AN: Many Many thanks to all of you who have been taking the time to read this story. Again, thanks to those who have taken the time to leave some very kind and encouarging comments. My thanks also to Kazlynh for beta reading and for showing me another side to Rhovan. : )
All previous disclaimers apply...
Dark Times: Chapter Five
A Legitimate Target
Part Nine
Rhovan leaned over the monitor reading the decrypted information as it appeared on the screen. He frowned, tapped at the datapad in his hands and doubled checked the details of the incoming intelligence. Straightening, he put a hand to the back of his neck and stretched out the stiff muscles. He was starting to get a headache.
He looked at the data in his hands. It was a loose piece of information, one of those extraneous strands of Intel that initially doesn't appear to mean much but may prove worthwhile once fitted together with other seemingly-superfluous details. He crossed the room to another console and leaned over the top of the young operator as she worked.
"Lieutenant, do we have anything from the Bothans about further developments in the Cusrean system?"
She shook her head. "Nothing, sir, the situation there remains static."
"What about orders from Imperial Centre?"
"Nothing new, sir, the fleet there is still working to standing orders."
"Then why is the Executor leaving?" Rhovan thought aloud, looking at the datapad in his hands.
He turned from her, crossed to the large panelled screen that held a star map of the Galaxy and tapped on it to bring up Cusrean and its surrounding systems. He studied the area, the distance between planets, the hyper space lanes, the Imperial worlds. He tapped the panel again widening the search, looking for the routes between Cusrean and the Rebel worlds without actually knowing what he was looking for.
Why was the Executor leaving and where was it going? He didn't like that Vader's route was unknown, didn't like not knowing where Vader was going to turn up next.
His attention firmly on Vader's next move, Rhovan barely acknowledged the door opening at his back. His fingers tapped the map again bringing a planet into focus and he narrowed his eyes as something connected in the back of his mind. There was something here that...
"Did you know?"
The voice behind him was ragged, torn with suppressed rage. He recognised its tones immediately.
"Did you know what was on that station?"
He turned around, had no time to move away, to step aside, before Skywalker's clenched fist connected with his chin.
Rhovan staggered under the unexpected punch and, reacting instinctively, he brought his hand up in a backward swing, forgetting that he still held the datapad until it battered it off Luke's face. The powerful blow sent the younger man sprawling to the floor.
Rhovan wiped blood away from his lips as he bent down and offered Luke his hand. "Let me help you, Luke."
It was the wrong thing to say, it was too close to what he had said to the pilot on Escaal as the boy had hung from chains, bloody and beaten, before him. He saw the flare of fear on Luke's face, heard the cry of denial as the boy's hands swept up and Rhovan found himself propelled backward by a powerful push. He crashed through the star maps, tumbled over the console and hit the far wall before landing hard on the floor.
Stunned, winded, he lay for a moment listening to the shouts of those in the room, the words indistinct through the whine in his ears. He pushed himself up, grabbed onto the wrecked console and dragged himself to his feet.
Luke was being lifted from the floor by his staff. The young man was struggling, shouting, pushing them away as they drew him to his feet.
"Leave him!" Rhovan barked. Luke's eyes were glazed, his movements terrified, desperate. Rhovan recognised what was happening. Afraid of what might happen if this didn't stop, he ordered, "Let him go!"
The boy was in the midst of a powerful flashback.
Rhovan moved around the side of the console as his staff released their hold. Luke was breathing heavily, bleeding badly from a gash in his cheek from where the datapad had caught him. He stood, hunched over, seeming confused, and looking like a shaak who'd just been released after branding; in pain and in shock.
"Luke?" Rhovan tried, keeping his voice soft as he took a cautious step forward. He put a hand up, palm out, trying to keep the boy's attention on him, trying to talk him down. "We can end this now, if you..."
It was so fast that Rhovan only realised that Luke had gone for a weapon when the blue blade of the lightsaber suddenly appeared in the pilot's hands and the hum of energy filled the otherwise silent room.
Rhovan stopped, dropped his hands to his side and motioned with a nod of his head to the other personnel in the room to back away. To do anything just now, to say any more to the youth would be suicide. All he could do was wait: wait for Luke to slowly emerge from his fugue state.
Rhovan licked his lips, tasted blood and watched as awareness gradually filtered into the blue eyes and Luke frowned; his gaze finding Rhovan's, pupils widening in recognition. He stepped back. The lightsaber waved and Luke glanced at it, at the hands holding it. His head jerked up in shock: in horror.
The door opened at his back. There was a flurry of movement, a shout of dismay and a uniformed figure barrelled low into Luke's legs, bringing him down.
The lightsaber extinguished and clattered to the floor.
More bodies barrelled into the room, grabbing Skywalker and hustling him into the corridor even though he fought against them.
A khaki-clad pilot bent down and picked up the fallen lightsaber. Straightening, turning, Wedge Antilles smiled at Rhovan. "I told you this wasn't over…"
He paused, then drawled, "Sir," before leaving the room.
Rhovan, let out a slow breath of relief as the door closed, muting the shouting from the hallway. He lifted a hand, wiping away the blood that trickled from his burst lip. The Lieutenant moved toward him but he waved her off. "Just continue your duties," he told her, massaging his rib cage.
He had been dealt quite a blow when Luke had pushed him. He frowned…
Luke had pushed him without touching him.
It reminded him of the interrogation droid on Escaal that Luke had sent spinning. It was as though the boy called on his Force powers instinctively when he felt threatened and he had to wonder what they would be like once Luke had mastered them and could summon them at will.
"Have a droid crew sent down to clear up this mess and effect repairs." He ordered.
"Yes, sir," the officer acknowledged.
Rhovan turned, his feet crunching in the debris of the star map as he bent down and picked up the discarded datapad. There was blood smeared on the back of it and he realised that he had hit Luke with some force. His hand returned to his own chin and prodded the bruised flesh gingerly, although Skywalker had landed a pretty strong punch himself.
