All previous disclaimers apply…

Dark Times: Chapter One

Network

Part 13

It was getting harder now. Every fibre of him was stretched to the limit by the searing pain that rammed into him, thrusting and stabbing his already weakened body. He could hear the droid's repulsor hum, could feel its electroshock probe at his back. He could hear their questions just as he could hear his own moaning and panting, his cries and his screams. He knew what they wanted, knew what they were asking, knew what would happen if he didn't give them what they wanted. And worse, he knew the answers to their questions.

"Bang out, Luke!"

"Wedge?"

"Eject! Dammit!"

"Can't... Wedge..."

Rhovan move closer, eyes narrowing at the whispered words.

Luke's head had fallen forward, his hair, greasy and limp, covered his features. His body had slackened and the tremors, that had afflicted him for so long, had diminished in intensity. He now hung loosely from the ceiling, his breathing soft, but still somewhat laboured. "Wedge?" Rhovan asked, knowing the analeptic drug was wearing off, knowing Luke's thoughts were becoming confused and unfocused. The youth could be hallucinating. "Come on, Luke. Tell me about Wedge." Behind him he could feel Ayrn's interest pique.

"C... Can…t," Luke murmured again, eyes closed against his agony. It wasn't just physical: it was emotional and mental. His thoughts were loose and hazy. Random words and images appeared in his mind, memories firing through his head. Memories of home: of the farm, of burning corpses. Memories of the Death Star corridors, of Han and Leia, of Ben: of death. Of Biggs... Yavin... Moving base, joining the squad, arriving at the new garrison on...

No!

His feelings were wild, out of control and he couldn't reign in his fear, his terror, his fright. They slithered through him, twisted tight within, creating a perpetual state of panic. They played with him, teased him and bade him disclose.

"Give me something, Luke!" Rhovan ordered, encouraging and cajoling. "Give me something and this can stop. Tell me about Wedge." He didn't know what, or who, Luke was talking about, but it was a way in, a lever to use to open the crack Luke had revealed.

Bang out, Luke!

"No. P..ick... me.. up..."

"Who'll pick you up, Luke?" Rhovan asked. Ayrn stepped forward, but Rhovan held his hand up, keeping the other man silent.

Luke shook his head, slowly. "I... Imps..."

Ayrn sniggered. "A little late to be worried about that, wouldn't you say?"

Rhovan glared at him briefly, before turning back to Luke. "Open your eyes, Luke... Look at me."

It took effort, it took concentration but Luke dragged his swollen eyes open to blink in the harsh light. He squinted at the blurry man before him.

"Do you know where you are?"

And the eyes closed again. "In...trouble..."

Rhovan couldn't help but smile. Even near breaking point the boy had courage. "And do you know who I am?"

"Dade," Luke told him. He was tired, so very tired. He could feel the darkness returning, could feel the warmth of its embrace enfold around him, dragging him down into its hollow expanse. He wanted to go, he wanted oblivion and peace.

"Yes, Luke. I'm Dade. And you know you can trust me."

"Just brilliant," Aryn muttered behind him. "Genius!"

Luke shook his head. Droplets of sweat falling from his hair. "No... no..."

Rhovan reached out and swept the hair from Luke's face. "You can trust me, Luke. I helped you before, on the moor, remember? My men snatched you from the Empire, Luke. We took you to safety. I can do that again if you help me now. Wouldn't you like that? To be safe and not be in pain anymore."

Not to be in pain.

It was true: they had helped him. They had taken him from the moor, given him medical attention. They had helped him, and now Dade was asking for his help. But he couldn't do this, couldn't trust him. Dade was the same one who hurt him now, left him to the droid.

"Look at me, Luke," Rhovan ordered firmly, breaking through Luke's gathering delirium. When the boy's gaze met his he continued, "This is all an act. You know who I really am. You know what I truly believe in, and it isn't the Empire. Help me, and I'll stop the pain."

Bang out, Luke.

"Go... home, Wedge." His eyes were shut again, his attention turned inward, seeking another place.

So Wedge was a person...

"Help me, Luke," Rhovan repeated. "Tell me about Wedge, and I'll take away the pain." He nodded to the droid, standing and watching as Luke jerked and twitched along with the rhythmic pulse of power that surged through him.

