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.

44. Absolute Part 8

AN: My most sincere apologies for taking so so long to update with this part. I had considered cutting this chapter into two or three, but I could not find a good cut off point. So, I'm afraid you have 60 pages to read.

I'd like to thank you all again for reading and sticking with the story. A special thanks to all of you who have taken the time to leave some very kind comments. I appreciate every one.

My Thanks to Kazlynh as always for beta reading!

All previous disclaimers apply.

---

Absolute

Part 8

The last light of the day was bleeding away and across the vast city windows began to warmly glow, millions of homes switching on their lights to chase the shadows, all casting out illumination that would eventually create enough light that it would hide the stars.

Except here. Here dusk was preferred; here shadows and darkness were welcomed. Here the light was low, the office shaded, the desk and the robed figure sitting behind it barely lit by the flicker of the holonet screen and the glow cast from the tiny hologram that sat to his right.

Palpatine rested his elbows on the cool polished surface of his desk, the wide sleeves of his robes falling down, revealing thin fleshless arms. He steepled his fingers as he watched the images from the holonet, and listened intently to the commentators as they assessed the events of the coming day Horaarn.

"... and if we understand Horaarn criminal law the whole hearing can last anywhere between a few minutes to the entire day. There is no recess, no breaks, and there is no reconvening the following day. By the end of the Horaarn day the Rebel pilot, Luke Skywalker..."

"I believe they call criminals by the title of The Convicted..."

"... the convicted then... will either have been sentenced, most likely a death sentence for such a heinous crime, or he will be extradited to face the justice of his Excellency, The Emperor Palpatine."

"And, his Excellency willing, it will be a just death sentence and one that this act of terrorism fully deserves. If we can just watch these scenes again from Cusrean... and we warn that the pictures you are about to see are graphic and viewer discretion is advised..."

Palpatine turned away from the screen as edited highlights of the Rebel attack on the refugee station was replayed. It was all state sanctioned of course, the media across the Galaxy whipping up a frenzy of disgust, a collective plea for retribution and revenge after the massacre.

A massacre that Palpatine himself had sanctioned and allowed the Rebellion to commit. That it was the Skywalker brat who pulled the trigger made the outcome all that much sweeter. But, of course, the commentators were wrong: there would be no death sentence for Luke Skywalker, no easy way out, no peaceful rest.

Palpatine had to admit that Vader had mildly surprised him with his determined pursuit of the boy. He had initially thought that when his apprentice had met with his son that he would have found him wanting, would have found him weak and puerile. Untrained and untested and lacking any true substance... He had considered that Vader would simply kill the youth as he had the younglings in the temple and so many innocents after them. Vader was brutal, unstoppable, and utterly obedient – even when thoughts of self-control surfaced, even when the hatred of his master… a man he once admired… rose to eclipse the rage that had sustained him all these years since his fall, he never once failed to obey a given order.

He reached into the heavy cowl and scratched the tip of his nose, smiling.

Perhaps he should have made the order concerning the pilot absolute. Perhaps he should have been clearer about the boy's fate, explicit. He had told Vader to make an example of the boy and, truth be told, his apprentice was doing just that; just not in the way that Palpatine had expected or intended.

Skywalker had escaped Escaal, aided by one of the Empire's own… yes, he was looking forward to greeting Major Rhovan in person… and had continued to elude capture as Vader chased him with Anakin Skywalker's single minded obsession…

Anakin…

Palpatine's lips pursed in annoyance, a flicker of blue briefly running over his hands.

Anakin…

Vader still carried many of the Jedi's traits; he was often impulsive, impatient, rash. He was also unwavering in his pursuit of his goals, focused on an end task, and used whatever means necessary to achieve what he wanted…

…What his master wanted…

… but he was as conflicted a being as he had been when he turned to the darkness and Palpatine had never been able to purge him of all of Anakin's weaknesses.

Not yet…

Vader's obsession with his son had deepened since that first encounter, intensified, but then he quite suddenly stopped chasing. He had reeled in his frustrations and irritation at the pilot eluding capture each time the snare had tightened around him. Instead he had grasped the opportunity given to him by his master; Cusrean.

Shrewdly, Vader had manipulated the Rebel attack on Cusrean to his own advantage when he had travelled to Horaarn and used the old alliance and treaties between the systems, and the Horaarn criminal system to his own ends. The suggestion of dialogue between Horaarn and the Alliance whom it had long supplied at discounted rates, the demand that Skywalker attend the committee hearing had all been Vader's recommendation.

And now the day of reckoning had dawned for the boy.

Palpatine closed his eyes, drawing the Force about him, immersing himself into the Dark Side, sinking deep into its fluid folds.

Vader was conflicted now, he could feel it. His apprentice had spent time with the boy and now the Force roiled, boiling with anticipation, with swinging shifts and shades of darkness; muted shadowing to pitch black, threatening dawn and darkest night. Vader's presence was kaleidoscopic, his feelings ever changing; first simmering anger, frustration threatening his tenuous control of his impatience. There was rage, seething and storming within and yet, through it all, was a single thread, binding it all together…

…Hope…

… the desire, the need, to have his son. To hold the one thing that he could truly call his.

And Palpatine was going to remove it from Vader and then he would revel in the conflict, in the maelstrom that would follow.

He glanced down at the small hologram, at the tiny figure that waited instruction. "Do it."

The figure nodded once in acknowledgement as the holo dissolved and Palptine turned his attention back to the holonet.

ooOOoo

It had stopped snowing.

The morning was clear and bright, the air cool and crisp, the sky a pale blue with thin wisps of white cloud. If it wasn't for the chill of the air and the mounds and drifts of snow across the landing pad Han would have thought it was a summer's day.

He hoped it was an omen for the day, hoped that the lifting of the heavy clouds, the constant darkness and falling snow was a portent that the hours ahead would bring better news for them.

He drew in a breath, exhaled and watched it billow in the freezing air.

It was a shame he didn't believe in that hokey superstitious shit. It might have lifted his mood and given him a little hope.

He ran a gloved hand over the under belly of the Millennium Falcon. The ship was primed and ready to go. Chewbacca and Haslam had been busy these last few days; shields were at full power, hyperdrive calibrated, navigational systems overhauled and the guns charged.

Han glanced up at the buildings around him. On his walk around of the Falcon he had counted ten heavy gun emplacements on the roof tops, at least ten snipers and a collection Horaarn and Imperial soldiers stationed at the windows that looked down upon the landing platform.

The traffic lanes had been cleared of civilian vehicles and the sky around the landing platform and the Falcon was clear, patrolled only by speeders belonging to the Horaarn security forces. Han was not fooled, however, he knew that beyond the atmosphere, beyond the blue that the Empire would be patrolling the system.

He knew that below them, in the streets of the city, soldiers and tanks patrolled and Haslam had reported movement and voices coming from the drainage system under the ship. There would be no coming back that way for Thecla.

Both the missing sergeant and Luke were on their own and Han knew that he, Leia and Haslam would have to have all the luck in the universe to make it out of the system without being taken by the waiting Imperial ships above.

They had discussed fighting, they had discussed dying, they had talked about surrendering to be with Luke and waiting, captive, for an opportunity for them all to escape together.

But in the end that's all it was… talk. They knew what was going to happen here.

"The Sarg will come through," Haslam's voice cut through Solo's thoughts. "She always does."

Han glanced around, finding the soldier standing in the snow at the base of the Falcon's ramp. There was a time he would have said that about Luke, too. What was it about these kids that older and more Galaxy worn veterans set aside common sense and followed blindly. "I hope you're right," was all he could reply.

"She has a knack for pulling things off at the last moment," Haslam smiled, clearly recalling something, it was an amazing transformation, gone was the sullenness and dour expression. But it didn't last long, "even if she endangers herself doing it."

"When you both rescued Luke?" Han asked, remembering pulling Thecla on board the Falcon after she had been severely wounded by Vader's thrown lightsaber.

"Yeah," Haslam mumbled, turning away. There was no anger in his voice when he spoke next, only regret and concern. "Stupid bitch should have left him to Vader…"

"Watch it, buddy, that's my friend you're talking about…" Han interrupted, face dark.

Haslam held his palms up. "Hey, no offence, just thinking out loud."

"You're not helping yourself," Solo warned.

"I'm just saying about the Sarge," Haslam said in defence. "She's always gotta do the right thing even if it could kill her."

Saving Skywalker almost had.

Han considered the soldier, eyes narrowed, unhappy but willing to let it go. He needed Haslam for the belly gun. "And you think she'll try something now?" He wanted to know, already knowing the answer; he knew how Thecla felt about Luke.

"Oh, she'll try something," Haslam confirmed with a snort. "We won't like it, but she'll try something. That one never gives up on her mission."

Han nodded, sombrely, understanding what Haslam was saying; he expected his sergeant to sacrifice herself while giving them an opportunity to make good their escape. His attitude toward Luke was more to do with Thecla's potential actions rather than the kid himself. Haslam cared about his non-com.

"Then we take whatever she gives us and hope that Luke can do the same."

Haslam, face grave and dark, gave a small jerk of his head by way of reply. "Her Highness is looking for you," he said, looking out across the city. "Says the show's about to start."

Solo drew in another breath and let it slowly out. This was it.

ooOOoo

Clouds obscured the massive volcano that towered over the Alliance base on Ardralii and light rain was drizzling down the framed window obscuring the view into the compound. Ehlen Anders knew that, apart from those on essential sentry and surveillance duty, few of the Alliance personnel would be moving around outside. She had passed the mess hall on her way to Mon Mothma's office and had seen the throng of bodies pressed inside, felt the subdued tension of the crowd as they gathered before the holonet screen to watch the Imperial sanctioned broadcast from Horaarn. She also knew that elsewhere on the base, and across the Galaxy, members of the Alliance would be huddled around similar screens to watch as the drama play out, all the while knowing that the end result was a forgone conclusion… they were about to lose the hero of the Rebellion.

Ehlen didn't know Skywalker well, had merely officiated at his debrief after Escaal and Rai'mar and had sat in with Rieekan after Cusrean while he was told that he had killed refugees, but she knew his background and had seen the impact of his actions at Yavin on the Alliance for herself; their numbers had swelled, their backers had increased and The Alliance to Restore the Republic suddenly had credibility. Luke was well liked, had risen fast through the ranks, was a talented pilot, a born leader and he had, in these last few weeks, undergone trials that no being should suffer and yet she had seen his courage and tenacity for herself.

She sighed, turning away from the window as a tremor rumbled beneath her feet, rattling the windows and causing others in the room to pause in their murmured conversations until it died away. Rieekan and Mothma were seated on the sofa away from the desk. Therriman, the Mirialan therapist invited to view with them to give his insights into Skywalker's condition, was perched on Mothma's desk and Captain S'adaan leaned on the arm of the sofa as they talked, looking up occasionally at the holoscreen on the wall.

Ehlen glanced at it herself, wincing as the battle at Cusrean replayed across the monitor. It was a quick, brutal fight and the refugee station exploded, flaring briefly as oxygen fed the fire and then it was gone leaving only the wreckage and the dead to drift in cold space, and Ehlen wondered how many plays this was going to get while Skywalker's hearing was ongoing.

The boy didn't stand a chance against the rush of media that the Empire had stirred up and promoted. The Galaxy wanted justice for Cusrean and it seemed that Palpatine was all too willing to offer his version of it. Anything less than Horaarn agreement to the extradition request would not be tolerated by the Empire and it was this that Mon Mothma, Rieekan, S'adaan and Therriman were discussing; how long would they have to evacuate the base, and change codes and hyperspace algorithms that Skywalker knew. How long before he caved in under interrogation and told Vader everything.

"…. think, Major Anders?"

Ehlen blinked, suddenly aware that someone had spoken to her and she dragged her eyes from the screen, now showing a replay of Luke's confession. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I was asking about Major Rhovan," Rieekan explained, he looked strained, dark hair greying, vivid shadows under his eyes. "We're concerned that he has not yet made contact with us."

Ehlen dropped to the couch opposite. "We have nothing coming out of Horaarn, General. If Major Rhovan has made contact with Skywalker or the Princess we have no way of knowing it. Although I doubt he's been able to get close to Skywalker to fulfil his mission parameters given the court hearing is still going ahead. I think we can safely say that there has been no escape and no…" she glanced at Mon Mothma. "… assassination."

Mothma had the good grace to momentarily look away, however the stateswoman quickly composed herself, but her eyes remained sad, troubled. "Then by the end of the broadcast we will know if we need to evacuate."

Ehlen knew, as did they all, that this wasn't just about Skywalker, this wasn't just about Rhovan or the Princess and the rest of her companions. This whole debacle had damaged the Alliance's reputation and systems were pulling away threatening the very fabric of the Rebellion. What was said in the court room didn't just have Skywalker's life hanging in the balance, it threatened the lives of all the men and woman of this base and every other base of operations that Luke knew about. It threatened the lives of the people in this room.

This was about the future of the Alliance itself.

The commentary changed, the broadcasters suddenly animated and excited as the picture switched to that of a court room interior and focused on a single figure standing, bound and alone, on a platform.

Ehlen took in a sharp breath, it was going to be a long night.

ooOOoo

The snow piled on the huge transparisteel roof was melting, rivers of water could be seen running across the surface beneath the drifts. Cracks had formed in what had once been a sheer blanket of white, they ran zigzagging across the ceiling and light from the sun was breaking through, the rivulets of water fracturing the rays of natural sunlight to cast hues of colours around the vast court room.

Luke slowly blinked, shutting off the light show for a second, before opening his eyes to stare ahead at the seven empty chairs on the dais before him. It was all the same as before. The slate marble, the heavy dark green flag adorned with the aurebesh symbols of "Dorn" "Vev" and "Jenth" hanging behind the Judges chairs and again he fleetingly wondered what the symbols meant to the Horaarn people.

Not that it mattered. It was only a thought to keep his mind from other thoughts, from ideas and fears about the hours to come and the outcome of today's hearing. He knew how it would end; it would end with another cell and binders still around his wrists. The only doubt was whether it was Horaarn or Imperial durasteel that restrained him.

