Dark Times:

Pale Shelter

Part 4

"That's the last one, Chewie, close the hatch," Han Solo spoke softly, his voice barely carrying over the com to Chewbacca who was waiting in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon for Han's order to fire up the engines. The Corellian watched as the last of the Rebel personnel who had helped restock and refuel his ship moved away from the landing zone. He turned and walked up the ramp punching the hatch controls as he reached the top. He knew he was taking on an insurmountable task by going back to Escaal, knew he was clutching at the slimmest of hopes that they could retrieve Luke from Imperial custody. He knew that Luke was more than likely dead, or transferred to the command ship that had arrived in the system in the same moments that he and Chewbacca had been forced to leave.

He knew that he and his partner were facing arrest themselves if they dared to return. But he had to try, had to give the kid a chance.

Once in the cockpit he threw himself into his chair and swiftly ran his eyes over the readouts and controls. "We all set?"

Chewbacca barked that they were.

"Okay…" He keyed the com. "Control this is the Falcon requesting permission to take off."

"Negative, Falcon," the tinny voice of the controller responded. "You are to stand down and…"

"Stand down?" Han could feel the stir of anger deep in his belly. What delay was the Alliance going to force on him now? Luke didn't have the time for the tedious bureaucracy the Rebellion liked to pull with irritating regularity. "Why?"

"Orders from Command, sir."

"To hell with this," Han was speaking to himself more than to the controller, "we're taking off anyway."

"Negative! Negative!" the voice called frantically. "The Princess Leia is on her way to your location…"

"What does her Royalness want now?" Han grumbled, looking out of the cockpit and watching for the Princess to appear. If she thought she was going to argue him out of this trip she was sorely mistaken.

"We have word on Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker…" the controller answered Han's rhetorical question.

Chewbacca howled his concern as Leia came racing into the hanger. As she ran toward the Falcon Han pulled himself from his chair and met her at the bottom of the ramp.

"What's happened?" he demanded, his face dark, his anxiety twisting in his gut. And he was surprised when Leia laughed and threw her arms around him.

"He's safe! He's on Ra'imar, the Network got him out. He's safe!"

"Safe?"

She gulped in a breath before she spoke. "They say he's fine, that he injured his back when he ejected from his fighter. He's in surgery and…"

"Surgery…" Han echoed frowning. His relief and elation at his young friend's rescue shaded by concern and an uncomfortable disquiet. There was something not quite right about this; he had heard Luke being caught.

Leia pulled away, saw the dark look on Solo's face. "He's going to be fine, Han. What's wrong with you?"

The Corellian trawled a hand through his dark hair. "Nothing' it's great about the kid, but… I've got a bad feeling is all. I know what I heard Leia, I know what was happening on Escaal and I don't think they've told you everything."

"They could hardly have fully briefed me over the com, Han, but he's safe and that's what matters."

"It depends on your definition of 'safe' highness," he told her dryly. He came to a sudden decision. "The kid'll need us so I'm goin' to Ra'imar, you wanna lift?"

ooOOoo

The screams died to soft panting and Darth Vader took his time to walk around the suspended prisoner. The man's head was down, his red hair soaking with sweat and blood. He looked much like Skywalker had only a day or so ago; beaten and tortured, stretched to breaking point physically, emotionally and mentally. Except Luke had managed to hold on, unlike this miserable medic.

"Please…" the medic groaned. "I don't know…. I don't know…"

Major Ayrn smiled at Vader, rolled his eyes as though sharing a private joke with the Dark Lord.

Vader wanted to strangle him. The little man sickened him, his glee at Luke's pain had angered him, his pleasure at wring screams from the traitorous medic annoyed him. This wasn't just a job for Ayrn, this wasn't just a way to gain information to pursue the resistance and Rebellion, this was fun.

"You knew about Rhovan being the Resistance Commander," Ayrn spoke smoothly to the sobbing man. "You knew about the Gran at the café, you knew about the safe house under the General's home, about several other resistance operatives within the Imperial ranks. Why should I and Lord Vader believe you do not know the location of the Rebel base?"

