AN: My many thanks for reading this story. Your comments are most gracious and welcome. I hope that you continue to enjoy the story of Luke's and the Rebellion's Dark Times - I have been working on Chapter Two "Pale Shelter" but it's been a little slow due to DRL and I dislike posting when a Chapter is incomplete.

Therethree moreparts of "Network" after this one...

All previous disclaimers apply

Dark Times: Chapter One

Network

Part 11

Artoo Detoo plugged into the droid computer access port in what looked like a mess hall for the Prison Officers. He surfed through the system looking for any mention of his young master. He tried to enter the network for Maximum Security but was firmly rebuffed.

Beeping softly he input another code he had picked up while at Imperial Headquarters. Information spilled forth immediately and he screeched in dismay at what he learned, at who he saw was on his way, at what he saw had been done to his master. And Artoo understood at that moment that it was only he who could help Luke.

But how?

The bolt of energy exploded through Luke's nerve endings. His body curved into a stiffened arch in response and he screamed again through raw vocal cords. He struggled to lift his head, but the effort of keeping it up and straight was becoming nearly impossible as his reserves of strength failed him. The current stopped and he gasped, each breath ending in a soft expression of his discomfort. He stared forward, kept his chin up, knowing it wouldn't be long before he could hold it no longer and was again subjected to a powerful electroshock.

He had tried to find the Force again, if that was what he had tapped into before, if that was what the expanse he had found in his mind represented. But there was nothing, no matter how much he had tried to grasp with his feelings he felt nothing. Nothing but pain enveloping his whole being, nothing but the twisting of already tightened muscles, nothing but the cold crawling of a white drug through his veins that seeped and dripped onto tired nerves, waking them to sear and burn with renewed intensity. There was no Force, no expanse. There was only light, and heat, and cold, and suffering.

He could end it himself. He could shout out, tell them he would talk to them, tell them he would give the names they wanted. Except he didn't know any names, didn't know anyone in the Resistance other than those they already knew about. Didn't know...

..but he did. He knew one more, both Taln and the Doc had mentioned another name, someone from whom they received their orders...

Dade.

He could tell them that name, tell them he was the Resistance Commander, but he had nothing to give after that. If he broke and told them the name they would only start asking about the Alliance. And he knew so much more about that, and so much more would be lost...

He groaned in despair. He dropped his head. He screamed.

Rhovan shouldered a small backpack as he stepped from the turbo lift into the cell block. After leaving the moors he had gone to his apartment and showered and changed before returning to duty. He felt fresher, felt more at peace with himself since he had made his decision concerning Skywalker. It hadn't been a difficult decision after all. With Vader speeding his way to Escaal and with so much to lose he really had no other course of action.

He stepped over to the reception and glanced at the computer terminal before speaking to the Duty Officer stationed there. "How's he doing?"

The guard shrugged as he looked at the picture on the monitor. The pilot was screaming again. "Still holding on, sir." There was a touch of admiration in the man's voice.

"Then perhaps a slightly different approach is needed." Rhovan spoke almost absently, frowning as he thought. "Deactivate the cell's observation and recording systems. I want to speak with him privately." There was a trace of a threat in his tones.

The officer smiled at the request. The Major could be ruthless. It was after such a private meeting that the doctor had died. "Yes, Sir."

"And take a break," Rhovan suggested.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Rhovan turned and headed for the Interrogation suite. He palmed open the door and stepped down as the screaming faded into soft hitches of breath. The Major walked around the suspended figure, taking in the fresh pattern of bruising caused by the beating he had received from the guards when he fell; the discoloured swelling and abrasions on his face. Blood seeped from his wrists and trickled down his arms to his torso from where the binders cruelly gouged into his flesh, his hands and fingers deep purple and swollen. The blaster burn still leaked fluids. The boy's eyes were closed tightly, beads of sweat gathering and running from his brow. He looked flushed and Rhovan suspected he was running a mild temperature, the antibiotics he had received on his arrival having now left his system.