He smiled, choked back a sudden laugh; wondering what the odds being offered in the squad's betting pool were. He would have put twenty credits on the Empire – if he had twenty credits to his name. Come to think of it Hobbie still owed him twenty-five for that bet on whether or not Ysabel Jaconti, the chief technician, would smack Wedge when he accidentally broke one of the filaments for the shield projectors on his X-Wing. The slap to the back of Antilles' head could be heard from one end of the hanger to the other and Luke had grinned holding out his hand for payment, only for Hobbie to turn his pockets inside out to prove they were empty.

He'd need to collect when he got back to Adralii.

Shouldn't be thinking about Adralii… Vader would want to know about Adralii…

Cool realisation flooded him, brought him back to where he was. He wouldn't be going back to Ardalii, he wouldn't be collecting from Hobbie. He hung his head, staring down at the floor of the convicted rostrum on which he was once again standing, centre stage, for the elaborate show. This time, his Horaarn guards had told him as they took their place behind him, there would be no releasing of his bonds, no chair on which to sit, he was on his feet for the duration no matter how long the hearing took.

He swayed on his feet, his back already feeling the strain, his injured shoulder burning. He coughed, cleared his throat, wishing he could reach up and loosen the high collar around his throat. It pressed against his neck, against the bruises left there by Vader's fingers.

They had wakened him early, roughly hauled him from the sleeping platform and he had peered groggily at the Medic as the man administered another injection. He had immediately recognised the feeling of the stim shot as it had raced through his blood stream, after all he and the other pilots in the squadron had relied on them during the four days of constant short hyperspace jumps and skirmishes that plagued the fleet after the evacuation of Yavin IV. There had been no time for sleep, no time to think, barely enough time to refuel their fighters and have a stim shot administered before they were out again fighting, killing and dying.

He and Wedge had ended up wired and unable to sleep for a further two days after they had shaken off their Imperial pursuers. Finally they were ordered to the med-centre and given a sedative to help them sleep, mainly for the good of their health, but also because they were driving Ysabel to distraction. If he remembered correctly they had taken Wedge's X-Wing engines apart and rebuilt them… except they had one bolt left over and no idea where it was supposed to go.

He had smirked at that, had felt his head clear as the drug moved through his body, feeling energy rushing through his system and he suddenly felt like he'd just wakened from the most natural sleep of his life; fresh and ready.

Except that he wasn't ready for this.

Can't do this…

Once fully awake, they had offered him breakfast which he refused, and water that he drank. Then they had removed him from the cell and taken him along the corridor to another room where he had been ordered to shower and dress. He had asked for his Alliance uniform, but he knew himself it had been ruined, the cloth shredded along with his shoulder and he wasn't surprised when his request was denied and he was told to dress or they would do it for him. So, although balking at wearing an Imperial Uniform, he had obeyed, pulling on the clothes they had laid out for him. Black trousers, and a finely cut jacket with a stiff, high standing collar that rubbed against his chin. Its purpose wasn't lost to him; it was to hide the bruises on his throat of course. After all he couldn't appear on the holonet in any less shape than when he had been placed into Vader's safekeeping.

At least he had been allowed to wear his own boots.

There was a bright side to everything, or maybe they just didn't have his size.

He stifled his laugh, aware that his feelings were getting the better of him, aware that his thoughts were wandering, were becoming unfocused and straying into territory best left unexplored. He had to keep it together, had to keep his mind on where he was and on what was happening.

He rocked on his heels, tried to widen his stance but the chains around his ankles only had so much slack and they caught and he shuffled uncomfortably under the hot lights that illuminated him on the convicted rostrum. He could feel a trickle of sweat already weeping down his spine under the black uniform. His palms were soaking, the cut on his hand from the vibroblade was stinging like hell. He hissed, tightened his fists against the pain and looked to the floor again as the doors of the chamber swung open and court dignitaries flowed in to join him and his guards.

His gut twisted with anxiety, nausea clawed at his throat, while he waited for them to find their seats. They took their time, many openly staring at him, pointing and commenting to their colleagues. Luke chewed the inside of his cheek, willing himself silent, fighting against the desire to confront them, to challenge them. That streak of defiance had got him into more trouble than he wished to think about.

"What was it this time, Luke?" His aunt dabbed a cool wet cloth against his bleeding lip. Her voice was firm, her eyes dark with concern.

"They said I was an orphan!"

"There is no shame in that, Luke," she advised him, sweeping up the fringe of his hair to check on the darkening lump forming beside his eye. He winced as she touched it. "I don't think anything is broken, except a little pride."

Beru sat back on her heels, skirts pooling on the sand by the farmstead dome and considered the bruised and battered face of her young nephew.

"You are his weakness, Luke. And you have a strength within you that he craves."

Luke blinked, flinching in the flickering lights of a hovering holonet camera, he stepped back and the chain snagged and he almost tumbled from the raised platform. A guard behind him caught him righted him.

He was about to thank the man, but the sudden hush that fell over the court room, the sound of approaching footsteps and familiar suck-hiss of Vader's breathing stilled his voice. Luke's back stiffened and he gritted his back teeth, his jaw muscles bunching as he held his head high and proud, refusing to be kowtowed by his situation.

He knew what he had to do here, he knew what was going to happen and it was by his choice and no-one else's.

He refused to turn around, sensing rather than seeing Vader take up his place at the table to his left, the same table where the Dark Lord had stood to accuse him of murder a few days ago…

How many days… how many days since sitting in the witness chair and confessing?

He couldn't help but glance to his right, to the table reserved for his counsel, his representative. It was empty of course, the smooth top devoid of datapads, flimsiplast and styluses. He felt strangely annoyed, let down, abandoned as though he had expected someone to fight for him, as though he needed to know someone somewhere thought he was worth it.

Leia! Where's Leia?

But, of course, he had no counsel, no-one to speak on his behalf, he was here alone. It was his choice. He wasn't fighting this, he was accepting this.

For now. For now he would stand and take all that they threw at him. The fighting would come later. He would fight even when he knew he could only lose.

He heaved in a breath, blew it out, and looked up at the ceiling again as people began to take their seats and a respectful silence fell over the court.

Movement to his left caught his attention and a slim man in black robes pulled out a chair at the table and sat down beside Vader. Receding dark wisps of hair clung to his skull, a sharp nose and chin accentuating a thin face. Luke smirked, unable to stop himself, the man looked like a womp rat that was devoid of a meal or two. This must be the… the what? Not prosecutor, as he had already been convicted. Then what?

He shrugged, did it really matter what the man's title was?

Losing interest Luke turned away, glancing behind him and seeing the vast, empty public gallery, seeing the large number of Horaarn troopers and security officers lining the walls and standing by door ways. He couldn't help but smile, they were taking his safety way too seriously; after all were they not about to approve his extradition into Imperial custody, or sentence him to death? Either way he was dead it was only a matter of where, when and how.

Why not just let the crowds of disgruntled Horaarns take him and string him up? It would be a whole lot cheaper than this farce, probably quicker, too.

Where was Leia?

He thought she would come, he thought that she would be here for him even if she wouldn't like what he was about to do. She'd be as mad as hell if she knew.

Would she be allowed to attend after passing him the lock-breaker?

He craned his neck around, trying to see behind, wincing at the pull of his wounded shoulder muscles.

"Eyes front," he was warned by the senior Horaarn guard behind him.

Reluctantly, he did as he was told, aware of Vader turning to glance at him. He obeyed, not because he was afraid of what his guards would do, but because thus far no Horaarn had harmed him and one of their number had died saving his life.

Leia? Please…

With another heaving breath Luke turned his eyes to the raised dais and the seven high backed chairs behind the carved marble slab. He swallowed, stomach churning, as doors opened, as court dignitaries stood in respect and his judges flowed into the room in rich, dark purple robes, to take up their places above him.

Cloth rustled as they sat, chairs scraped on the floor as they settled and datapads rattled as they sorted through them.

Everyone sat, except him. He was centre stage, he was the entertainment and the holocameras darted about the room to get the best footage, to catch his every movement, his every expression and twitch of nerves.

There was quiet, a long drawn out soundless moment in which Vader's regulated breathing seemed so much louder, amplified by the huge empty space of the court room.

A court official set at a table beneath the panel of judges rose and Luke tensed.

"This, the Sovereign Horaarn Court, is now in session. The Honourable Justice Imira'en presiding."

The man sat and again Luke glanced to his left, looking for someone who wasn't there, beginning to feel raw panic.

Leia!

He thought she would be here, he thought at least she would come to support him, even if unable to defend him. He thought she wouldn't allow him to face this alone. He thought…

A chill washed through him and he turned to Vader – did he have her already? Was she already on his ship? Were Han and Chewbacca and Haslam? Thecla… where was Thecla?

Had everything he had agreed too been a ruse? Was it already too late?

He opened his mouth to ask, to accuse, when a hand on his arm silenced him, and he glanced around. One of guards was by his side saying something and nodding forward, but the words were lost to the white noise of consternation.

He followed the nod and found the centre judge leaning down and addressing him.

"….mmander Skywalker?"

"What?" he replied, stupidly. What had he missed?

Justice Imira'en was a heavy set man, with thick black hair and bushy eyebrows that swept right across his brow from one side to the next without a break. Right now those brows were pulled into a frown and Luke was hard pressed to work out if it was anger or concern that was being expressed in the dull grey eyes that peered down at him.

"I was merely attempting to confirm your identity," The Justice told him, tightly.

Anger then. That was good start, way to go Skywalker, piss off the man who could condemn you to death.

"I am aware that you are an off-worlder and unaware of our judicial proceedings. However, I expect your full attention throughout today's hearing, I am I clear?"

Feeling foolish, feeling out of sorts, out of his depths, Luke nodded. "Yes, sir."

Thin lips pursed in annoyance. "Your Honour," he was correctly.

Luke was sure he could feel humour from around the court, from the Dark Lord seated nearby. Angry, embarrassed, feeling like a Tatooine farm boy, he forced out. "Yes, Your Honour."

The Justice grunted, his lips turning down. "Very well," he lifted a datapad, checked the information on it before looking back up and addressing Luke. "You are Lieutenant Commander Luke Skywalker an officer in the organisation known as the Alliance to Restore the Republic?"

Luke cleared his throat, fisted his hands behind his back, fighting to remain calm.

Where was Leia?

"Yes, Your Honour."

Imira'en glanced to Luke's right, frowned and leaned over to speak quietly with one of the other Judges. The whispers were tight and animated with both consulting data pads and the discussion left Luke wondering what was happening, and what it meant for him. He closed his eyes as he waited, listening to Vader's regulated breathing. He needed to get used to hearing that sound. He swallowed, sucking saliva into his dry mouth and forcing it down his throat.

"Very well," The Chief Justice was saying, "begin the transmission."

Luke started, opened his eyes again as a light to his right began to shine and the blue tinged image of Leia Organa coalesced beside the empty table. He couldn't help but grin, he was relieved to see her, thrilled that she seemed unharmed and… was that the chair by the Millennium Falcon's engineering station she was sitting in?

Leia was free. Leia was on the Falcon. He could do this now. He would do this.

Then he stilled, chilled. Were they still planet side? Were they still in the system? What was she doing here?

"Welcome, Princess Leia," Imira'en was saying. "My apologies for the delay in transmission, we have only just begun."

"Thank you, Chief Justice," Leia nodded her head respectfully. "I have been watching the proceedings."

"Are you prepared to represent the Convicted?"

What? Luke opened his mouth to speak, to protest. She shouldn't be here. She should be gone. He had warned her, had told her to tell Han to haul jets and get away. He didn't want this, he didn't need this. He had made his decisions.

"I'm afraid not, Your Honour," Leia's hologram stood and addressed the court, before Luke could protest. "I have been unable to speak with the Convicted to discuss his appeal, his plea for clemency, or his defence against the extradition request and I respectfully request that I be given time to do so."

"Your Honour!" Luke sounded desperate, frantic. He glanced at Vader, saw the man's dark lenses looking his way, watching, listening. "I have not exercised my right for an advocate, the Princess…" He trailed off meeting Leia's dark eyes, seeing her pain, her confusion at his words. "… is in error."

Leia's expression hardened, she glared at him. He had seen that look before and it was usually reserved for Han. "If it pleases the court, I would very much like to discuss this with the Convicted in private."

He winced at Leia calling him that, knowing it was probably court protocol, but it still stung and his voice carried that hurt, that anger. "I have nothing to discuss with…"

A sharp rapping cut Luke off mid-sentence and he and Leia turned to the panel of Judges sitting above them. Now their attention was on him Imira'en placed the gavel down and, brow pulled down in displeasure he addressed Luke, his voice stern. "The convicted does not have rights and should speak only when spoken too. The Princess has volunteered to be your Representative and is willing to speak and present evidence on your behalf, but…" and he turned to Leia. "… It does help if there is solidarity in these matters. I will grant you ten minutes with the Convicted."

"You are most gracious, your honour," Leia bowed her head in deference.

The Horaarn guards at his back stood and took Luke's upper arms, turning him on the rostrum. They helped him step down, lead him from the room and into an antechamber. His legs caught in the shackles, wrists worried against the bite of the cuffs behind his back. He was seated before a comm screen and the Hoaarn's stepped back to wait by the closed door way.

Luke's mind buzzed, stomach knotted. He couldn't let her do this, couldn't allow her to interfere. Couldn't allow her to sway him now his mind was made up. Wouldn't allow her to remind him of what is was he giving up.

"Luke?"

He couldn't help but smile as she appeared on the screen. Her hair was caught up and twisted, braided into a neat bun. Her eyes, warm and dark watched him with concern. She was beautiful.

"Leia," he breathed her name.

"Luke," Leia warned, the screen flickering as she spoke. "You need to let me do this."

He shook his head. "No, Leia, you need to let me do this."

"Do what Luke? What is it you think you're doing?"

"What's best for the Alliance…"

"… the Alliance?" She echoed in bewilderment. "What about you Luke? What about what's best for you?"

"I thought… I thought you would understand. I have to do this for the Alliance. This… this is best…"

"What are you doing, Luke?" She was leaning forward, her voice insisting he tell her.

"I…" He brought his eyes up to look at her, to see her reaction. He owed her that much. "I'm not fighting this."