The man shook his head wearily, sweat and blood dripped. "I don't… I don't… How… could…I?"

Eyes bright with anticipation, Ayrn nodded at the waited Interrogation droid and the medic screamed once more.

Vader turned away, exited the cell and stood for a moment in the hallway. The medic did not know where Rhovan had taken Luke, did not know where the Rebellion was hiding. Ayrn's execution squads had killed hundreds to punish and subjugate the Escaal population on his orders, the cells of the prison were filling quickly as the planet paid for giving refuge to a Rebel…

My son…

But the Rebel himself had eluded them.

Luke…

Who had named the child? Padme before she died after giving birth to him? Obi-Wan, as he stole the boy? The Lars on Tatooine? There was so much he did not know, so many small details of his son's life missing from his knowledge. So much he was eager to learn, so much he wished know, needed to know…

"I.. won't betray... the Alliance... as… you betrayed... my father..."

Stubborn and yet courageous.

Like Padme…

Like Anakin…

Foolish boy! Tainted by the lies of the Jedi. Twisted by Obi-Wan, blinded by the folly of false conviction.

Much like yourself, Lord Vader, when you accepted the mantle of the Sith…

His hands tightened into fists as the voice of Anakin laughed within, causing anger to stir. The Force deepened around him as he threw aside his thoughts not wishing to dwell too long on their meaning. He smiled beneath the mask, soon he would introduce Luke to the true nature of their relationship and he would offer him what Padme had turned down, what Obi-Wan fought against. Luke might fight it, struggle against it, deny it but, ultimately, he was his father's son and his destiny was to stand by his father's side.

The cell door opened once more and Ayrn stepped out into the corridor. He was flushed, excited and his eyes brightened even more when he saw the dark Lord. "My Lord! Good news," he gushed. "He's broken. He says the Rebels are on…"

"He's lying, Major."

Ayrn hesitated. "I don't believe so, sir. He states that while tending to Skywalker, the scum…"

Vader moved so quickly than Ayrn, saw only a blur as he was grasped by the throat and slammed into the corridor wall. The Major gasped and choked as Vader's hand curled tighter around his windpipe. His eyes bulged with fear and confusion.

Vader leaned in until his mask was barely a centimetre from Ayrn's face. "Let me tell you about that scum, Major," he rumbled quietly. He had to say it. He had to hear it aloud, just once to acknowledge the truth and see the reaction from another and so he whispered softly ensuring that his words would carry to none other than the pathetic man he held. "Skywalker is my son."

And he was satisfied to see, borne from initial confusion, the flare of understanding in Ayrn's eyes, to see that he was believed and with that belief the man knew he was dead. The Major died quickly, with barely a gurgle, and his body dropped heavily to the corridor wall.

Vader turned and walked through the detention block, ignoring the side-glances from the personnel stationed at the reception, the whispers of fear he felt drift from them as he passed, and headed for the turbo lifts. A door slid aside as he approached and General Mahkren stepped out.

"My Lord Vader!" The General called seemingly both relieved and concerned at finding him. The General appeared grey and defeated, the death of his son and the escape of the Rebel he thought responsible for his son's death was grieving him deeply.

"You have news for me, General?" Vader rumbled as he entered the elevator, making Mahkren double back to join him. The doors closed at the lift started to ascend.

"Yes, My Lord," Mahkren responded, pulling himself to his full height and straightening his back. Despite his grief, despite his command being usurped by Vader's arrival, he was still a military man and Vader was his superior and, as such, was worthy of his respect. "Admiral Ozzel has narrowed down the possible routes for the shuttle. We have five possible destinations. However, given that the Rebels attacked in snub fighters and thus hyperspace…"

"Spare me the details, General. Just give what I asked for."

Mahkren swallowed. "Of course, My Lord. Admiral Ozzel has listed them in order of priority taking into consideration…"

"The systems, General," Vader growled in frustration. "I will decide their priority of interest."