"Did you know what was on that station?"
It had been days since the attack, days since the squad had been told of the civilian deaths on the Cusrean space station; why had Skywalker reacted now? What was the catalyst that had sent the boy into a blind rage and finally snapped his brittle control?
Rhovan used the sleeve of his jacket to clean the smeared blood from the datapad. He punched up the information he had accessed earlier and read over it again. The Executor was breaking orbit and leaving Cusrean, its destination unknown.
"Lieutenant," he lifted his eyes from the pad to the officer's monitor, wanting to work quickly before any of Rieekan's Security goons descended to find out what had happened. "Bring up all the intelligence that has come from Cusrean in the last two hours, include holonet reports."
He scanned the information as it flickered across the screen and noted that the most recent holonet broadcast on the tragedy had been aired only a few minutes before Luke had attacked him. He played the recording, listened as the reporter named Skywalker as the guilty pilot, watched as the recovery operation was portrayed in detail; the close up shots of victims, burned bodies, twisted limbs and hideous injuries. He paused the picture, leaned in closer noticing the ship from which the pictures were taken. It was the bridge of a Star Destroyer, he had been on one often enough to know the layout and the shape of the viewing ports, but these ones seemed larger, seemed to suggest a greater size of ship than the class II.
The Executor?
Straightening he massaged his sore chin, lost in thought. It would appear that Vader had stayed to oversee most of the recovery, had allowed news crews on his ship as the Empire milked the tragedy for their propaganda.
Propaganda that had now reached Luke; sending the boy tipping over the edge and leaving him raw and unstable and, now that his job was done, Vader was leaving the system.
ooOOoo
Luke fought against the hands that grasped him, that pulled and dragged him along the hallway. He was aware of voices, aware that he was yelling, that others were shouting at him, but all meaning was lost to the panic that blinded him, that deafened him. He didn't know where they were taking him, didn't know if he was headed for that cell again and...
...Dade...
...something about Dade...
... if he was going to be fitted to that line again, dragged off his feet and suspended helpless and open to whatever they wanted to do to him, however they wanted to hurt him, whatever drugs they wanted to pump into his blood stream.
A door opened and he was hauled through it. It was dark, it was cool and he planted his feet down, leaned back and dropped loosely, using his weight to drag his captors down. There were curses as his guards stumbled, losing their hold on him as they fell.
Luke rolled in the dirt and dust...
...dirt?...
... pushed himself up, only to be caught again and pushed to the ground. He was turned over and held down by a hand on his chest, another was placed against his injured cheek.
A new voice said. "Luke. Kid, it's me!"
Han?
He glanced up at the face that hovered over him in the dimness. His eyes slid to the side and he saw stars in the sky, smelled sulphur in the air. He looked back at the Corellian; still not quiet believing his friend was there.
"Han?" He asked, hoarsely, trying to shake off the confusion from his mind.
"Yeah, kid, it's me," Solo smiled with relief, watching as focus returned to Luke's eyes. He moved back, helped Luke sit up and motioned to the other pilots to keep back for now. The moment he had seen Janson and the new kid dragging Luke from the building with Wedge coming at their back he had known what was happening.
He had seen it before in those whose experience of trauma was so great that a simple word or action would throw them back into the images and emotions of the events they had tried desperately to escape and forget. Flashbacks could be so strong that the individual actually believed that they were back in that terrible moment, that they were once again in the midst of battle or that they were about to crash and burn.
Han would love to get his hands on the bastard that had hurt the kid so badly.
Luke touched his cheek with a shaking hand and hissed in pain. "What happened?" he asked, hazily, noticing Wedge, Hobbie, Janson and the new pilot standing close by.
"You don't remember?" Han asked with some concern, his gaze moving from Luke to the Security Corps building, knowing that it wouldn't be long before word got out. He had to get the kid out of here before Rieekan had him arrested for assaulting an officer
Luke shook his head, trying to dislodge the mist in his mind. "I.. just remember watching the holonet..."
... a little girl...
...the little girl I killed...
...and, I..." He broke off as realisation sank in. He remembered the holonet, remembered the horror at seeing his victims splashed across the screen in vivid colour. He remembered Hobbie talking about Rhovan, he remembered his anger, the rage that had fallen over him and his decision to find the Major and confront him.
His stomach twisted with anxiety, consternation caught the back of his throat. "I went speak to Dade... I... mean... Rhovan and..." He looked at Han. "I think I hit him. After that... it's a little blank." He frowned, trying to remember the events after leaving the mess hall. "Did I hit him?"
Han sank back on his heels looked up at Antilles for the answer. The pilot nodded and handed over Luke's lightsaber. With a sinking heart, Solo took the weapon; knowing what it meant. Luke had pulled a weapon on a superior officer.
"Yeah, you hit him, kid." Han didn't understand this, didn't understand why Luke would attack the man who had saved his life and rescued him from Escaal. "But, why'd you hit him?"
Luke frowned, seemed perplexed that Han didn't know. "It was him, Han," he explained as though it was easy to understand. "All of this is because of him."
"Solo," Wedge warned, he nodded to the Security building as troopers began emerging.
"Come on, Luke," he kept an eye on the soldiers as he got an arm under Luke and helped him to his feet. "We need to get you out of here." He handed Luke to Klivian and Janson who closed about him. Wes removed Luke's blaster from its holster as they began to walk him up the incline to the landing zone.
Solo caught Antilles sleeve, gave him back the lightsaber. "Get him to the Falcon and stay with him," he glanced at the doorway the squad had dragged Luke from. "I'm gonna try and smooth things over." He hesitated, glanced back at Luke, then asked. "Do you know what Luke was talking about?"