Rhovan took the chair and placed it before Luke. He turned to the droid as he dropped his bag. "Stand down."

The droid backed off as Rhovan took a bottle of water from the back pack. It moved into a corner and hovered there, waiting.

"Fly by."

Luke wasn't sure if he had heard the words; wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks, if the drugs and the pain were making him delusional. He was sure he had heard Taln speak. He tried to move position, tried to pull himself up on the binders to ease the cramping of his muscles but only succeeded in causing more blood to swell and spill over the metal cuffs.

He swung gently.

Rhovan stood in front of Luke. Now that the Rebel was suspended, his head was only just above the Major's eye level. "Fly by," he repeated, watching Luke for a reaction as he screwed the cap off the bottle.

Luke's eyes fluttered open. He saw Rhovan and shut them again as the pain closed in, as he realised the questioning would start again.

Then he felt cool water on his lips.

"Drink," a voice told him. "It's glucose water. You need it."

So he drank. It was cool, it was sweet and disgusting, but he drank because the voice was right. He opened his eyes again as the water was removed. He saw the Major again. He swallowed, waited, flinched as his muscles constricted with the effects of the drug.

The Major moved back a little. "Fly by," he said for a third time.

This time the word made sense. Taln had said only someone from the Resistance would know that was the code word for him. But the Major wasn't Resistance.

He must have found it out and was trying to use it against him, using it to try to prise him open, get him to answer their questions through trickery. "Wo...won't...work," he told the Imperial, weakly.

Rhovan smiled at Luke's tenacity. "I don't have much time, Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker."

"Shit," Luke groaned. They knew him. They had found him out. He dipped his head in defeat. Then he stiffened and brought his head back up, fearful of the droid. He looked bewildered when no current was applied.

"The droid has been stood down," Rhovan explained. He sat on the chair and looked up at Luke. "I need to know what Taln told you, Luke."

"No..thing..."

Then he realised the man had used 'Taln' and not 'Giltaln'. And suddenly he wasn't sure what was happening here.

Rhovan saw Luke's confusion and lifted his bag, taking out another of its contents. He held the cleaned cylinder in front of Luke's face. "Your lightsaber," he told the boy needlessly, and he saw horror behind the eyes, the disappointment and failure. As he continued, though, he began to see understanding and hope grow.

"I saw you hide something as we approached you in the troop carrier on the moor. So I knew where to look. I sat beside you. I shot the Imperial officer and asked if you were injured. You asked me if I was an Imperial and I told you..."

"That...would.."

Luke swallowed again, clearing his throat, feeling renewed strength rise from within. "...be telling," he finished as the Major placed the saber back into the bag.

Ayrn stepped into the reception of the cellblock and was surprised to find it empty of personnel. The computer terminal, the communications and monitoring systems were all quiet. At first suspicious, Ayrn placed his hand over his holstered side arm as he worked his way around the console to where the Duty Officer was normally stationed. He sat down in the empty chair, wondering if Rhovan knew his staff left their posts when he was not on duty and rather enjoying the prospect of having to tell him.

He reactivated the screens and the recording systems and grinned as he noticed Rhovan alone in the cell with the Rebel pilot. He turned the sound system up a little and relaxed back. He had always wondered about these private chats Rhovan had with prisoners, what magic he worked to break them, or to kill them, come the next questioning session.

"I am the Resistance Commander," Rhovan was saying gently, quite friendly, and Ayrn sat up, suddenly even more interested.

"I know your code word because I gave it to you." Rhovan continued. "I know Giltaln's Resistance name because he was my friend."

Completely still, and plugged into the prison computer system, Artoo twittered in surprise at the Imperial's words to his young master.

"You're… Dade?" Luke asked, hoarsely and with some disbelief. The man who had lead the Resistance in his initial rescue was now the same man responsible for his torture. It was confusing; it was unthinkable. And if it was an elaborate ruse he's just fallen for it. "No...you..'re...lying," he accused.

