Dark Times

by Treenahasthaal

Two years after joining the Rebellion Luke is shot down during a mission and ejects from his X-Wing in enemy territory. The events that follow lead him, painfully, to his first meeting with Vader. The repercussions of which change his life and his destiny forever. A father/son story although it might not seem like it. Note: There is violence and torture in this tale.

41. Absolute Part 5

AN: I'd like to thank everyone who is reading this fic. Particularly those who take a few moments of time to tell me what they think. I'd like to thank those who review anonymously and I wish that I could reply somehow to the kind words expressed.

Again, Ehlen Anders belong to my best friend and beta reader; Kazlynh and I urge you to check out her fic on this site.

Disclaimer: Again Star Wars, it characters and worlds do not belong to me, they belong to Lucas... well Disney... and I am only playing in the sandbox. My only profit is that fun I have.

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Dark Times Chapter Six:

Absolute

Part 5

Darth Vader watched as his words had the desired effect. His son's head snapped back up, his eyes wide with alarm, instinctively rising from his seat again only to be firmly pushed back down to sit by his guards. Luke's eyes found Leia's, appealing to the silent Princess whose own head lowered away from Luke's pleading stare.

Luke would soon find that friends could be fickle: would discover that when you needed them most, they deserted you and betrayed you.

The Chairperson leaned forward, looked at the holocamera that hovered nearby. "Cut the transmission," he ordered, "nothing else goes out. Make a statement to the people that the hearing has now become a judicial matter and is therefore to be concluded in private. The Committee will make a public statement at a later time about today's events and what decisions we have taken."

Gra'vel turned to Luke. "I ask again Lieutenant Commander Skywalker. Were you aware that the occupants of the Cusrean Space Station posed no threat to you or your squad?"

Luke swallowed, nodded, cast his eyes down. "Yes, sir."

"You admit to firing your weapons in the full knowledge that there was no military presence on board, only innocents, and that they would all perish?"

"Yes, sir."

What else could he say? Never before had he felt so weighed down by the consequences of his actions.

Gra'vel's face was pale and grim as he turned from Luke to Vader. "The Lieutenant Commander's confession notwithstanding, Lord Vader, do you have further evidence to back your claim?"

"I do, Chairperson," Vader rumbled, his eyes still on his shaken son. It was intoxicating being in the same room as his child and he had to fight the compulsion to call in his troopers and take Luke now, by force. He had to be patient, had to push away his haste and let this process take its course. Then the boy would be his.

Luke could not fight this. He could not escape this.

"However," he continued, "presenting such evidence here would be prejudicial to any legal hearing the Lieutenant Commander may be subject too."

"Since when have you cared about the law, Vader?" Leia Organa challenged from beside him. "Since when has due process mattered to you?"

He turned to her, towered above her, recalling the moment he had pulled her against him, when Tarkin had turned the Death Star on Alderaan. "I enforce the law within the Empire, Your Highness, as you are well aware."

The Princess paled, visible shaken and he was acutely aware that this was the first time that they had been in the same room since the Death Star.

"You are a monster," she hissed.

"We are not here to discuss me, Princess." He turned away from her, dismissing her and turning to the watching panel. "I repeat my request, Chairperson. I demand that this hearing be suspended so that the Horaarn Government can give due consideration to the Cusrean petition to have Lieutenant Commander Skywalker extradited into Imperial Custody to answer the charges of murder. Charges he has now confessed to, twice."

Because what else could the boy say but the truth?

The seven member panel took a few minutes to discuss the events and Vader watched their faces, felt their conflicting emotions. It didn't matter how they felt, he already knew the outcome, already knew the decision of the Horaarn Government. This had all been for show, all for the public of the Galaxy, all to discredit the Alliance.

All to take possession of his son.

"Very well, Lord Vader." Gra'vel glanced at Leia and bowed his head. "Your Highness, it is the decision of this Committee Meeting to agree to Lord Vader's request and suspend this enquiry on the grounds that it may be prejudicial to the Lieutenant Commander's future legal status.

"The… uh… the request for extradition may be submitted to the Supreme Court of Horaarn who will give it due consideration. In the meantime…"

He paused, his eyes flitting over Luke, to the guards behind him. "Officers, if you will."

Vader watched as the guards drew Luke to his feet and turned him around. His hands were brought behind his back and cuffed, his legs shackled and both sets of chains affixed to the thick belt that surrounded his waist. As they chained him, one of the officers cautioned, "Luke Skywalker, you are under arrest and summarily convicted of the crime of murder; the number of crimes to be determined at your sentencing hearing which will be held within fifty two hours. At this hearing you will have the opportunity to appeal your innocence. You are hereby stripped of any rights given to you under the Horaarn constitution and you will be securely held until your appearance in court."

Vader smiled behind the mask. Luke's feelings were convoluted, a blend of raw terror and tenacious courage, tinged with confusion. He was afraid, so afraid and yet his anger sang in the darkness. It was pure, unadulterated rage. Luke knew he had been cornered, knew that he had been called here under false pretences. He knew that this was all a façade, a game to place him in the position where capitulation was his only choice.

Within fifty-two hours Vader would be leaving Horaarn with his son.

As Luke was pushed toward the door, Vader turned away to leave by the same door by which he had entered.

"Wait!"

It was the Princess again.

The Dark Lord turned back around, watching as the Princess appealed with Skywalker's escorts.

"Please! May I have a few moments with the Lieutenant Commander?" She was standing at the very edge of her section of the courtroom, leaning over the barrier, pleading. "Luke may not have rights, but perhaps I do?"

The guards hesitated and they glanced at the panel as the members rose to file out of the court room.

Gra'vel studied the Princess as she played nervously with her hair, with the pin that held it in place. He nodded, "Very well. You have five minutes, Your Highness."

"May we speak in private?"

Vader stepped forward to object, but he stopped as the Princess was told, "No, Your Highness, that is against regulations. No-one may speak with prisoners while unattended."

And so he stood back as the Princess stepped out of the boxed area and folded her arms around his son.

ooOOoo

"Oh, Luke," Leia breathed as she wrapped her arms around him, aware that he couldn't return her embrace.

He leaned down, laid his head on her shoulder. "That could have gone better," he quipped, trying to be upbeat, trying to be strong for her, but she could feel his body tremble, could hear the fear in his voice and she worried about how he would cope going back to a cell while facing being handed over to Vader. She could hear the Dark Lord's breathing behind them, could feel his eyes watching them and she was sure that Luke was also acutely aware of his presence.

"Maybe slightly," she admitted, trying to be strong for him. She played nervously with her hair, pulled at the elaborate hair pin, and felt the small piece of metal come away in her palm.

He pulled away, caught her eye, and voiced his confusion. "I'm convicted?"

"Horaarn criminal law works on the presumption of guilt. You have to appeal for innocence to be proven." Leia brought her hand down, holding it close to her body.

Luke closed his eyes, briefly, as awful realization sank in. "And I've just confessed live on the holonet." His voice was rough, hoarse with emotion.

"It'll be all right," she wanted to reassure him, but at this moment she had no idea how they were going to circumvent this situation, how to fight it. "I'll arrange counsel; we'll appeal at the sentencing, fight the extradition."

"Using what?" Luke wanted to know, not believing her, knowing that he had walked straight into the trap that had been laid for him. "I knew what I was doing, Leia. You heard what was said, what I said."

"Did you know it was refugees?"

He shook his head. "No, of course not."

"You see? You didn't know!"

"Not the specifics. But I knew people were on board, I felt them. I felt no danger, I only felt…" he swallowed, agitated and remorseful, "…their innocence and I still fired on them."

"Did you warn, Narra?" she asked tucking a strand of hair back into place and making sure her hair pin was still in place.

"I tried, but…" he trailed off remembering his Commander's reaction. Remembered being reminded it was an order, remembered the deaths of the pilots around him, remembered Narra ordering Wedge to take out the station. If he had stepped aside, if he had let Wedge take his shot then it would be Antilles standing here and he couldn't have done that to anyone else, couldn't have allowed Wedge to live with the knowledge that he had killed those people.

It would have destroyed his friend, as it was destroying him.

"Then we use Escaal, argue diminished responsibility due to post traumatic stress…"

"No!" His voice was sharp, horrified. "No, we don't. Leia… I don't want to go there."

"Do you want to go with Vader?" Her tone was more biting than she had intended and Luke glanced up in horror at the man who stood only a few metres away.

"No, of course not," his voice was raised; his anger and distress beginning to manifest themselves. "Leia, I…"

"That's enough! Time to go."

Luke looked over his shoulder at the waiting Horaarns, nodded in resignation and looked back at Leia. "Tell Han I…"

Leia threw her arms around him again, encircling his waist, her fingers pressing the tiny metallic object into his palm. "Take it!" she whispered, urgently, into his ear as his fingers curled around hers, around the item she gave him. "We'll get you out. Remember Five-nine-four-four- two-three-eight. Thecla's out and the Falcon's sitting ready."

Luke swallowed, nervously licked his lips as he clasped the cool metal in his hand, aware of the eyes on them, hoping they hadn't been seen. He was encouraged by her words but dampened down on his optimism, the hope that flared at the thought of escape.

"Han's plan?" he asked. It was meant to have been a joke, but his voice was hoarse with consternation.

"Han's plan," she confirmed with a smile.

"That explains the lack of detail," he joked with a half-grin, too aware of the guards closing in as they lost patience… and then their hands took his arms and he was being dragged away from Leia, stumbling over the fetters on his ankles.

He glanced again at Vader as he was pulled backward and his face paled, his eyes widening as though he had just realised something.

"Leia!" he called desperately, tugging against the Horaarns, beginning to fight against them. "Leia! Tell Han… ahh…" he wrenched from them, trying to get back to her and she was aware of Vader beginning to stride forward.

