Dark Times: Chapter One

Network

Part 14

Artoo Detoo whistled hopefully, his dome spinning to look at the waiting Shuttle. They were transferring him! This could be the chance he had been waiting for! If he could provide the means, then perhaps Luke, or the Imperial Major, would take the opportunity. Artoo began to work fast, feeding codes and information to the mainframe. Then, as a speeder drew up behind him, he trundled into the elevator.

Rhovan stepped passed the youth as he lay, panting and groaning, on the floor. He must keep up the appearance of a proud interrogator who is loathed to give up his subject before the job is complete. "My Lord Vader, I must protest!"

"Must you?" Vader growled.

"I have brought him this far, Mi'Lord. To change venue and interrogator now may impact upon his responses." It was clear, however, Vader's being here had already had that effect.

"Then you will also transfer to the Executor."

Horror rattled through Rhovan. This wasn't what he had expected. "My Lord, I.. my place is here on Escaal."

"Your place is where I deem it to be!" Vader's voice held more than a hint of warning.

Rhovan felt a rush of consternation. He was being pulled away from the Network, from the system of operatives he had helped build over the last three years. He didn't dare argue with the Dark Lord, but how could he fight the Empire from the flagship of the fleet?

He glanced at the boy at his feet, at the youth he had tortured and battered for the good of his Resistance. The boy had suffered to protect what Rhovan was now being forced to leave. If Luke were to divulge information to Vader about himself, the Sith Lord might believe it, might be able to...

His thoughts trailed off as he realised his options were limited. He bowed his assent, playing the dutiful Imperial Officer as the Network Commander within him debated his meagre choices. "As you wish, my Lord."

He gestured quickly to the guards. "You heard Lord Vader. Pick him up!" he barked. He turned to the chair, picked up his bag and shouldered it as his men hauled Luke from the floor.

Luke yelled as they heaved him up, snapping his back, grating his ribs. They solidly locked his arms in theirs and turned him to the door. Vader reached down and took Luke's chin in his gloved hand once more, angling his head upward. He spoke almost gently. "We will speak at length, Young One, once my duties on Escaal are complete." He released Luke and stood aside allowing the guards to remove the boy from the room.

Any relief Luke had felt on being released from the line, at not being burned by the lightsaber blade, at being taken away from the interrogation suite, was snatched away with those few words. He was being taken to Vader's ship! He was being placed into Vader's custody where there would be no one to help him.

He wanted to fight them. He wanted to place his feet on the floor and struggle and shout, but he had no strength. His legs had little feeling and his throat was so dry and sore, he could barely manage a whisper. He could only allow them to do as they wanted with him.

Rhovan followed the Rebel pilot reluctantly, with Vader at his back.

Finding himself suddenly alone, Ayrn hesitated. He was sure the General would be unhappy with the prisoner's removal, particularly since Skywalker's termination order had already been signed and that, thus far, the pilot had given them scant information on either the Resistance or the Rebellion. Ayrn's loyalty lay with Mahkren, but he dared not question the Dark Lord. He ran his hand through his hair as he reluctantly realised that he would have to try and explain all this to the General. Feeling tackiness on his fingers he stopped and lifted his hand from his head, studying his digits.

General Mahkren crossed the prison courtyard from his speeder and stepped into the turbo lift. He glanced at the small blue droid working inside at the open control panel. "If this thing is working," he grumbled, "take me down to Maximum Security."

The droid tooted assent and the lift began to descend. Mahkren attempted to reel in his anger with the Dark Lord's ignorance of protocol. It would not do to take the wrong approach with Vader. He had to remain professional even if the Sith Lord did not!

Frowning, Ayrn brushed his thumb over his fingertips feeling the stickiness and wondering what could have made them sticky in this place. He hadn't touched anything except the water he had spilled.

Mahkren walked from the elevator and was met by the sight of the guards carrying the prisoner as they entered the reception area from the cell bay. Rhovan was behind the pilot and was being followed by the Dark Lord.