"Hasthaal, Boz Pity, Saleucami, Ra'imar, and one of the moons of Ja…"

Vader motioned him quiet with a wave of his hand as the elevator stopped. The Dark Lord stepped through into the open courtyard and turned his gaze to sky. He stood at peace, watching as the low, grey clouds gathered above as he considered his options. He drew the Force to him, drowned out all noise and activity of the busy prison encampment and focused only on his errant son, trying to find him within the vastness of space covered by the systems that Mahkren had pin pointed, picturing his son on them all and feeling, sensing which one Luke would now be recovering on.

Luke?

Mahkren hesitantly stood by his side, waiting for Vader to speak.

ooOOoo

He was sitting by the doorway of the dome again. His legs splayed out over the sand, his back against warm wall as he watched the suns sink on the horizon. This was always his favourite time of the day; the work on the farm was done, his evening meal filled his belly, his aunt's baking for the next day filling the evening air with a hot, sweet scent as it breezed passed his face and ruffled his hair.

But this time he knew he was dreaming and he waited patiently to hear his aunt climbing the steps to join him.

"You should be indoors, Luke," Beru chided as she smoothed her skirts and sat beside him. "You have a few long days ahead."

He smiled and complained with a grimace. "Every day is long on Tatooine."

"And yet you keep coming back here," she reached over and took his hand. His fingertips were still a little numb, his wrists still scarred and Beru lightly touched the wounds with concern.

"It's peaceful," he told her softly as he lifted her hand from his, he didn't want to be reminded of the scars or of how they had got there. He was unable to meet her eyes and instead let his gaze wander to the gravesite nearby. "I like this moment, there hasn't been another like it since…"

"Since the day that followed," she finished for him. "The day we bought the droids."

"I miss you both," he said thickly, feeling the old grief arise anew to clog his throat. "Sometimes I wish I could stay."

"No, you don't. You needed this place and this time to return to. But it's time to move on, Luke. It's time to wake up."

He shook his head as the night grew darker and colder, as the light breeze that blew turned to a chilled wind. "I don't want to. Not just yet. I'm not sure if I'm ready."

And she placed a warm palm against his cheek and turned his face to her. "You have to wake up, Luke," she reaffirmed with determination. "We will always be here, if times become hard. But refuge is not what you need now." And she looked over his shoulder focusing on something deeper in the night. Luke turned with her gaze and saw the dark, hooded figure standing by the graves, his robes snapping in the growing wind.

"Luke, wake up…."

"…That's it, Luke… easy now, easy… Let's set him down…"

"He's coming around."

Luke tried to open his eyes found he couldn't. He tried to swallow and choked, panicked as he realised there was something down his throat, something that block it. He tried to flail in confusion but his limbs wouldn't move, he tried to suck in a breath around the obstruction and gagged on it as it slid out. He coughed, drew in air and coughed again.

"It was a breathing tube, Luke," a muted voice soothed. "You can breathe normally now."

"We need to get him out of the harness and dry him off."

He could feel people moving around him as he lay flat, could feel hands grasping him, manipulating his arms and legs, could feel a grating pain from his lower back, could hear straps being unbuckled, muffled voices, the whine of droid servo-motors and he felt damp, wet. He frowned, tried to peel his eyelids open, but they felt heavy and sticky and refused to open.

"Ca…" he tried to speak, but the words got caught in his dry throat. He shivered as cool air dragged warmth from his damp body, started as something cool slid into his ear and sucked out liquid.

"You've been in bacta, Luke," one of the voices again, closer, not so muted. "We're just cleaning you up. You might feel some residual pain from your injuries, but we'll give you something for that." There was a brief sting of pain on the back of his hand, and something soft and warm was wrapped around his wrists. He was turned onto his side and the same warmth enveloped his shoulder.

"Wha.." he tried again without success. He felt tired and lethargic, felt that he should sleep despite his aunt's insistence that he awaken.

"Luke?" the voice questioned. "Do you know where you are?"

Tatooine. He thought foggily, as something soft was placed behind his head and as his lower body was covered. But that wasn't right. He wasn't on Tatootine, he was… awake.