Ayrn shifted his feet, wincing at the Rebel's prolonged screams. "Rhovan?" he questioned, becoming uncomfortable as the passing minutes showed no abatement.

When it stopped, Rhovan cupped Luke's chin. "Luke?"

He frowned at the lack of response. The droid's syringe flooded with the drug once more, but he waved it off. "Luke? Stay with me, Luke. Just a little longer." He smiled as he was rewarded with a murmur. "Tell me about Wedge and that won't happen again."

The darkness curled around him once more, calming him after the searing light, the blazing pain. He heard the voice echo around him with a cold promise and he wanted to believe it, wanted to grasp it to him and hold tight the sliver of hope it gave him. "C.. can't..do..this," he wept,"…anymore."

"Then help me, Luke. Help the Network! Tell me about Wedge! Who is he?"

He moved his hand from Luke's chin to his bruised cheek, wiping away the tears and the blood with a brush of his thumb. "It's okay, it's okay," he soothed, quietly, whispering. "This'll be over soon. Tell me about Wedge."

Bang out!

"Made.. the.. the..jump.." The words felt strange as they tumbled over his tongue. He swallowed blood from his mouth.

"Wedge is a pilot?"

"Yes..." It was said as a sigh through more tears. His back hurt so much. His legs seared with needle points.

"Your friend?"

"Yes..."

"And he left you here?"

"No...told... him... to go."

"Where is he now, Luke? Where is Wedge.?"

The voice sounded so far away now. So far away from him and he found it hard to move his own lips, found it difficult to feel the muscles he needed to use to speak. "... Home..."

"Where is home?"

Ayrn stepped forward, eager. Listening for the name of the Rebel base.

Warm air, and sunlight. Tan sand, golden dunes and red rocks.

"Tat... Tatooine..."

"Tatooine?" Aryn asked, his voice heavy with scepticism.

"His home world," Rhovan stated bluntly, speaking to Ayrn over his shoulder. He watched Luke closely, growing concerned. "Luke, Wedge isn't on Tatooine. Where is he?"

... Night was falling, the evening winds picking up, swirling tiny grains of sand around his ankles...

... a woman dressed in simple clothing, calling him home...

..."Luke?"

"Luke?" Rhovan questioned, anxiously, as the boy went slack on the line. His eyes closed and a quiet breath of air passed his lips.

"Luke?" He moved the boy's head, felt at his neck for a pulse and smiled with relief at the throb beneath his fingers. "He's out cold."

Ayrn glanced to the droid. "Then bring him round! He's cracking, we almost had the Rebel base!"

"No, he needs to rest. If we push him again we might kill him."

Ayrn shook his head and gestured at the black sphere behind the Rebel. "The droid hasn't alerted us to any indication of a fatal failing within him, Rhovan. We need to press the advantage we have now!"

Rhovan stepped back from Luke, turning angrily to Ayrn. "I am the Primary Interrogator, Ayrn. This is my call!"

"Then call it!" Ayrn screeched, his voice gathering in pitch at his frustration.

Rhovan turned to his guards. "Bring him down."

"What?" Ayrn rasped in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

Rhovan had to ask himself the same question. What was he doing? His actions were clearly going against his norm, his orders out of character, even his own staff showing surprise, although they said nothing. Was he doing this out of a sense of pity, or sympathy for the boy? Was his admiration and liking for the youth's courage clouding his thoughts as it had clouded Taln's? Or was there something else here? He smiled at Ayrn's incredulity. "I thought I might give Lord Vader the satisfaction of breaking him."

Aryn's expression of astonishment, melted into a wide smirk. "You really are a bastard, Rhovan," he said with some admiration.

Vader swept down the ramp of the shuttle ignoring the small collection of prison guards and officials that had hastily assembled for him. He strode purposely across the courtyard toward the waiting turbo lift, barely seeing the small blue astro droid plugged into an access port by the door as he stepped into it. The door closed behind him and the elevator began to descend.

Artoo tooted softly to himself, relieved the Dark Lord had past him with scarcely a glance. He had hacked into the prison mainframe and was watching Luke's interrogation. He drew a close up of his young master's tormentor, knowing that what he was hoping to accomplish depended very much on the Interrogator and what Luke seemed to believe of him. But he was still unsure of exactly how his hopes could be achieved.