Rhovan held the water bottle for Luke to drink again. "No, Luke. No lies. Too much depends on this. I need to know what Taln told you about the Network. He was a good man, but his mouth could get the better of him."

Luke shook his head. It was still fuzzy, buzzing, but for the first time since he had been brought here he felt a little hope. "Nothing," he repeated, staring at Rhovan trying to gauge the man, trying to measure the truth of the situation. The Major seemed genuine, seemed sincere. But how could he trust the man who ordered him to be pumped full of drugs and hung like a piece of meat? "Nothing..."

"I'm sorry about this, Luke," the Major apologised, recognising the Rebel's dilemma. Knowing Luke needed to be convinced further. "I'm sorry this had to happen. I had hoped to spare you this when I ordered Taln to kill you."

At last Luke believed him fully. "He tried..." he said, flatly. "But...he got… interrupted."

"What did he tell you, Luke?"

"Nothing, really. A… little about...the tunnels. A little… about his family."

"What about the operatives who passed the information about the weapon's development to the Alliance?"

Luke's thoughts were growing hazy. Exhaustion was tumbling in. He felt strange, a little disassociated and it was becoming difficult to keep his eyes open and his mind clear. He found the beckoning darkness seductive. "Nothing..."

"Your briefing before the attack?" Rhovan suggested, seeing Luke begin to struggle. The drug was wearing off. "Were you told anything at your mission briefing?"

"No...no…I …wasn't Squa…squad Leader... Ju…ust Second."

Satisfied, Rhovan returned to the chair and sat down. His expression was grave, sombre. He felt he owed Luke the truth; felt the boy should know what was coming. "Darth Vader is on his way here. For you."

The words sliced through Luke's fatigue with an awful understanding, chilling him. Horrified, he looked at Dade and, getting no reaction from the man, he glanced up at his hands and saw for the first time their colour, the blood running from his wrists streaking his skin.

Why had Dade left him hanging here?

More than a little panicked he struggled futilely against the bonds. "I need… to… get out of here..."

"Don't, Luke," Rhovan advised, gently, as he watched fresh blood rise from beneath the binders and dribble down the boy's arms. "Don't struggle."

"Then… you have to get me… down! Get me… out of here!" His voice broke, scraped and rattled through his raw vocal cords.

"I can't," Rhovan told him, softly.

"Wha...?" The word was torn by desperation before it was fully uttered. "No.. Dade. Please...Get me down!"

Rhovan was painfully aware that this was the first time the Rebel had uttered any kind of plea. "I'm sorry, Luke. Before I handed you over, I had to be sure you couldn't betray the Network."

Luke shook with fury, with fear, with an awful understanding. "I'll… give them you!" he rasped.

"And I'll slap you down, and call you insolent," Rhovan retorted, quickly. "You have already shown an ability for back chat. Who would believe you?" He turned away, lifted the bag and walked past Luke, heading for the exit. "Droid, resume programme!"

The black sphere left the corner, its syringe filling as it approached Luke.

"No! You can't...leave me like this! Please… please!"

The shouts of denial seemed to ricochet in the room and Rhovan turned to watch as Luke was injected again. The droid returned to its position behind the prisoner, one of its appendages extending to touch the boy's back. As Rhovan stepped up to the door, as it opened, he heard the quiet discharge of energy and the accompanying wail of pain.

The door closed behind him, muffling Luke's suffering. He heaved in a breath of recycled air. At least the Network was safe and the boy could be handed to Vader without endangering any more of his operatives.

He started down the corridor, but as he neared the reception area he could hear the cries and yells from the cell echo at the Duty Officer's station. He quickened his pace, concerned that someone had over heard his conversation with the Rebel.

His footsteps faltered, the blood draining from his face when he saw Ayrn sitting in the Duty Officer's chair facing him.

"I have to hand it to you, Rhovan. You're good." The Major was relaxed, smiling.

Rhovan frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully, heart hammering, beginning to feel a little claustrophobic.