Antilles face darkened and said all he needed to say. "Rhovan was an Imperial Interrogation specialist on Escaal."
ooOOoo
Rhovan wiped at his lip again. Damned thing just wasn't going to stop bleeding and he turned as the door opened again. Instead of Rieekan or his troopers he found himself facing Skywalker's Corellian friend.
He stepped forward. "How's Luke?"
Solo's punch was more accurate, more practised and Rhovan found himself on the floor, blood pumping from his nose, as the Corellian stepped closer. He tried to push himself up, but stopped as Han towered over him and pointed at the floor, warning him.
"Stay down!"
Solo turned and left the room, shouldering passed several of Rieekan's men as they crowded into the doorway.
ooOOoo
Luke sat on the deck plates next to the dejarik board, his legs splayed on the floor, his back against the side of the acceleration couch. Wedge was slouched in the chair by the engineering station, Hobbie lay on his back on the couch, Wes had his head in his hands and his elbows balanced on the deactivated gaming board and Ylanic was taking the first watch in the Cockpit ready to warn them should any Security personnel approach the ship.
Artoo Detoo stood beside Luke his optical receptor watching his young master.
All were silent as they waited for Han Solo to return; the only sound came from the open deck gratings near the entrance of the passenger compartment where Chewbacca continued to work. The Wookiee glanced over with concern at the quiet pilots every time he popped up to select a different tool.
Luke gingerly touched his injured cheek, feeling the blood crusting over the cut. He laid his head against the couch side and followed the conduits in the Falcon's ceiling with his eyes, but he didn't really see them, he wasn't thinking about them.
The walk to the Falcon had cleared his head, but his memory of what had happened remained hazy and unclear. He could recall the holonet pictures clearly; he knew he'd spoken with Wedge and Hobbie. He remembered leaving the mess hall, vaguely remembered throwing a punch at Rhovan but, after that, he only had a few flickers of images and feelings. He remembered rage, remembered being on the floor and Rhovan standing over him. He remembered terror, and holding his lightsaber in his hands.
His lightsaber.
He'd drawn a weapon?
"Shit," his head dropped, his knees drew up, his feet flat to the floor. He'd assaulted a commissioned officer in the execution of his office, he'd drawn a weapon. He was facing a court-martial. "shit..."
He was aware of heads lifting to look at him, but he ignored them until his friends had returned to their own thoughts.
He was grateful to the squad, grateful that they had come for him, that they had risked their own standing and positions in the Alliance to stop him. Now they were all facing consequences because of him; because they had helped him, had ushered him away from the scene before he could be taken into custody. Now they were accessories and facing similar sanctions to his own.
"Look at what you have done."
Vader's voice from his dream echoed and he closed his eyes against the images it conjured, tried to fight his mind's eye and failed.
The little girl with the burn on her cheek.
"You will see."
Luke lifted his head, looked at his friends sitting with him. Wedge was lying back in the chair, his hands behind his head trying to act indifferent and nonchalant but Luke could see the tension in his body, the frown on his face. Hobbie was nervously tapping his foot on the couch in time to a rhythm that only he could hear. Wes was fidgeting with the controls of the deactivated Dejarik board and Chewbacca was working through it all.
"You will see."
The Dark Lord's nightmare tones persisted and he glanced back to Wedge, to the engineering station and saw his lightsaber sitting on the console.
He swallowed, licked his lips; the weapon taking up his whole attention.
The Dark Lord was right. He had seen, but he didn't see.
In his dream Vader had shown him consequences, had shown him the devastation wrought by the touch of a button. The holonet had reinforced that, had shown him that the child of his dreams had been real, but still he refused to acknowledge the true nature of what had happened above Cusrean; the truth about himself.
"Your pathetic attempts at drawing upon the Force have only prolonged your suffering."
He had used the Force on Escaal; had sent the droid back with a push, he had used it to bolster his strength when he faltered, when he was sorely tempted to tell them what they wanted just to end the pain. On Ra'imar he had sensed Vader's attack through the Force. He had tried to teach himself, to train with his lightsaber as Obi-Wan had taught him and had touched the Force for a short while.
But above Cusrean he had failed to listen to his feelings, to what gut instinct was telling him.
"You will see."
Vader was right. He needed to see. He needed to listen to the Force and to what it was telling him.
He pushed himself to his feet and immediately the others sat up.
"'You okay, Luke?"
"I'm fine," he repeated his mantra, trying to placate Wedge, knowing his fellow pilot wasn't going to like this.
He crossed the compartment and hunkered down next to the open deck plates. The Wookiee's head immediately appeared and Chewie wuffed a question.
Luke shrugged, understanding the nuance it. "I'm fine, I..." He trailed off, seeing his lie reflected in the concern of his friend's eyes. He shook his head, gave a little smile. "I'm not fine, Chewie, I..." he looked at the deck plates, at the tools strewn on the floor. He lowered his voice to a bare whisper knowing that Chewie could still hear him. "I need some time alone, I need to try something and... well," he gestured behind him, aware of Wedge Antilles and the other watching him. "I need your help to get my lightsaber from Wedge."
Chewbacca shook his head, argued.
"Chewie, please trust me," he pleaded, still whispering. "I'm not gonna do anything stupid."
He'd already done something stupid.
"This is something I have to do; something the Force is telling me to do."
The Wookiee was quiet for a moment, his blue eyes regarding his friend as he weighed up Luke's words. He grunted, nodded, and pulled himself up and out from the innards of the ship and immediately walked over to the engineering station.
Wedge sat up straighter then stood in apprehension as the Wookiee approached, wondering what the hell Luke was up to and knowing that he wasn't going to like it.
Chewbacca bared his teeth, growled low in his throat, and Wedge jumped, moved back a little. "Hey, Chewie, I..."
Hobbie and Janson also stood as Chewbacca picked up Luke's lightsaber and handed it back to its owner.
Luke clipped the lightsaber onto his belt and smiled at his friends. "I'll see you guys later."