Rhovan watched as his staff brought Skywalker to the floor. He lifted another bottle of water and was about to pass it to his men when the door opened. He glanced up and watched in sudden trepidation as Darth Vader stepped down into the room, having to stoop to get through the door. Rhovan had never seen the man outside of the holonet news and his size and bearing filled the room with a menace cleverly enhanced by his black helmet and suit, and his measured, unnatural breathing.

Ayrn stiffened, gasping quietly at his side. Rhovan set the bottle back on the chair and stepped forward. "My Lord Vader," he began, perturbed that they had not been alerted to his arrival.

Vader ignored the Primary Interrogator, turning away from man's greeting, his focus entirely on the crumpled figure on the floor. The guards jumped to their feet and stood aside as he moved closer and gazed down at his son.

Even through the mask he could see the damage done. Luke was lying on his side, clad only in a pair of dark briefs, his face turned slightly upward, his features swollen, bruised and bloodied. His hands, swollen and purple, lay bound above his head. His wrists were gouged deeply by the restraints that were still attached to a thin metal cable from the ceiling. His ankles were also shackled. His torso and limbs were mottled with bruises and abrasions, marked by dried and fresh rivulets and spatters of blood. His shoulder looked painfully disjointed. A raw burn marked his back, and as Vader moved, as his cloak hem brushed Luke's skin, a low moan rose from the dry, scabbed lips.

A slow, aching anger rose from within. If this were any other Rebel he would not have noticed the injuries, he would not have...

... cared...

... taken the time to assess the traitor's condition. He would have used his closeness, his very presence to push the boy to his limit and beyond, but this was no ordinary Rebel who had been beaten and abused. This was...

"My son. My grown up son."

"Your methods are brutal, Major." He interrupted his own thoughts, pushing away memories that belonged in the past, belonged to another man and which threatened to flood him with other feelings, other emotions of which he had no use. He gathered himself, turned solely to his simmering fury and addressed the Primary Interrogator.

"They are effective, my Lord," Rhovan told him coolly and carefully, picking up choler in his superior's voice.

Ayrn stepped eagerly forward. "We were very near to breaking him, my Lord,." he offered.

Rage flurried within at the thin man's words, at his glee at Luke's collapse, but Vader tempered his urge to reach out and grasp his throat and crush it. "Is that so," he rumbled.

Ayrn paled.

"Then we shall see…" Vader turned to Rhovan's men. "Raise him back up!"

He stood to the side as the slack in the cable was taken up, and Luke was once again suspended. The boy groaned within his unconsciousness but did not waken. Vader waited until Luke's head was level with his own before signalling the guards to stop. He took Luke's chin in one hand, angled his head upwards until they were face-to-face and mere centimetres apart.

"Wake him!"

The droid moved in and injected Luke with the white analeptic drug. Vader watched as the youth began to stir, as his face contorted as he returned to his pain filled state, as his muscles cramped and twitched. He took a sharp intake of breath and opened his eyes. Vader watched as his son focused on him, as his eyes widened with a terrible realisation of whose hand was touching him, holding him.

Luke yelled with terror, the cry an involuntary reaction to the shock of waking to the unexpected sight of the obsidian mask directly before him. He instinctively jerked his head away, but the black-gloved hand held him tightly. He struggled futilely against the strength of the grasping fingers, against the bonds around his wrists, against the absolute horror of his situation, but his movements did not last. Exhausted and beaten, he gradually grew still and turned his eyes away, refusing to look upon the mask of his father's murderer. He had never felt so lost. He had never experienced such empty anguish, such wretchedness.

Rhovan watched with interest, as only the boy's gasping moans and Vader's automated breathing broke the quiet within the room.

"You have allowed your fear to consume you, boy," Vader noted with sepulchral tones. "But it is your anger and hatred that has sustained you thus far."

The closeness of the man was stifling, suffocating. Every agonising breath he took, seemed to amplify the man's very presence and...

The words directed at him cut through Luke's invading panic and his gaze was drawn back to the Dark Lord. There was truth in what Vader had said. He had been succumbing to his fear; he had allowed himself to despair. But how could he not? How was he supposed to resist against the torture he had endured, was still enduring, especially now when his plight had become so much worse?

Vader smiled beneath his mask, feeling Luke's bewilderment. "You cannot," he responded, smiling further at the boy's startled reaction to his verbal acknowledgement of private thoughts. "You cannot resist further, Skywalker."

