tempted just to sit down and refuse to do their bidding. But he knew disobedience would have resulted in greater pain. So instead he had become determined to withstand this, to show them that no matter what they did he would not falter. They would not break him. And so his inner mantra had begun.

...Stay up. Stay up. Stay up. Up. Up. Up. Up...

With each beat of his heart, each throb in his head the words repeated until they were all he thought of, until they had become his entire centre and the pain from his body faded from focus, became dim and fuzzy like an ill remembered memory. His ragged breathing slowed as a peculiar sense of calm descended, it was almost like...

Let go your conscious self...

…and there was an open expanse before him. Quiet and still. Nothing...but something...a sense of...power...strength and energy. It was raw, unused and...he could see his guards, smiling behind him and a coil of anger twisted in his stomach, the expanse around him grew dark. They were laughing at him, enjoying his pain and...

There was something else. Someone else was watching with him. He looked around but could see nothing in the blackness now, could hear no one, felt...

Someone reached for him. A cold touch...

"Luke?"

"No!" he cried flinching back, terrified by the voice from within, the crawling feel of another in his mind. He fled from the violating presence, from the corruption he felt, the longing he sensed among the darkness. The agony of his body swamped him, the horror of his situation flooded back. Confused by what had happened, overwhelmed by pain, Luke's legs folded beneath him and he crumpled onto the floor.

He received no respite as the guards seized his arms and he was pulled upright.

"Get up!"

He hung in their grasp, exhausted, unable to move. They shoved him to the wall, knocked his feet apart trying to force him to stand, but he slid down. They cursed him, yanked him up...

"Stand! Put your arms out!" the barked orders were tight with anger and irritation. "Put your hands out!"

But he couldn't, his legs wouldn't hold him, his arms wouldn't obey him. His thoughts were in disarray a blend of the real, the remembered and the imagined. His consciousness slipped between the three.

The guards pulled at him, their hands slipping on his slick skin, fists driving into his side. Then Taln was grabbing him and throwing him upwards towards the ladder, his hands trying to grasp the rungs. Then he was in the dark expanse, and the presence was there; deeply shadowed and threatening. Looming over him, reaching out for him and he was trying to get away, trying to run...

"Stop that!" Rhovan barked as soon as the door to the interrogation room opened and he saw that his staff were beating the prisoner, as he had known they would. He stepped down as the two men moved back leaving the Rebel groaning on the floor. The Major lifted the pill bottle from the chair and the water from the floor. "Sit him down."

The guards picked the boy up and sat him on the chair. The Rebel, barely conscious, slipped down and the guards had to hold him by the shoulders to keep him from falling off.

"Luke?" Rhovan questioned, watching for a reaction. "Luke, look at me."

Luke could barely hear the words through the white noise in his ears, the droning of his headache. He had difficulty understanding them through the haze in his mind, difficulty focusing on what was being asked. Everything felt surreal, dreamlike, and he had trouble trying to work out what was happening.

"Look at me, Luke."

He tried to open his eyes, tried to lift his head, but it was too big, too heavy. He smiled at this thought; at the mental image of a large head lolling around on his shoulders.

Rhovan frowned at the smile, uncertain of its origins, concerned for his prisoner's mental state. He nodded to one of the guards who placed his hand under the Rebel's chin and lifted his head. The Major studied the battered features, listened to the quick breathing and the quiet moans of distress. "Open your eyes, Luke."

Luke had to concentrate hard, had to force his eyelids to work. He saw light, saw a blurry figure in front of him. He blinked rapidly fighting to clear his sight, trying to bring things into focus, trying to clear the clouds from his brain, trying to stay awake.

Rhovan handed the bottled water to his guard. "Give him some."

His head was tilted, cool wetness hit his lips, washed over his tongue. It felt good, tasted better. He coughed, choked and drank, feeling some trickle from his mouth down his neck and chest. Then it was gone, and he licked his lips hoping to catch a last few drops. The water brought some clarity to his mind and he opened his eyes to see the Primary Interrogator watching him closely.

"Do you know where you are?"

Luke tried to nod, realised his head was being held. "Ye..." his throat clogged and he clear it. "Yes."

Rhovan hid his smile at the verbal reply. This was progress. The Rebel's resistance had been worn down by the fatigue of sleep deprivation, by the stress stance, by the pain of his injuries. He was sick, confused and would be more pliable, more open to suggestion. "You're tired, Luke. Still in pain. You could have your painkillers. I could have you taken to a cell with a bunk where you could rest and sleep."

He looked at the guard still holding Luke's chin. "Let him go."