Wedge stepped forward. "Luke, whatever you're going to do..."
"Isn't anything you need to worry about, you're in enough trouble as it is," Luke grinned, the expression seeming out of context for the situation and Wedge's concern for Luke's state of mind deepened.
"Luke, Han'll be back soon, he's expecting you to be here," Antilles took a further step toward Skywalker only to have his way blocked by Chewbacca. He raised his hands as Chewie snarled, sending him lurching backward. "Okay...okay..." he conceded.
"I'll see you in lock up, Wedge," Luke announced. "Come on, Artoo,"
The little droid blooped assent and followed his master from the ship.
Hobbie dropped back onto the couch. "Friggin' hell," he cursed. "Solo's gonna be pissed."
ooOOoo
Leia sat at the back of the room, her head in her heads as she listened to Solo and Rieekan argue. She had a raging headache, brought on by too much stress and too little sleep and she was wracked with guilt. Over the last few days she hadn't seen Luke. She had been locked in negotiations with outraged allies, had been trapped like many in a building by the falling ash and had spent days setting up the diplomatic mission that Han was to escort her on.
She knew that Luke would understand, knew that he had had people around him to help him, to be there for him; but it didn't ease her guilt any that she hadn't been.
And now things had become so much worse. Now Luke's behaviour had spiralled from being concerning to dangerous and he had committed an act that in time of war carried a possible death sentence even in the Alliance.
Luke had attacked Rhovan, had drawn a weapon against an officer, although it had been Han that had broken the Major's nose. She smiled at that; couldn't help but feel more than a little satisfied that someone had wiped some of the arrogance from the man, even if both her friends were now in serious trouble.
"... facing a firing squad for hitting that bastard! He's the son of a bitch that tortured, Luke!" Han was shouting, leaning in and pointing a finger at Rieekan. He turned to Mon Mothma who was sitting behind her desk listening intently to both sides of the argument. "And you all knew!"
He turned to stare at Leia as his own words sank in. He sagged a little, "Leia?"
Horror rattled through the Princess. She sat straight. Surely he didn't think that she...
"I didn't know," she told him, vehemently.
"You don't look too surprised," Han accused her.
"I... knew what he was, just not what he had done," her excuse sounded lame even to her and she saw Han's face darken with anger.
"It doesn't take much intelligence to put the pieces together, your Highness."
She winced at his cold tones knowing he was right, her guilt that much sharper under Solo's withering gaze. She looked away, unable to sustain the contact.
Han turned away from her, to Rieekan. "You can arrest me if you like, General, but leave the kid alone this time."
"I'm sorry, Captain," Mon Mothma broke her silence before the General could answer. "I recognise that Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker is quite unwell, but there has to be an investigation during which he must be confined. We will not be seeking the death sentence, but he still faces serious consequences if found guilty. He has struck...
"allegedly struck..." Han corrected her.
"... an officer in the execution of his office during war, he has threatened an officer with a weapon and he fled the scene of..."
"I had him taken from the scene," Han interrupted, angrily.
"Then you, and Red Squadron, are accessories after the fact, Captain, and you, too, struck an officer in..."
Han threw his hands in the air. "Then arrest me, line me up!"
The Chief of State drew in a breath of air, she stood, her patience ragged and thin. She leaned over her desk. "Captain Solo, if you will please be quiet and allow me to speak." She paused as Solo fell sullenly silent. "I agree with General Rieekan on this matter," she held her hands up as both Han and Leia opened their mouths to protest.
"No," Mothma sharply advised them both. "This discussion is at an end. Discipline must be maintained. Skywalker will be placed under arrest pending an investigation and the outcome of a court martial. He will be under the authority of Dr Therriman at all times.
Red Squadron will also be placed into custody and held overnight to be released before their next patrol in the morning. All will be reprimanded, punished and have it entered onto their records."
She focused on Han. "You, Captain Solo, as a civilian working for the Alliance are also under our jurisdiction and subject to the same laws and procedure. To that end, you are also under arrest and will be held until..."
Leia came to her feet. "Mon, please..."
"...until your due departure time at oh four hundred."
Han gaped at her in astonishment. "You think I'm still going on that mission after this?"
Mothma's expression softened, she looked drawn, sad. "You are a man of honour, Solo, I believe that you will do the right thing."
The door of the room opened and two security officers entered. Han eyed them sourly before turning to Rieekan. "Just, go easy on the kid."
The general nodded, looking pained. "You have my word, Captain."
Han walked from the room with the soldiers deliberately not looking Leia's way as he passed.
ooOOoo
Within his meditation Vader felt a stirring in the Force; a quiet light within his darkness that brightened with each of his regulated breaths.
He smiled with satisfaction, with anticipation and cautiously approached his son's presence.
ooOOoo
Artoo Detoo had helped light the way through the forest path that lead to the sloping drop into the natural arena he had found several days ago. It hadn't been easy getting here; the trees were heavy with ash and the path had been covered with the stuff. They were both covered in a fine dusting and Luke could taste it on his tongue. Artoo had been moaning and complaining for the last few yards as his gears and mechanisms has become clogged and Luke knew that getting him back to the base without help was going to be impossible.
Luke paused and glanced around the arena, at the night sky framed by the jutting rocks and towering trees above him. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath of cool air feeling suddenly calm after all the drama, torment and soul searching of the last few days. This was the place he needed to be.
He opened his eyes and smiled at his companion. "Artoo, switch your flashlight off, I don't need it."
The little droid complied, but twittered unhappily.
"Programme two remotes to attack when I draw my lightsaber and release them," he ordered as he stripped off his fatigue jacket and dropped it beside Artoo.
Again a bloop of unhappy compliance.
Luke ignored him and dropped to the ground as the two seekers were released and immediately disappeared into the shadows. He settled himself cross-legged among the ash piles. He closed his eyes again and drew in a deeper breath; smelling the sulphur tainted air, feeling it enter his lungs as they expanded. It was quiet, the sounds of the night muffled and muted by the covering ash.