He could hear Chewbacca howl in the background, Artoo whistle and Threepio's exclaim of "Oh No! Master Luke." The edge of his lip twitched, almost smiling glad to hear them all, relieved they were all safe.

Thecla… Where was Thecla? Hadn't Leia said the sergeant was…

"You're giving up!" And Luke wasn't sure if it was anger, accusation or astonishment that underscored the princess's words.

He shook his head. How to make her see? How to make her understand that he needed to do this. He need to accept this. "No… I… can't explain it. I need to see this through and…"

Luke broke off as a hand appeared on Leia's shoulders, looking up she nodded and moved aside as Han slid into the seat.

"What's going on, kid?"

Luke shrugged. "Oh, you know, the usual…"

"Need me to save your ass again?"

Luke forced a grin. "Not this time, Han. I have it covered."

Han grunted, not convinced. "Yeah, looks like it."

He glanced around at his guards before speaking. They were Horaarn, not Imperial. He would need to hope that they did not report back to Vader, would need to hope that the comm connection wasn't being monitored. "Can you switch the audio Han, I need to speak to you. Only you."

Han glanced around at Leia, before reaching forward and flicking the channel and placing an ear piece into his ear. "Okay, kid, fire away. What's really going on?"

"You need to leave, Han. You need to take Leia and get out, now."

Han shook his head, glancing to the side where Luke knew that Leia was impatiently waiting. "Can't do that, yet."

Luke heard the tone in Han's voice, understood their position, the frustration he saw in Solo's eyes. They didn't have permission to lift off, the Falcon was probably heavily guarded. To attempt take off now would probably destroy them. He licked his lips. "Han… I've agreed not to fight this, I've… agreed to go with Vader…"

"…kid…"

"No, just listen. Just listen and do what I ask. This one thing… stop Leia from representing me and let me go."

Han was silent for moment, staring at Luke through the screen his eyes dark with unease. "And those bruises on your throat, kid?"

Luke's hand jerked in the cuffs behind him when he automatically tried to raise is hands to hide his throat, surprised that Han had noticed the marks, had thought them fully hidden by the high collar. He looked down, away, embarrassed.

"I can't see 'em, but I'm no fool. Tell me, Luke, did they have anything to do with your decision?"

A stir of anger at the sorrowful accusation in Han's voice brought his head up in challenge. "No, they didn't. I just… I have to do this. You have to let me do this."

Han nodded, looking pained, unhappy. "Just tell me why?"

Luke shrugged, smiled, knowing Han would understand. "Leia… For Leia…"

For you, for Chewie, for all of you….

"… if I do this Vader'll let you all go."

Han shook his head. "And you believe him?" Incredulity underscored his words. "Kid, Vader's a lying, cheeska sleemo."

Luke's lips curled into a smile as Han descended into Huttese curses. "Please Han, get her out. Promise me. I can do this if you get her out."

Han became grim, face set at Luke's finality. "I can promise you I'll get her out, kid…" he assured his friend and Luke closed his eyes in relief, feeling a weight lifting from his shoulders.

"… but I ain't stopping her from fighting for you."

Only for it all to crash back in on him.

Luke's eyes snapped open, he sat forward, leaning desperately nearer the screen. "No, Han… please… you don't understand…" but Han was looking away, back at Leia and pulling the ear piece out. "Han!"

Leia was on screen again, toggling the audio, changing it back. "Luke…" Her eyes were dark, focused and determined. "We don't have much time left, we need to discuss your appeal and our arguments against the extradition. I'm going to ask for a lesser conviction, a lesser sentence and request a return to the Alliance to serve it."

Luke lowered and shook his head, his hair falling forward over his face. His mind buzzing, hissing with the white static of panic. He couldn't make them see, he couldn't make them understand. His blood rushed, his heart beating so fast he could both hear and feel it. The rapid beat stole the breath from him.

"Luke!" Leia urged from the comm screen, trying to get his attention. "We're running out of time."

She was right, he could feel it… tick-tock tick-tock… as the minutes counted down.

But to what?

He glanced back up to the screen, looking at the Princess earnestly talking to him; explaining her outline for his appeal, her voice low, using the cultured tones of her Royal upbringing as she was apt to do when under stress, but he wasn't listening, her words lost to him. He felt distant to what was happening, felt separated and detached.

She was strong… stronger than him… courageous and beautiful. He would have followed her anywhere… had followed her across a Galaxy. Her cause became his own, their lives intertwined in war bringing them close. He remembered picking her up and swinging her around after the Death Star battle, remembered her smile as she placed the medal around his neck. He remembered her angrily grounding him for fraternising with a squad mate in the cockpit of his x-wing, remembered them all sitting on packing crates in the hanger playing sabacc while sharing a bottle of Corellian Whiskey and laughing as Leia cursed like a veteran pilot.

He would follow her, but she could not follow him.

He needed her gone.

"… bring the… events on Escaal into this, but I really think…"

Luke blinked, the familiar planet name, the place of his torture and humiliation at the hands of the Empire, bringing him out of his daze. "What?" he said, numbly.

"Luke," by the tone of her voice it was clear that Leia was trying to maintain her patience. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, tucking it neatly behind her ear. She looked vulnerable in that moment and he loved her all the more. "If we are to bring you home you have to trust me."

Bring you home…

"Where is home, Luke?"

Luke shuddered at the whisper of Dade's… Rhovan's… voice, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the memories at bay. He couldn't deal with them just now, had to stay focused on what was happening now, not what happened weeks ago. He shook his head, he wanted to rub at his eyes, at his temples; he could feel a headache looming, but his hands caught against the binders fastened at his back. "Leia, I… Don't do this. Please…" His voice was rough with emotion, with exhaustion.

"Luke, I'm going with Diminished Responsibility."

Luke stiffened and stood up, so abrupt were his movements that the guards behind him braced, hands going to their weapons belts. He turned to them, away from Leia. "Take me back."

They hesitated for only moment, then nodded and took him by the upper arms and escorted him from the room back into the court chambers as Leia continued to call for him through the open comm channel.

He clenched his jaw, muscles bunching, trying to maintain a blank façade as he walked with his guards across the floor of the court back toward the convicted rostrum and was helped to step up back until the spotlight. He looked at no-one, not the seven Judges waiting to pass sentence, not the Dark Lord to his left and not to the flickering image of Leia when she rematerialized a few moments after he had taken his place.

ooOOoo

Vader could not help but turn toward the door as it opened and watch as Luke was escorted back to the rostrum. There was storm raging in his son. He had felt the burst of feelings through the Force, had felt the despair, the panic and the anger. He smiled beneath his mask; such anger… rage squalling and flaring darkly within the Force.

Power… if only his son realised the power he held.

Soon it would be released, soon it would be harnessed and unleashed upon the Galaxy. His son would become a formidable Sith, greater even than Palpatine himself.

Vader watched as Luke stiffly stepped up into his place and settled into his forced stance. His face was hardened, the muscles in his jaw bunched as he fought to control the conflicting emotions which seethed and writhed within like coiling serpents.

It would appear that his son had had a disagreement with his friends.

The hologram of the Princess reappeared in the court room. Leia Organa was looking grim and equally as angry as his son. Did she not realise that she was pushing Luke away, was she so blind and hell-bent on rescuing her friend that she could not see that her actions were having the opposite effect and only driving Luke further into darkness.

Neither of them could see the danger, the inherent hopelessness of their situation.

He turned his eyes away from his son, back to the panel of Justices, satisfied that all was as it should be.

ooOOoo

"Have the Convicted and yourself come to an understanding?"

Leia swallowed before she spoke, smoothing her throat and dismissing as much of her anger and disappointment as she could, ensuring that her voice was firm. "No, your honour. If it pleases the court the…" she hesitated over the word, glanced over at Han who was sitting at the Dejarik table watching the court hologram. He looked bleak, deeply troubled after his words with Luke. "…convicted should be regarded as hostile to his Representative and to his own best interests."

Justice Imira'en leaned slightly forward his eyes on Luke, but speaking to Leia. "On what grounds?"

She hesitated, her gaze going to Luke; he was standing tall, back straight and head high under the hot lights. A thin bead of sweat trailed down the side of face. She hated this, hated doing this to him, but it was the only way to save him from Vader, the only way to save him from himself. She steeled herself and plunged on. "It is our belief that the Convicted's mental and emotional state at this time is unstable. We believe his cognitive ability is currently impaired and we have reason to suspect that he is…"

"The People object, your Honour," The thin man next to Vader stood, voice sharp, interrupting Leia. "The Princess Leia is not medically qualified to make that assessment."

"… under coercion from the Lord Vader not to appeal against the conviction or to challenge the extradition request." She finished firmly.

"That is an outrageous slur on Lord Vader! The people object to this…"

More rapping from the gavel and a warning.

"There can be no objections as proper proceedings have not yet begun…" Imira'en warned, sharply.

The People's Representative sat down, his lips pursed with anger.

"… and Princess Leia I caution you on making such accusations. We will not be taking anything said at this point into consideration when making our final decisions. I also advise that you should be aware that we only have this one day to decide the Convicted's fate. You, The People and Lord Vader have a finite length of time to present your evidence. To delay on this argument before we have even asked the Convicted his intent may mean that time will run out and a decision will then be made without the Justice panel hearing all of the evidence."

Leia nodded, she had done her homework. Had worked all night. "I am aware of that, Your Honour, however this is relevant to the Convicted's appeal. I have evidence and eye witness accounts to support my arguments that the Convicted has been struggling emotionally and mentally for some time." Again she looked at Han; he had seen Luke in a "flashback," he seen his friend's distress and confusion and could testify to those facts. Haslam could testify to the events of Rai'imar when Luke disobeyed his orders and she had Artoo Detoo - she had learned a lot from Artoo. "However, much of that evidence is vital to his appeal against his conviction and against the extradition request. To divulge it now may be prejudicial to his defence."

Imira'en's brows drew together again. He glanced about the panel looking for their decisions. All nodded. "Very well," he announced, "It is unusual, but we will begin…"

ooOOoo

"Lieutenant Commander Skywalker…"

Luke jerked at the sound of his name, tore his gaze away from the flag above the Judges' bench. It had become his focal point, his centre. The rich green of the cloth, the golden letters adorning it becoming more important to him than the words being uttered about him. If he looked at it, if he tried to make out what the letters meant to the Horaarns then he would not hear what was being said, he would not be able to listen to his own voice, his own doubts and weaknesses. He would not hear or see Vader to his left or Leia to his right arguing over his life.

His eyes found the face of his Judge as his crime was put before him.

"… you have been convicted on twenty thousand four hundred and fifty-two counts of murder, of which one hundred and five were Horaarn citizens. This hearing today is a sentencing hearing during which we will hear any appeal of innocence you wish to make, or any plea for clemency should you have no grounds for appeal or if your appeal fails. The Peoples Representative, Lapte'cka," he paused and indicated the womp rat man sitting next to Vader, "will present any evidence that he feels should be taken into consideration when it comes to the sentencing. Lord Vader will present any additional evidence he has to support the Cusrean Council's request that you be extradited to the Empire to face their justice for your actions. Do you understand?"

Luke's throat worked, trying to find his voice, trying to find the words. He forced out, "Yes, Your Honour," although he didn't understand, not really. Didn't understand a judicial system based on the presumption of guilt. He didn't understand what Leia was doing, how she could be here representing him. She should be running.

She was going to ruin everything.

"Do you wish to make an appeal for innocence?"

Luke licked his lips. This was it. Time to take responsibility. "No, your Honour."

He sensed, rather than saw the hologram of Leia coming to her feet, about to argue, but the Justice held up his hand silencing her. Leia sat back down.

"Do you understand that not appealing allows the court to go straight to the People and permits them to request the harshest of punishments?"

Luke blinked. Isn't that what he deserved? He didn't know how he found his voice. "Yes, Your Honour."

"And you are fully aware of the possible consequences of your decision and are not under any pressure from a third party to accept your guilt?"

In a split second Luke's eyes darted to the left to Vader and back to Imira'en. "I know the consequences, your Honour. I am guilty and I am prepared to accept any punishment the Horaarn people deem appropriate for my actions…of my own free will."

The Chief Justice's eyes narrowed and he sat back, looking at Luke for a long moment before his gaze slid toward Vader. He then turned to his fellow judges and they quietly conversed for a few moments, some nodding, some shaking their heads until they fell silent.

Luke swallowed, heart hammering. This could be all over soon.

"Such a heinous crime demands swift and immediate justice," The Chief Justice started slowly as though thinking aloud, addressing Luke. "However, it is with some regret that the Court cannot accept your denial of innocence. We are inclined to agree with your Representative that you are currently presenting as a young man who is clearly struggling with the weight of your actions and are not fully cognizant, nor mindful, of the seriousness of your situation otherwise, the Court feels, you would have entered an appeal. That is not to say that at the time of your crime you were incapacitated and it is that which requires to be evidenced today by your representative…"

He turned to Leia, who stood. "Do you wish to enter a plea for innocence on behalf of the convicted?"

"I do, your honour. We plead innocence to the charges of murder on the grounds of Diminished Responsibility and ask that the Convicted be found accountable of a lesser conviction. We strongly object to the Empire's extradition request and we submit our own request that the Convicted be returned to the Alliance to serve any sanction imposed by this court."

ooOOoo

On the holonet screen Skywalker paled, his jaw muscles bunched, his eyes flashed briefly… anger? A camera buzzed close to him, its lights making him blink and turn away. He was visibly shaking, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Rhovan pushed up on the medical bench and leaned forward staring at the monitor noticing the blood stained dressing on Skywalker's hand. The injury, Rhovan had learned, was the lesser of two knife wounds sustained during an attempt on his life.

An attack that had resulted in the death, not only of the would-be assassin, but of a Horaarn guard with whom Luke had stayed as he died, giving up a chance to escape. Skywalker's compassion had trapped him and…

Pain rippled across his back as his muscles went into spasm and he grimaced, gritted his teeth and gingerly eased himself back down onto the medbench, sighing in relief as he settled in a more prone position.

Velaptor really had done a number one him and he hoped that someday he could reciprocate.