Hearing his name uttered by that voice caused a rough twist of anger to rotate within. Is that how Vader had said his father's name before he had murdered him? Was this monster's mask the last thing his father had seen before being struck down. Luke mustered his strength, used all of his animosity to answer. "I...can try..."

Standing to the side Rhovan frowned. This was not the defeated boy he had lowered to the floor only a few minutes before. Any other prisoner would have collapsed further on waking to find themselves still suspended, still in pain with no end in sight to their suffering bar their own submission. It appeared that Vader's presence had given Luke a renewed focus, and the Major had no idea what the source of that focus could be. It was intriguing.

Vader walked around Luke speaking as he moved. "And you will fail," he stated, callously. "You are gravely injured. It is drugs that keep you conscious and coherent. Your pathetic attempts at drawing upon the Force have only prolonged your suffering."

It took effort to find his voice again, took concentration to work past his pain and form the hoarse words. "I.. won't betray... the Alliance... as… you betrayed... my father..."

The biting words stopped Vader. He had thought it unlikely that Luke would have been told the truth about him. He had known that Obi-Wan would have fed the boy lies to keep him loyal and ignorant, but to be accused of betraying himself was laughable.

He leaned close to Luke, who instinctively tried to turn his head away. "It was not I who betrayed your father," he hissed with an unspoken meaning he knew Luke would understand.

"You turned her against me!"

Luke bridled at the hidden suggestion, at the slur on Obi-Wan, and he struck back the only way he could. He spat at Vader, but having no saliva it was blood from his burst mouth that splattered upon the angular cheeks of the mask. It still had the desired effect as the Dark Lord averted his head at the unexpected act of defiance.

Vader stepped back, wiped a glove over his mask and stared briefly at the blood on his fingers. There was a brief rush of pride at his son's challenge, at his son's stubborn audacity, but the open act of rebellion could not go unpunished. He hit out, angrily, his fist striking Luke across the face.

The blow tore a gash under Luke's eye, whipped his head to the side, and sent more blood spraying from his mouth. Luke slumped, head lolling, senses reeling, but he was held in check by the drug. He was not permitted to pass out.

"My Lord Vader!" Rhovan broke in. He had stood by with Ayrn and, as much as the exchange between the two was interesting, as much as he had realised that Vader and Skywalker had some shared background, he felt it necessary to re-focus all of their attentions. Besides, any more knocks like that to the pilot's head and he might not be able respond again, no matter how much drug was pumped into him.

"Forgive me, My Lord…" He bowed his head in deference when Vader turned to him. "I am eager to continue with the interrogation given his willingness to talk prior to your arrival."

Luke hung, allowing the blood to run from his mouth. His head pounded from the blow, nausea rolling through him with every throb. He swallowed, gagged on the blood, retched and gasped. He heard Dade speak, felt the words break through the buzzing in his ears. He dragged his head up, tried to open his eyes, squinted through swollen flesh as the Network commander addressed the Dark Lord. It was difficult to keep his thoughts, his feelings, from being over-powered and battered by events; difficult to remain centred when his body screamed its agony; when he was suffering from the effects dehydration and terror.

But he knew one thing. He hated this man, this man who tortured him in the name of the Empire while professing allegiance to the Alliance.

Vader was about to answer when he sensed something else from behind him: from the boy. There was an over bearing confusion, but there was also - and Vader could not help the satisfaction that filled him - an undisciplined hostility. There was naked loathing. There was a passion, a strength of feeling which stirred within the Force. It was a purity of power that the boy had no recognition of, but that Vader knew all too well.

It was darkness and it was within his son. It was not directed at him, though, it was directed at the Primary Interrogator. And more, Luke did not fear this man as he feared Vader. He did not fear the torture upon his body. Luke's fear was about his own abilities to withstand the unrelenting pain. He feared making a disclosure that would lead the Empire to his friends.

Luke's weakness was his loyalty.

"Very well," Vader replied moving behind Luke, out of the boy's line of vision. This would be interesting. "Continue."

"No!" The denial was merely a breath of air. Luke closed his eyes against it all.