He took another breath as he brought past pictures to mind, as he tried to recall the fine details of events, tried to remember the exact words of conversations.
"Remember, a Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him."
He smiled as the memory came to him; as the pictures played in his mind's eye.
"You mean it controls your actions?"
"Partially. But it also obeys your commands."
On the Falcon he had watched the seeker closely, had keenly followed its movements until it had made a sudden dive and shot him in the thigh. It had stung like hell.
Han had laughed, mocked them both about "hokey religions and ancient weapons."
"I suggest a new strategy, Luke. This time, let go your conscious self and act on instinct."
Ben had then placed a helmet on his head and covered his eyes. Disbelief and scepticism had run through him.
"With the blast shield down, I can't even see. How am I supposed to fight?"
"Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them."
... a little girl with a burn on her cheek...
"See what you have done."
"Shit," Luke cursed as the resonance of Vader's voice sliced through the images of that first lesson, shattering them. He hung his head in a moment of doubt. Maybe this wasn't going to work, maybe what he was looking for wasn't there to be found...
...when the flames arose...
...and maybe he didn't want to find it at all, didn't want to know what it would tell him.
Disheartened and discouraged he straightened his back, drew in another breath and slowly let it out, as he tried to focus on the Force.
"Stretch out with your feelings."
He stood and unhooked the lightsaber from his belt. He closed his eyes, reaching out, searching to touch the Force, to feel it around him alive and vibrant.
"A Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him."
He felt the cool night time breeze brush against the skin of his arm, felt it ruffle the hair at the back of his neck. He felt the expanse of the Force open before him.
He ignited the lightsaber and the seekers attacked. He blocked the first two bolts, the blade glowing in the night, bathing the area in a blue-white light. He turned on the balls of his feet, met the next few attacks as the remotes moved swiftly in and out of the shadows.
Exhilaration flowed through him as he allowed the Force to guide him, as he met laser bolt after laser bolt; his movements instinctive and natural. He felt complete. He felt himself move deeper into the folds of the Force, felt it wrap around him.
The night deepened and darkened around him as he moved. A coolness surreptitiously drifted around him, breathing lightly across the sheen of sweat on his skin.
There was something else here now. Unsettled, he felt as though he was no longer alone. He felt...
...lost...
He frowned, faltered and dropped his head, searching for the source of this sudden feeling; this sudden realisation.
He was lost.
He opened his eyes. It was still night and, despite the warmth retained in the grit beneath him, a chill had settled over the area. He rested his back against the farmstead dome and fidgeted with the small motor he held in his hand. He needed to fix it before he turned in for the night. He reached for the tools by his side.
"Luke?"
He turned and smiled at his aunt as she smooth her skirt and sat down by his side.
He was glad to be back here where everything made sense, where he was safe and where his life was predictable and...
"But it wasn't, Luke," she reminded him gently. "This night, this time we spent, was our last."
He swallowed against the ball of grief that blocked his throat, blinked against the tears that threatened to spill at her reminder.
"Aunt Beru, I..."
"You shouldn't be here, Luke," she told him, reaching out and taking his hand. "As much as I want to hold on to you and keep you here, I cannot. You have to come to terms with what happened to you and with what you have done."
"It's difficult," he confessed, looking away.
"The truth often is difficult, Luke," Beru told him. "It takes courage to accept it."
Her tone sounded distant and he glanced at her wondering what was wrong. Her attention was elsewhere and, curious, he followed her gaze.
The dark figure by his grandmother's grave; tall and imposing, robes snapping in the growing wind.
"You are his weakness Luke," Beru told him again. "And you have a strength within you that he craves."
Luke pushed himself to his feet and took a step forward. "I don't understand, Aunt Beru. Who is he?"
His aunt stood beside him. "Go to him, Luke. Only he can help you now. Only he can show you what you need to understand, no matter how painful."
Confused, Luke took another uncertain step and stopped. Beru placed a hand on his back and gave him a firm, but gentle push; much like the one she had given him when his courage had faltered the first time he had tried to ask his Uncle about going to the Academy.
He walked across the sand toward the gravesite, his heart suddenly accelerating, his stomach churning with apprehension as he drew near the still figure.
The tall man stood silhouetted against the darkening horizon, his head dipped toward the grave, his robes flapping in the desert winds.
Luke licked his lips and glanced back to the homestead looking for his aunt. Beru was gone and the dome a ruin lying cold in the desert night.
He was alone and suddenly afraid; a fear so strong, so brutal that it battered his senses, urged him to turn and run.
He sensed swift movement, turned and yelled as the waiting man's hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat. He was drawn off his feet, his own hands desperately trying to prise open the fingers that encircled his neck. He gasped and choked and struggled in Darth Vader's grasp.
"You have allowed your fear to consume you, boy," Vader told him, echoing the words spoken on Escaal. "You have become lost and unfocused, directionless."
Luke, struggling to swallow, struggling to breath, could make no reply. The black mask tilted as the Dark Lord considered him, the fingers easing a little allowing Luke to painfully drag in air.
"You are weak. You refuse to see. Refuse to acknowledge what lies within you." With disgust Vader viciously threw him to the side.
Luke landed hard, rolled in the sand, came to rest on his back. He coughed, wheezed in much needed oxygen. It burned through his starved lungs.
His senses reeled, horror rattled through him. Why had his aunt insisted he go to Vader?
Vader...
Hatred and anger twisted within him, smothering his fear.
Vader.
His father's murder.
He staggered to his feet, pulled his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it as the Dark Lord advanced on him. Vader's own red blade cutting through the dark night.
He yelled as Vader attacked and he was sent stumbling backward. He crouched, threw his hand up in reflex action, his own blade catching the heavy blow before it could land.