"Can you open your eyes?"

He didn't want to. He didn't want to see what he knew he would find. Didn't want to acknowledge what being fully awake would mean. He felt a cloth gently wipe at his face, at his eyes and he reluctantly forced them open, blinked, saw a face float hazily in front of him. He blinked again, clearing his vision, and focused on a middle-aged woman who was watching him with some concern, for a brief moment he thought he was looking at his aunt.

"Do you know where you are, Luke?"

Did he know? Was he sure? "Ra… Ra'imar," he said finally, and with some difficulty, and at last he was offered some water through a straw. He sucked, greedily, at the soothing liquid until the cup was lifted away by a droid. He looked around at the medical bay he was in, taking in the monitors around him, the drip IV in his hand. "I'm on Ra'imar."

"Can you remember what happened?"

For a moment there was nothing, his mind blank, empty of the last few weeks and then…

All of it. The mission and getting shot down. Being rescued by the Network and then being captured and tortured by a man who should have been his ally and…

"You cannot resist further, Skywalker."

Vader.

The man who had killed his father and murdered the Jedi Knights. Who had cut down Ben on the Death Star. The man who had captured and tortured Leia.

"Have him taken to my ship, immediately. I shall break him myself."

Vader.

The Doctor must have seen something in his eyes for she reached forward and took his hand. "Commander Narra's here to see you, Luke," she told him gently. "To debrief you."

"Debrief?" Luke could feel his heart sink, could feel mild consternation build. Debriefing meant questions. More questions. An interrogation. His stomach rolled with anxiousness, and the monitors around him reacted wildly as his stress levels increased. "I… I'm not ready… I…"

"I'll give you something to help calm you, Luke, but I'm afraid you have to speak with him, tell him what happened." She was trying to remain composed, but she still sounded upset, angry and she turned away from him, unable to look him in the eye, as Too-One Bee injected a honey-coloured drug into his IV.

Tell…

Told…

You told…

Luke closed his eyes fighting against the memories, not wanting to relive them just yet, but knowing that, in a moment, he would have no choice. And he felt as alone lying on this Alliance medical bed as he had strung up by the wrists in an Imperial interrogation cell.

ooOOoo

Commander Narra stood by the doorway watching through the transparisteel as the medical team carefully eased the unconscious body of Luke Skywalker onto the cushioned bunk. The pilot was still wet from the bacta tank and the medics and droids worked quickly to remove the breathing apparatus, to clean his body of bacta and to stabilise him. Narra winced as Too-One Bee inserted an IV drip into the back of Luke's hand, as the medics wrapped bacta saturated dressings around wounds not yet fully healed.

Narra pushed down his simmering anger. Command had ordered that Luke's treatment be interrupted at a stage where he would be able talk, where he could respond to questioning, where the medics could guarantee his alertness. The captured Imperial Interrogator was being questioned more fully at the same time as Luke - neither being given time to ponder events, neither being given an opportunity to change their stories and Ra'imar was on a heightened state of alert ready to evacuate should their answers suggest the base was compromised.

But although he could understand the urgency behind the decision, to only allow Luke to partially heal sickened the Commander's sensibilities and he had argued against it. That he had been given the task of the interrogation by Command only heightened his distaste of it. But rather him than someone from the Intelligence Section, rather him than someone Luke didn't know.

He stepped back, shifted his feet on the floor as the door opened at the chief Medical Officer stepped out. "I'll say this again, Commander," the woman spoke softly, but the anger was clearly audible beneath her words. "I am opposed to this and not just on medical grounds. This does not just endanger Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker's recovery, but it is also morally and ethically wrong."

"Your concerns are noted, Doctor," he glanced behind her as the medical droids continued to fuss around their patient. "May I speak with him now?"

"It can't be for long Commander, he's been through a traumatic experience and…"

"I'll be as long as I need to be," Narra told her bitterly, then he softened his tones, rubbed at his eyes before glancing back into the small treatment room, "and if it makes you feel any better, Doctor, Luke is my second-in-command, my colleague and my friend. I am as concerned for him as you are." He paused, seeming reluctant to speak. "I need the room cleared, no personnel, no droids."