Once admitted to the medical facility Rhovan had submitted to treatment only after ensuring he would have access to the holonet immediately on emerging from the bacta tank. He didn't have long to familiarise himself with the events of the last few days before the sentencing hearing was announced to be taking place just shy of the fifty-two Horaarn hours.

He had refused to rest, to sleep, once dried and dressed, but had agreed to remain in the medicentre for the time being. Skimming through the vast amounts of information on the holonet the Major had caught up with the gist of what had happened while he had been caught, incarcerated and tortured by Velaptor on Vader's orders. Skywalker had been locked up the second his feet touched Horaarn soil and had agreed to be subjected to Horaarn law which had effectively rendered any diplomatic status he may have had null and void. Not being privy as to why Luke had made that decision, Rhovan was unable to even hazard a guess as to what had taken place on the Millennium Falcon's landing platform.

Throughout the Committee Hearing investigating the events above Cusrean, Skywalker had seemed agitated, on edge; he had continually glanced around the court room as the princess gave her evidence on behalf of the Alliance, as though looking for something or someone. He had rubbed at his face, wiped his palms against the fabric of his trousers, clearly restless and stressed. When he was called to the stand there was clear hesitation and reluctance, and the boy had walked stiffly to the witness podium and stumbled over questions that resembled those that Rhovan had asked him on Escaal during his interrogation…

"With which squadron do you fly?

… and Rhovan had to wonder if Vader had any input to those questions to further distress his son, and make the boy more susceptible to mistakes and more open to manipulation.

Which is, of course, what happened. Luke had tripped himself up, had appeared cold and callous when he had stated that whether the Empire attacked the Alliance fighters or defended the refugee station against them was dependant on what side you were on. It had taken the Chairperson to point out his mistake and only then had Luke realised how he had come across to those watching and listening. It had given Vader the perfect moment to make his entrance with his accusation of murder.

Rhovan had to admit that the Dark Lord had played the game board well. He had placed his markers exactly where he wanted them and forced the Alliance into error after error. Luke was well and truly pinned by his very public confession.

And now he stood alone on that rostrum, separated from his friends and from any means of escape; his life hanging in the balance, his fate very much in the hands of others.

No, that wasn't true. Skywalker's life lay in the hands of his father.

Rhovan, closed his eyes, feeling fatigued and exhausted wondering if the medical staff would agree to a stim shot should he request it. His body still ached, his nose was still sore from Solo's fist, but the bacta had done its job and the cuts were closed, bruises rapidly fading.

"The court will hear your appeal for the Convicted, Your Highness, and will consider your request for the Convicted's return to the Alliance just as we will consider Lord Vader's petition for extradition. Please bear in mind that you have a time limit."

The voice of the Chief Justice, sounding tinny and small from the audio system of the portable holonet player, drew his attention again and, grimacing, he pulled himself up on the bed, determined to see this through.

The hologram of the Princess wavered, before strengthening again. "Thank You, Your Honour," she acknowledged, bowing her head in deference to the reminder. She paused, glancing across at Luke who stood still, staring away from her, before beginning. Rhovan, risked sitting up and leaning in further, eyes narrowing when he saw her swallow nervously and he wished the camera would focus back on Luke to see his reaction to her opening statement.

"It bears repeating for the court record that Lieutenant Commander Skywalker was under orders from Alliance Command and from his squad leader to fire his weapons at the Space Station." The Princess spoke clearly, her voice betraying none of the nervousness Rhovan had noticed. "The testimony I have already submitted to the Committee Investigation and to your honourable selves, clearly demonstrates that the Alliance had strong evidence that the Space Station contained a biological warfare research facility and was, therefore, considered a threat and a legitimate target. The Alliance, the attack squad and the Convicted had no knowledge that it was a place of refuge.

"The Convicted has publically conceded that, with his Jedi abilities, he became aware that no-one on board the Cusrean Space Station posed him, or his squad, any threat. He has admitted that despite this awareness he still fired his weapon. However, it is the contention of the Convicted that he was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder at the time of the attack…"

Rhovan's eyes narrowed, realising what the Princess was doing. She was going to use Escaal. She was going to use Luke's capture and interrogation to evidence her plea.

The cameras were suddenly on Luke's face. He was pale, made more so by the bright lights that highlighted him on the pedestal draining any colour from him. Sweat ran down the side of his face to his neck and soaked into the dark fabric of the high collar. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, resigned to events. It was something the boy had done on Escaal; hung his head, refused to look, and accepted whatever punishment was coming his way.

It wasn't an act of surrender, it was an act of defiance.

"…the conditions and pressures of the battle," The Princess was saying, "and a clear and direct order from Alliance Command and from his commanding officer coupled with the knowledge that he had already been reprimanded for disobeying a direct order, and had been warned of the possible consequences of repeating the offence, all came together in one moment, one decision…"

Rhovan could feel his stomach tighten in anticipation of her next words, anxiety rattling through him, fearful that the tact the Princess seemed to be going for would backfire and play into Vader's hands, would give Vader and the Horaarn Representative the arena on which to take Luke, and the Princess's defence of him, apart piece by piece.

Did it matter anyway? This was all a sham, the Horaarns and the Empire playing games with the Galaxy. Allowing the media to gain ratings and to present the idea of a fair and just trial to garner support and damage the Rebellion. There was no doubt in his mind that Luke was going to end up in another dark cell with Rhovan as his interrogator once more.

And as much as he had considered and questioned Vader's motives for putting them together again, it was still the same thoughts that came to his mind.

Vader wanted Luke broken. Vader knew what it would do to his son to be brought to another interrogation room and to find Rhovan waiting for him.

A second betrayal. The Resistance Commander was an Imperial. The Imperial was a Rebel and a colleague… The colleague was an Imperial…

Luke would be confused, shattered. He would know Rhovan knew where the base was, he would know that the entire Alliance Command would be in jeopardy… he would know what Rhovan was capable of doing to him, to the Alliance.

Vader wanted his son taken apart piece by piece…

For what purpose?

And again Rhovan had only one answer.

To rebuild him.

But rebuild him into what?

A pawn, trapped between his father and Palpatine?

A Sith?

Another Dark Lord?

Bringing Mon Mothma's fears into fruition.

And looking at the boy now Rhovan knew his job was going to be so much simpler that it had been on Escaal.

But which job?

Darth Vader's?

Mon Mothma's?

Should he put the boy down like a rabid Dorax?

"And Isla's suggestion?" Taln's voice from all those weeks ago when the Network had rescued the pilot from the moorland and from the Empire.

"And that was?"

"A blaster bolt to the head."

Rhovan smiled sadly. Isla, always straight to the point. Isla who had ultimately sacrificed herself for the good of the Network. Isla who gave Taln and Skywalker the chance to escape only for them to be caught a day later.

Taln, whom Rhovan had ordered to terminate the pilot and leave his body where the troopers would find it. Taln, who also futilely sacrificed himself for Skywalker.

The dead Horaarn guard in the elevator was another; losing his life to save Luke.

What was it about this youth that instilled such martyrdom in beings he had only just met?

And why had he stilled his own hand when he'd had him alone and vulnerable in that turbolift on Escaal? He had hesitated, stood with his finger poised on the trigger, pointing the muzzle at Luke's bruised and bloodied face. He had seen courage and conviction in the youth. He had seen a boy falter and bring himself back from the brink. He had seen the same audacity and mettle that he had seen in his brother, the same fighting spirit, the same…

Maybe Velaptor was right: perhaps he had seen his brother in Luke.

Dammit…

He had to stop this. He had to remember what he was fighting for. What he had dedicated his life too and one boy was not going to get his way.

He would do what he had to do – as he always had.

He focused on the holoplayer's screen as Leia Organa continued to speak, throwing aside his errant thoughts and questions.

"Our evidence will detail how, and why, the Convicted was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress. It will show the effects that this has had on the Convicted's emotional wellbeing, on his mental health and consequently on his behaviour. It will show the intelligence that the Alliance received concerning the Cusrean Space Station and it will highlight the moment at which the Convicted decided to fire upon it and the pressures placed on him at that time."

Again she paused, facing forward, chin high with determination and Rhovan licked his lips, fearing her calling for her initial witness. Surely she wouldn't put Skywalker on the stand and question him about Escaal, not when he was so obviously struggling to maintain his composure, not when he had made such a huge mistake the last time he had sat on the witness stand.

"To that end and, If it pleases the court, I call The Lord Darth Vader as my first witness."

ooOOoo

Luke's eyes snapped open. Vader's name shattering the wall he had been trying to build around him, pulling down the half assembled boundary that he hoped would shield him from the defence that Leia was trying to construct for him. He didn't want to know, he didn't want to hear how badly he handled this situation, this whole nightmare that spanned from being shot down over Escaal to this moment.

His mind buzzed, hissed. It was hard to think, so hard to pull any sense or coherence to what was happening around him, what was happening too him. He just needed this over.

He just needed that small dark cell where he would be able to sit alone and be at peace. Where he could gather his thoughts and know what he had to do.

In that cell it had all seemed so simple.

There was shouted protests from his right where the Horaarn Representative, Lapte'cka, was arguing against Vader testifying. He could hear Leia's voice argue back, could hear the Chief Justice rapping his gavel for quiet. He could hear, could make out some words above the buzzing in his head…

"… vital for the Convicted appeal…"

"… outrageous request, Lord Vader is a…"

"… there will be order…"

… but he didn't understand them. Didn't want to understand.

"The court will allow this."

His vision blurred and he could feel his body tremble, he swallowed thickly, his throat clogging.

Escaal… they were going to discuss Escaal…

Escaal where they had stripped him, beaten him, tortured him, humiliated him. Where they had forced him to stand, forced him to…

A large dark shadow passed him and he couldn't help but glance up as Vader walked toward the witness stand.

"You are his weakness, Luke…" the voice of his dead aunt from his dreams and visions echoed within. He frowned, confused, what did that even mean? Why did it keep recurring?

Was he going mad?

How could he be this man's weakness? Did a man with the power Vader possessed even have any weaknesses?

Luke drew in a breath as Vader settled his bulk in the witness chair and took the Horaarn oath to be truthful. Trying to calm himself, trying to centre himself, he slowly blew the breath of air back out.

He could do this. He had to do this. He had no choice but stand here, just as he'd had no choice on Escaal. On Escaal….

He smiled.

He could this.

He could take this.

Feeling the Dark Lord's lenses settle on him as Vader waited for Leia's first question, Luke turned his eyes back to the green and golden flag that hung above the panel of judges and reached out to the Force.

…stay up, Luke…. Stay up… stay up…

ooOOoo

Sitting at the Dejarik table Han gave Leia an encouraging smile and mouthed "go for it." He had to admire her nerve, her sheer determination to save Luke that she would face down the man who had incarcerated her and tortured her. That she was daring to put Darth Vader on the stand… well that took guts.

He watched her take in a breath before she began. Solo knew she was steeling herself, not just to question the Emperor's enforcer, but steeling herself against the pain that she knew the evidence was going to cause their friend, the horrors that would be rekindled for Luke as he stood in stoic silence as those around him argued his fate.

"Your Honour," Leia stated into the holotransmitters, "approximately fifteen weeks ago the… Convicted… was shot down during a battle in the Escaal sector and badly injured. Despite initially being aided by the Escaal resistance network he was captured by Imperial Forces and imprisoned…"

"Your Honour," a tired, bored voice protested and Han glanced down at the hologram of the court room that was being projected onto the table. Lapte'cka was on his feet. "Your Honour, I see no point in this, all the Princess is doing is confirming to the court the criminality of the Convicted. He has been arrested and imprisoned on Escaal, he has been arrested by her own Alliance and now he is convicted here. We may as well skip the so called appeal and have the sentence pronounced now."

Han wanted to squash the guy.

Leia squared her shoulders, annoyed by the interruption. "Your honour if the esteemed people's representative will allow me to present my case within my allotted time, then perhaps I will not interrupt him when he stands to present evidence for the sentence."

The Chief Justice nodded. "The People are within their rights to question evidence, however, they must do so with careful consideration. The People are hereby reminded of that. Carry on your Highness."

"Thank you, your honour," Leia bowed slightly in acknowledgement. She straightened and took in a steadying breath before addressing a silent and waiting Dark Lord. "Lord Vader, you were present on Escaal during the Convicted's incarceration were you not?

"I was, briefly."

There was no hesitation in the acknowledgement, but Han thought he could detect humour in the Dark Lord's tone. It made him nervous.

"Can you explain the Empire's interest in the Convicted?"

Now there was hesitation and Han frowned staring down at the small holo-figure of the Dark Lord, not understanding the brief pause.

After a beat, Vader responded. His controlled tones carrying anger and outrage. "He is a traitor and a terrorist. He is responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands of loyal Imperial personnel and citizens. He claims to be Jedi, an outlawed status within the Empire. The Emperor requires that he be brought to justice and answer for his crimes… as do the peoples of Cusrean and Horaarn."

Leia nodded, anger tightening her features, hardening her eyes, but she didn't bite to Vader's description of Luke, nor did she respond to Vader's attempt to sway the court, trusting that the Justices on the bench would have recognised the tactic. "Can you explain to court what happened to the Convicted on Escaal while in your custody?" Her voice was sounding stronger with ire behind it.

"He was not in my custody. He was in the custody of the Empire and the Emperor."

Again Han heard humour. The black hearted bastard was enjoying himself! Solo glanced to Luke. His friend was standing, stiff and straight and staring at nothing, but his hands fastened behind his back were clenched in fists.

"Can you explain what happened to the Convicted while in Imperial custody?"

Vader was silent for one cycle of his breathing mechanism, his helmet turning to look toward Luke and finally he gave Leia the answer she was looking for. "He was subjected to enhance interrogation techniques when he proved reluctant to answers questions without… encouragement."

"Can you tell the court what these techniques entailed?" Leia's voice was cold, bitter and determined.

Vader was still looking at Luke as he spoke. "Stress stances, restraint, physical motivation, electroshock therapy, medication."