Vader pressed the advantage forcing Luke down. He twisted his sword blade, caught underneath Luke's and wrenched the hilt from Luke's hand sending his lightsaber flying. It came to rest some distance away, lying deactivated and out of reach.
Luke rolled away, climbed to his feet and faced Vader unarmed.
"You have courage," Vader acknowledged, the earlier disgust replaced with pride. It confused Luke. "And yet you still refuse to see."
"What..." Luke tried to say, but the word was lost to his sore throat, to a damaged airway. He coughed, tried again. "What is there to see?"
The Dark Lord shut down his sword and reached for Luke. His hand closed around his upper arm and he was dragged in front of Vader's bulk. A hand clenched at the back of his neck, forcing him to look upward at the night sky.
"Look at what you have done."
A light exploded in space. A flare so bright that it lit up the night sky overwhelming the star shine.
He knew what it was. He knew those flames.
...when the flames arose I felt...
The sky drew dark once more as the blast died and the stars reappeared.
One instant. One brief flare and over twenty thousand had died.
"What did you feel?" Vader asked. "When you fired upon the station what did you feel?"
"No," Luke groaned, protesting, struggling in the cruel grip. "No, please..." He didn't want this, he didn't want to know.
"You felt them," Vader accused. "You felt the innocence."
"Please..." Luke begged, squeezing his eyes shut against the memories, against the feelings they evoked.
"When the flames arose..." The Dark Lord intoned, coldly.
...a fireball emerging from a birthing explosion...
...triumph, victory, elation of spirit...
...relief...
...and...
"No!" Luke yelled, fighting the Dark Lord's grip. Vader suddenly released him and he staggered away to stare in disbelief at the man as the full acknowledgement of his actions hit home. Tears of anguish, of shame, of pain trailed over sand encrusted cheeks.
"When the flames arose..." The Sith urged, feeling Luke's resolve crumble.
Luke fell to the sand and to his knees as Vader loomed over him.
... a finger pressing a button...
... a rush of fire, of emotion that winked out of existence...
... a laugh...
His laugh.
"Pleasure," he rasped. "When the flames arose I felt... pleasure."
... a sharp, intense pain ripped across his chest. He lurched forward, brought his saber down with a raw cry of rage. It sliced through the seeker, neatly halving it. He twisted around cutting through the second one as it dove toward him. He turned on his heel, throwing the lightsaber away with his remaining strength.
He fell to his knees in agony; he had killed those people and he had enjoyed it. For that brief moment it had felt good and he had laughed as thousands died.
He had laughed.
His hands closed around the ash as his body was racked with painful spasms and he gagged, retched and vomited as he cried with grief, with guilt, with self-loathing.
"Well, remind me never to get you angry."
A light was shone on him. Startled and horrified that someone had seen him, that someone may have heard him, Luke scuttled away from the light. He pushed himself to his feet and turned into the heavier shadows as the torch light flickered over the area looking for him. He wiped at his mouth with his wrist, spat the acrid taste of vomit into the ash.
"What do you want?" he grated, humiliation underscoring his words with anger.
"I want you Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker," the light washed across the arena's walls.
Luke stepped further away; his feelings jumbled and disordered. His head pounded, he felt as though he was apart from this scene, as though it was someone else this was happening too and he was just an observe; able to distance himself.
He placed his hands to his temples, pressing hard against the headache. There was still something here, still something within the Force that was darkness, that was malevolent, that was satisfaction, that was coloured by... concern. He frowned, puzzled by the feelings.
Soon...
A caress of a word in his mind and the darkness retreated to sulk in the shadows, to watch and wait. It had sounded like...
Vader.
He chilled, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He unconsciously rubbed at his throat where the Dark Lord's hand had held him in the vision.
"Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker?" The voice sounded wary, a little scared. He could hear muffled footsteps as the flashlight searched for him.
Luke shivered, shuddered; his limbs felt weak, shaky and he dimly recognised that he was going into shock from the strength of the vision, from the horror of at last acknowledging the truth of his feelings.
When the flames arose, I felt pleasure.
Defeated, beaten, he slid down the rough rock face and sat in an ash drift.
"I'm here," he said quietly.
The light fell on him, throwing him into sharp relief against the grey of the rock.
"There's people looking for you, sir."
He was shaking badly and was thankful when his jacket was placed over his shoulders and a warm body sat beside him in the ash. The lamp was placed onto the ground, its glow keeping the shadows from them both.
"Well, you found me," he said, stating the obvious, his teeth rattling. His injured cheek throbbing. "Again."
"I have a talent for picking up strays," Thecla told him trying to keep her voice light and calm. She wasn't sure of what she had seen, wasn't sure of his emotional or mental state and mindful of the warnings the search party had been given about him being armed and possibly dangerous. Blasters were to be set to stun.
"Besides," she added, "I knew where to look."
He stiffened beside her.
"I mean, I saw you here before," she clarified quickly, knowing she had said the wrong thing. "On the day of the mission. You were practising."
"You saw that?" he groaned, grabbing the sides of his jacket and drawing them tighter around him. He remembered the feeling of being watched, recalled the snap of a twig and wondered what stories she had told her comrades.
"I come here myself," she explained, softly. "It's private, peaceful and I get to think things through."
There was something regretful in her tone and Luke was starkly reminded of the sacrifice this woman had made for him on Ra'imar many weeks ago. Now he had brought violence and horror to her place of sanctuary and had thought ungraciously of her. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I never thanked you for what you and Haslam did for me."
She shrugged, but he didn't miss her hand covering her stomach where Vader's thrown lightsaber had caught her. "When you were brought back from Escaal I was one of the first on the shuttle," she told him, quietly. "I saw what they had done to you. I can't imagine what you must have gone through..."
"Perhaps you need more time to think?"
Still fighting the shivers of his body, Luke drew his knees up, swallowed and forced the echo of Rhovan's voice away.