He tripped over his shackles, fell, and they caught him, manhandled him back toward the door as he struggled against them. Fighting to be heard over their commands to calm down, to go with them, to make it easier on himself, he told her, "Tell Han, shields up and punch it!"

And then he was gone and the door was shut and Vader was behind her.

Leia stood for a moment, composing herself, fighting against the anxiety that Luke's warning had instilled in her: fighting against the nearness of the Dark Lord and the revulsion she felt for him.

She was aware that Gra'vel and the committee members had vacated the hall and only she and Vader remained in the vast chamber alone. Lifting her head high, refusing to give him any satisfaction she turned around on her heel and strode passed him without a word or a glance.

ooOOoo

Luke was wrestled to the floor of the corridor, more guards running as he was subdued, a knee in the small of his back holding him down. Their voices warned that fighting against them was futile, that he needed to stop resisting before he got hurt.

"I'm not fighting you," he spat out onto the floor, lying still for them. "I just needed to speak with Leia." He sucked in a breath. He still needed to speak to Leia, he needed to tell her what he felt from Vader, needed to tell her how much trouble she and Han were facing when they tried to leave Horaarn.

He had felt it. He had felt Vader's intentions.

"What's going on here?" a sharp voice called and the boots around him moved and he was hauled to his feet.

"The convicted was resisting, sir," one of the guards told his superior as a large, bull of a man approached them. Luke was dismayed that the voice belonged to the one man who had looked after him in the hearing, the one who gave him water and who had spoken kindly. It was clear that his status had changed.

"I was not resisting," Luke insisted, tightly.

The larger man's eyes narrowed as he looked down upon him. "The convicted does not speak unless directed to!" he was warned.

Luke's fist closed around the small object Leia had given him, feeling demeaned and humiliated. He was no longer Luke Skywalker, or Lieutenant Commander, he was "The Convicted" and he was less than they were.

The man towered over him, leaned into him. "Resistance will only make this worse, Convicted."

Luke could help himself, couldn't bite back his reply. "You haven't seen me resist yet."

Luke saw a flash of an arm coming toward him, had barely any time to brace himself for the blow landing, before something pushed him backward taking his guards with him and the Horaarn who was about strike him was propelled at speed to tumble along the corridor.

Leaning against the wall, Luke thought at first that he had unconsciously used the Force as he had on Escaal, but the slow, regulated breathing of Darth Vader put that thought to rest as did his statement of "Skywalker is not to be harmed."

Vader had stopped the man.

Pushing himself from the wall, throwing off the grips of his guards, Luke stood tall facing down his enemy. At least this time he wasn't hanging helpless from a durasteel line and beaten half to death. This time he could stand on his own two feet.

"And how long do think you will sustain that once back in my custody?" Vader wanted to know with, Luke thought, a hint of humour in his tones.

Luke hesitated at this, recalling Vader's ability to know his thoughts on Escaal, faltered at the hidden threat in the Dark Lord's words, but he lifted his chin, pushed back his fear. "For longer than you think, Vader."

Vader smiled beneath his mask. His son was in an impossible situation and knew his fate was sealed and still he did not give up. It was that same tenacity and dogged determination that had kept him from breaking on Escaal.

"Then I look forward to our conversation," Vader told him, watching as the young man paled at the reminder of his words uttered on Escaal.

"I shall break him myself."

"We will speak at length, young one."

Luke swallowed, gathered his anger and disgust. "I have nothing to say to you."

"You have healed well since Escaal," Vader noted, ignoring Luke's words, but seeing his strength of conviction. "Once you are back in my custody it will be up to you whether or not you are returned to that state."

Luke chilled at the threat, his legs almost buckled beneath him as he instinctively drew back from Vader. He couldn't go back to that, couldn't face another cell, another durasteel line, another droid, more questions. He'd rather die than be reduced to pleading to his father's killer not to hurt him, would rather die than betray the Alliance.

He knew he would. He knew that if he was to go back to that situation, that dark cell, that pain and pressure, he would break. He would give Vader exactly what he wanted.

But he didn't want Vader knowing that. "I don't intend being in your custody."

Vader smiled at his audacity, at Luke's failure to recognise how hopeless his situation was. "It is inevitable."

"You don't scare me," Luke countered, his voice tight with anger, with loathing, unable to think of anything else to say.

And Vader knew that was the truth. The boy did not fear him, but he did fear what he could do to him.

No, Luke didn't fear him.

Luke hated him.

There was movement down the hallway, a flurry of activity and a voice suddenly calling out.

"My… My Lord Vader!"

Pushing down his impatience and dragging his attention from his son, Vader turned at the call. First Minister Teraten was quickly walking down the corridor towards them, pausing briefly to skirt around the fallen man who was being helped to his feet by his colleagues. The First Minister threw Luke a brief, hostile, look before turning his attention to the Dark Lord.

"My Lord," he stated, looking flustered and unnerved. "We have rioting in the streets near the Princess Organa's apartment and a large crowd has congregated outside of this building. My security advisors have stated that it would be unwise to take the convicted out of the court house at this time."

Vader considered this, his helmet turning to regard Luke for moment as the youth shuffled his feet and looked away. There was something about his movements, something that didn't quite fit the moment. Something suspicious, something about what he had said only a few moments ago.

"My Lord?" Teraten tried again.

"I will release a detachment of my troops into your control, First Minister, to assist in restoring order in the streets," Vader offered, seeing Luke take an interest in this statement, feeling a spike of anxiety from the boy's direction. Why should Luke care about troopers on the streets of the city?

Luke dropped his head, looking at the floor as Vader turned. If he had understood Leia's words then Thecla was out in the city, having troopers patrolling the streets could put the sergeant in danger, could put an end to any escape before he had even attempted it.

Vader had to be sure his son was protected; the upset and violence that Luke's admission had caused on Horaarn left Luke vulnerable. "Clear the plaza outside of this building and I shall bring in my shuttle so that Skywalker may be transported safely."

Luke glanced up at that, eyes wide in dismay. He would have no chance of escape from a shuttle.

"An excellent idea, My Lord," Teraten bowed, "We thank you for your gracious assistance."

"You may also house him in our facility," Vader stated, turning away, effectively dismissing the First Minister.

However, Teraten was no so easily discharged. "Ah, My Lord Vader," he pressed, voice smooth and immutable; a true politician. "As much as I respect what you are trying to do for us, I do have to remind you that the convicted is not yet in your custody. It may not be prudent at this time for him to be held in the Empire's keeping. The… ah… public wouldn't like it. Justice has to be seen to be done. Protocols followed."

Anger stirred as Vader turned around. Unused to not getting his own way, he wanted to throttle this man. However, he had to move delicately and not give them reason to renege on their agreement to grant his petition for Skywalker's extradition. The Horaarn mandatory sentence for murder was death and the manner of execution was painful and barbaric, something that even the Empire would baulk at. He had no wish to bring his forces down upon the planet in a full scale invasion as that would give the wrong impression to the Galaxy and send supporters scurrying back to the Rebellion.

No, Horaarn's inclusion to the Empire would be calmer, discrete and at the request of its Government. However, if they dared harm his son he would have no qualms in occupying and subjugating these peoples.

"Very well, I withdraw the offer. I trust Skywalker will be well treated."

Teraten had the good grace to look offended. "Of course, my Lord," he bowed slightly to the Dark Lord and gestured to the guards to remove Luke. "Take the convicted down to the holding cells for now; we will alert you when the shuttle arrives."

Luke tightened his fists behind his back, holding firmly onto the small device in his palm as his arms were taken once more by the guards. He had planned to use the device in the speeder; discreetly unlatching his cuffs with the breaker Leia had given him and taking them by surprise. He had known it would be difficult, a last ditch attempt to escape and flee into the city. Now he wasn't sure what he going to do or when a chance would present itself.

With a last look at Vader he allowed the Horaarns to turn and walk him away.

"Wait," Vader stated, softly.

Luke's heart hammered and cool dread settled into his stomach.

"Have you searched him?"

One of the guards responded. "The convicted has never left our sight, Lord Vader."

The look on his son's face told him everything he needed to know, the sheer strength of his disbelief and consternation only confirmed this. "I believe the Princess Leia may have passed him something."

Shit!

Luke was turned again, made to face the wall and his body patted down, his pockets and the hems of his clothes searched.

"His hands," Vader stated from behind him.

"Open your hands," he was told.

Closing his eyes and sighing softly in defeat Luke obeyed, allowing the lock-breaker to roll and fall from his palm, it rattled on the floor as it hit.

So much for that idea.

"Take him away," Teraten ordered, his voice tight and angry. "I shall speak with the Princess about this."

Luke could feel the Dark Lord's satisfaction as he was dragged from the wall and pushed down the corridor towards the bank of turbo lifts.

Vader watched his son leave, the boy's steps awkward in the shackles, heels dragging, and then he glanced down at the lock-breaker lying on the floor. He held his hand out and the device flew into his palm. He turned it in his gloved hand and as he did so a thought occurred to him.

How was Luke to make contact with the Princess and the smuggler once free? How was he to meet up with them and be rescued? How, with the communication monitoring across the planet, was Luke going to speak with them without being detected?

"First Minister, did the Rebels bring any droids?"

Teraten looked surprised. "Yes, Lord Vader, two. A protocol droid and an…"

"… astro droid."

"Why, yes."

Artoo!

Of course, it would be Artoo Detoo.

"First Minister, I believe you have a security breach and you will find it in Leia Organa's suite."

ooOOoo

The pain blasted against his spine, arced along his nerve endings, exploding in his head. His muscles stiffened with the charge forcing the air from his lungs, driving it from his body.

Rhovan screamed as they all did.