Then he crouched down next to the chair holding the Rebel's gaze, showed him the bottle of pills. "I could get your wounds tended, get you something to eat, more water. But you have to talk to me, Luke. You have to tell me about the Resistance."

Luke looked away from the man. "'Nothing...to tell," he whispered, hoarsely.

A guard behind lifted his hand from the Rebel's shoulder, but Rhovan shook his head, and he placed it back, pulling Luke further upright.

Rhovan stood up and took a few paces away from the prisoner. The Rebel's answers were interesting. He was not responding with the normal name, rank and number, which military prisoners would repeat and repeat. It became their focus, their defence against the pressure and stresses placed on them.

If you knew the Dark Lord of the Sith had taken a personal interest in you, would you give away your identity so easily?

Perhaps this boy was Skywalker.

"The man you were with has been identified as Giltaln Forel," Rhovan continued. "He's dead and it is you who has been left to pay for the actions of the Resistance."

"Bill...me."

He received a blow to the head from behind, the impact lancing through his skull from the back to the front. He squeezed his eyes shut against the hammering thud, against the dizziness that surged over him, the nausea that rolled in his belly.

Rhovan gave him sometime to recover his senses before warning him. "Luke, smart answers will only bring more pain..."

"...Grounded," Luke broke in, wincing still. Picturing his Uncle Owen giving him another scolding.

"What!" Rhovan barked, puzzled.

Luke heaved in a breath. "Sm...art...answers...get you...grounded," he explained.

The Major back handed him across the jaw. Stunned, Luke slumped to the side and was caught before he could fall from the chair. The guards righted him, held him as he gagged back sickness, as he struggled against the encroaching black out. He raised a shaking hand to wipe at the dribble of blood from his lip, but a guard stopped him, pushing his hand down.

The Primary Interrogator stepped back massaging his knuckles, his mood angry. "Giltaln Forel," he stated as Luke opened his eyes again. "Who else did you have contact with?"

Luke shook his head and then regretted it as a wave of pain undulated through him, the nausea coiling in his stomach once more. He flinched, swallowing before answering. "I...don't know. Don't think...they used...their real names."

"Describe them."

"Can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Won't."

Rhovan sighed. So much for him being more pliable. The boy had more spirit than he had given him credit for. Perhaps another approached was needed.

"You were hidden in the System Commander's home." He paused as a slight smile coloured the Rebel's lips. "A member of his staff was apprehended. A Twi'lek female."

Luke's head jerked up in reaction. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach.

Rhovan smiled at the response. "If I understand Twi'lek anatomy correctly the tentacles are extremely sensitive..." He watched fury and horror cross the Rebel's face, saw understanding blaze within his eyes. "I could spare the female from interrogation, but only if you provide the information we require."

"I can't," Luke told him, desperately. They had Isla. He had hoped she had made it out. "I...don't...know what...you want!"

"We'll make you watch."

"I don't know... what you want," Luke repeated frantically, gasping. His voice betrayed his pain, his anxiety. "Even...if you hurt her...I still wouldn't know."

"Name all the Resistance operatives you had contact with, or describe them," Rhovan told him. "Do this and we won't harm her."

"I...only had contact with her, Taln and..." he trailed off.

Taln had thought they had captured the doctor, but how could he be sure of that. What if they had found his hiding place by other means and the doctor was still out there? He couldn't betray a man who had helped him. But, could he really sit here and watch them do this to Isla? Could he sit back in silence and let her be hurt after all she had done and sacrificed for...

...Isla had taken the detonator. He and Taln hadn't travelled far before the explosions shook the tunnels apart. They may have found her, they may have her, but was she alive? Were they trying to trick him?

"And?" Rhovan questioned.

"You're lying," Luke accused him evenly, with a trace of a smile. "Isla's dead, isn't she?" He met his tormentor's eyes, knowing he was about to be hit again and fighting not to cringe in anticipation.

The Major didn't disappoint as he backhanded Luke again, lashing his head back, knocking his teeth together. Luke spat blood from his mouth.

Rhovan waited until the Rebel rallied himself, until the blue eyes met his again. He nodded. "Very perceptive," he conceded, as he opened the container of Luke's painkillers. "I may have exaggerated about the Twi'lek, but I meant what I said about getting some rest. And about the food and the water, and having your wounds tended. But that offer is past."

He emptied the pills onto the floor and ground them under his heel. "Perhaps you need more time to think?"

Luke blanched with consternation, recalling what had happened when the Imperial had given him some thinking time before. "I can't...stand." He was sure of it. His legs were blazing with pin and needles, his back hurt and his ribs hurt even while sitting. He wouldn't be able to sustain any position this time.