"... I just didn't think it was right that you were willing to go through that again for Haslam and me."
There wasn't anything he could say to that. They had been willing to risk capture and death themselves to save him. He didn't feel he deserved it; if they had left him to Vader on Ra'imar then twenty thousand refugees might still be alive today.
The little girl might still be alive.
"I killed all those people at Cusrean," he found himself saying, his voice a hoarse whisper. He needed to say it. He needed to say it aloud and to have someone else acknowledge it, react to it. He looked around at her, held her gaze wanting to see.
"I took a shot when every sense I have told me not too. It was a cold blooded act and I... I felt good about it."
She was quiet for a moment as she considered his words and their implication; her dark eyes searching his. Then she turned away to look out into the night as she spoke.
"I was on Thyferra, on a mission to intercept a bacta shipment to the Empire. It didn't go exactly as planned, but we managed to get most of the stock and run the blockade the Empire had set up around the planet," there was pride in her voice and he could feel her sense of accomplishment, but it was coloured by something else; regret.
"I was part of a decoy," she continued, "a distraction for the main assault. There was a gun fight, close quarter fighting, hand to hand at one point. We spilled out of the complex and into the streets. Shots were coming from the structures around us and the only way to escape the streets was through the buildings. We had to clear them first. I..."
She heaved in a shuddering breath. "I... We took fire from a shop, so I tossed a grenade through the window. We ran in, there was fire, there was bodies...dead troopers... and behind a counter where the grenade had landed there were civilians... people who had just gone to the store not knowing that we were doing some shopping of our own the same day."
"Thecla, I..." Luke started.
"No, sir!" she stopped him sharply, angrily. "This isn't just about you. This isn't just a story to make you feel better. When that grenade exploded I felt great, when I saw the dead troopers I knew I stood a chance of getting home alive. I was glad! It was pay back." She sounded harsh, bitter.
"And the civilians?" he countered.
She laughed, roughly and without humour. "You know how I feel about that, sir. Because it's how you feel about Cusrean. We're human, we feel the good and the bad. We don't get to feel better about these things.
I'm sorry they died, I'm sorry I killed them. But I'm not sorry that I lived." She drew in another breath and announced. "I lived."
Luke hung his head considering her words, feeling the venomous joy she felt at still being alive despite the deaths she had caused. He felt her guilt, felt her discomfort at her actions, she had not come to terms with what she had done, but she had accepted her shame, had learned to live with it. He would have to learn to do the same.
The Look from Han.
The actions of his friends.
The vision of his aunt pushing him to Vader to force him to see and understand.
And now Thecla's words.
She laughed again. This time the sound was light, tearing through the weight of the last few minutes. It was a sounded uttered with self-depreciation, with incredulous humour. "Would you listen to us?" She asked. "What are we like? Mr Gloom and Mrs Doom... Shit, you'd think we were ready for the psycho ward."
Luke smiled, nodding agreement. "Yeah..."
She leaned against him, her slight weight on his shoulder felt good, felt right. He smiled, slid an arm around her, relishing the heat that built between them as it eased his shivering.
They were quiet, still, both looking for nothing more than human contact, touch. The bleakness of the last few weeks, the guilt, the pain, slowly receded into the shadows of his mind, banished by thoughts of friendship, of camaraderie and a shared understanding. But, he knew they were only hiding, they would always be there, resting, waiting for a new opportunity to rise and tease him with gloating delight at his inadequacies.
However, when those times came he knew he would be better prepared, better equipped to fight back, and with each victory he would grow stronger.
The lingering darkness in the Force faded, the presence sated; its job done and Luke barely felt its passing.
"We should get back," Thecla broke the spell, the few minutes of precious peace. She sounded reluctant, her tones resigned. "They're still looking for you."
Luke was confused at first, but then he recalled her earlier statements when he had pulled away and hidden from her and he suddenly understood why she was there. "You're here to arrest me."
"I'm afraid so, sir."
He nodded, smiled, peered into the blackness of the night to where Artoo was silently sitting. "I'll need help for my droid."
"I'll send someone out in the morning to retrieve him," she assured him.
He nodded. "And my lightsaber is lying around somewhere."
"Yes, sir, I saw that," he turned to her, saw her smile, her good natured humour. "I'll help you find it."
He shrugged, grinned and stood up. He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. "I'll come quietly," he told her.
"Good, then I won't have to shoot you," she bent down and retrieved her torch. She paused, considered him. "If it's any consolation, sir, I'd have smacked that son-of-a-bitch, too
ooOOoo
Vader opened his eyes to stare at the bland interior of his chamber. He toggled a switch and his helmet and mask lowered onto his head and sealed with a hiss. The claws of the chamber cracked opened and lifted away as his seat turned to the view screen. It activated to a view of the bridge.
Ozzel turned at his Commander's signal. "Lord Vader, we are approaching the system and..."
"The Emperor will be contacting me soon," Vader told him, for of course Palpatine would have felt his connection with the Force strong pilot.
His son was strong, resilient. Luke fought against the darkness within him. He had accepted and acknowledged his feelings; that twisted delight in the deaths of others that had helped his father touch the dark core of the Force. However, he still struggled, was still influenced by his upbringing and by Obi-Wan and was thus blind to the power he was denying.
Luke had looked within himself and had been terrified by what he had seen, by what he had found. The dark side of the Force yearned for his son. It longed for Luke to reach out and touch it, caress it, bathe himself in it. Luke's innocent would be lost to its seduction and, when that day came, he would accept his rightful inheritance and stand by his father's side. He would accept his power and do his father's bidding just as he had done Palpatine's.
"Do what must be done, Lord Vader. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy."
He had grown strong just as Palpatine had promised...
"... because of what you've done... what you plan to do. Stop, stop now. Come back! I love you."
... but not strong enough.
Decades old pain lanced through him. Feelings and memories that he had thought long buried returned time and again to haunt him, to taunt him with his losses.