"What do I mean?" He gestured at the screen where the youth writhed and screamed at the end of a line. "Look at him! I think you've broken him! That was a stroke of genius, making him believe you were the Resistance Commander! Giving him so much hope and then just snatching it all away! Just brilliant! What was that name you got?"

"Dade..." Rhovan told him, coolly, trying not to let his relief show. Ayrn had completely misunderstood what he had seen and heard.

Ayrn stood, still grinning. "Well, it's not much. But it's a start, more than we've ever had before on the Resistance leader."

"They don't use their real names, Ayrn. It may be a useless search," Rhovan suggested. The boy in the cell was still screaming, body jerking with multiple shocks. Luke wasn't even trying to hold his head up, had given up trying to avoid the pain. Rhovan feared that Ayrn was right about him being broken.

"Nonsense!" Ayrn disagreed brightly. "I'll just bring in everyone who has that name or similar... send the more likely ones to you." He was walking toward the turbo lifts. "The General will be pleased with the progress when I tell him. Sheer genius!" And he was gone.

Rhovan keyed the com on the console desk. "Return to your post," he told his duty officer. "Take the prisoner down and place him in a holding cell until Lord Vader's arrival. Have his conditioned assessed again by a medic."

"Yes, sir!" a tinny voice responded.

Still carrying his bag, Rhovan entered his private office. As the door closed behind him he undid the top fastening of his jacket, loosening the collar. He tossed the bag on his desk and threw himself into his chair.

He had a lot to do. He would have to alert the differing Network Section Commanders that the name "Dade" was compromised, alert them that new arrests where about to begin but reassure them that they were safe. They would wait until Vader was gone, until the fuss over the Rebel attack, the search for the Pilot and his arrest had died down. Then they would rebuild and regroup. And he would have to think of a new code word for himself.

He activated his computer screen, called up the interior of the Interrogation Suite and watched as his personnel took the prisoner down and carried him from the room. He shut it off and slouched in his chair. He would be glad to see this episode end, would be glad to see either Vader terminating the boy or taking him away from Escaal. This whole debacle had been a painful learning experience for him; he had lost good friends, he had underestimated even Mahkren's desire for revenge and Ayrn's resolve to see a job done. Never would he aid the Alliance again in such a way. The risks were just too great for both organisations.

He sighed with some remorse. It was a shame about the boy. Luke had proven to be quite courageous. He possessed a stamina Rhovan had not seen in more mature men, and he had refused to yield no matter what was thrown at him.

But he, like Taln, Isla and the doc, was a casualty of war and Rhovan could live with that. He rubbed his face with his hands, directing his thoughts towards other matters. Very soon Ayrn would be filling his cells with suspected Resistance Leaders and he had to prepare for them.

He lay on his back on the floor of the cell unable to move, unable to sleep because of the drug still working in his system, eyes shut against the glare of the lights above him. He could only lie, and breath, and feel, as his muscles cramped and contorted in response to jangled messages sent from over stimulated nerves. His swollen and bound hands, lay above his head, burning as blood reworked its way into the veins and arteries. Now that his weight was off them, they throbbed in time with his heart beat. As did one thought.

Vader.

Vader is coming. Coming for me…

Coming for me!

He grunted in a breath, choking back a cry as pain purled through his back in a gentle wave and he tried to anticipate it, tried to straighten to alleviate it. But he had no strength, no reserves on which to draw. He lay still, allowing the swell to crest, to break and wash over him. He shivered, a cold sweat rising from his brow. The sweet water Dade had given him rose to urge at his throat. With some effort he swallowed it back, knowing he couldn't afford to vomit, not lying as he was, not when his body cried out for sustenance.

Vader.

All his dreams, all his hopes of one day being able to face the Dark Lord - to stand before him and tell him whose son he was, to face him as a Jedi Knight, to take him and his Empire down - were dashed. Crushed. Now he would be dragged to the Dark Lord, beaten down and unable to stand and confront him as the Jedi he had aspired to be.