"You don't have to," Rhovan told him smoothly, turning from him. "Bring the droid."

A panel slid back on the far wall and from behind it floated the black sphere of an interrogation droid. Luke wasn't given time to react as the guards seized him. One grasped his left arm and locking it straight, exposing the veins of his inner arm. The other pinned his upper body to the chair. He tried to struggle, tried to fight as the droid floated closer, as the syringe fixed to it flooded with a white, creamy liquid.

"Back off!" Luke shouted, trying to fix his feet onto the floor to push. But he had no strength and gave himself only more pains. He closed his eyes against the droid, against what was happening. "Back off!"

Let go your conscious self...

..and the expanse was there, and he saw himself limp in the guard's grasps, he saw the Major watching him closely, saw the droid. And then he saw himself wrenching free, pulling his left arm from the tight grip. Saw himself throwing his hand forward towards the droid and screaming...

"Back off!"

Rhovan watched from the side as his staff held the prisoner. The droid floated closer, syringe filling with the nerve stimulant - designed to enhance pain levels while keeping a captive awake. He watched as the pilot struggled, as his movements became more frantic. Then, suddenly, the boy relaxed, eyes rolling in his head. At first, Rhovan thought the boy was taking a fit, but he abruptly twisted his arm free, threw it out at the droid and cried out.

The droid's momentum was sharply reversed. It flew back and smashed into the far wall, where it fell to the floor, silent and deactivated.

Darth Vader opened his eyes and stared at the white interior of his meditation chamber. There had been a vibration in the Force, a brief gust of power that had died as quickly as it had arisen. He smiled, feeling for the first time a sense of pride. His son was strong.

The Emperor turned from the grovelling representative of his finance committee. He had felt something; a burst of light, a brief flash of brilliance in the darkness around him. His mouth turned down in abhorrence at the sensation. Although the boy had been abandoned by the Jedi and could hardly be regarded as a threat, it would appear that young Skywalker had more potential than he had given him credit for. However, it was the effect the brat's existence was having on the Dark Lord he was most concerned about. Once Vader had satisfied his curiosity, the boy would have to be destroyed.

Luke opened his eyes in the moment of stunned silence that followed and found the Primary Interrogator staring at him with an intense curiosity. He dropped his gaze shaken by the strength of the Imperial's scrutiny, shaken more by the feelings that had suddenly rushed through him, by the power he had used to send the droid spinning. But it was gone now, leaving him a little giddy, empty and afraid of what he had done, afraid of what was about to be done to him.

"Replace his restraints," Rhovan ordered as he stepped over to the droid.

He had never seen anything like this, never experienced a machine malfunction so violently, and he suspected that the Rebel was to blame. Once again he gave consideration to the idea that this was indeed Vader's Rebel pilot. This required more investigation, but for now there were some lessons to learn. He stooped down and removed the syringe from its fixing. It was unbroken, still full.

Luke allowed them to bind him without a fight, wincing as the cool metal shackles were replaced around his ankles, as his wrists were tied before him by the slim, solid cuffs that bit tightly into his skin .

"Drop the cable."

A thin metal cable fell from the ceiling in front of Luke and Rhovan paused allowing Luke to see the corded duristeel, the clamp on the end.

"Shit," Luke breathed softly, refusing to utter a denial, a plea for leniency as he realised what they were going to do. "Shit...shit..."

"Hoist him!" Rhovan barked.

The cabled was fixed around the solid bar between the callous bangles on his wrists. The slack was taken up, the line tightened and he was lifted from the chair, lifted off his feet and was left dangling several centimetres off the floor. His weight strained on his cuffed wrists - the metal rasping his skin - and on his shoulders. His back muscles cramped and he bit back a cry.

Rhovan handed the syringe to one of the guards. "Give it too him."

The needle was crudely thrust into his shoulder muscle, the plunger depressed and the drug flowed into his body. He stiffened in response, stifled another cry, then hung limply waiting for the drug to kick in, wondering what it would do, what effect it would have.

Rhovan stood before him. "Keep your head up, Luke," he advised. "When you're ready to talk, this will end." He turned to leave, stopped and added. "We have more than one droid."

The panel in the wall slid aside and a second droid drifted out. One of its appendages extended as it manoeuvred behind him and he felt something cool and metallic touch the skin on the small of his back lightly. At the same time he became aware of his body reacting to the drug as it filtered through his tissues into his blood stream. He was more awake, more aware. The discomfort from his wounds suddenly intensified and his back clenched as he arched against the growing agony. A groan escaped him and his head drooped.