The General exchanged glances with his Primary Interrogator, who rolled his eyes and shrugged as he passed, heading with the Rebel for the turbo lift. Mahkren suddenly understood what was happening. His anger rolled, unhindered by thoughts of professionalism. "Lord Vader! What is the meaning of this?" he blustered and, as the black mask angled toward him, he knew he had just made a mistake.

"You dare question me, General?" Vader thundered smoothly, towering over the man.

Mahkren paled and took a step back. He swallowed nervously, not used to feeling inferior or afraid. "Forgive me, My Lord," he begged, bowing his head. "But that scum is responsible for my son's death. His execution order has been signed!""

That scum, is my son!

"Skywalker will pay further for his crimes, General," Vader assured him, biting back his annoyance with the officer. "But, it will not be here."

The water!

Ayrn picked up the bottle he had spilled and sniffed at it. It was odourless. He poured more water onto his fingers and gingerly dabbed the tip of his tongue. He grimaced at the taste. It was sweet!

Why would Rhovan be giving the Rebel sweetened water? Why would he be giving...

Nourishment!

Sugar was nourishment. The water was an energy drink! But why...?

"I am the Resistance Commander."

No! The thought was impossible.

"I had hoped to spare you this when I ordered Taln to kill you."

That was a strange thing for Rhovan to say, unless he was aware of the facts. But how?

"Perhaps, if he is reluctant to tell us of the Resistance he will be more willing to discuss his Rebel Alliance?"

Rhovan had turned the line of questioning away from the Resistance.

It was absurd! What he was thinking was ridiculous! Impossible. Rhovan couldn't be this 'Dade' as the Rebel had insisted. But why had he turned the interrogation away from the Resistance to the Rebellion? Why had he seemed reluctant for the pilot to discuss the red-headed medic?

The private talks Rhovan had with prisoners that always ended with their breaking, or with their premature deaths. And lately the information that had been gathered was usually old, or lead to very minor operatives who could offer no other leads.

"I am the Resistance Commander."

"Shit!" Ayrn breathed. All this time Rhovan had been the heart of the Network! He drew his side arm and dashed from the cell.

Rhovan frowned at the unexpected sight of an astromech droid working in the lift, but he stepped in after Luke and the guards. He turned and smiled as Vader continued to berate Mahkren. It was about time the man was brought down a notch or two and he wished briefly that he could have stayed to witness the event. It might have taken the edge off the apprehension he felt at the thought of his new posting on Vader's ship.

Luke dangled in the guards' grasp, frantic and desolate. Emotions caught in a tangled loop of panic. He could barely see where he was going, could barely make out his surroundings as his head pounded and his stomach rolled. He choked on the sweetened water as it rose in his throat. He retched and vomited liquid onto the floor by the treads of a droid.

Droid?

Then he was pulled backwards, groaning as the movement spun his senses.

The guards cursed at Luke's sickness, stepping further into the lift. Rhovan glanced at the youth with some concern. He would have to request medical attention for the Rebel when they reached Vader's ship. And...

"Stop them! He's Dade!" Ayrn stumbled down the steps into the reception area, gesturing at the turbo lift. "Rhovan's the Resistance!"

Rhovan's attention was ripped away from Luke by the desperate shout, his own stomach tightening at the betrayal in the words. He punched the door mechanism giving himself only a few moments respite in which to act.

Artoo whistled shrilly in the confines of the lift and activated his hastily formed programme within the Imperial system.

Vader turned immediately for the lift and saw, as the door closed shutting him off from Luke, the small blue droid he had ignored in the courtyard.

"Yes, Artoo will be along in a few moments and he'll release the ray shields…"

It was a young voice from long ago. His voice: unencumbered by breathing apparatus and mask.

Artoo! It was impossible! It couldn't be! Not after all this time!

"Open the doors!" he roared, reaching out toward the elevator. If it was indeed Artoo, then he would be trying to rescue his young master. That droid was loyal to a fault.

The lights went out, plunging them into darkness as all power to the cellblock failed. Vader dropped his arm, shoulder's slumping momentarily, knowing they would be unable to contact the surface to alert the personnel there. Artoo would have made sure all lines of communication had been severed. Luke was being snatched from him by a droid he himself had once trusted with his life.

And he had to smile at the irony.