The Medic opened her mouth to protest, but instead she sighed heavily in defeat. "Very well, Commander," she conceded. "I'll be in the vicinity, please call me immediately if you need me."

"I will," he assured her as the droids left the room. She turned away from him, her face set in stony disquiet. Narra dragged in a deep breath and drew a small data recorder from his pocket. Smothering his own unease at the task he had been set he stepped into the room.

Luke was lying flat on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling above him. His hair was still damp from the bacta, his skin slightly soft and puckered from the hours he'd spent floating in the tank. He was pale, thin and looked small on the medical pallet. He was covered with a thin sheet from the waist down and his chest had sensors placed strategically to monitor his vital signs. He did not show any reaction to Narra's entrance but the squiggles on the monitors moved more rapidly betraying the pilot's feelings.

The commander pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. "Luke," he greeted, softly.

Skywalker turned his head on the pillow to regard him with tired, hooded eyes. The bruises and swelling on his face had responded well to the bacta and his features were marred only by yellowing blotches and thin, healing scars where once there had been open gashes. The medical report command had been given on Luke's condition had made for difficult reading. There was compression damage to his spine that the medics had surmised had been caused by his ejection from his burning X-Wing, a blaster burn to his upper shoulder, hair line fractures to his skull and cheek bone, a healing ankle fracture, multiple contusions and lacerations over his entire body, his wrists and hands had nerve damage caused by hanging from tight binders, and where his back was injured there was also surface burns probably caused by electroshock torture. Some of the pilot's injuries were weeks old, others much more recent and it was those that caused Narra's gut to twist tightly in anger and disgust.

Especially when the man who caused Luke so much pain was quite probably going to be handed a commission and rank within the Alliance.

"Com…." Luke whispered roughly, his voice breaking in a dry throat. He closed his eyes, cleared his throat. "Commander…"

"Have they explained to you why I'm here?"

A frown crossed Luke's features and he opened his eyes again, fixing Narra with a quiet angry gaze. "Questions." He stated bluntly. He'd had enough of questions…

"It's necessary, Lieutenant-Commander," Narra firmly chided, he may have sympathy for Luke, regarded the young man as a friend, but that would not influence his orders or his duty.

"It doesn't make it easier," Luke countered bitterly, as Narra withdrew a pocket-sized holo-recorder and set it up. He visibly blanched as Narra activated it, and he closed his eyes fighting down his panic about the coming session. He was being ridiculous, this was the Alliance, not the Empire. These people were his allies and his friends, not his enemies. This was Narra sitting with him, not Dade. But still the dread remained, still his stomach churned with anxiety despite the drugs the Doctors had given him to calm him.

He was still fighting to come to terms with being back with the Alliance, still a little hazy on the details of his escape, still trying to comprehend the trauma and degradation he'd suffered over the last few weeks, still trying to work out how he felt about it all. Something had changed for him, but he wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Your pathetic attempts at drawing upon the Force have only prolonged your suffering."

Vader's words again. His thoughts kept coming back to the words the Dark Lord had said.

"It was not I who betrayed your father."

He had meant Ben, Luke was sure of it. What had he meant? What had happened between Ben, Vader and his father?

"We will speak at length, young one."

Luke shuddered at the memory, of the threat made towards him.

But was it a threat? There had been something in Vader's voice. Something that Luke struggled to comprehend and name.

"Luke?"

Narra's sharp inquiry brought his attention back to the medical centre and away from that dark cell on Escaal. He wiped at his face with unsteady hands, breathed in a calming breath and swallowed his rising consternation and looked to Narra who was watching him with concern. "I'm ready, sir."

Narra nodded, speaking gently. "We'll take it easy, Luke. If you need a break just let me know and we'll stop, let the medics assess you."

"No, I'll be fine," Luke told him, sounding more determined. "Just get it over with."

Narra started recording. "For the record, please state your name, rank and service number…"

TBC….