Leia was nodding as she listened and lifted a data pad. "Stress stances," she repeated. "A euphemism for being made to stand for hours in an awkward and ultimately painful position. Restraint, in the Convicted's case, this meant being handcuffed to a durasteel cord and hung from the ceiling. Physical motivation, was beating him. Electroshock therapy was applying a charge to the Convicted's previously injured back and the medication you spoke of was a cocktail of drugs designed to keep him awake and coherent and more likely to answer your questions. Is that not correct, Lord Vader?"

Leia's voice was trembling with rage, she didn't give Vader a chance to answer. "I submit the following holo-image reconstructed from the memory banks of our Astromech droid, who had managed to slice into the Escaal prison's main computer."

Han grimaced, knowing what was about to be broadcast as Artoo plugged into the Horaarn holo system and began to transmit the images he had recorded those many weeks ago on Escaal. In the middle of the courtroom an image of a figure appeared hanging from an invisible ceiling. The man was almost unrecognisable; features bruised and battered. Torso patterned with abrasions and contusions with trails of blood running down his arms from wrists gouged by manacles.

Han wanted to get up, wanted to walk out, wanted not to see again what they had reduced Luke too, but he stayed. He stayed to be there for Leia, to be her support for she needed him so she could do this. He needed to stay for Luke…

He just wished he had done more than just break the nose of the man who had done this to Luke.

"Is this an image of the Convicted, My Lord?" Leia was saying, her voice tight, barely controlled.

"It is."

"And were you present at any point in that cell."

"I was."

"And was the Convicted injured when he was captured?"

"I was not…"

"Was he injured when captured, Lord Vader?"

"He was."

"Artoo, play the recording…"

ooOOoo

The force hummed, vibrated, as his son drew strength from it. Vader ignored the recording as it played for the court his focus solely on Luke. The boy was staring straight ahead, sweat soaking his hair, sliding down the side of his head to wet the tall collar that hid the bruises on his neck. His body trembled with effort, hands clenched behind his back, head up, jaw tight. His eyes were glazed, completely detached from what was happening in the court room. Carefully, cautiously, the Dark Lord opened himself to the Force, lightly touching his son's presence.

Stay up, stay up, stay up…..

He smiled at the mantra, at the words repeated over and over, as Luke fought against the stresses that were being placed upon him; both physical and mental. The boy was fighting, struggling against the forced stance before the court, against the pain and humiliation of his weakest moments being broadcast to an entire Galaxy.

His son was strong, untrained he was using the Force to supplement his stamina but Vader knew that Luke could not sustain it indefinitely, knew that it would only take one nudge, one carefully placed jolt in the Force to break the concentration and bring reality crashing back in.

Resisting the temptation, allowing Luke the escape he needed at that moment, Vader withdrew from his son's feelings and thoughts, and directed his attention to the Princess Organa as she prepared to continue her questions when the recording ended.

He allowed his respirator to cool his anger, to quell his growing impatience at being placed on the stand, knowing that the princess had make a mistake by using Escaal. It seemed she was hoping to show Luke's mental and emotional instability in the run up to the Cusrean attack, and in that she could be successful, but she appeared to have forgotten one important fact.

Major Erwin Rhovan.

ooOOoo

Skywalker showed no reaction to the recording. He remained still, staring blankly ahead seemingly impervious to the images and sounds of his own interrogation and torture that were playing out just feet away from him.

"It's called dissociation," a soft voice supplied.

Tearing her eyes away from holoscreen Ehlen Anders glanced around at Therriman, Luke's appointed therapist.

"Luke is detached from what's happening around him. It's a coping mechanism to distance himself from what's happening. I saw milder forms during his therapy, a separation of self from reality, like a daydream. He found it difficult to focus."

Ehlen's attention turned back to the screen. "Is it pathelogical?"

"It's difficult to comment without breaking confidence," the Mirialon psychologist stated, he was watching the screen, eyes norrowed as he assessed his patient. "However, from the look of him now, and bearing in mind that he's been in custody again for a few days I am gravely concerned for his emotional and mental health. He's strong, tenacious, but he also assumes too much on his own shoulders and that creates needless stress for him. From what I see here, and from my knowledge of him, I would say we could looking at a Depersonalisation Disorder, but I can't make a sure diagnoses without a prolonged period of assessment…"

"… and that's unlikely to happen." Ehlen bleakly finished for him as she sank back into the sofa in Mon Mothma's office and glanced around the small group gathered in the room with her. The Lady Mothma was pale, sickened by what she was witnessing but still her eyes were fixed on the monitor. General Rieekan's hands were sitting on his lap, fists clenched with useless anger. Sa'adan's eyes were dark, the Sullustan's features unreadable.

Only she and Therriman had engaged in any conversation since the trial began. The mood of the group was low, disheartened. Even the base outside Mothma's window was muted and quiet and few personnel were to be seen braving the rain of the compound.

There was a soft rumble from beyond, a vibration rippling through the building, shaking the furniture and Ehlen unconsciously gripped onto the arm of the couch as the mild ground tremor waned and stilled. It was as though the volcano beyond the compound was remiding them all of the precariousness of their situation.

"You have allowed your fear to consume you, boy," The hologram of Vader was saying, as the image of Luke, hanging brusied and battered from a line, gasped and grunted in pain and panic. "But it is your anger and hatred that has sustained you thus far."

"We can use this," Sa'aadan said quietly, his dark eyes staring at the screen, his expression difficult to read.

"You cannot. You cannot resist further, Skywalker."

"This could work to our advantage."

"What do you mean?" Mothma questioned, briefly glancing over at the Sullustan Captain before her attention was once more captured by the events on the holo-screen.

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

Eheln caught the intake of breath from the Alliance leader, saw Mothma leaning that little bit further forward in her chair.

"It was not I who betrayed your father," The holo of Vader intoned.

There was a pause, Sa'aadan's comment momentarily forgotten, all eyes in the room fixed on the screen, at the tense standoff between Skywalker and Vader; one hanging beaten, bloodied, bruised and at the mercy of the other. Suddenly, Luke spat at the Dark Lord, the spittle, mostly blood, spattering on the Dark Lord's mask. The retaliation, a backhanded fist across Luke's face, was quick and brutal.

Ehlen looked away, Rieekan rose from his seat and began to pace, clearly enraged and agitated and she had to wonder if he now regretting laying charges against Skywalker for disobeying orders when the boy's courage was on display for all to see.

This was the moment Luke had talked about in his debriefing after Ra'imar and it was more horrific than any of Skywalker's words had suggested. The pilot had been uncomfortable, had stuttered his answers, shifted uncomfortably in his seat before the panel and now she knew why, had seen his torment for herself.

Major Rhovan's questions, given to the panel that had included Derlin and Sa'aadan, had been weighted to ask about Vader. The Dark Lord had also come up in the debriefing after Cusrean, again slanted to ask Luke about the man he accused of killing his father.

But why? Was Rhovan really concerned that Luke would willingly join the Empire as had been suggested? Was Luke the loose cannon Rhovan feared? What was it really that intrigued the undercover operative come interrogation specialist about Luke and Vader – and where the hell was Rhovan? What was he up to? Had he been captured, too?

The hologram stopped and the camera's focused on Leia once more. The Princess was clenching her jaw, her anger and disgust palpable. "Is that your idea of 'enhanced interrogation', My Lord?"

"How can we use this?" Mothma questioned, her voice sounding troubled, but relieved nonetheless, it was a strange combination that intrigued Ehlen. She kept her eyes on the screen while listening to Sa'aadan and Mothma.

The Captain gestured toward the holonet, to Luke standing stoic and alone. "The Princess has shown the Empire for what it is. The Galaxy has seen what the Empire does to injured and capture combatants, they have no honour."

Ehlen shook her head, understanding what Sa'aadan was saying, but knowing it would take more than this to salvage the Alliance's damaged reputation. "No," she said quietly, "it would be wrong to objectify the Lieutenant Commander as the Empire has. The recording speaks for itself, we should not use it for any other purpose than the one the Princess is attempting. The Alliance still has the memory of Alderaan, of the atrocities and enslavement of the people of Jabiim, the Ghorman and Teardrop Massacres, the invasion on Ralltiir... to name but a few. Our supporters know the truth of the Empire, we just need to remind them and using one boy is not going to make much of a difference in the scale of this war. Besides…" she motioned toward the screen, at the hologram of the Princess Leia turning away from the Dark Lord as though her questions were complete. "… are we to stoop to the methods the Empire use? Are we to parade and posture like they do and try to claim the moral high ground? Or…"

"Shhhh…." Therriman admonished. "Something's happening…"

ooOOoo

Leia did not allow Vader to answer, before she turned back around and asked another question. "In your vast experience of torturing…"

"Objection!" Shouted the Horaarn Representative. "We have already established that the Convicted was not tortured. That is a subjective view point and…"

"My Lords, the People's representative is again interrupting the Convicted's allotted time for his appeal!" Leia argued with frustration.

The Chief Justice waved his hand and the Horaarn retook his seat. "Carry on, your Highness, but please be careful with your wording."

Aware of her time limit, Leia nodded and turned back to Vader. "In your experience of using 'enhanced interrogation techniques' have individuals suffered psychologically in the aftermath?"

There was a grunt from behind the black mask, as though the man was laughing. "That is difficult to answer, Your Highness. Most were executed for their crimes immediately following their confessions."

Leia clenched her jaw, shot a glance to Han for reassurance. The Corellian smiled grimly and nodded. "Please answer the question, Lord Vader."

"I believe you are more qualified to answer, your Highness, since I once questioned you."

Han was on his feet, face reddened with rage. "…son of a bloodfin…"

Leia blanched, face draining of colour. She gripped the edge of the engineering console, knuckles white. She looked back at Han, held her hand up, silently placating him as she looked down at the small holo of the court room on the game table. Luke hadn't moved, hadn't shown any reaction. He stood still, seemingly aloof and remote, as though he wasn't aware of what was happening around him, as though he hadn't heard Vader's dig at her. It disturbed her more than anything Vader could ever say to her. However, she had to push her worry for Luke away, had to force her disgust at Vader's words to the side and lock down the memories of her own incarceration and torture at Vader's hands.

"Just answer my question," she rasped.

"It is possible," the Dark Lord conceded. "There have been…"

"And is it therefore possible that Lieutenant Commander Skywalker has also suffered psychological damage from his experiences on Escaal?"

"I am not a…"

"Just answer the question."

"It is possible."

"Thank you," Leia abruptly turned away, faced the bench of Justices, leaving Vader waiting on the wirness stand. "I submit, via evidence transcript twelve on your datapads, that the Convicted has been undergoing treatment with the Alliance medical team for symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder."

There were nods as the Judges lifted their pads and briefly viewed the evidence.

"I have no further questions for Lord Vader," behind her she could feel Han stir again as he stood to approach the holo-transmitter. Therriman, Luke's therapist, was back on Ardralii and so Han and Haslam were the only witnesses the Princess had to testify to Luke's erratic behaviour since his return from Escaal and confirm that he was indeed undergoing treatment. "If it please the court I call…"

"Your Honour," Lapte'cka was on his feet again. "I respectfully request that I be allowed a few moments to cross examine his Lordship."

Leia immediately stiffened, protested. "Your Honour, the Representative is again determined to interrupt the Convicted's allotted time and I…"

The Horaarn slowly shook his head and smiled. "Any time I take with Lord Vader may be taken from the People's time and returned to the Convicted. Your Honour, this will save me from recalling his Lordship."

"I will allow it," the Chief justice nodded, with several of his colleagues doing likewise.

Leia slowly sat, jaw clenched with anger, with fear; she had a bad feeling about this. Han came up behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, knowing they would appear in the hologram in the courtroom and not caring; Leia needed to know he was there for her. She swallowed, one small hand coming up to cover his and her fingers squeezed against him, thankful for his company and then he stepped away when the people's representative began speaking.

"Can the recording just played for the court be displayed please and…" he paused and lifted a datapad, glancing at the information it displayed. "… and continue playing it past the time marked by the Princess Leia, just after Lord Vader strikes the Convicted."

The horror played again, and this time Leia didn't look, she had seen it enough, she knew what was coming now and bitter gall rose into her throat. She glanced at Luke, seeing again his bland expression, the far off look on his face. He seemed oblivious to everything that was going on around him and her heart broke for him.

They were going to lose Luke.

"My Lord Vader!" Rhovan's voice protested from the hologram.

"Pause the recording," the Horaarn representative requested.

It stopped, the picture wobbled, but held. Rhovan stood, dressed in the dark uniform of an Imperial Interrogation Specialist.

The Horaarn gestured to the image. "Lord Vader, can you identify this man?"

"He is Major Erwin Rhovan."

"And where is he just now, my Lord?"

"He is currently serving within the Rebel Alliance."

ooOOoo

Rhovan grinned. He couldn't help it, he had to admire what Vader was doing, had to doff his cap to the Dark Lord's machinations, with one sentence he had taken away the Princess Organa's arguments, had brought into doubt her claim that Skywalker was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress. Astutely ignoring the stares from the medical staff, the barely disguised confusion about who he was…

Who am I?

What am I?

And do I really want those questions answered?

…Rhovan pulled himself up on the medical bench, eyes fixed on the holonet screen, fascinated by the drama playing out in the courtroom.

Skywalker had still to show any kind of reaction and Rhovan had to wonder if Vader would march the boy to a cell or to a medicentre when he brought him to the ship, for surely the Dark Lord could not fail to see how damaged Luke was.

"The Alliance?" The People's Representative questioned on the screen, sounding perplexed but over acting, obviously enjoying the moment. "Can you please explain, My Lord?"

"Major Rhovan was a Rebel undercover operative and the Commander of the Escaal Insurgency group."

"And did the Convicted know this?"

"Yes," Vader's answer was a hiss.

Rhovan shook his head, still grinning, at the half-truth. Luke hadn't known… well, not until Rhovan had told him and had then stepped back and left him to hang, left him to the droid once assured the pilot could not damage the Network any further.

The Horaarn was outraged. "He knew!" He pointed at Luke, who was standing silent and still, eyes unfocused, staring into nothing. "He knew the man questioning him was a friend and an ally?"

"Yes."