"Sir?" one of the guards questioned Rhovan as the lift swiftly rose toward the surface. "What was that about?"

"Stand fast," Rhovan bluffed, trying to think straight. How could that rodent of a man have worked out the truth?

"I'm not sure what's happening," he continued, loosening the strap of his holster and pulling out his side arm. He had to get out of here now his cover was blown. "But we should be prepared. Keep behind me, and keep a hold of him." He nodded at Luke, who seemed a little oblivious to it all.

"Yes, sir!" came the unsure reply.

Rhovan began to turn from them, then abruptly spun back around and blasted both guards. They crumpled in a heap taking Luke down with them.

Luke landed awkwardly, his body covered by those of the dead men. He yelled in shock, in fright, in pain and struggled against the weight covering him, images of stormtroopers piling on him returning to mind. Then hands pulled him out and he looked up, squinted and saw the barrel of a pistol pointing at his face.

Rhovan hesitated: his trigger finger tight.

He had given Taln instructions to kill this boy to protect the Network. He had tortured and tormented this boy to protect the Network. He had planned to kill Luke himself when the chance presented itself. And now he had that opportunity he was no longer sure. This boy.. No, this young man, had taken everything thrown at him, had endured it with a courage Rhovan had never encountered before.

Then there was Vader and the way the youth had reacted to the Dark Lord, the way he had appeared to gain strength from the malevolent presence rather than wilt under it. And so Rhovan stood with his gun pointed, staring at the battered features, at the understanding and quiet concern he saw there.

Artoo squawked with horror and bumped the Imperial aside. As Rhovan stumbled, Artoo inserted himself between him and his young master.

Rhovan righted himself, lowered his weapon and smiled at Luke who was gazing at the droid in dazed wonderment. He looked to the robot, recalling Taln mentioning the Rebel's Artoo unit.

"This your droid?" It seemed unlikely that this could be the same machine, unlikely that it could be trying to rescue his master. That would require a dedication he had never witnessed in a machine before.

Luke frowned, swallowed, croaked, "Yes."

Artoo also blooped in response.

"Okay," Rhovan sighed, anticipation spilling inside him. "Let's try this, huh?"

He placed his gun away, pushed his bag further back onto his shoulder and heaved Luke from the floor. He encircled the younger man's waist with his arm, held Luke's arm tight with his other hand. "I just hope you know what you're doing." He wasn't sure if he was addressing Luke, the droid, or himself.

The elevator stopped and the doors sliced open. Rhovan stepped cautiously out into the courtyard. All was as it should be. Lord Vader's shuttle sat a few metres away, lit by the floodlights around the prison walls. Mahkren's speeder and driver were by the turbo lift door and Rhovan nodded a silent 'good evening' to him as he helped the prisoner out, hoping the dead men could not be seen lying at the back of the turbo lift. He walked at a normal pace, tried not to hurry although every fibre of his being was telling him to move. Artoo trundled behind.

Luke shivered as the cool evening breeze hit his skin, lifting much needed warmth from it. He stared at the waiting shuttle in dismay. He dropped his head, closed his eyes, trying to keep in focus what was happening. He had thought he had seen Artoo, thought he had heard him. But how could he have? How could Artoo have been here? He was sure that Dade had shot the guards but he was still taking him to that ship, still taking him to Vader's ship. Was this just another trick? Were they still trying to get him to talk?

He sagged into the man's hold as his feet hit the steep incline of the ramp.

Rhovan dragged Luke upward, pulling him into the passenger compartment and placing him on the floor as gently as he could. Artoo Detoo scooted to Luke's side as Rhovan dropped the bag from his shoulder onto the floor. Griping his blaster, he stepped over Luke, making his way to the cockpit door, where he paused.

He was surprised, but relieved, to find the shuttle devoid of all personnel apart from the pilot and co-pilot who were now powering up the shuttle's engines. He glanced out of the window expecting to see the Dark Lord emerge from the elevator and make his way toward the ship, but as yet, there was nothing. Nothing, apart from an empty elevator sitting with an open portal…

That worried him. The guard's bodies could be discovered at anytime.