There were many who were brought to him who thought they were brave, who thought they could withstand the agony of the droid, who believed that they could hold back their cries of pain. Velaptor had considered that Rhovan would be one of them and he was quietly impressed that the Major displayed no such bravado.

But then, the man was experienced in wringing the screams from others and must therefore understand that no such will power existed. Pain hurt and beings instinctively screamed.

The Captain walked around the suspended man noting the scarring on his back, the knitted muscle and skin of an old thigh wound. The first the result of a blaster bolt between the shoulders during an uprising on Jabiim, the second due to an improvised explosive device on Hasthaal soon after his brother's death.

Why Rhovan now chose to associate with the Rebels, with the same type of people who had caused him pain, was beyond Velaptor. He had known no such pain himself, had experienced little in the way of the war and he hated the Rebels, hated what they stood far, hated that they caused chaos in an Empire that was offering only security and structure.

He smiled as Rhovan gasped and groaned and shuddered on the line. "Tell me, Major," he spoke softly, his voice carrying a hint of his amusement. "What was it that attracted you to the Rebels? What was it that caused you to give up your devotion to the Emperor and become his enemy?"

Velaptor smiled at the silence that followed his question. Rhovan was stubborn, he would scream, but he answered no questions.

No matter. He would talk eventually. They all talked and Rhovan knew that, too.

ooOOoo

Thecla grabbed the top rung of the ladder and stuck her head up through the manhole cover that Artoo had opened for her. Night had fallen, it was still snowing but the alleyway looked clear. The non-com pulled her body up and out of the sewers, hoping she wouldn't have to go back down to get back to the ship. Quickly she shrugged off the flight suit and hid it under a snow drift, piling more and more on top of it to hide the brilliant orange.

"Okay, Artoo, I'm out. Snow cover remains good, but I'm covered in shit and it's freezing… I'm wet and I stink. Where do I go from here?"

There was a muted whistle and Threepio translated.

"Artoo states that you need to turn left at the top of the alley way and cross the intersection opposite the…"

"Wait, wait," Thecla glanced to her left and right trying to work out which opening to the alley way the droids considered the top. "Which way is 'top.'"?

Another whistle and Thecla had to smile at how exasperated the little machine sounded. "Sergeant, Artoo states that the top of the alley has a rather large neon sign advertising a local drinking establishment."

"You mean a bar, Threepio?" Thecla laughed, amazed that the droid seemed to use so many words when only a one or two would suffice.

"I believe that is what I said, sergeant," Threepio responded, sounding perplexed as Artoo twittered in the background.

Thecla looked up and squinted through the snow, spotting muted lights through the blizzard, amazed that the bar would be open for business in such a storm. "I see it, Threepio."

She walked forward, shoulders hunched down in the storm, heading toward the lights, wondering if she should chance entering and trying to warm up and dry off, but knowing that she probably wouldn't get past any security they may have on the door to keep undesirables out. She was filthy and stank like the backside of a bantha.

The comlink suddenly buzzed in her hands and she switched channels. "Solo?"

"It's all changed, Sarg," Solo sounded wired, tense. "Vader's here."

Thecla's stomach dropped, recalling the blood-red lightsaber spinning toward her on the rain swept roadway on Ra'imar as she and Haslam helped Skywalker into his fighter. Her hand went to her abdomen, pressed against the scar that she had been left with despite the batca treatments. "He's here?" she echoed, dismayed.

"He appeared at the court," Solo told her as shouting and angry voices rose from the street ahead of her. She glanced up, saw people running in the snow. Lots of people all heading in the direction she needed to go.

"It's a mess," Solo added. "The kid confessed that he knew the station wasn't a threat."

"What?" Thecla hissed into the comm, recalling Luke's admission to her back on Adralii when she had found him practicing with his lightsaber in the darkened ash filled hollow. He had seemed to want the guilt, had found it difficult to stomach what he had done and had been struggling badly. And she had told him her story of the grenade and the civilians in the shop that she had killed. They had shared common feelings, a common guilt, and he had seemed more settled and at peace when they had walked back the compound together.

Why had he felt the need to confess at the committee hearing?

"Why would he do that?"

"Vader's the Cusrean's delegate, he got Luke to admit what happened and demanded the kid's extradition. Luke's been arrested and convicted."

"What do you want me to do?" she found herself asking, her mind firmly on the fact that the Dark Lord of the Sith had arrived to complicate matters.

"I haven't heard from Leia yet, but she's planning on passing Luke a cuff-breaker," Han explained, "and telling him the comm channel the droids are using. We're hoping the kid'll be able to use them."

More shouting from the street. "I'm not going to get near the Princess with this crowd and security, I stink like the sewer. What do you want me to do?"

"Find somewhere warm and lay low," Han advised. "We'll let you know if the kid makes it. We need you to meet up with him and bring him to the Falcon."

Thecla smiled, shivered in the cold. "You make it sound so easy!"

"Piece of cake!"

Thecla froze and pulled further into the ally as more figures moved through the snow. "Solo…. We have stormtroopers in the streets."

ooOOoo

"…. has been arrested and convicted of murder. The Judiciary office announced tonight that the decision on Lord Vader's petition for Skywalker's extradition will be given in court at the sentencing hearing which is scheduled to be held within the next fifty two hours. Although legal proceedings are normally private, a late vote within parliament has passed a mandate that will allow holocameras inside the court to ensure that the people know the truth of Cusrean despite the suspension of the Enquiry Committee.

"Meanwhile Lord Vader has graciously ordered his troops to assist the Horaarn Security Forces in keeping order in the streets as thousands of protestors, many of them resettled Cusreans, march on the Princess Organa's apartments and on the court house. There has been rioting in…"

Rieekan reached over and shut down the holonet player and silence fell over Mon Mothma's office. Ehlen Anders face was grim. Captain S'adaan fell back into his chair, his large black eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. From outside the prefabricated building they could hear shouts and running feet as word spread through the base about the day's events from Horaarn.

Mothma pinched the bridge of nose trying to ward off her impending headache. "This is a disaster," she murmured to no-one in particular.

"We can write off Horaarn support after this," S'adaan stated morosely.

Mon stared at the Sullustan, was on the verge of stating that losing Horaarn support was the least of their worries now that Anakin Skywalker had laid claim to his son, but she stilled her tongue. No-one must know, and she could only hope that Rhovan's mission would be successful but given the communication lock down of the Horaarn system the only word they got was from the state controlled media, the holonet.

Only when it reported either Luke's escape, or death, would she know that Rhovan had been successful.

But then there was Leia. There had been little mention of the Princess since the hearing. The young woman had equipped herself well while under questioning and Mon couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Bail would have been proud. Padme would have been proud. Leia was a credit to her adoptive parents and natural mother.

Perhaps even Vader would have been proud if he knew that Leia was his daughter.

Mon scoffed at that thought. That man had no feelings for others, he only knew how to kill, how to conquer and subjugate, how to murder and maim.

And yet he has torn this galaxy apart looking for his son.

That wasn't care. That was obsession. That was a desire to take hold of something that was his and twist it to suit his needs and the needs of his master. What was it Bail had said in the message the droid had brought her?

"… and keep them safe. The Jedi stressed that should Vader learn of his children, should he take possession of them that he will take them to his own master. They will turn them and use their Force abilities to strengthen the Empire. Mon… Leia and Luke will be twisted, will become evil and the Galaxy may never recover from these dark times.

"They are our hope, Mon. Trained as Jedi they will possess the strength to defeat Palpatine and Vader. Promise me, promise that you will protect them until the Jedi can teach them what they need to know."

She had protected them as far as she could. She had kept their secret, had placed them both where their talents could flourish and for over two years she had been content to watch from a distance, content to watch Vader search for the pilot who destroyed the Death Star, content to keep one or two steps ahead of the Dark Lord and keep the boy out of his father's reach.

Until Escaal, until Vader caught up with his son at last and everything had changed.

The experience had changed Luke, left him shaken and vulnerable, and he had stumbled from one bad decision to the next until now, when he was about to be handed to this father on platter and Mon knew the blame was squarely on her own shoulders.

It was she who had agreed to send Luke on the Cusrean mission and he had just confessed to firing upon the station while knowing its occupants were no danger.

Was that the dark side of the Force? Was that an act of evil? Or was it the actions of an emotionally unbalanced boy who had been scared of the consequences of disobeying another direct order?

She had then reluctantly agreed with the Horaarn Ambassador and had sent Luke along with Leia, had believed the trip it to be just what it seemed; a diplomatic solution to a growing crisis, despite the fact that Luke had attacked Major Rhovan and had drawn a weapon in a room full of other personnel.

How wrong her decisions seemed now and she could only hope that Bail would forgive her.

And Leia? What of Leia?

Was she safe? Or was she facing a similar danger to her brother?

Of course she was, Vader would never allow the Princess Leia Organa to escape him. She was a figure head, an important rallying point for the Rebellion. The Princess of a lost planet, forever loudly proclaiming the truth of Alderaan.

Dear Gods, had she really just sent them both into their father's hands?

"Lady Mothma?"

She lifted her head and glanced at Rieekan sitting across from her. "I'm sorry, General, I wasn't listening."

"I was asking how we respond to this?"

"We disavow, Skywalker," Sa'adaan stated, firmly. "He's done more damage to the Alliance in the last few weeks than the Empire has ever done. We cut him loose and leave him to his fate."

Anders was the first one to respond to that. "That's ridiculous! We can't do that. Luke was following his orders to the letter. If our intelligence had been correct we would be hailing him as a hero right now and he knows too much of our operations. We'd need to evacuate here and on every base of operations that Skywalker knows; every listening post, every fuel dump, weapons cache, every access code, every hyperspace algorithm…"

The Sullustan broke in. "A small price to pay when you look at the bigger picture. He's a loose cannon, a Jedi, more prone to following feelings than orders. He's impulsive and rash."