"So the interrogation…?" Lapte'cka sounded confused, sounded like he was trying to wrap his head around a difficult concept. "It was… a charade?" He sounded incredulous and he stared at the Princess's hologram, eyes bright and victorious.

Vader took a beat to answer. "Skywalker appeared adversarial toward the Major, was in obvious discomfort... but you will have noticed from the recording Major Rhovan's protests when I attempted to take control of Skywalker's interrogation. It was during his transfer from the Escaal prison to my ship that Rhovan liberated him and both escaped..."

Rhovan narrowed his eyes. Vader hadn't answered the question, he had merely implied collusion between himself and Luke.

"…It was later revealed that the Major had been feeding Skywalker energy rations to bolster his strength and had surreptitiously encouraged him to resist."

Rhovan snorted laughter at that. The energy rations he had fed Luke had been water laced with glucose and the encouragement to resist must refer to the few minutes when he'd disabled the cell's surveillance systems.

"So… this man…" the Representative turned from Vader, pointing at Luke once more, this time with anger, with disbelief. "This man whom the Princess Organa claims was mentally affected by his experiences on Escaal had been in the custody of an Alliance operative all along. He was being tortured and questioned by one of the Alliance's own, by his own colleague… and he was complicit to it."

Lapte'cka stood quietly for a few seconds then he abruptly turned to the Judges bench and addressed it. "Your Honours… I have no further questions for his Lordship."

Rhovan pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to ease the ache of his injury, barely listening now as the Princess Organa asked to re-examine the Dark Lord and was refused. Her tactic now had to be damage control, she had to somehow undermine the insinuation that Luke had played a willing part in his own interrogation, and had carried out a ruse against the Dark Lord and the Empire while waiting an opportunity to escape.

It made Luke seem fanatical, cold to even his own pain.

And he supposed that was the point.

Again the holo-cameras strafed Luke with light, picking up his solitude, his silence, his stillness and Rhovan had to wonder what others watching this were thinking of the boy on the rostrum. What they were thinking of his fixed expression, the empty stare of his blue eyes, the utter lack of reaction to Vader's revelations and the representative's accusations of complicity.

To Rhovan, at that moment, Luke just looked lost.

ooOOoo

Dismissed from the witness stand Vader rose and crossed the floor past the flickering image of Leia Organa as she continued to protest at the denial of her request to cross examine him, past the convicted rostrum where his son stood immersed in the Force and seemingly oblivious to what had just occurred and, as he took his seat next to the people's representative, he was satisfied that the job was done. Luke would be leaving with him, no matter what further evidence the Princess could present on his behalf.

With his attention on his son, the Dark Lord was only vaguely aware that a hologram of a Rebel soldier had materialised on the witness stand. He could hear the Princess's voice, tight with frustration and fear ask her questions, he could hear the dull, droll tones of the man as he answered, but most of the Rebel's words were lost to him, unimportant. Beneath it all he could only hear two words, repeated over and over, two words that had become a staccato beat, a straw at which to grasp, a focal point on which to concentrate.

…Stay up…. Stay up… Stay up….

As untrained as he was Luke was deeply submerged in the Force, had entered a meditative state and was only distantly conscious of where he was and what was happening. His control and power was astounding, his strength of will and dogged determination in such a situation as this were admirable, but they were all for nought. Hiding within the Force would not save Luke from his fate, it would not stop the inevitable.

The Force itself had ordained Luke's fate. He could not use it now to escape, events were shaping themselves around him and he was the eye of the storm, seemly quiet and at peace, aloof and detached as he concentrated on his mantra…

…Stay up…. Stay up… stay up…

… however Vader could see the signs, the tells, that gave his son's true state away. He was sweating beneath the lights, hair becoming plastered to his head, the collar around his neck was wet, there were darker stains at the small of his back and beneath his arms. His hands were clenched tight into fists and his throat bobbed every time he swallowed. His jaw was clamped, muscles bunching, and his eyes were fixed on the flag above the Judges' bench.

All it needed was a nudge, a small push within the Force and Luke's concentration would crack and crumple and he would have no choice but to wake and face the storm that encircled him.

The Rebel soldier was dismissed and Organa called the Corellian smuggler, Han Solo, to the stand. This was the man whose ship had reportedly come to Luke's rescue above the Death Star and fired upon his wingman in the trench. A part of him had to reluctantly admit that he felt a sense of gratitude to the Corellian; if Solo had not intervened then Vader would have killed his own son and would never have known that his child had survived Mustafar, would never have had the opportunity to know his son, to possess him, to introduce the boy to his natural birth rite.

Yes, he must remember to thank the smuggler, just before crushing the life from him.

"… well, I'm no doctor, but the kid… I mean Lieutenant Commander Skywalker… hasn't been the same since Escaal."

"Can you elaborate please, Captain?"

Vader tuned out the Corellian's voice as he answered the Princess's question. Anything they had to say was irrelevant and pointless; even now his fleet would be moving into the system to form the blockade, even now pilots would be dressing for combat their orders simple… drive the Millennium Falcon toward the Executor.

He smiled beneath his mask, old scars tugging. Not only would he have secured his son by the end of this day, he will also have captured the Princess Leia Organa and Solo. The loss of all three, the heroes of Yavin, along with the damage wrought by the battle of Cusrean, would be a massive blow to the Alliance both in terms of morale and recruitment.

The Rebellion was dying; the heart of it was about to be ripped out, severed from the body and soon its death rattle would echo throughout the Galaxy.

"…. no way did Luke know. None of us knew about Rhovan… hell, Luke went after the guy… that's how he ended up with that cut on his face."

Vader brought his attention back to the Corellian's testimony, glancing again at his son as the Princess led her witness.

"Can you explain to the court what happened?"

"Now," Solo leaned forward trying get his point across. "I've seen guys in a flashback. I've seen them lose it and the kid had lost it. The guys in the Squadron said that Luke had gone quiet when the holonet showed those pictures, you know the ones with all the…"

The Horaarn Representative leapt to his feet. "Your honours this testimony is hearsay, bunk room gossip. I request that that you disallow Captain Solo's statements and ask that he sticks to what he witnessed himself."

Justice Imira'en pursed his lips considering the motion.

"Your Honour," Leia argued. "I have been hampered in building my case for the appeal due to the current embargo around Horaarn and I am, therefore, unable to present further witnesses to this event. Captain Solo's account of the events is the only testimony I have at this time to the Convicted's state of mind."

"His state of mind after he has murdered over twenty thousand souls…" Lapte'cka interjected.

"… yes after, but it also demonstrates his instability following his incarceration and torture on Escaal."

There was a twist in the Force, a spike of desperation, and Vader turned to his son. Luke was beginning to lose his control, was beginning to emerge from his meditative state. The full weight of his situation was crushing back in on him.

Stay up…. Stay up…. Stay up…..

The words were becoming frantic, less of a mantra and more of an anguished plea.

Stay up… stay…. Stay…. Stay….

"I will allow this testimony," the Chief Justice decided and nodded at Leia as the Horaarn representative returned to his seat with a shake of his head.

"Please continue, Captain," The princess encouraged her witness.

The image of the Corellian broke up for a second as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Then he picked up when he left off. Vader listened with his eyes still focused on Luke.

"Okay.." Solo breathed, raking a hand through his hair, sounding nervous. "… the squad said he had gone quiet and just stood and walked out of the commissary when the media report of the attack was shown. Anti…" He stumbled over a name, and changed tact. "Luke's wingman said he realised where the kid was going and went after him while some came to get me. Ah… They said that Luke had pulled his saber on the guy…"

"Can you be more specific?"

"Sure… When they reached Luke he had found Major Rhovan and smacked the guy and pulled his lightsaber on him. His squad tackled him and took him down."

"Yet another example of the Convicted's criminality, your Honour," Lapte'cka was on his feet again.

"Sit down, Representative," the Justice admonished. He waved his hand at Solo, "and please continue Captain."

Solo's jaw had tightened with anger, eyes hard as he glared at the Representative as he continued his testimony. "Luke was a mess, he wasn't making much sense. He was fighting the guys, didn't seem to know where he was until I got to him and spoke to him. It took him a few moments to realise who I was, who the guys were. I knew then what was happening, I've seen it before, he was flashing back."

The Princess nodded, looked pained, upset. "You said he wasn't making much sense, can you tell the courts what he was saying."

Solo swallowed, his eyes softening. "When I got there I could hear him shouting something about not getting 'taken back,' he said something about a 'Network' and mentioned the name 'Dade.'"

Vader felt a shudder through the Force, a reaction to Solo's words; his son's grip on the Force was slipping away, he was nearing the surface and was more aware than he wanted to be. He had heard Solo's words, knew what was being spoken about….

Stay up, stay up, stay up, stay up….

… and was still fighting against it.

"Did you have any idea what he was talking about?"

Solo shook his head. "No… not at first. But when he came too, he told me that he'd gone to speak to 'Dade,' then he said that he had meant Rhovan. That he had hit Rhovan…"

"… You're saying that The Convicted attacked a higher ranking officer?" Again the Princess's words were strained, grieved.

The Corellian hesitated, the hologram image looked over at his friend. "Yeah…" he breathed, reluctantly.

"Do you know why?"

"Yeah, I learned that Rhovan was an Imperial Interrogation Specialist. He was the guy that had tortured Luke."

"You are a combat veteran, are you not, Captain?"

"Yes."

"You have been in involved in traumatic events, have seen friends and comrades badly affected by battle and horror, by personal injury and experiences?"

"Yes."

"So you know what Post Traumatic Stress is and how it can present itself?"

"Yes."

"You said that Luke was 'flashing back,' what did you mean?"

Again the Corellian hesitated, again he looked at his friend standing alone on the rostrum. "Luke was reliving what had happened to him on Escaal, he wasn't conscious of what he was doing."

Another flare in the Force, feelings leaking out; shame, embarrassment, anger.

Vader smiled at the twist of ire from his son as his weakness was made public.

The Princess finished with Solo and repeated her earlier assertion that Luke was undergoing therapy with an Alliance doctor for the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress and, with a twist of his own anger, the Dark Lord had to wonder why the Rebels had allowed him to fly on the Cusrean mission in the first place. Why had they allowed a pilot so gravely injured to return to battle? Had they believed that their hero would be healed by a victory? Had had they risked his son's life, his emotional and mental well-being on…

The court room faded out for a moment as understanding was driven home. If his son truly shared any of his father's traits then he would have yearned for battle, he would have cried out for vengeance and demanded that he be reinstated and not be left standing on the side-lines watching others be given the missions he knew he could do.

"You're going to need me on this one, master."

Obi-Wan had smiled and agreed, stating that his search for Grevious may just be another wild bantha chase. They had parted as friends, and yet there had been an undercurrent of distrust. An awkwardness that had existed ever since Palaptine had placed him on the Jedi Council, since the Jedi had asked him to spy on the Chancellor.

The Jedi had never given him another assignment, they had kept him on Coruscant while others risked their lives.

To be excluded was agony and he could only surmise that Luke had felt the same.

And Vader was abruptly reminded of the image of his son standing alone in the rain, facing the oncoming might of his enemy, boldly intent on sacrificing himself for his friends, and of the pride he had felt at that moment.

No, like Anakin, Luke would never settle for the side-lines…

Anakin?

… he would have been frustrated and angry. He would have jumped at the opportunity to re-join his squads.

Luke had leapt at the chance. Vader had felt his child's glee during the Cusrean battle, had felt the thrum of darkness as his son had turned his ship around and headed for the space station intent on, and committed to, its destruction.

Unseen, Vader smiled again; his anger at the Alliance for pushing his son into battle was misplaced. He should be thanking Mon Mothma and her staff for sending his son careening into his father's hands – and perhaps one day he would. Perhaps one day he and Luke would stand side by side and thank her just before they ran her through.

"Your Honour," Leia Organa's voice cut into the Dark Lord's thoughts. "If it pleases the court I only have one more piece of evidence to present: the Convicted's cockpit voice recording from the battle. From this the court will clearly hear Lieutenant Commander Skywalker warn his comrades that the station did not pose a danger, and desperately try to convince them not to attack, you will clearly hear him being given direct orders from his Commanding Officer and you will clearly hear his turmoil as he fights not only his inner conscience, but also as he fights for his life against the Imperial forces that met the squad in battle. You will hear his comrades die, and have an opportunity to appreciate the pressure and stresses upon him at that moment and you will hear him when he comes to his decision to destroy the station.

"While listening, I respectfully request that you bear in mind the horror that he endured in that cell on Escaal."

The Princess's image turned and nodded. There was a hiss, a crackle and a voice broke into the silence of the court room.

"Artoo, Three minutes to reversion…"

His son's voice, sounding calm and confident. The whine and hum of the X-Wing's engines, playing a soothing back drop to Luke's harsh breathing over the comm as his adrenalin flowed in anticipation for the coming battle.

Eyes on his son, Vader opened himself to the Force. He gathered it too him, feeling across the expanse of power, reaching out to touch the crumbling layers of the barricade that Luke was still desperately trying to hold together, that he was still trying to shield himself with and hide behind. He knew it wasn't going to last much longer, he knew that Luke's strength was failing him and he knew that very soon his son would have no protection.

"Shit!"

The Dark Lord smile at the mild profanity from the recording. He knew what was coming, after all it hadn't been difficult to splice into Artoo's memory banks, given that his command codes still existed within the little droid. It was astonishing to think that, after all this time, Artoo Detoo's system had never been wiped, that not once in over two decades had anyone thought to clear the detritus that clogged up the droid's memory. It had proved to be, on this occasion, a blessing. However, he knew it could also be a curse if someone were to look too closely at what Artoo still carried within him.

When he captured the smugglers ship, he must ensure that the droids were transferred to his personnel service, which was, after all, their proper place.

"No!" His son's voice suddenly cried from the tape, pulling him from his thoughts. "Commander this is a mistake. There's something not right here!"

It was also his son's place to be by his side, to be in his father's service and once Luke knew of his heritage, once he had been trained in ways of the Force, the ways of the Dark Side, Luke would understand this too. His son held great potential for the Darkness.

"Sir!" Luke protested from the recording. He sounded distressed, distraught and the panel of Judges were frowning, eyes narrowed listening carefully and taping out notes into their data pads. "The station's not..."