He laughed, the sound cracked and bleak. His brief dream of becoming a Jedi Knight had died with Ben Kenobi, had been shattered by Vader almost two years earlier when Vader had killed the old man and had thus killed the only man who could have told him more about his father, his background and where he had come from. It seemed that from the very moment he learned of Vader's name the man had taken away from him everything he had. Vader's troopers had killed his aunt and uncle and destroyed his home. Vader had killed his father. Vader had killed Kenobi. And now Vader was coming here. For him.

Thanks to Dade. Thanks to a man who should be helping him instead of betraying him. Is this how his father had felt when Vader turned on him? Had his father known hope in the darkest of places, only to have it plucked from him in the cruellest of manners?

Despair wrapped itself around him like a serpent, crushing him, squeezing him. He wanted to sleep; he wanted to lose himself in the darkness that the drug was keeping just beyond his reach. He had tried to find it while still suspended, had tried to find at least some transient relief by refusing to lift his head, allowing the droid to shock him, taking the torture in the hope of using it as a gateway to peace.

But the drug was strong, and they had taken him down and brought him to this place leaving him to become a victim to his own mind, his own thoughts and emotions. And somehow, this was worse. And maybe that was the intention.

The door to the cell sliced open, but he didn't dare open his eyes. He heard boots step down heard a voice.

"Lift him from the floor. Put him on the bunk."

His arms were taken and he was drawn across the floor, lifted up and laid upon a surface that was just as hard as the floor.

"Do you think we could have the lights lowered to a level where I won't burn out my eyes when I try to examine him?" the same voice questioned dryly. "Thanks."

Curiosity got the better of his pain and Luke opened his eyes as the lights dimmed to a tolerable radiance. He saw three men; two guards standing by the doorway, and kneeling by his bunk was a medic with a mop of red hair. He frowned in recognition; it was the medic who had field treated him when the Network had picked him up.

"Taken quite a beating hasn't he?" The medic spoke to the guards, shooting Luke a warning glare, while cursing the duty roster that had placed him here with someone who could betray his position. He opened his med-pack and began his assessment. "How many shots of the analeptic has he had?"

"Three," one of the guards responded.

"How long since the last one?"

"Almost two hours."

"Should be almost out of his system," he said as he read Luke's bio read outs. The medic shook his head. "He's got concussion, and still you lot knock him in the head. He's fevered, blaster burn's infected. His back's a mess, if you don't lay off it he'll never walk again," he was speaking almost absently, still reading. "Don't like the look of his hands, can we take those cuffs off."

"We don't have orders, too. You've only to assess him Medic," a guard warned at his back.

"Yeah, but I need to get his temperature down, treat the infection. Else Vader'll do to you what you've done to him for letting him die." He filled a syringe with a honey coloured fluid and took Luke's hands. He hesitated, looked back at the other two men. "Well, do you want to the chance?"

"Go on then," he was told, grudgingly.

"No," Luke whispered to the medic, grasping onto the man's words. "Let me die."

"Yeah, you wish, kid," the medic replied, injecting the drug, and the guards smirked behind him.

Luke felt the familiar cold of a sedative travel from his hand to his wrist and he was abruptly gifted the oblivion he had been seeking for several hours.

General Mahkren turned from the view screen on his office wall as a recording of the last transmission from the Executor, before it left Coruscant, finished replaying. His eyes were hooded and heavy with grief, his face grey with quiet anger. "Why wasn't I told of this earlier?" he questioned quietly.

"Colonel Hume felt it best not to disturb you with this, Sir, until you had returned to duty," Ayrn informed him, shifting nervously on his feet.

"I am the System Commander, Ayrn!" the General retorted sharply, sitting down behind his desk. "No matter what, I am to be told what is happening within my command. Especially when it concerns the Dark Lord of the Sith!" He spat the title with distaste.

"I understand, Sir," Ayrn agreed, pointedly. Then, in light of his success in catching the Rebel and taking advantage of the General's grief, he continued, putting some emphasis on his words. "However, the Colonel is still my superior and..."