A blast of pain hit him from behind as the droid sent a surge of energy through his spine. He screamed as he convulsed. It ended, and a guard lifted his head. Through the blur of tears he saw Rhovan standing before him.

"Keep your head up, Luke," the man repeated, then he walked past him with the guards, and the door closed leaving Luke hanging, alone, with the droid.

"Sir!" a voice called as Rhovan strode for the Turbo lifts.

"What is it?" he asked, turning back to the officer stationed in the reception, annoyed at being stopped. He was eager to leave this place, eager to travel up a few levels to the courtyard, to his speeder, eager to feel the sun on his face.

"A communication from Lord Vader."

"Does he say when he will arrive?" He needed more time with the Rebel before the Dark Lord took him.

"No, Sir," the guard apologised. "Though he states that we may question the Rebel as appropriate, but he is not to be allowed to die."

Rhovan glanced at the monitor screen, at the youth gently swinging from the ceiling. "Then observe him closely. Should his condition change take him down, call a medic and alert me immediately."

"Yes, Sir."

The Major turned from the screen, but his eye caught a small black sphere lying on the floor in the corner of the picture. "When he is removed from the suite have maintenance brought down to check the droids. We don't want a repeat of what happened." Although he had a feeling the maintenance techs would find nothing a miss with the droids. He turned and entered the waiting turbo lift not giving the man time to acknowledge his orders.

Artoo had followed the wall all the way around and was now back at the only entrance to the prison complex. He sat tooting softly in despair, wondering how he was going to get in to find out what was happening to his young master, when the gates opened and a landspeeder drove slowly out into the traffic of the city. As the gates gradually closed over Artoo Detoo slipped in, and found himself faced by a detachment of stromtroopers and another gate.

"You droid, what are you doing?" the lead soldier barked, taken aback by the appearance of the small blue astro droid.

Artoo scanned the area and trundled over to the access port he found. He plugged himself in and entered one of the security access codes he had discovered while trawling through the central computer in the Imperial Headquarters. The second gate opened, and Artoo tooted an explanation to the troopers while he moved toward the court yard beyond.

The trooper shrugged, not understanding what the droid was saying, but it possessed the access code so it must have legitimate business within the compound. He turned away, not giving the little machine a second thought.

A light flurry of sleet was falling over the moor as Dade pulled the speeder to a stop. The clouds were grey and heavy. The wind tossed the grass and he was thankful to be warm within the canopy of the vehicle. He stared out, past the tiny flecks of snow that clung to the plexi-glass for precious seconds before melting, stared out at the huge rock that jutted out of the ground a few metres away.

This is where they had picked up the Rebel, rescued him in plain sight by a simple plan. This is where they, perhaps, should have shot him immediately, sparing lives, sparing him the agony he now suffered due to his refusal to answer a few simple questions. And, at that moment, Dade hoped he could last a little longer, until he could return to the prison and figure out what to do now.

Now that the Dark Lord was on his way, now that they had strict orders the Rebel was not to die. It was a complication he could have done without.

A strong gust of wind shook the speeder drawing him from his thoughts and he popped the canopy, braving the sleet and the growing storm. He splashed through the wet grass toward the rock, still not sure why he was here, what he hoped to find.

No, that was a lie, he knew exactly what he was looking for and why. He was here to verify the Rebel's identity. He was here because he was sure that when he had been sitting in the cab of the trooper carrier coming over the brow of the hill, with the lights highlighting the pilot against the granite of the rock, he had seen the boy push something behind him.

He crouched down at the spot where the pilot had been sitting and worked his hand under a jutting lip of rock. His fingers brushed something hard and cylindrical. He pushed his hand in further, taking a hold of the object and he drew it out. He wiped the mud from it carefully, held it by the handgrip and pointed it away from himself before pressing the activation stud.

He jumped as a blue white laser blade grew from the handle. He deactivated it, not liking the feel of it, and returned to his speeder. He tossed the lightsaber onto the passenger seat.

Skywalker.

The youth was not to die, and yet the pilot held information he, Dade, needed to protect.

He keyed his com. "What is the prisoner's status?"

"The droid's administered another dose, Sir."

"Any sign of submission?"

"No, Sir, but he's been taking more shocks."

The boy was weakening. He needed to buy some time. "No-one goes to him, until I arrive, even if he breaks. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Network Commander Dade - or as the Imperial Army knew him; Primary Interrogator Major Erwin Rhovan - switched the com off. He gunned the speeder's engine and turned the vehicle back toward the city.