Keenly aware of Vader's scrutiny, Rhovan stepped up, gesturing for Luke to be lowered to his height. "Luke?" His heart was racing, he could feel the sweat popping from his own forehead, his own mouth going dry. "We were talking about Wedge, Luke. Do you remember?"

"No..."

Rhovan didn't know whether Luke was saying he didn't remember or if the word was a refusal to agree. He was concerned that the advantage he had gained over Luke was now lost due to the Dark Lord's arrival. "Luke," he warned. "You know what happens when you don't comply with me."

"Please.. don't..."

"You told me you couldn't do this anymore, and you don't have too. You were telling me about your friend, Wedge, about how he was a fellow pilot. You told me where he was."

He kept his voice level, calm, watching closely to see if Luke would pick up the deception. "You told us, Luke."

You told us. You told us.

You told.

Told.

The word reverberated around him, echoing its devastating meaning with each beat of his heart, each throb of his headache. He remembered speaking, remembered saying something. Remembered hearing hollow and distant voices. He had told, and his foolhardy words to Vader were false. He had already betrayed the Alliance.

He had told. He had betrayed his friends, his comrades. He had told them about Wedge, told them where he was, told them about the base. He had failed.

"No..."

Vader remained silent as the Major's trickery had the desired effect. He felt Luke's resolve crumple, felt the boy's defences razed. The moment held mixed emotions for him; bitter disappointment that Luke had fallen, but pride that he had lasted far longer than many other men. It was of no matter. When he removed the boy from this place he would rebuild him as Palpatine had him rebuilt.

Rhovan continued. "You gave us home, Luke. You told us about Wedge and your squad." He paused, watching Luke as tears grew and spilled, mixing with blood, before dripping from his face. "How many others are in your squad at home?"

Ayrn moved against the wall, observing as Rhovan continued. His heel hit the chair and spilled the bottle of water Rhovan had placed there, onto the floor. The clear liquid splash out. Cursing quietly, he lifted the bottle and returned it to the chair, before wiping his hands dry against his uniform. Then he turned his attention back to the Rebel pilot, eager to hear what the youth had to say.

Home.

Told about home.

The anguish of those words sliced through him, lacerating deeper than any physical wound.

Wedge.

Told about Wedge.

The squad...

He had failed his squad, his men, his friends. He had doomed them to a battle to save the base, doomed many to die, some to capture and torture like this. He was pleased he would be dead soon, pleased that after he had told all, they would give him peace so that he would not have to endure the guilt.

Home...a woman dressed in simple clothing...

He had given them home. Abruptly, from the desolation, came a flicker of light.

Tatooine...

He had given them his home! They were trying to deceive him, trick him into speaking. He had heard Wedge's voice from the battle, mentioned Wedge as the drug had worn off, as images and sounds from his tired brain fired at random. They had used him, were still using him. He hadn't given the base; he had given them Tatooine!

Vader sensed the change within Luke. At first there was only deep depression. Then, slowly, he felt the development of wonder and comprehension, could sense the elation growing from the roots of despondency. His son had just shown his intelligence, and Luke's spirit, though badly damaged, was still resistant.

Luke lifted his head stared at Dade through bleary eyes. He was aware of Vader at his back, aware of the man's proximity, his presence hanging heavy around him, suffocating him, making it difficult to breathe. But he focused on Dade, focused on drawing another breath through the stabbing pain from his chest, focused on giving his tormentor an answer. He gave a little, crooked smile, knowing he was about to be severely punished. "No... squad... on Ta... tooine. Ju... ust lots… of s... sand."

Rhovan cursed silently. Sighing heavily with frustration and regret, he motioned the droid in, as Ayrn muttered, "I don't believe it!" from behind him.

Vader put his hand up, stopping the droid.

Luke braced himself for the droid to touch him, waited for the searing shock to ignite through his back, to stiffen and jerk his aching muscles. But it didn't come. Instead the quiet of the room was split by the spit and hum of a lightsaber blade.

Rhovan saw the panic flare across Luke's face. Watched as the Dark Lord brought the blade up, as he held it briefly near the Rebel's naked back.

"Do... on't... please... no!"

Vader brought the sword upward and across, cutting through the line from the ceiling and Luke dropped heavily to the floor. Rhovan couldn't help but breathe his relief.

Vader deactivated his sabre. "Have him taken to my ship, immediately," he ordered then looked pointedly at Ayrn. "I shall break him myself."