Rieekan and Anders shared glances; this was a similar discussion to the one that had taken place only a few days ago after Skywalker's debriefing when they had realised what Luke had done, had realised he had taken the shot despite his Force abilities telling him otherwise.

"Your argument is invalid," Anders informed the Captain. "If Luke had followed his feelings, if his squad had listened to what he was telling them, then he would not be in the position he is, and neither would we. It is we who have forgotten how to listen to the Jedi."

Sa'adaan was not defeated. "Nevertheless, he confessed to murdering over twenty thousand refugees, how do we defend that? As an organisation can we continue to show support to him? How much more support will we lose if we do that?" He paused, looking at each one in turn. "He is only one man, one human. No one person is more important than the Alliance itself."

"The needs of the many…" Mothma said softly, knowing that Sa'adaan's argument had merit, knowing that Anders' did, too.

"Exactly!" Sa'adaan pounced, believing he had won the argument.

"Lady Mothma," Rieekan began, perturbed. "You can't possibly be thinking of disavowing Skywalker."

Mothma stood, leaning on her desk. She had made too many mistakes where Luke was concerned. "No," she stated clearly. "I'm not. We will not turn our backs on Luke, on Leia, or on any of our delegation to Horaarn. I have already sent Major Rhovan in to support the group and…"

"My Lady," Anders began, surprised and uncomfortable that one of her staff had been given an assignment without her knowledge. "Was that wise, given Skywalker's animosity toward Rhovan?"

"The Major's particular skill set is exactly what we need in this circumstance," Mothma told her. "He's has far more knowledge than any of us on the tactics the Empire use and…"

"Because he designed many of them," Rieekan murmured in disgust.

"… and he will not hesitate to do what is necessary to protect the Alliance."

Ander's chilled. "You've given him the order to terminate Skywalker," it was a statement, not a question.

"As a last resort," Mothma told her tightly. "Skywalker is Jedi and since Luke was identified as the pilot who destroyed the Death Star Vader has wanted him alive. Think about it Ehlen. If Skywalker were to turn, if he were to become Sith, our situation will be so much worse."

"I believe Skywalker is better than that," Anders stated, but how could she really know. She barely knew the young man, had only met him on two occasions and during both he was conflicted and hostile and she remembered the Clone Wars, remembered Dooku and his separatist forces. She knew Mon Mothma remembered, too.

Mothma nodded. "As do I, but precautions have to be taken. Luke has been changed by his experiences on Escaal and over Cusrean. He is no longer a boy, he is a man with innocent blood on his hands and I believe him too vulnerable to be left to Vader." She paused, drew in a breath. "Which is why I want to get him out, I want to get them all out.

She straightened her shoulders, decision made. "General, bring Red Squadron back from patrol. I want to speak with Commander Narra. Major Anders I need everything you can get coming out of Horaarn just now. We say nothing publically," she was looking at Sa'adaan. "Nothing at all until this is all over one way or another. Then we make a statement."

She paused, waiting for questions, arguments, but there were none.

"How many standard hours to Horaarn hours?" Anders asked.

It was Rieekan who answered. "Fifty two Horaarn hours equates to forty-eight Galactic Standard."

Mothma nodded, understanding why Anders had asked; they had a tight time limit.

"Then we have less than two days to get our people out."

ooOOoo

The air speeder carrying Leia was forced to land on the roof of the apartment building. She knew the streets below were filled with people, had been listening to the reports as she made the journey back to her apartment. Below her the crowds crushed together in the falling snow, in the falling night. Leia watched numbly as her speeder descended toward the landing area, she and her driver listening to the commentary over the vehicles comm.

"… estimates put the number of citizens on the streets at thirty-five thousand and First Minister Teraten has urged people to return to their homes…"

Leaning forward in her seat she rubbed at her temples trying to ward off the encroaching headache. The day had been a disaster and she was eager to get back into the privacy of her diplomatic rooms and contact Han. All her worries and doubts had come to fruition. The Empire was involved, the negotiations for continued support and supplies were never going to happen, the Alliance had lost Horaarn and Luke had badly handled the situation.

Luke…

Luke who seemed to be stumbling from one crisis to the next since Escaal, who was struggling with the aftermath of his time in Imperial custody, who should never have been included in this mission in the first place.

He should never have been included in the Cusrean mission either, her conscience told her, laden with guilt at volunteering Luke for the attack. She should have let him be, should have allowed him to heal, should never have mentioned his name when Narra cited his lack of pilots. She shook her head. As bad as her own decision had been she had to question what Mon Mothma had been thinking in agreeing to send Luke to Horaarn? However, had she any real choice not to, when even a glimmer of hope existed of the Horaarns continuing their support if their demands for Luke to attend were met?

Could anyone have foreseen these events?

She sighed, rubbed at her eyes as the speeder descended toward her building.

"… crowds of citizens have gathered at the court house where the Alliance…"

At least we are still the Alliance and not the Rebellion… yet…

"…. pilot was earlier today convicted of multiple murders for the attack on the refugees at Cusrean in which over twenty thousand men, women and children died. As yet the security forces have been unable to remove him from the building due to significant unrest and we have had confirmation that First Minister Teraten has accepted Lord Vader's offer of troops to help bring peace back to our streets. Assurances have been given, by the First Minister's office, that Luke Skywalker will be sentenced appropriately and suffer the consequences for his heinous act..."

He's already suffering, Leia thought sorrowfully.

"… and he urges the good citizens of Horaarn to return to their homes and have trust in the justice system."

"Idiot," Leia muttered aloud. Did the man not understand that he was handing Horaarn on a platter to the Empire? The offer of troopers to restore order had been used before and it always lead to the world asking the Empire for further assistance and ultimately the world and its population being swallowed by Palpatine's ever expanding territory.

The air speeder settled into the snow and it was only when the canopy was popped from outside that she realised there were armed security officers waiting for her. Her stomach flipped over with sudden anxiety. Dear Gods, had they found the lock breaker she had given Luke?

Had they found the droids? Discovered that Artoo had hacked into their systems?

A hand was extended and, once she had turned up her hood and pulled it over her hair, she politely accepted and gracefully exited the speeder. "Your Highness," the senior officer bowed.

Leia pulled herself to her full height and spoke with regal clipped tones. "What is the meaning of this?" She gestured the other uniformed men with a wave of her hand.

"The First Minister has detailed us with your wellbeing, your Highness. Given the unrest he thought it prudent that you have a security detail attached to you for the duration of your stay."

It made sense, and she would probably have ordered the same if she had been in Teraten's place, but as long as… "Give the First Minister my thanks," Leia told him as she walked toward the waiting turbolift, "but I do request that my diplomatic apartments remain just that and that my privacy will not be encroached upon."

"Those are the First Minister's explicit instructions, Your Highness," the officer assured her.

Leia gave a curt nod and turned away from him, walking toward the open door and the turbolift carriage beyond. The Horaarns came behind her, trailed her all the way down to her apartment. She keyed the door open and entered. As the door slid closed, she saw the officers gather in the hallway directly outside. They may have said they were for her protection, but Leia knew they were also her guards.

She threw down her hood and leaned against the door. "Shit!" she cursed, ignoring the echo of her father's voice admonishing her for swearing.

She hung her head, briefly, allowing the despair and anguish to swamp her. This situation was getting worse by the minute.

We're going to lose Luke.

It wasn't a just a random fear, it was a surety, a conviction. They were going to lose Luke.

Drawing in a breath Leia firmly banished her thoughts, forced them to back of her mind, annoyed that she allowing negativity to descend. This was Luke and Han - it was at times when things were at their most bleak that they always came through. It was when they were cornered and in dire circumstances that the craziest ideas struck.

And somehow, just somehow, they always pulled it off. They always lived to see another day. She had to remember that Thecla was out there in the city. Han had the Falcon prepped and ready to go. Luke had the lock-breaker.

It was up to her now to secure a legal representative to make Luke's appeal for innocence at the coming hearing just in case Luke hadn't broken away before sentencing was due.

She pushed away from the door and strode through the apartment.

"Your Highness!" Threepio greeted.

"Any word, Threepio?" she asked as she walked past him causing him to pull to a halt and about turn after her.

"Oh my! Yes, Your Highness. Sergeant Da'amalan is currently cut off from the court building and these apartments due to the deployment of Imperial soldiers in the city. I believe she is looking for a place of refuge to wait out the storm and for Master Luke to contact us."

Leia stopped by the huge window, looking out at the balcony beyond at the snow that settled and drifted against the balustrade. "What's happening with Luke?"

Artoo, still connected to the city's systems, let out a screed of chatter.

"Artoo says that Master Luke is still in the court building. It has proven difficult for the local security forces to clear the area of protestors and there have been many arrests. Once the square in front has been cleared Master Luke is to be transported by Lord Vader's shuttle to the prison."

Leia closed her eyes. Vader again….

"Tell Han, shields up and punch it!"

"Artoo, get me Han!" She needed to speak with him about Luke's warning but, truthfully, she also just needed to hear his voice. "And I need names and contact details for Horaarn's defence advocates."

Artoo tooted assent and set to work.

Leia sank down on the chair by the window and spent a few moments just watching the snow fall.

ooOOoo

Luke sat on the bench in the temporary holding cell under the court house watching through the ray shielded entry as the guards outside milled around and spoke in low voices. He'd been here a while now and the binders around his wrists were beginning to bite into his skin, his shoulders burned with his hands trapped behind his back and his backside was numb from sitting too long. He was tired, drained and, despite everything that had happened, he was looking forward to getting back to that white cell and to some food and rest.