"That's a Gods-be-damned order, Skywalker!"

Thus far all was as Organa said. Luke was under duress, Luke was under orders, but he knew how this recording would play itself out, and he wondered if the Princess had the courage to play it to the end and in doing so condemn her friend.

Carefully, keeping his presence cloaked, he lightly brushed against Luke's defences and smiled when it buckled a little more.

ooOOoo

Thecla closed up the jacket of her uniform and lifted the belt, synching it around her waist and fastening the leg strap around her thigh. Straightening up she tugged the hem of the jacket, pulling it down and adjusting it to regulation fit.

"He's got a lock!"

She glanced at the holonet monitor that was set onto the wall of the locker room as the camera focused on Skywalker. Luke's eyes were shut, sweat was gathering and running down the sides of his face and the collar around his neck looked soaked. He was visibly trembling, his breathing quick and harsh.

A locker banged shut and a rough voice stated, "Scum looks drugged… he probably has no idea what's going on around him. Damned Horaarn's gave him an out."

Thecla tore her eyes away from the Rebel on trial and glanced at the pilot across from her, but said nothing, she merely picked up the side arm she had requisitioned from the armoury a few minutes ago, checked the safety was on and slipped it into the holster that was strapped to her leg.

She reached inside the locker for her cap.

"So what do you think?"

Thecla closed her eyes, knowing the question was being put to her. She didn't want to answer, didn't want to think of her mission and the conclusion of it.

"What do I think about what, Lieutenant?" She used his rank to emphasis her reluctance to engage in conversation. She had only met the man, her co-pilot, a few minutes ago after spending the last few hours proving her credentials and authorisation codes to the ranking officer on Horaarn and being supplied with a uniform and weapon shipped down with a quartermaster from Lord Vader's ship.

The classified nature of her authorisation had lifted a few eyebrows and paled a few faces, but she had been supplied with what she asked for and the position she requested, much to the chagrin of the shuttle's pilot who had been side lined.

"D'ya think we'll be hauling Skywalker once this is over?"

Thecla turned away, hiding her reaction, hiding the doubt in her eyes. "I'm sure we will be."

"Yeah, but if the Horaarn's side with the Rebels….?"

Thecla donned her cap, keeping her back to her co-pilot. "Lieutenant, even if the Horaarns find him innocent I am sure we will still be 'hauling' Skywalker to the Executor. Lord Vader is not a man to let the laws of other systems get in the way of Imperial edicts. Skywalker is ours."

From the monitor there was a sudden shriek of droid noise and Skywalker's voice screaming. "I'm hit, I'm hit!"

Thecla bowed her head, drew in a steadying breath and turned to the man. "Come on, we have a shuttle to prep."

ooOOoo

Sitting with her back straight and her head high, data pad clasped tightly in her hand Leia Organa glanced over at Han. The Corellian was deep in conversation with Haslam and Chewbacca and Leia knew they were putting the finishing touches to their escape plans. She knew the guns were calibrated, the engines were ready and that Han had already input several hyperspace calculations into the navicomputer ready for a quick jump.

Solo sensed her eyes on him and he glanced over, nodded encouragement although he seemed grim and tense.

The Princess returned the nod trying not to let her nervousness show, knowing that her every move was being transmitted in her image into the courtroom. Knowing the recording was coming to an end, she glanced down at the data pad in her hand; her time was running out, her defence of Luke was coming to an end.

She could only hope she had done enough to secure his innocence, or at least put enough doubt in the panel's minds to his mental state and ensure a lower sentence. She could only hope that they would consider Luke's return to the Alliance with the same attentiveness that they were giving to Vader's extradition petition.

She sighed, shook her head; she could only hope.

On the recording, with the names of the pilot now silenced out to protect them, Luke made his decision.

"W…., H…., form up. Let's do this and go home."

Leia suddenly stood, instructing "End Recording," to Artoo Detoo.

ooOOoo

It was the sudden silence that finally broke through Luke's defences and threw him from the protection and solitude he had wrapped himself within. He had felt his grasp slipping, had felt his strength fade and slowly his surroundings had bled into his isolation. He had become aware of Leia talking, hearing her voice but not the words. He had been aware of the heat from the lights above him beating down upon his body, could feel the sweat running; dribbling down his face, could feel it trickle down the small of his back to soak into the dark uniform they had supplied him with. He could feel his muscles cramping; his legs trembling, his back clenching painfully.

Stay…. up… Stay… up… Stay… stay….

His head was throbbing, pounding with fatigue and dehydration. The strain of standing still in one place for several hours without rest had finally snapped his inner mantra, and he had struggled to cling to the words, to the rhythm that he had slipped into.

Until now… until the silence of the room had achieved what words and gestures, what lights and camera's had failed to fully accomplish. The Force ebbed from his control, slipping away like tendrils of mist, leaving him awake and fully aware and at the full mercy of his situation.

He blinked in the lights, pupils contracting tightly, brow pulled down. He felt muddled and confused, a haze clouding his thoughts as he tried to figure out what was happening now.

He was sure he had heard his own voice, and that of Wedge and the rest of the squad. He thought he had heard the Cusrean battle and…

He chilled, stiffened and turned around, feeling the eyes of another on him. Vader's helmet was looking his way, the eye lenses dark and empty as they gazed upon him. He felt… amusement… through the Force; a sense of victory from the Dark Lord.

What had happened, what had he missed?

Swallowing dryly, he pulled his gaze away and found the hologram of Leia also looking his way.

Something was happening.

He bowed his head, shut his eyes tight and clenched his fists, biting back the hiss of pain as sweat stung the cut across his palm.

Something was happening.

Finally the dragging silence ceased when Leia spoke.

"And that concludes our evidence for the appeal. Neither the Convicted, nor myself, refute that he fired the fatal shot into the Space Station and thus killed the refugees taking shelter on board. However, I implore this court, this honourable panel, to consider the evidence presented, the testimony given; the torture he endured at the hands of the Empire on Escaal and the impact that has had on him. The fact that he has been receiving therapy, that his behaviour has been erratic and unpredictable as corroborated by both Captain Solo and Private Haslam. The fact that he was under direct orders from his commanding officer during the battle to fire upon the station. You heard the cockpit voice recording, you heard the battle for yourselves and heard the stresses and pressures he was under."

Leia paused and Luke could feel her look his way. She wasn't in the court room, but he could still feel her. There was sorrow and reluctance and a cold determination to fight for him even when he wouldn't fight for himself.

"Before I finish, I will return to my assertion that I believe that the convicted is under coercion from The Lord Vader..."

More objections from the opposition. But Leia ignored them

"… and I request that his jacket be undone and the bruises I suspect mark his throat to be exposed."

Luke felt sick, nausea churning his empty stomach as the small womp-rat faced man continued to protest. His head was buzzing, he felt faint, felt his body tremble with fatigue, as again he raised his eyes to Vader and again all he felt was amusement.

The Chief Justice was saying something, someone was stepping up close to him, fingers were on his Jacket's fastenings undoing them at the neck. He stepped back, jerking his head away and almost stepped off the rostrum. Hand took his arms… words were said by the guard beside him…

"..stand… just… so… can be…. Court."

"What?" His voice was dry, hoarse.

He got no response except to be turned to face the panel of judges and his jacket opened, exposing the dark bruises left on his throat by Vader's hand.

Suddenly lights flickering in his face, the drone and hum of repulsors as holocamera's flew in to broadcast this latest humiliation to the galaxy. He winced, flinched, stomach muscles tightening suddenly reminded of Dade's…

…no.. Rhovan… his name is Rhovan…

… droid.

There was a flash of concern through the Force and Luke's head jerked up looking around for the source, his eyes once again finding the Dark Lord of the Sith regarding him.

It was a perplexing moment. Why would his enemy be concerned for him? Why would Vader, who had taken everything from him, who had stripped him down to his very core…

"It was in my way!"

… and who had callously ripped the truth from him, be concerned?

He tore his eyes away again, not wanting to look, not wanting to see. He stared up at the transparent ceiling, watching the melting snow run in rivers across the surface and dragged in a breath.

Keep it together, Luke, he told himself, Keep it together. You can do this.

But how was he to do this. It was all being done to him. He was a passenger in these proceedings, being carried along by the flow of events unable to stop it. No matter how much he dragged his heels, no matter how much he flailed against it all, he could do nothing but be swept along with the tide.

Ever since Escaal his life had not been his own and…

No. Not since Escaal.

Since…

"Uncle Owen! Aunt Beru! Uncle Owen…"

The smell of smoke, the stench of burning flesh. The twisted figures lying by the entrance to the homestead.

He blinked, chasing away the memories from his mind. He heaved in a breath, letting it slowly out as the guard stepped down, leaving him alone on the platform once more.

Alone…

He was alone.

And exposed.

He wanted to grab his collar and draw it together, he wanted to refasten it and hide the bruises, hide the marks, hide what Vader had done, but his hands were fastened securely behind his back. So he stood, head high, eyes to the ceiling and let them all have a good look.

The silence in the court was once again broken by Leia. "As you see Your Honour, the Lieutenant Commander has, once again, been subjected to ill treatment at the hands of the Empire. Treatment that I believe is designed to exploit Luke's current vulnerability and coerce him into agreeing not to fight his extradition, not to fight this appeal.

"This is only a small demonstration of what the Empire subjects its prisoners, too. You saw the recording from the Escaal cell, you saw the blood and the bruises left on his body and that is the fate that awaits the Convicted again should he be returned into Lord Vader's custody."

She glanced down at her datapad, quickly reading what she had prepared to say in conclusion. "I trust that Lieutenant Commander Skywalker's conviction will be quashed on the grounds of diminished responsibility and that the Empire's request for his extradition back to Cusrean be denied. Should he consequently be convicted of a lesser charge, I repeat my request that the Convicted be returned to the Alliance to serve out any sentence this court imposes."

She paused, bowed to the court and finished. "Thank you."

ooOOoo

Rhovan couldn't help but feel that Leia Organa had just make a mistake. He had a feeling that despite the bruises on Skywalker's neck, despite the very obvious finger impressions on his skin, this was going to backfire badly.

The Princess wanted to highlight the brutality of the Empire.

But Vader was wanting to highlight Skywalker's instability; his volatility… his guilt.

And Organa had failed to ask the most important questions; what, why and how?

How had Luke gotten those contusions? What had happened in the Horaarn cell? Why had Vader wrapped his hand around his own son's throat?

Rhovan plucked restlessly at the bacta dressings around his wrists while the Chief Justice thanked the Princess for her evidence and turned to address the Horaarn Representative and the Dark Lord as the extradition petitioner.

He couldn't stay here much longer, he couldn't lie in this medbed while there was work he needed to do and preparations he needed to make before Luke was brought aboard this ship and back into his care.

"I would do it again," he had told Luke. "Taln and Isla were my friends. They died trying to save your sorry hide, don't let their deaths be for nothing."

"Go," Mon Mothma had ordered when she had sent him after the Millennium Falcon and Skywalker. "Go, and do what you have to do."

When giving that order, Mothma knew he would do exactly that. She knew he would take that open mandate and take whatever action he thought necessary to keep Skywalker from his father, to stop the boy becoming Sith like his sire, to stop their combined strength from damaging and destroying the Alliance.

He would do whatever he had to do… even if it meant that his friends on Escaal had died in vain.

Even if it meant betraying the oath he had taken as a young man fresh from the Academy, standing in a new uniform alongside thirty other young men and women especially chosen and rigorously trained for a lifelong mission.

"Conflict gives purpose to the Empire. Conflict will lead to growth and expansion. With both, the Empire can only prosper…"

Yes, he would do what he had to do even if it meant disposing of Skywalker and facing death himself at Vader's hands.

Without taking his eyes of the monitor he gestured to the nearest medic, using his rank, his position, his ambiguous status to intimidate her. "Have a uniform brought to me and contact the brig, tell them to expect me within the hour for an inspection of the facilities."

The woman paused, looked uncertain, but agreed. "Yes, sir."

Rhovan pushed himself, up, swung his legs out of the bed and winced at the sharp pains that lanced through his muscles and the dizziness that threatened to drop him. "And bring me a gods-be-damned stim shot." He shouted at her retreating back.

He glanced back at the holonet screen; the Horaarn Representative was now standing making his opening speech and Rhovan had a feeling the court proceedings were drawing to a close.

ooOOoo

"…. facts seem clear and all the Princess Leia has done is confirm what we all know to be true; the Convicted is a criminal, a terrorist and a mass murderer."

Luke hung his head; not because he was ashamed, not because he believed everything the man was saying…

… but you do believe it. You do… Remember the little girl. Remember the burns on her face, the way she hit the shields and tumbled away… you did that….

He grimaced, fighting against his inner voice, swayed on his feet as he closed his eyes and snatched at the Force, reaching out and fumbling to get a grip, to draw it to him and…

Stay up… stay up…

"Let us look at a few facts about Luke Skywalker…. Fact: his guardians died in suspicious circumstances and…."

Leia was on her feet. "Objection! Luke's family were innocents killed by soldiers of the Empire!"

"Do you have proof of that, Your Highness?"

Leia coloured at his words and turned her attention to the panel of Judges. "Your Honours, the fate of Luke's family has no bearing on this case and I request that the Representative's implications against the Convicted be dismissed from evidence."

The Chief Justice glanced at the people's representative.

"Your Honour, I am trying to paint a picture, a background to this act. His history if you will, the facts about the Convicted do have relevance here."

"You may continue…"

"Your Honour," Leia protested, angrily.

"Sit down, Your Highness!"

Leia sat, as a little smirked curled Luke's lips. She was livid, he could tell… and besides, did it really matter that he was being implicated in his Aunt and Uncle's deaths? What was two more to add to his tally? Besides, if he had hadn't persuaded Owen Lars to buy some droids to help with the harvest none of this would have happened and they would still be alive.

He was responsible for their deaths. It was his fault.

Luke blinked, glanced up, saw the Horaarn pointing at him and he ducked his head to try and hide his smile because, so help him, the guy really did look like a womp-rat.

ooOOoo

"What the hell is he doing?"