The General looked at him sharply. "You never miss an opportunity do you, Ayrn?"

"I'm not sure I understand you, Sir," Ayrn responded smoothly.

"Hume may be an idiot, but he is a decent man. I would much rather have him where he is, than you."

Colour rose in the Major's face. Fear and anger played for space on his features, though he tried to mask them. "Sir," he began. "I think you misunderstood."

"I misunderstood nothing. I said before ambition is a worthy thing, that sacrifices need to be made for the Empire. But greed for position and power is not the same as ambition. I may have lost my son, Ayrn but I have not lost my sense of proportion."

The General sighed and leaned back into his chair. "That is something you have yet to learn."

Ayrn squirmed in the silence that followed, not comprehending what was on the General's mind, not grasping why he was now out of favour, and sorely disappointed not to be considered for another promotion. He wanted to break the silence, want to reassure his commanding officer, but he did not have the nerve.

Mahkren swept a hand to the screen where the message had played out. "So why does our Rebel interest Lord Vader? Or is it the fiasco surrounding him that is bringing the Dark Lord here?"

Relief flooded through the Major as the attention turned from him onto matters he understood clearly. "It hasn't been confirmed yet, but I believe the Rebel pilot may be Luke Skywalker."

"Skywalker?" The General frowned, then repeated thoughtfully. "Skywalker. The name is familiar, but I don't have the time to learn the names and importance of Rebels. Enlighten me, Major."

"He's the pilot who destroyed the Death Star, Sir," Ayrn explained.

Mahkren cocked his head in interest. "Intriguing," he drawled, slowly considering this information and feeling there was a little more to the name, something from the beginning of his command career, from the end of the Clones Wars. He shrugged, dismissing his thoughts. "However, it makes no difference. Even Lord Vader is not above the Law. The Rebel will still face execution when Rhovan is finished with him. The order has been signed."

"Rhovan is making progress, Sir. He tricked the Rebel into giving a name for the leader of the Resistance and I have my staff trying to track him now." Ayrn announced happily.

The General sat up straighter, looking brighter. "Excellent news, Ayrn. How long before an arrest is made?"

The Major's happiness faded. "I don't have a time period, Sir. The name is all we have, but we are currently..."

Darkness shadowed Mahkren's features, anger flared behind his eyes. "And you consider this progress?" he asked quietly, simmering. "A name. No location, no description. The Resistance are reluctant to use their known names, or had you forgotten!" His voice rose as he spoke.

"Uh, no, Sir. But, my staff are working through the data b..."

"Have Rhovan go back to the pilot," Mahkren snarled, furiously. "Have him go back and get something more. That little bastard was with them for long enough, he must know more than he is saying."

"He appeared broken when I left. If he knew any more

"Are you contradicting me, Ayrn?

"Never, Sir!" He pulled himself into a tighter stance. "But Lord Vader will be arriving shortly and if..."

"I am the System Commander!" Mahkren roared, standing and leaning over his desk. "I give the orders, and I have them obeyed, without question! Is that clear!"

"Yes, sir!" Ayrn snapped in response, averting his gaze to behind the General. Then, as the General sat back down, he tentatively suggested. "Sir, It would be beneficial to my investigation if I could question the pilot along with Rhovan. The tactic worked with the doctor and if..."

Mahkren didn't let him finish. He waved his hand dismissively wanting the man out of his office. "Do as you wish, Major. Just get out of my sight."

As Ayrn left, Mahkren slumped in his chair, feeling lethargic and numb, tired. The brief burst of forced fury had left him drained; Ayrn's greed for position had sickened him and had reminded him of his own younger years, his own hunger for rank and status. And look where it had gotten him, where it had gotten his son.

He rubbed his hands over his face, took in a breath of air and switched on his computer console, bringing up his day's schedule on the screen. He wiped it clear, then activated the larger view screen on the office wall, selecting the picture of a dark, currently empty, Interrogation Suite.

This time he would observe his son's killer being questioned.