He had overheard snatches of conversation while sitting here. He had heard the guards discussing him, heard what they would like to see happen to him. They had been taking bets on whether he would be extradited to the Empire or executed here on Horaarn. It seemed the odds favoured the extradition and he wasn't sure how he felt about that… and did it really matter anyway? Either way he was a dead man.

He had also learned of the unrest in the city, of the snow storm that hadn't stopped the riots and protests. He had heard of more stormtroopers being deployed into the streets. He had heard of deaths.

Luke closed his eyes, hung his head, feeling weary of it. He wished that he could alter time, speed to the future and just get all of this over with.

There was a scrape of boot steps outside and he opened his eyes, glanced up as another guard passed his door. He groaned, recognising the heavy-set guard who had raised his hand to him, the guard Vader had sent flying up the corridor. The man stopped outside and stared in at him, eyes dark, cheek bone grazed and bruised.

Luke looked back to the floor, refusing to give the Horaarn any reaction, but he was aware of the hostility, of the piercing glare.

"Get up, Convicted," he was told, harshly, "time to go."

Luke swore silently and stood up as the ray-shield disengaged and he shuffled to the door. His arms were taken by the larger man and one other guard who stepped in. They walked him to the bank of elevators. It would appear that they were taking no risks with him since they found the lock-breaker on him.

Leia was going to be disappointed and even more concerned when he didn't make contact and he was sorry to have let her down. From the holding cells he would be taken to the elevators, from the elevators he would arrive in the lobby and from there he would be walked and escorted to Vader's shuttle and flown to the penitentiary.

There would be no chance to escape tonight.

The door of the turbolift slashed open and his escorts walked him through. He stood in the middle, turned around to face the door and his guards stood behind him, hands still grasping his arms.

It happened fast, with no warning, no twist in the Force.

The lift shot upward and jerked, suddenly and violently, to a stop, sending him stumbling forward into the door.

He fell to his knees. Someone grabbed him from behind. He glanced up, saw a glint of metal and twisted away, crying out as the vibroblade plunged into this shoulder. The blade was yanked free, raised again… and another hand grabbed his assailant's arm and suddenly he was free, slumping forward to the floor as the two officers fought each other.

There was a scream, a gurgle and a thump of someone hitting the floor. He was grabbed once more and turned over. He stared up into the blood-spattered face of his attacker.

"This is for Cusrean!"

The blade flashed down.

Luke cried out a denial, totally helpless, unable to defend himself.

There was a flare of light, a burst of blaster fire and his assailant stiffened and dropped forward on top of him.

There was a soft sigh and the guard who had saved him, the heavy set Horaarn, lay back against the wall and closed his eyes, the blaster pistol falling from his grasp. Blood ran from a gash in his throat, ran down his body and pooled on the floor.

Suddenly it was quiet.

Adrenalin kicking in, Luke wriggled from beneath the dead man, fighting against his shackles and binders to extricate himself from the weight of the body. He twisted out and lay for a moment, catching his breath, dazed at the events of the last minute or so.

Both the guards were dead, the turbolift was stopped.

This was it!

Luke pushed himself backward against the body of the Horaarn: struggling, fighting with his bound hands to reach the belt of the dead man to retrieve the binders' lock release. Catching it with his fingers he pulled it free and flicked it into his palm. Bending his wrists, swearing under his breath at the pain from his shoulder, at the slippery feel of his own and the other man's blood, he touched the release to the cuffs and they fell free. He tossed the cuffs aside and freed his ankles.

He had to move quickly, he had to free himself and get out of this turbolift before they got it working again. This was the only chance of escape he was going to get. He glanced up at the ceiling, at the escape hatch. If he piled the bodies on to each other he could reach it, he could climb through the shaft, find a way out of this building and…

…remember Five-nine-four-four- two-three-eight. Thecla's out and the Falcon's sitting ready…

…he would need a comlink to contact Thecla.

He kicked the body of his attacker to the side, lifted the blaster from the blood pool on the floor and wiped it against the leg of his pants. He pocketed the gun and, kneeled beside the murdered guard, rifling through his pockets looking for a comlink.

A bloodied hand caught his wrist and, startled, Luke glanced into the Horaarn's dark eyes surprised that the guard was still clinging to life.

"Don't… run…" the man whispered.

Luke tugged, trying to break the hold, feeling desperate and wretched. He had to get out of here, he had to go or else risk being handed to Vader. He couldn't do that again, couldn't go through the same torment as Escaal. He had to find a comlink.

"Please…"

The appeal gave him pause and Luke sat back on his heels feeling warm blood from his shoulder wound trickle down his skin, soaking his uniform. He stared at the dying man, at the blood running from the gash in the guard's neck, his feelings convoluted and torn.

Don't run…

What else was he supposed to do? This was the only chance he was going to get. How else was he going to get out of this situation? If he stayed he knew he was a dead man, he knew he would be extradited, he knew he would leave Horaarn in Vader's custody and he knew he wouldn't last long.

He had to run, he had to get away.

Thecla was out there. Leia and Han were waiting on him, counting on him.

He had to move…

"Do…n't… run…" Blood bubbled in the man's throat, spilling from his mouth, running down his chin.

Don't run…

He could hear shouts from outside, could hear people responding to the sudden stop of the lift. He had to get up, he had to move, he had to…

…She grabbed his hand, climbed up beside him and at the first shout of "Stay where you are!" they jumped together into the air, into the snow and fell hitting the water feet first.

The sudden cold drove the breath from him, his grip on her slipping as the strong current caught them and tugged and pulled at them. Thecla's hand was wrenched from his. Luke frantically felt through the water, arms flailing as he tried to find her in the dark. But with his lungs burning for air, he kicked, propelling his body upward, muscles working against the currents. He burst through the surface, gasping in a breath of freezing air, kicking water, frantically looking around for her.

"Thecla!"

A shadow fell over him and he turned in the water…

…and all fight left him, all thoughts of running banished as he saw the troopers lining the river bank and saw Vader among them.

"It is futile to run, Skywalker."

The grip on his wrist tightened. "Don't… run."

Drawn from his vision, Luke placed his own hand over the dying man's. It had been a repeat of his dream from the previous night and he wasn't entirely sure what it all meant, but if it was the Force and, if he trusted what he had seen, then Thecla would die and he would still be a captive.

Running would achieve nothing except Thecla's death.

Decision made, feelings strangely calm, he tightened his grasp on the other man's hand, wanting to give the Horaarn comfort and assurances as he died. "I'm not going to run."

The guard nodded, gave a half smile, a little hitch of breath. He laid his head back against the wall and was gone.

The lift jerked, knocking Luke back, his hand landing on the discarded knife as he tried to steady himself. His palm dragged along the sharp blade slicing a thin cut along his skin. He hissed in pain and picked it up as the elevator resumed its journey upward. The breaking mechanism engaged and the carriage slowed and stopped. The doors opened and Luke glanced out from the carnage to the men waiting for him in the lobby.

Their initial reaction to the death and gore in the elevator was one of stunned shock. The shock quickly gave way to horror and anger and a terrible conclusion. Guns were raised in Luke's direction.

"Get up!"

Luke pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the wound in his shoulder pulled. He lifted his hand to the wound and…

"Drop the blade!"

"What?"

Bewildered at the sudden shout he looked down and saw the knife in his hand. Abruptly, he realised what they thought. Horrified, he stumbled back against the wall holding his hand out, pointing the blade, offering it to them. "No! This wasn't me… I ne…"

The stun blast dropped him.

ooOOoo

The Imperial Shuttle raised its wings as it slowed and gracefully landed in the falling snow. The ramp lowered and a squad of troopers exited to line a path in the snow from the court house doorway to the shuttle's hatch.

It would be so easy, Vader told himself again, so easy to just take Luke now: walk him to the shuttle and remove him from this planet right now. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith, he should not have to pander to these people. He should not have to barter and negotiate to have his son transferred to his custody.

Luke was his by rights.

It would be so easy and he was so close.

He allowed his respirator to draw in breath, using the moment to once again still his impatience. All of this was by his design: he would see it through and he would leave Horaarn with his son and with a major political triumph for the Empire.

His master should be proud.

His master…

Palpatine had been unusually quiet, their last contact having been days ago when he had arrived at Horaarn. He had explained his plans to his master, had explained that he believed he could lure out the Force-strong Rebel pilot and capture him alive using the political backlash against the Rebellion. The Empire would take the boy and the moral victory.

The Emperor had been thoughtful, praising him for his foresight and patience and again instructing that the boy be brought to him to face justice.

And still neither had openly recognised Luke as his son.

Disquiet rolled through him, purling and curling within, and he had to wonder what his master was planning for his son.

No!

The burst of fear through the Force shattered Vader's thoughts.

Luke!

He turned, cloak billowing in a gust of wind, and strode in through the foyer of the court house as an alarm began to klaxon loudly. A shout of, "We need a medic! Medic!" could be heard above other loud voices.

First Minister Teraten ran out from a nearby door followed several of his staff and headed toward the turbolifts.

"What has happened?" he demanded, knowing it was Luke, knowing something had gone wrong.

Teraten paled, blanched at the rage in the Dark Lord's voice, trailing him as they rounded the corner in time to see the inert figure of the Rebel pilot being dragged from the elevator by his legs. He was covered in blood.

Vader's heart raced as he approached. He knew Luke wasn't dead, could feel the boy's presence in the Force strong and vibrant, but he was injured.

Luke was tossed to the side, discarded as the Horaarns pulled more bodies from the carriage. These two were dead.

"What has happened?" Vader demanded again, louder, his tones commanding an answer.

A Horaarn officer stepped forward, glanced at Vader but addressed the First Minister. "It looks like the Convicted attempted to escape," he said, a little breathlessly, anger barely contained. "He's killed two of my men. He had a knife, we had to subdue him with a stun shot."