"Where's Lord Vader?" the Imperial pilot enquired.

"Still speaking with the General," Rhovan answered, shortly. He gestured behind him to the passenger area and addressed the co-pilot. "Check on the prisoner."

The man frowned, but complied with his superior's request. "Yes, sir," he answered pulling himself from his chair and squeezing past the Major.

Rhovan kept his gaze on the elevator. "Raise the ramp and close the hatch," he ordered.

"Sir?" the pilot questioned.

"Hey!" the co-pilot exclaimed. "What's this droid doing here!"

Rhovan turned, pulled off a shot and felled the co-pilot. The man dropped silently beside Luke. Rhovan levelled the gun at the pilot. "Take us up. Now!"

"But..." the man stared down the barrel of the gun. "Yes, Sir."

"Easy," Rhovan warned, watching the pilot work. "We don't want to let anyone know something's amiss here now, do we?"

He ignored Luke's moaning from the passenger compartment as they lifted off, as they headed upward through the atmosphere and into space. Still nothing from the com, no order's to turn back. "Make for the Executor as though you were on normal approach, then veer off and make the jump."

"Where are we going?" The pilot sounded sullen, but resigned to his fate.

Good question.

"Droid!" Rhovan called. "We need co-ordinates."

Artoo was reluctant to leave Luke's side, but he trundled into the cockpit and plugged into the main computer. His first task was to sever all links to the Executor's mainframe then he fed in the co-ordinates of the Alliance outpost that he and Luke had left three weeks before with Red Squad.

Rhovan watched the readout with a smile. The base was close enough for a short jump in a snub fighter, but remote enough to be hidden. "You have what you need," he told the pilot, watching the Super Star Destroyer grow in size as they drew near it. "Now punch it!"

"Admiral Ozzel, we have Lord Vader on approach."

Ozzel stepped over to the scanners and gave them a cursory glance. "Prepare the docking bay. Have the brig staff me..."

"Sir? What's he doing?" the scanner controller questioned breaking in on Ozzel.

The Admiral looked back at the scanner, then turned to the view port as the Dark Lord's shuttle veered sharply away and disappeared into hyperspace.

"What the hell...?"

Vader looked up and through the gloom ignoring the General barking orders to the detention centre personnel to get the power back on line, to contact the surface and alert them to the Rebel's escape. He reached out, searched through the Force and found Luke's ebbing presence. It was too late; the youth was travelling away from him. Luke had been snatched from him again, and disappointment hung heavy within him, disappointment and a feeling of...

... loss...

... frustration.

He had had him! The son he'd never had the opportunity to know had been within his grasp and circumstances had suddenly and unexpectedly wrenched him away! He stilled his chagrin, turning his focus to Luke. The boy was barely aware of his surroundings, still wrapped in confusion and disorder.

The Dark Lord brushed softly against his son's consciousness, smoothing out some of the chaos, hushing the heaving emotions with a dark stillness, bringing Luke some peace. And, before Luke was moved too far out of range for him to reach, he spoke again through the Force, leaving one thought behind for his son to ponder during his recovery.

They would meet again, and soon, and he would be better prepared. He would not allow his feelings from his past interfere with the future again. The Emperor seemed ignorant of Luke, underestimated the importance of the existence of a Force strong Rebel; the boy's burgeoning powers, but he did not. Luke had already demonstrated the strength he possessed, if only on a small scale. He had withheld against the most appalling pain and torment and from this he had shown a depth of darkness that delighted the Dark Lord. Luke would make a powerful Sith.

The lights glared suddenly to life. Mahkren sighed with relief. "Get on the Com, alert security to what's happened!"

"Belay those orders," Vader growled, turning to Mahkren as he folded away his feelings for his son and allowed his anger to surge forward. "Skywalker is gone, General. And you and your personnel, have much to explain."

"My Lord, I assure you that everything..."

"Do not give me false assurances, General," Vader warned, his voice threatening. "I shall be remaining on Escaal, and I will restore the order you have lost."

"My Lord," the General bowed his head, fighting to keep his large frame from trembling. "The Resistance is deeply embedded within our own Forces. If the Primary Interr..."