With her.
"Come away with me. Help me raise our child. Leave everything else behind while we still can."
With their child.
With Luke, whose existence filled him with anticipation, with focus and purpose and with...
...hope...
... the promise of unconstrained power and conquest.
"Alert me as soon as your receive his summons," Vader ordered the waiting officer, closing off his thoughts lest another sense them. It was not yet time to acknowledge Luke as his son, not yet time for Sidious' game to end so that another could begin.
But the time was coming soon.
"Of course, my Lord," Ozzel assured him. "However, the Government of..."
"Are of no concern yet, Admiral," Vader warned him and shut off the comm before Ozzel could say more.
He turned to the console before him calling up the data on the planet they were approaching comparing it with last intelligence reports he had received with regards to the Rebel Alliance. If the information was correct then Leia Organa was about to pay a visit to this very system and beg for their continued support.
He planned to be at the negotiations.
ooOOoo
Rhovan caught Two-OneBee's appendage as the droid attempted to place a small bacta patch to the gash at the top of his nose. His face had badly swollen, his eyes were blackened and his nose was broken; Solo packed a much harder punch than Skywalker.
"Major Rhovan," the droid softly chided. "Now that your nose is reset I need to dress the cut before too much time has been lost and the tissue..."
"Wait," The Major requested, looking over the medic's shoulder to the window. He jumped from the bench and turned down the bright hospital lights so that he had a better view of the compound outside.
He squinted through swollen flesh and smiled as he watched Luke Skywalker walk with a female non-com toward the security building; surprised at the relief he felt that the pilot had been found safe and in one piece.
"Major?"
Rhovan restored the light to its previous level and returned to the treatment bench. He lay back as One-Bee applied the cool wet dressing over his throbbing nose. As the droid worked he was struck with the sudden, unsettling feeling that he had forgotten something.
ooOOoo
Luke complied quietly with the security personnel. He handed over his empty weapons belt when requested, smiled at Thecla as she handed over his lightsaber, enjoyed a shower and welcomed a change of fatigues. He allowed a medic to examine him and treat his injured cheek. He spent a while speaking with Dr Therriman as his competency to give a statement was assessed. He then waived his right to counsel and willingly answered all their questions.
It was early morning and he was exhausted by the time Therriman walked with him and his guard to the old fashioned, makeshift holding pens.
"If you feel ill, Luke," Therriman fussed, "just let them know and I can arrange for you to be transferred to the medical facilities,"
"I know this isn't Escaal," Luke assured the analyst as they walked past the ray-shielded cells. "I'll be fine," he stated, smiling as he said it, finally believing it.
Movement caught his eye and his smile widened as he spotted Wedge Antillies and Derek Klivian rising from the bunks in the cell they shared. "Hey, Luke," Antilles greeted.
"They got you, huh?" Luke said with gentle humour.
"All of us," Wedge nodded to the cell opposite where Wes Janson and young Ylanic both lay sleeping. "We're here until our court-martials, except when on patrols since they have no other pilots, all privileges suspend, too."
Luke winced. "Ouch, sorry." He knew he was facing more serious sanctions.
Antilles shrugged, grinned. "We've had worse."
"Sir," the security corps guard indicated an open cell.
Luke thanked the guard and Therriman as he stepped in to find that he, too, was sharing accommodation. Han Solo lay prone on one of the bunks watching him enter.
The ray shielding activated with a muted buzz and hum and the guard and Therriman left.
"What'd you do?" Luke asked Han as he sat down on the empty bed. He remembered Han talking to him after he had punched Rhovan, remembered that it had been Han's voice that had brought him out of his flashback.
The Corellian raised his head and smiled lopsidedly, relieved to see Luke. "I broke some guy's nose."
Luke pulled his boots off, lay back on the bunk and rested his head on the thin pillow. He knew Han was referring to Rhovan and he couldn't help but smirk. "Why?"
Han considered his answer. He shrugged, placed his hands behind his head. "He pissed me off."
Luke laughed, unable to stop the small twist of satisfaction, a small piece of him pleased that there had been some retribution for all the pains that Rhovan had forced upon him. He contemplated the corrugated durasteel ceiling and closed his eyes asking, "Have you seen Leia?"
Han sighed, unable to hide the choler in his voice as he said, "Yeah, she's fine."
"You're pissed at her, too, huh?"
"Just a little," Han told him, he didn't elaborate. He didn't want Luke to know of his earlier conversation, didn't want him to know that Leia knew what Rhovan was and what he had done. "She was worried about you, kid."
"I know," Luke said simply.
Han glanced over at him. Luke was lying on his back, hands clasped over his abdomen, his eyes shut. For the first time in many weeks he looked at peace and Han knew his friend had finally sorted out whatever was in his head; just as he had known he would.
The kid's experiences since leaving Tatooine had to have taken a toll, no-one could move at that breakneck speed for as long as Luke had and not have difficulties, no matter how strong they were. There was no doubt that Luke would have more demanding times ahead, would find that his strength would slip from time to time and memories and experiences would leak into the present, but Han had a feeling that the boy was now better equipped to deal with whatever fate sent his way.
"You'll see her Royalness in the morning," Han informed him. "She'll come beggin' for me to take her on this damned mission."
"'You gonna go?" Luke wanted to know.
"Sure," Han said with another smile, "but I'm not tellin' her that. I want to enjoy her performance."
Luke chuckled, settled his head further into the pillow and listened as Han drifted off to sleep. He lay for a while listening to the soft snores of his friends around him, listening to the murmur of the guards in the other room. He drew in a soft breath of air and let it out slowly as he sank into a welcome slumber.
Beru laid a hand against his cheek, turned him to face her, studied him and smiled. "You are his weakness, Luke, and you have a strength within you that he craves."
ooOOoo
To be Continued in Dark Times: Chapter Six...