There was a faint groan as Luke stirred on the floor and he was suddenly the centre of attention, being turned onto his belly and refastened into his bonds. A shout went up when they found a handgun in his pocket.

Vader walked to the lift, looked into the body of the carriage, taking in the blood spatters and the bloody pool. He studied the bodies, the cut throat, the blaster wound.

He pushed the Horaarn's out of the way and bent over his son, turned him onto his back and ripped open the blood-soaked Rebel dress uniform revealing a deep stab wound to his left shoulder, still running with blood.

"It was not Skywalker," Vader announced, standing up. He was sure of it, the Force was clear.

"My Lord Vader," Teraten tried to appease. "The evidence clearly demonstrates guilt and…"

"Not this time," Vader rumbled. "I suggest you check your security systems. The boy was the victim and requires a medic."

Teraten wanted to argue, Vader could see that, but instead the First Minister nodded to the security officer. "Go and check."

"And the medic?" Vader questioned.

Another nod from Teraten and the medics moved away from the bodies and knelt beside Luke. Vader watched them work. They checked the boy's vital signs, noted his stab wound, but were satisfied that the vibroblade had penetrated only Luke's pectoral muscle and scraped against the clavicle without rupturing any major blood vessels. They dressed the injury, checked for others and found the gash in his palm.

Luke stirred again as the cut in his hand was treated, eyelids flickering as he fought to regain consciousness.

"First Minister!"

Both Teraten and Vader turned at the call. The security officer jogged toward them, glancing at the dazed pilot on the floor as he passed.

"Lord Vader is correct," he told them, sounding incredulous. "Skywalker was the victim. Officer Sheni was a resettled Cusrean. He attacked the convicted, stabbed Senior Officer L'haern and was then shot by L'haern when he tried to finish off the convicted." Another look at the prone boy, confusion clear on his face, disbelief underscoring his voice. "Skywalker freed his binders, took the blaster and was looking through L'haern's pockets when L'haern stopped him. He told Skywalker not to run and Skywalker told him he wasn't. He then remained with L'haern as he died."

Vader turned away, turned to stare down at his son. Luke was still fighting to come around, his head lolling on the floor and he groaned again.

Luke had given up his only chance of escape out of compassion for a dying man? And he was reminded of Ra'imar, when Luke had limped toward him in the rain, had believed that giving himself up would save his friends. The boy had courage. Misguided though it was, it was courage nonetheless.

Did the boy truly not understand the predicament he was in? Did he not fully appreciate what the future held for him? Or was he like his father, too preoccupied by youth, head too full of dreams to truly comprehend what awaited him, once he was a prisoner of the Empire and in the Emperor's presence?

"Find him, bring him to me and we shall show him what it means to defy his Emperor."

Had it never occurred to Luke that he was so important that Palpatine himself wished to deal with him?

But first Vader had to get him to Palpatine, alive, and this attempt on his son's life had just given him the opportunity he was looking for. He needed time with Luke before the sentencing hearing. He needed the boy to understand that fighting against him now would achieve nothing.

"First Minister," he intoned, "it is clear that Skywalker's safety has been compromised. Your Forces cannot be trusted with his wellbeing. I demand that he be placed in my custody immediately and held within our facility as previously offered."

Teraten nervously licked his lips. "My Lord, the convicted cannot be passed to your custody until the proper procedures have taken place and the extradition granted."

"If he comes to further harm, First Minister, the Emperor will be most displeased, as will the Cusrean people who look to you to give them justice," Vader warned him, his voice tight with rage.

Teraten flinched, but stood strong. "I'm sorry my Lord, he must remain in Horaarn custody."

Another groan from the floor.

"Very well," Vader conceded, and added, "He remains in your custody, but within our facility…"

"My Lord…."

"…. which is housed beneath your own prison." Vader added, negotiating further. "I will permit Horaarn guards to escort him and to remain in the vicinity while we contain him. He will be safer with us and justice will prevail."

Teraten sighed in resignation, and he nodded, agreeing with the Dark Lord. The people must be appeased and if Skywalker was to be killed outside of the law then Justice would not be seen to be done, it would damage the relationship between the peoples of Horaarn and Cusrean. Where there had been one attempt there may be many more just waiting their chance.

"I agree to your conditions, Lord Vader, you may house the convicted," he accepted reluctantly and addressed the officer beside him. "Captain, take three men with you, Horaarn only."

"Yes, sir!"

A self-satisfied smile curled Vader's lips beneath his mask as he turned away from Teraten, watching as Luke's semiconscious body was lifted from the floor. The boy grunted in pain, legs buckling, head drooping as they dragged him out.

Vader followed at his back, opening himself to the Force keeping his concentration on the people around him, on the plaza outside and the beings in the surrounding buildings, looking for threats, for intent. He did not relax until the shuttle ramp was raised and his son dumped unceremoniously on the deck plates.

ooOOoo

The room stank of sweat, of blood and the stench of seared flesh.

The electro-charge suddenly stopped and Rhovan gasped in relief, gulped in a breath of air, his chest heaving with exertion. His shoulders cramped, his muscles taut, bunched as the strain of his body weight pulled. Fresh blood ran from his broken nose, from his mouth, from where Velaptor had struck him in his frustrations.

"Come, Major," Velaptor soothed, running his gloved fingers across the skin of Rhovan's stomach, across the bruises that mottled his torso. "You and I both know that this will not cease until you have answered my questions."

Rhovan hissed in another breath at the touch: not from hurt, but from disgust.

Velaptor grinned at the reaction and repeated the action. "We have been at this for some time now and I am sure that you are tired and in need of some water and rest. I could have you taken down, taken to a holding cell and…"

Rhovan laughed, spat blood.

"You find something funny, Major?"

He did, but he wasn't going to tell Velaptor the joke. He had used almost these exact words time and again with subjects and it was only now that he realised how pathetic the lies were, how hollow they sounded. It was little wonder then that they rarely worked with trained and seasoned soldiers and resistance operatives.

He would have to remember never to use them again himself.

"Major?" Velaptor reached up and grabbed the hanging man's face, fingers digging into his cheeks. He repeated, "You find something funny?"

Rhovan closed his eyes, took in a breath before opening them and staring down at the Captain. "I'm just thinking… of the sound your neck will make when I snap it."

He took delight in the sudden flare of fear in the captain's eyes, even as he realised he had made a mistake by speaking, but then, didn't they all eventually make that same mistake?

Velaptor grimaced with fury and he gestured sharply at the guards and then stepped back and watched as they beat the prisoner, driving their fists into his body, beating his back with their batons. His eyes slid closed, listening, and smiling at the grunts and cries of pain. He counted in his head, counted away minutes before saying softly. "Enough."

Rhovan's rib cage seemed to contract forcing the air from his lungs and he had difficulty drawing in another breath. He coughed, wheezed and hitched as he forced oxygen into his body.

"What was your mission for the Alliance?" Velaptor demanded. "Why are you on Horaarn?"

It took a few seconds for him to find the energy to speak. "Why are you on Horaarn?" he countered.

"What was your mission for the Alliance? Why are you on Horaarn?" the Captain barked again.

Rhovan considered the question, dismissed it and through gasps of breath he stated. "I am… on a specialist mission… authorisation aurek-aurek-th….ree-three-four-…zero-Dorn. I am… neither to be delayed nor… detained."

Velaptor sighed. "Yes, yes, so you said earlier. I am not interested in what you think you were doing for the Empire. You are a traitor and…"

The door swept open and Rhovan could hear running footsteps and an excited, harassed voice. "Captain! Lord Vader is inbound with Skywalker! He orders that you vacate this room."

Horror rattled through Rhovan. Vader already had Skywalker. He had failed his mission for Mon Mothma.

He relaxed on the line, hung his head, conflicted with feels: of relief that his torture was over; and alarm because the Dark Lord of the Sith had already claimed his son. He found himself wondering what would happen to him now… then concern flowed in to replace the selfish thoughts: concern for the boy that he had tried to crush, in a cell all too similar to this one.

Skywalker would not last long if subjected to Velaptor's cruelty.

Your own cruelty…

The line holding him suddenly released and he fell, crashing to the floor.

Velaptor stood over him considering him for a moment before turning to his guards. "Have the Major taken to a holding cell. Clean him, treat him, dress him, feed him. Lord Vader wishes him whole."

Confusion shook Rhovan, he had expected more, had expected a blaster bolt to the head, not this reprieve. Prisoners were never redressed, never given sustenance, never allowed medical aid unless it was to treat a life threatening condition where interrogation was to continue.

What did Vader want?

Hands grabbed his slick skin, encircled his arms and dragged him from the interrogation cell.

ooOOoo

Han was almost glad he wasn't in the same room as Leia and he didn't envy the Horaarn First Minister once the Princess had managed to get hold of him. Leia was gunning for blood.

He was out for blood himself, was furious and frustrated, hating being stuck on the landing platform while his friend's very life now hung in the balance. Han had heard of the Horaarn penalty for murder, knew the method and knew the multiple casualties of Cusrean would mean a slow agonising death for the kid.

Ain't gonna happen…

He stared out of the cockpit window at the falling snow.

If he could he'd be off this platform. If he could he'd be striding up to the exit of the platform and shooting his way out to get to his friends. He knew it was futile, he knew he'd never get past the number of security officers and Imperial troopers now gathered outside. He knew he had to keep the Falcon in top condition, knew everything had to be working to make good their escape once Thecla returned with Luke and Leia, knew he and Haslam had to provide covering fire to scatter the cordon of soldiers between them and the Falcon while Chewie fired up the engines and charged the main guns. He knew he would be needed to pilot them off this rock and past whatever blockade they would find in the system. So getting himself killed while trying to break off the platform was a no brainer.

"… and then he shouted to tell you 'shields up and punch it' before they him dragged out," Leia finished and Han realised that her voice had softened, had become sad.