"Then we shall have to dig it out." Vader announced.

On hearing this Ayrn swallowed, gathered his courage and stepped forward. "I think," he started slowly, voice trembling, but seeing a way to appease his dark superior, "I know of a red-headed medic who might be able to give us a few leads."

Vader regarded the thin man before him. Here was the type of officer he detested, the type who took pleasure for pleasure's sake in the pain of others. However, he was ambitious, showed courage and for the moment may prove useful. "Then have him brought to me, Major!"

And Mahkren knew then that he had just lost his command.

Luke lay on his side on the floor staring at the face of the dead man next to him. It was men, like this one, who had beaten him, placed cuffs on his wrists and hung him from a line. They had dragged him from cell to cell, forced him to stand, held him down as the droid had approached with its full needle.

"Back off," he whispered at the corpse. He could feel the vibration of the shuttle beneath him, could feel it rattle his beleaguered body, but the pain didn't matter anymore, not now they were taking him to Vader's ship. The dead man was taking him to Vader's ship. He closed his eyes, feeling weary, wishing for the darkness to come.

Luke.

He moaned and tried to turn away from the voice in his head, tried to move from the presence he felt settle around him, tried to struggle against what was in his mind. The cold touch stroked him, folded about him, held him close and he saw...

...Artoo Detoo moving close to figure lying on a floor...

... me?...

... Dade holding a pistol at a man's head... Vader stranded in darkness...

The images flickered, strobed quickly behind his eyes.

... The dead man beside him... a shuttle jumping to hyperspace...and an empty cell...

... an empty cell...

And he understood what the voice was telling him, showing him, and with the understanding came some clarity, some relief.

We will talk at length, Young One...

"No..." he murmured, into the blackness, into the void where the presence was. He pulled against the unpleasant allure of the words, but found himself abruptly released. He staggered back falling against the soft buffer of an approaching faint. "..don't wan... talk..."

Rhovan prodded the pilot into the passenger compartment with the muzzle of his pistol, forcing him to pull the dead man away from Luke. The youth was shivering, mumbling in his confused state, but Rhovan couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Remove your jacket. Take the cuffs and shackles off him," he told the other man, throwing him a key. "Put them on yourself." He watched as the man complied, as the bloodied bands were placed around another's wrists. Then he took the key back and motioned toward the seating area. "Now sit, and don't move until I tell you."

The Primary Interrogator knelt by Luke, putting his pistol down and dragging an emergency medical pack from under the seating. He broke it open, rummaging through it. He looked at the semi-conscious boy knowing there really wasn't a lot he could do for him bar making him a little more comfortable. He did know that the boy needed fluids.

He took the rehydration kit from the case and fixed it to Luke's inner arm with the straps supplied. Luke flinched at the touch of his hands, the firm fabric straps, mumbling incoherently.

"Easy, Luke," Rhovan soothed. Pausing to allow Luke to settle, he slipped a clear bag of saline solution into the casing before switching it on. He watched the small readout display anxiously and smiled when it registered that the automatic needle-feed had been accurately deployed. He winced at the deep, oozing gashes marking Luke's wrists and lifted some dressings from the med kit.

He bandaged the ragged flesh carefully.

Luke shivered again, and Rhovan realised the youth was cold. He glanced around, his eyes landing on the dead man. He stripped the jacket from him and rolled it into a pillow that he placed under Luke's head. He covered his legs with the pilot's jacket before stripping out of his own and putting it across Luke's shoulders.

The youth moaned and turned his head into the unexpected softness below it. The analeptic drug was wearing off, seeping slowly from his system, and soon Luke would be able to sleep. The jacket slipped from his shoulder and Rhovan replaced it. "Won't be long now, Luke," he reassured him. "A little while more, and you'll be home."

Rhovan grimaced to himself at the word. In a few hours they would be at the Rebel base Luke had tried so desperately to keep from him and the Empire.

... home...

The word and the familiar voice halted Luke's fall into the darkening stuporand he dragged open his eyes, suddenly afraid. He squinted, forced himself to focus on the figure kneeling above him. "L... leave... me..."

"You're safe, Luke," Rhovan reassured him. "You're going home."

... home...

... Tatooine...

... warm evening air scented by freshly baked paq scones...

He tried to shake his head. Tried to deny his tormentor. This was a trick. The pictures in his head had shown him hope, Dade would take it away as he had before. "Ly... ing," he murmured, closing his eyes resigned to his fate. "Va..der.."

"Not here. Vader's not here, Luke." Rhovan watched as Luke's body slackenedand relaxed.

"You are his weakness, Luke."

He turned his head, gazed at his aunt sitting by his side. The suns were lower, the wind a little stronger. She took the cloth away from his gashed wrist

"Aunt Beru?"

She smiled gently as a gust of air pulled at his hair, whipping it over his face. She reached to him, placed a warm palm against his sore cheek. "We should get in, its bedtime and you can sleep now."

"Can I stay this time?"

"For a little while," she agreed. "Until it's time to wake up."

He stood up, wincing as his muscles protested the movement, then bent and helped his aunt stand. Together they descended into their home.

Artoo blooped quietly beside his master as Luke spoke from his dreams. Rhovan smiled at the devoted droid. He might never find out exactly what the droid had done, or how he had pulled it off, but he was grateful to the little machine. He lifted his gun, rested his hand on the droid's dome as he stood.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," he reassured Artoo. "It might take a while, but with the right medical attention he'll be fine." In physical terms, Rhovan was sure the boy would make a complete recovery, but to recover emotionally and mentally would take a greater effort. However, the youth had shown courage and resilience and he hoped that both would continue to serve him during his convalescence.

The Imperial Pilot scoffed, but Rhovan ignored him as he turned and sat opposite, watching him, watching Luke, as the shuttle took them closer to the Rebel outpost and further away from Escaal and the Network. He was loathed to leave it behind, loathed to leave the life he had there, but the Network would survive without him, he knew. They would fall silent, regroup and reorganise themselves. They would bide their time until this crisis had passed and then the lines would re-open and the Resistance's work would resume and continue as it had before his arrival, as it had for the twenty years of the Empire's rule.

His own future, however, was less clear and back in the hands of the Rebel Alliance. He glanced at Luke now lying still, chest slowly rising and falling with each shallow breath. He regretted the boy's pain, but he did not regret his actions. Luke was not the first captive he had questioned and tortured for the good of the Resistance. Many had suffered and died, at his commands, for the good of the cause.

However, Luke's importance to the Empire had been a surprise. Luke's importance to Vader was fascinating. There seemed to be a connection between them, a history and Rhovan wondered how much the Alliance actually knew about their Jedi pilot.

He drew the bag from the floor and took out the lightsaber he had hidden there. He didn't know why he had placed it the bag with the water bottles. He didn't know why he had brought it into the interrogation room, or why he had lifted it before they left. But he had somehow known that it was important to Luke and he had acted purely on a whim.

He looked up, saw the Imperial pilot glaring at him and at the lightsaber, and he tucked it away. Placing the bag on the floor, he held his pistol loosely in his hands avoiding further eye contact with his captive. He felt sorry for the Imperial. The Alliance would lock them both up and question them, though he was sure their methods were not quite as harsh. Rough, perhaps, but not as severe as Imperial methods, as his methods.

Not that he would resist.

He might have worn the black uniform but it was merely a means to an end, an attempt to work from inside against the Empire as his orders had dictated. However, even his superiors would be uncomfortable with position he had gained, the duties he'd had to perform. He hoped that bringing Luke back to them, despite what he had done to the boy, would stand in his favour. He hoped he could convince them still of his true intentions, that he hadn't strayed from the true purpose of his mandate, hoped he could convince them he could continue to be an asset to them.

Rhovan settled back for the journey, trying to clear his mind and tame his concerns as the shuttle carried them on in a silence broken only by Luke's wordless murmurs, and the whine of Artoo's servo motors as he fussed around his master.

Only a few hours and they would both be home...

To be continued in "Dark Times: Chapter Two - Pale Shelter"

Sorry to leave you hanging for a wee while – but I felt that Luke needed a wee rest for a while. Thanks for reading…