Han nodded, back-tracking in his mind trying to remember everything Leia had told him. "Yeah, I figured I'd need to fly us out hot." He sighed, raked a hand through his hair and finished with, "It's not just the kid Vader's after."

There was a moment of silence from Leia and Han knew she had to be thinking what being captured would mean for her, remembering what capture had meant for her. "I know," she told him, softly.

"He's not getting us, Leia," Han promised trying to reassure her. "He's not getting any of us. Luke'll know when to take his chance, he…"

"Princess Leia. Oh my, your Highness!"

Threepio's sudden muted shout over the comm propelled Han to his feet, suddenly terrified that something had happened to Leia, suddenly afraid that Vader had forgone all diplomacy and had gone straight for her.

"Leia?" he called, wincing at the fear he heard in his voice.

He could hear muffled conversation between the droid and Leia, caught a few words "Master Luke," "killed," "guards," "escape," and hope rose within him replacing his fear. He grinned, laughing at himself for his overreaction to Threepio's shout.

I knew the kid could do it!

Grinning, he threw himself back into his chair as the Princess came back on the comm.

"Han?"

His smile faded, he frowned at her tone, at how guarded she sounded. "I'm here," he told her, suddenly realising he may have picked up the wrong idea, suddenly afraid that the words he had heard could have another meaning.

"Artoo just picked up a communication. Luke's been injured."

There was relief at first; the kid wasn't the one killed.

"There was an attempt on his life. Two guards were killed and Luke wounded. He made an initial attempt to escape but he… stayed."

"Stayed," Han repeated unconsciously as his brain tried to figure out what she meant. "He stayed?"

Stayed sounded like Luke had made a choice, had made a deliberate decision.

"Just how badly injured is he?" That had to be it; the kid couldn't have escaped due to his injuries. He wouldn't have chosen to stay.

"Knife wound to his shoulder."

To the shoulder. It depended on where on the shoulder, didn't it? If the muscles had been sliced, it would impede his movement and...

… you saw him, Solo. You saw him after Escaal, you saw him after Cusrean… you saw how he wanted to blame that Major and yet you saw how he took the blame solely on himself.

Dammit.

… you also saw the kid more rational, you saw him beginning to come to terms with what had happened. Just as you all left Ardralii, Luke was mostly Luke again and…

… you saw him on the holonet. You saw him wilt under the questions. You saw how he looked at Vader, how he confessed to firing on the space station while knowing it was not a threat.

"Do they know why he stayed?" He had to ask, he had to know why Luke would throw away his only chance.

There was a sigh. "That's what's confused them," she told him. "He stayed with one of the guards as he died."

It didn't confuse Leia, nor did it confuse Han.

Damn the stupid kid and his honesty! Damn his innate goodness! Damn his compulsion to stay with a dying man.

"Han, Luke is being taken back to the prison. He's to be held in a maximum security cell block that the Imperial's have beneath the main prison."

"Why do the Imps have a prison on Hoaarn?" It was an independent system, it had no ties to the Empire except for the orbiting fuelling station and they paid big credits to the Horaarns for the privilege. Perhaps it was linked to that, part of the deal.

"I don't know," Leia sounded weary, sounded wrung out and exhausted. Han wanted to be there, wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her.

He'd wanted to be able to do that for a while now.

"Did they find the lock-breaker?" he asked, fearful that he already knew the answer.

Leia's reply was a breath, a sigh. "Yes, and I have a feeling that I'll be getting a visit from the First Minister. I've broken diplomatic rules."

Another rake of his hair. "What's the worst they can do?"

"They could expel me," and Han could hear what she was thinking. They could expel her and there would be no-one there for Luke. He'd be on his own.

Han leaned forward, elbows on the console in front of him. "They won't," he assured her, trying to be upbeat, trying to think positive about a situation where everything had gone wrong for them from the very beginning. He wracked his brains again to think of a scam or a move that could get him close to Luke, while at the same time knowing that Luke would want him to be there for Leia, to get Leia safely home.

"Shields up and punch it."

They had been out-manoeuvred and manipulated even before they left Ardralii and Han knew that they would be lucky to evade capture themselves.

"We still have Thecla," he informed Leia.

There was silence for a moment. "Where is she?"

"She was close to you, couldn't get to you though because of the trouble in the streets. I told her to find shelter and wait it out."

"I'll have Artoo find out when Luke's sentencing hearing is, what the transport arrangements are, see if there is anywhere Thecla can intercept."

"I'll contact her; let her know what's going on."

"We're asking a lot of her, Han," the Princess said, a warning in her voice, a tone that told him not to get his hopes up. He knew she wasn't writing Luke off, he knew she would never do that, if anyone had faith in the kid it would be Leia, but he knew she was keeping him grounded, keeping herself grounded.

"I get the feeling she wouldn't have it any other way," Han told her, thinking of the blush that had given the sergeant's feelings about Luke away to him.

He heard the smile in Leia's voice when she replied. "Do you think there's something there?"

"Oh, it's there," Han grinned. "Luke just needs to do something about it."

They signed off, Leia going to look through a list of Legal Representatives that Artoo had complied for her. Luke needed a good advocate and Han was concerned that given the current climate she may have her work cut out for her. He, on the other hand, was going to check that the Falcon's shields and guns were fully charged.

"Shields up and punch it."

Sometimes the kid needed to listen to his own advice.

ooOOoo

Upper arms firmly held by his Horaarn guards, enclosed in a phalanx of stormtroopers and with Vader following at his back, Luke was escorted through the snow from the shuttle, into the prison. He was tired, in pain, exhausted, his body ready to lie down, his mind wanting to shut down and deny it all.

Can't do this…

He tripped over his shackles, was caught and righted before a bank of turbolifts. His shoulder seared with pain, the cut on his palm stung and his body ached from the stun blast and he knew that very soon they would be least of his concerns. He clenched his jaw, fighting his growing panic, the buzzing in his head, as the lift door slide aside and he was pushed forward into the confined space with the Horaarns and Vader. The Dark Lord's presence was suffocating, his nearness intolerable, bearing down against him, driving the breath from him. He was hoping that they didn't realise how scared he was, hoping they put down his erratic breathing down to his stab wound.

Got no choice…

The lift dropped, taking his stomach with it. He hung his head, fighting off the wave of nausea and dizziness that suddenly tilted his vision… another after effect of being stunned, of being wounded. He couldn't pass out! It had been bad enough coming to full awareness lying on the deck plates of Vader's shuttle; it had been too much like Escaal, too much like regaining consciousness on that other shuttle before being dragged to his feet and pushed down the exit ramp… too much…

It was too much…

Luke heaved in a breath, trying to calm down, telling himself this was not Escaal. He was still in Horaarn custody. He still had his sentencing hearing and the extradition process. The Empire didn't have him. Vader couldn't harm him.

Not yet…

The lift opened and Luke froze. His belly clenched, twisted with sudden dread. He wanted to shout out, he wanted to struggled and fight, he wanted to brace his feet against the floor and refuse to move.

A gloved hand fell on his injured shoulder and he recoiled, crying aloud in agony. Vader' fingers clamped into his collar bone. Luke's legs buckled and he was caught by the Horaarns, lifted back to his feet. Cool sweat beaded on his brow as he fought against the pain, the light-headedness that threated to send him crashing to the floor.

"Move!" Vader brooked no resistance.

Luke shuddered in a breath. His body felt like lead, his legs heavy and cumbersome, and he stepped forward into the dark interior of the atrium. He took in the familiar sight of the command desk and monitoring systems, the black garbed Imperial guards who were all taking an interest in him, and the hexagon shaped corridor leading away from the entrance.

It was like the Death Star. It was like Escaal.

Two of the Imperials stepped forward and bodily removed him from the Horaarns. They turned him, taking him to the side, away from the cell tunnel and walking him toward another doorway. As the entry slid open he could hear the Horaarns protesting behind him, could hear the other guards placate them and explain to them that they could stay within the foyer by the command desk but that for reasons of Imperial security they could go no further.

He heard them being told that Skywalker would not be harmed. Somehow that didn't make him feel any better. It didn't soothe him, didn't make the beating panic subside.

Just do this, you have to do this. Just do what they want.

Vader stepped into the room behind him and the door closed. A medical bench, fitted with restraints, sat in a pool of light with a Too-One-bee unit quietly waiting beside it. Luke swallowed. This could either be what it looked like, a simple treatment room for prisoners, or another room for torture.

Or it could be both.

He didn't fight the guards as they undid his bonds, freeing his hands and feet. Their hands grabbed at his bloodied uniform peeling it from his shoulders and he steeled himself against the flaring pain from his stab wound as they stripped him. He was turned and pushed to sit on the bench.

"Lie down, please, sir," the droid intoned pleasantly.

Swallowing Luke obeyed, knowing that to fight would be futile, knowing that to fight would only court Vader's wrath.

There would be plenty of time in the future for that.

He closed his eyes as they fastened his wrists into the binders, his pants were loosened and removed along with his boots. Cool metal closed around his ankles. Humiliated, embarrassed, Luke opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, trying to distance himself from what was happening; trying not to think that he was lying naked and helpless in front of his father's murderer, trying not to think of the things they could do to him while in this position, but unable to stop the imagined images from drifting teasingly through his mind.

"Clean him, treat his injuries, run a full physical assessment and transmit the results to my ship."

Startled, Luke couldn't help but glance over at the Dark Lord; they were treating him? Why would they do that?

His court appearance.

That had to be it. They couldn't have him appear in public in less than perfect health. Appearances had to be maintained to make the Empire appear above reproach. However, Luke couldn't help wondering what Vader could possibly want with his medical results and then berated himself for his own stupidity. If Vader and his interrogators knew his body's limits then they could tailor their interrogation techniques more effectively: would know what areas of his body were the weakest points for when they finally had full custody of him.

"As you command, my Lord," the soft tones of the droid seemed incongruous in the bleak setting.

Now confident that he was not to be harmed as they had assured the Horaarns, Luke heaved in another breath, forced himself to lie still and endure the indignity. He stared at the ceiling in silence as his own blood and that of the Horaarn guard was washed from his body. He lay still as the droid removed the dressing from his shoulder and probed the wound, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth at the pain that lanced from the injury and he flexed his arm, clenched his fist as the droid worked.

"Please try to relax," the machine told him, injecting him with a strong local anaesthetic, keeping him awake, keeping him coherent and aware of his situation.

Relax? Here? In this place, with Vader standing over him?

He nearly laughed at that, nearly burst with hysterical amusement, the tension within him unbearable, looking for a release. He swallowed it down, choked it back, and hid it within a barking cough.

Vader's helmet tilted and Luke realised that his captor knew exactly how he was feeling, knew exactly the mess his head was in. He closed his eyes again, not wanting to look, not wanting to see, struggling to still his growing consternation, his conflicting emotions.

Once his shoulder was fully numbed, his wound was carefully closed and a bacta dressing applied. The cut on his hand received similar attention. His bruised and cut face was re-examined and his body was scanned for blood pressure, oxygen saturation. Blood samples were taken for analysis, and through it all the Dark Lord stood at the side watching in silence.

Finally the droid moved back and the restraints released his limbs.

"Get up," he was told by one of the guards. They dragged him off the bench. He was forcefully dressed in a pair of simple grey pants and short-sleeved shirt.

He was turned around and his hands once more firmly cuffed behind his back. His upper arms were clasped and he was led back into the atrium, passed the command desk, passed the watching Horaarns and Imperials, and taken down the cell corridor. He swallowed, heart hammering in his chest as they stopped before a bland, black durasteel door, telling himself it was just a holding cell, just a room where they would leave him in peace until his hearing. This would not be an interrogation room.

The door slashed open. He saw the single chair sitting with a water bottle on the seat. He saw the line hanging from the ceiling. He saw the droid hovering close by and a man dressed in the uniform of an Imperial Interrogation Specialist.

Rhovan?

Terrified, the adrenalin surged. "No!"

ooOOoo

Thecla switched the comm off, laid her head against the cellar wall and allowed worry and fatigue to close her eyes.

Skywalker hadn't escaped and had lost the lock breaker. Solo, Haslam and the Wookiee were stuck on the landing platform guarded by the Force knew how many Horaarn and Imperial soldiers. The Princess was in her apartment now, likewise surrounded by Horaarn Security. And she was stuck in the darkened basement of the bar at the top of the alley way as even more soldiers and security tried to bring peace back to the city streets.

The bar was closed for business, locked tight and quiet for now. Thecla had found a small, side window at street level, hidden by the drifting snow. It broke and opened easily and she had squeezed in and dropped to the duracrete floor. She had used the small, staff fresher room to wash most of the sewer from her clothes and she was drying her garments on the hot pipes that fed the bar's heating system.

She had just hung up her pants and pulled a tarpaulin around her body when Solo had commed her.

She now had two choices: to re-enter the sewers, avoid the Imperial troopers and make her way back to the ship and abandon Skywalker; or to hang tight and try and make a move for Luke before, or just after, his sentencing hearing when they were transporting him.

Which meant trying to get near the court building either above or below ground.

Whichever way, her odds of success were not great.

Luke would be heavily guarded, protected. It would be near impossible to get near him, impossible to secure him and get him away.

She sighed, opened her eyes in the evening gloom, and eyed the barrels of drink and the shelves stacked with crates and bottles of spirits, wines and beers and snacks, wondering if there was any Corellian Ale among the stock.

Thecla shook her head, now was not the time to drink. Now was not the time to lose her head in the fog of alcohol no matter how appealing it was.

This was a hopeless task they were asking of her.

Unless there was a third choice.

A third choice that was no less dangerous for her, but one that Luke might prefer to Imperial custody, one that would save him from Vader, save him from the fate that awaited him, a fate that he had already experienced and that haunted him still.

A third choice, one that would countermand her orders, that would place her in direct conflict with her mission and her duty.

She had seen Luke on that shuttle when Rhovan had returned with him, had seen the physical tells of incessant Imperial interrogation on his body. She had later witnessed him walking resolutely toward Vader on Ra'imar knowing he was facing that same treatment, just to save her and Haslam. She had found him wandering drunk, lost and alone, in the falling ash on Ardralii after the Cusrean mission. She had witnessed his conflict, his pain, when she had arrived at the hollow in the woods to arrest him after he had attacked Major Rhovan.

"You like him," Solo had teased. "Don'tcha?"

Thecla lowered her head. This was a complication she had not expected, because, Force help her, she did like him. Her words to Solo were not a lie and she knew that she could not abandon him, just as she couldn't leave him on Ra'imar, but she also knew rescue was not an option either, not with the amount of armour that Vader would have surrounding him.

That left just one option for her and with it her own fate would be sealed.

ooOOoo

The boy's terror flashed through the Force.

Luke instinctively drew back, stumbled back only to collide with Vader's bulk as the Dark Lord moved in behind him blocking him, leaving him with only one way to go: into the interrogation cell.

"No!"

Luke's denial was torn, shredded, and Vader could feel his disbelief, his collapse as he was faced with the scene he had been freed from on Escaal.

He struggled against them, fought hard, the adrenalin rush quashing his pain. He dug his feet into the floor, trying to jerk his arms free, but the guards kicked out the back of his knees, dragging him down the steps.

Velaptor lifted the water and Luke was thrown into the chair.

The door slammed shut, closing off the shouted objections from the Horaarns as they reacted to Luke's protests. Vader would placate them later.

"Let me go!" Luke was yelling: crying, cursing as he pulled on the restraints, all pretence of being in control gone.

Vader closed his eyes, reached out into the Force and touched his son's emotions…

They were wild, tortuous, shifting and swinging violently as Luke fought to make sense of what was happening. He was lost in the fugue and fog of a flashback, broken by being placed in the same situation he had been rescued from several weeks ago… lost in memories of trauma, of the evacuation on Ra'imar, the battle over Cusrean and the deaths that bloodied his hands.

There was anger: such a fury, the flames of rage stealing all rational thought.

Anger competing with panic, with fear, with terror of the pain Luke believed was to come...

No…

Not the pain…

Luke was afraid of the pain, but it was not that which caused his anguish.

Vader smiled beneath his mask. His son was terrified of breaking, of betraying his friends, of betraying the Princess and his beloved Alliance.

The boy suddenly bolted forward, pitched himself up and out of the chair, but Vader was there to meet him, to block him once more. The guards caught him and threw him down again, tugging at his binders freeing one of his wrists to only to drag his arms around and behind the back of the chair to refasten the cuffs.

Screaming with frustration, Luke wrenched loose, his sweat slicked skin slipping in the guards' grasps. He flung out his arms crying out, sending out a blast through the Force. The guards were thrown sideways, Velaptor backwards and Vader staggered under the strength of the push, pulling up his own shields to deflect his son's power.

He smiled. Luke was strong. The boy was using only a fraction of his potential and he was powerful. Vader could not allow this to continue, lest Luke damage himself. The youth had to learn control and not react purely on instinct. The Dark Lord allowed his anger to rise, feeling the heat of his rage build.

Luke took a lurching step and Vader caught him by the throat, held him. His son wrestled against his grip, clutching and pulling at the gloved hands, trying to break free.

"Enough!" Vader commanded, putting the weight of the Force behind his words. His fingers tightened and he lifted Luke from the floor. It was more of a message, a warning. Vader had no intentions of harming Luke, but Luke would know his place.

Vader's voice, the threatening pressure of his hand, cut through the haze surrounding Luke's mind. It sliced through the churning emotions and, blue eyes dark and wild, body trembling with exertion. the boy glanced up at him. He whooped in a breath.

"Please…"

And Vader was unsure if Luke was pleading for his life, or for death.

"Sit down," Vader growled, dropping Luke back into the chair. Fresh blood was swelling through the dressing on the boy's shoulder. He would have the injury reassessed once Luke was calmer.

Luke slumped, sagged in the chair, unable to fight on, his strength gone.

Velaptor and the guards picked themselves up and Luke's arms were taken again, brought behind the chair, the cuffs refastened around his wrists and fixed to the base of the seat. The guards secured Luke's ankles to the legs of the chair and stood back, stepping aside to wait further orders.

"Leave us," Vader told them watching Luke closely, listening to his gasping breaths as he fought to bring his emotions back under control.

The guards bowed and stepped out.

"Captain," Vader rumbled, his eyes not leaving his struggling child. "You, too."

"My… my Lord," Velaptor stuttered, confused. "I thought that I…"

"Your work is done," Vader told him. "Clear your affairs on Horaarn and transfer to my ship. I will have need of your expertise once we have captured all of the Alliance delegation."

"Leia," Luke whispered in despair.

Velapor smiled, but Vader paid him no heed. "Thank you, my Lord, I am eager to serve," he glanced at Luke as the prisoner shook his hair, as sweat dripped from damp strands. "What of our other guest, My Lord?"

And that did draw Vader's attention. "I trust my point was made and understood."

"It was made, My Lord," the Captain assured him. "Although the Major is stubborn and I am unsure how much he understood."

"Have him taken to the Executor, I will speak with him myself," Vader finished, turning back to Luke.

Skywalker's head hung low, chest heaving in air, whispering in pain. "Leia…"

Velaptor performed a perfunctory bow and stepped up from the cell.

The door swept closed and, at last, Vader was alone with his son.

ooOOoo

To be continued...