Leia tore her attention from what her opponent was saying and glanced at Han; the Corellian sounded troubled, disturbed. He was leaning forward onto the game board staring at the hologram of the courtroom.

Muting her comm connection and, risking turning her attention temporarily away from what the Horaarn Representative was saying, she explained. "He's twisting the facts to suit his case, he's trying to sway the panel by…"

"Not him," Han dismissed, abruptly. He pointed at Luke, much like the Horaarn was doing. "I'm talking about Luke… The kid's grinning."

Horrified Leia turned her attention back to Luke and, catching his expression, she chilled, stilled. His head was down, but his eyes were turned to the Horaarn, lips twisted into a smirk. It was an expression she had never before seen, or expected to see, from Luke. It was a look of arrogance, of impiety, and she knew that if Han had seen it then so had the panel of Judges, so had the holonet cameras and so had all the beings across the Galaxy who were watching this trial.

Then the look fell away; his eyes slowly blinked and became unfocused, he swallowed and grimaced and he was just Luke again. He looked tired, drawn and distrait just as he had through the majority of this ordeal.

He was just Luke and she had to get him out of this.

ooOOoo

Vader turned at the distortion in the Force, at the twist of humour that rippled from his son as the thin Horaarn presented his case. There was genuine mirth, a joke that only Luke understood but it was underscored by simmering anger and bitter malice. It was darkness, it was power and it was within his son.

Then the feelings were gone; voided by fatigue and a weary acceptance.

… it was his fault… his fault they were dead… let him say what he wants… womp-rat…

The Dark Lord frowned at the disjointed thoughts and feelings that his son was unwittingly exposing.

Womp-rat?

And then he looked at the Horaarn; the man was in full spiel, railing against the boy standing trembling on the podium. In that instant he grinned, old scars pulling at the movement, as he saw what his son had seen; the thin, narrow face. The sharp pointed nose, the tuft of black hair and the sharp teeth protruding from narrow lips.

Womp-rat.

He struggled to hold back the wave of humour that rose from deep within. A genuine laughter bubbled from the back of his throat but he suppressed it with astonished anger, surprised at the surge of amusement. He gathered the Force to him, smothering the laughter; mirth had no place here, such feelings were beneath him now, they had been banished and scattered on the floor of the chancellor's office when he had knelt before Palpatine…

…and yet he couldn't help but feel an affinity with Luke, couldn't help but feel that he had just experienced his first moment of real understanding, that he had, somehow, connected with his son.

"Fact: with like-minded criminals he broke into an Imperial Prison facility and released the Princess Leia Organa from legitimate custody, murdering…"

Vader tore himself from thoughts of his son, berating himself for allowing his mind to wander and for his thoughts to become unfocused. He fixed his attention on the Horaarn Representative, the man he had entrusted to legally secure his son.

"Objection!" The Princess called angrily. Vader could sense her unease, her disquiet; could see it plainly within her tense posture. "Your Honour…."

"My apologies," the Horaarn bowed and continued, "… 'unlawfully killed' her guards." He smiled at Leia as he continued and Vader had to concede that the man was good at his job; unlikeable, oily and unctuous, but good at what he was doing even if that task was to take his son apart before the court and before Galaxy.

No matter, for darkness would restore him.

"He was the pilot who destroyed the Empire's experimental space station as it entered the Yavin System…"

Again Leia was on her feet. "The Death Star had already destroyed Alderaan and…"

"Sit down, Your Highness!" The Chief Justice, Imira'en called.

"Your honour," Leia pleaded, grief for her home world still paining her. "Luke did the Galaxy a favour or more worlds would have been obliterated!"

Lapte'cka spun around, face read with anger. "You see, your Honour! That is the belief of those who disrupt this Galaxy with war," he was pointing at Leia now. "Skywalker killed over one million on that Space Station and, we are told, celebrated afterwards!"

Imira'en hammered his gavel. "The representatives will remember where they are and conduct themselves accordingly." He glared down at Leia. "You objected to the People's Representative interrupting your allotted time and now you feel obligated to do the same after I have given him permission to continue with the Convicted's background.

"Do you dispute the facts the Representative is presenting?"

Vader leaned forward, eager to hear Organa's response. Surprisingly she turned to him and glared as she answered. "Not the facts, your Honour," Her voice was like ice, "just how they are being presented."

She slowly sat, defeated.

The People's Representative, drew in a breath and glanced once more at his target, determined to tear another strip from the Rebel Pilot.

"Let us jump forward, shall we," he suggested, "we shall not mention details of the skirmishes and deaths he was involved in at Ralltiir, Chorax or Corellia, nor the chaos and destruction he has been party to on Dantooine, Hasthaal and Mimban as, frankly, I do not have enough time to mention them all. Instead, we will jump forward to Escaal where he was involved in an attack on the planet's Industrial complex.

"Fact: homes destroyed and civilian lives were lost when a fire storm erupted from his squadron's bombing of a munitions factory. It blew into the underground storage facilities setting off a series of massive explosions that obliterated a residential area; men, women and children gone. Human, Twi'lek, Gran, Bothan…. All species… all gone.

"He was shot down. Rescued by the so called Resistance Network, led by Major Erwin Rhovan under the code name of Dade. A man who donned the uniform of the Empire, but who was an insurgent at heart. We have already established that Skywalker knew what he was.

"Fact: while on the run from the Empire he took part in the terrorist bombing of another residential area. This one housed the families of Imperial Officers. Families…. The system commander's teenage son" Another pause for dramatic effect.

Another flash through the Force and Vader could feel sorrow and regret drift from his son. It seemed that here Luke agreed with Lapte'cka.

"It was soon after this that he was captured and was, rightfully, facing justice. However, thanks to the Princess Leia Organa, we know that Major Rhovan and Skywalker staged his interrogation. We know Skywalker endured the enhanced questioning techniques…," he turned around to the panel of Judges as they watched and listened to him. "Think about that, Your Honours, think of his fanaticism, his radicalism that he has to able to tolerate something that would break any other man.

He turned on the hologram of Leia, his face angry, eyes sparking, almost shouting. "He was no innocent… he was a guilty man seeking escape and he submitted to his colleague, he accepted and was complicit in his own, as the Princess Leia would have us called it, 'torture.' And all the while it was a ruse designed to aid an escape from legitimate justice."

Lapte'cka fell silent and crossed the room to his and Vader's table. He lifted a glass of water and took a few sips. Calmly he placed the glass back down, swapped data pads and, turning to the court, he continued.

"Fact: he returned to the Rebel Alliance where he has been reprimanded for disobeying orders. Fact: he attacked a superior officer and was under arrest before travelling to Horaarn. Fact… he took part in the attack on the Cusrean Space Station. Fact: he destroyed the station just as he did at Yavin."

A bony finger again pointed at Luke, accusing. "He has already admitted that he knew the inhabitants of the Cusrean Space Station were innocent," his voice loud, firm and unyielding. "…and that he fired upon them in the full knowledge that his target was not legitimate and that his orders were unlawful.

"The Princess has played us the recording from the cockpit of his fighter, arguing about the stresses he was under. All she has done is prove the convicted's guilt. You heard him yourselves. You heard when he realised that there were only innocent beings on board and he made the decision to fire regardless."

Lapte'cka turned, tapped a finger on his datapad. "If it pleases the court, I shall run through actions that he could have taken," he stepped into the middle of the floor and stood looking up at Luke. "He was the squad second in command, a Lieutenant Commander, he could have countermanded his orders. He could have relieved his superior of his authority and assumed it himself. In doing so he could have ordered his squad to break off the attack.

"If this had been unsuccessful he could have turned his own guns against his squad and protected the Space Station. He did not…." Lapte'cka paused, still staring at Luke. "Instead, he put the lives of his squad above the lives of over twenty thousand innocent beings. Of which one hundred and five were Horaarn Relief workers. Volunteers who had given up their time, and ultimately their lives, to help end the suffering of the Cusrean people."

Vader watched Luke's throat bob as he struggled to swallow. He could feel his son's twisting emotions, his guilt and remorse and his realisation that the Horaarn Representative was right; these were all things he could have done, but didn't.

In the heat of the battle, they hadn't even crossed his mind.

The Horaarn stood still, dipped his head in feigned grief, and allowed the information to hang. "There is no doubt of the Convicted's guilt. The attack happened in Cusrean space – no one questions that, the vast majority of deaths were Cusrean, but we lost over a hundred of our own. The Convicted confessed because he is guilty and he had no wish to fight an appeal."

Lapte'cka turned on his heels. "The Princess Leia would have you believe that he suffered from a diminished capacity, that he was not in control of himself. The recordings did not demonstrate that, no matter how much she argues that they do. The Princess would have you believe that the bruises on the Convicted's throat are the result of Lord Vader's efforts to coerce Skywalker into agreeing not to appeal. I'm afraid the reality of how the Convicted became to be bruised is not quite as the Princess portrayed… but it does further demonstrate Luke Skywalker's true character, as does his answer to Lord Vader when his Lordship asked him why he destroyed the station.

"The recording you are about to see is from the Imperial holding facility that is housed below the penitentiary. The convicted was taken there for his own protection following the attempt on his life after the committee hearing. He was given medical attention and brought to a holding cell to rest. This is what happened next….

"Run the recording."

Vader allowed a regulated breath to cool his growing anticipation. He knew after Lapte'cka conclusion that there would be no doubt of the verdict, no doubt of the outcome.

After he had presented his own piece of evidence, there would be no escape for his son.

ooOOoo

Ehlen Anders shifted on the worn sofa. She sat forward, hands on her knees, horrified by the events playing out on the holonet. The Princess Leia was right; the facts could not be disputed, but the twist placed on them could. Luke was being portrayed as cold blooded mass murder, rather than a young man thrown into the horrors of war. He was being stripped of his humanity and accused of participating in his own torture. It was outrageous, it was contemptible and, Ehlen had to admit, it was working.

Even those who knew Luke had quietened as the Horaarn had spoken. They all knew the truth, they all knew Luke in one way or another, but they could feel the spell that the Representative was weaving in that court room. His words had truth, even if his meaning behind them did not.

Mon Mothma was pensive, her face grey. Therriman had stopped talking about Luke's emotional and mental state and now stared at the monitor with appalled fascination. Captain Sa'adaan picked at the dewflaps at his jowls, his mood nervous, his eyes black and dull.

Rieekan had walked out, refusing to watch any more. Asking them to call him "when it's done."

"Please run the recoding…"

Ehlen rubbed at her eyes, pinched at her nose, before reluctantly looking at the screen again as shouting suddenly emanated from the speakers. She sharply inhaled at what she saw on the projected hologram; Luke was fighting, writhing with two guards who were manhandling him into a cell. There was a chair they were attempting to sit him in, there was blond man standing behind it wearing the uniform of an Interrogation Specialist, there was a durasteel line hanging from the ceiling.

She watched in horror as Luke was thrown into the chair, only to bolt back up. He was shouting, cursing; she could hear Basic, Huttese, Corellian. He was blocked by Vader, caught again by the guards and dragged back to the chair. They struggled to undo his cuffs as Luke flailed against them. With a yell of frustration he threw out his hands and inexplicably the guards were knocked away as though pushed by tremendous force.

Ehlen's eyes widened. That's because it was the Force. Luke had called upon his Jedi powers. Lost, panicked, he had reached out for his only defence. Suddenly, freed from grasping hands, Luke staggered forward only to be caught by Vader's hand around his throat.

The recording paused, flickered and died.

And Ehlen found her own hand going to her throat.

The camera's focused on the Horaarn. He looked stern. "He was trying to escape," he said, simply, gravely. "He found himself facing the fate he deserves for his crimes and he tried to escape, violently using his Jedi magic to assault the guards who were only doing their jobs. Lord Vader stopped him, instinctively lifting his hand and accidently catching the Convicted around the throat as he made for the door.

"A very simple explanation for the bruises, I think your Honours will agree." The Horaarn spread his palms, body language portraying openness and honesty. "If I have the court's indulgence, My Lords, just one more recording and I shall relinquish the floor to Lord Vader."

Ehlen swallowed, wondering what else they could possibly subject Skywalker, too.

Lights flickered on the screen and they saw Luke tied into the same chair he had been trying to avoid. He was agitated, pained. Vader was pacing around him and Luke was looking anywhere but at the Dark Lord.

Vader towered over him, demanding. "You felt them! Innocent beings, blown apart. Children scattered across cold space. Why did you destroy the station?"

"No…." Luke moaned, turning his head in and away, clearly struggling, distraught.

"Why Luke?" Vader's voice was a snarl, an order not to be disobeyed. The Dark Lord's hands landed on Luke's shoulders, blood was seeping through the shirt he wore from a wound underneath. Luke called out, yelped and Ehlen was sure it wasn't just bodily pain he was railing against, there was so many other demons that Luke was fighting; not just the one physically before him.

Vader stooped down until his head was level with Luke's and Ehlen shuddered at the thought of being so close to the monster.

And Luke raised his head, stared straight back at the man and screamed. It was a visceral noise, dredged from deep within. His face twisted with hatred and anger.

"It was in my way!"

On the screen, in the court room, the Horaarn representative had raised his voice, was angrily gesturing at Luke. Ehlen could hear snatches of words… "evil," "malicious," "deliberate intent," but in the small office Luke's howled confession hung in the air.

"Dear Gods…." Mothma whispered in dismay.

Ehlen found herself in agreement with the Leader of the Rebellion. Initially all she had seen was a terrified boy, desperately fighting to avoid a similar situation from the one he had been subjected too only a few short weeks before, not a hardened criminal trying to escape. Then she had seen a young man struggling with the consequences of actions, just as she had seen him struggle in the debrief after the battle. He had known then what he had done, he had known before Rieekan had told him, and she remembered the shattered water jug, the sound of the running and dripping water as it dribbled from the table top. She had recognised then how tenuous his grip on his powers were, and it would seem that Vader had recognised the same and, where she and Rieekan had held back, Vader had pushed.

"It was in my way!"

How true was that statement? How much of that did Luke actually believe, or had he buckled to Vader and given him what he thought that Dark Lord wanted?

And Ehlen knew she would never have the opportunity to get her answers, she glanced numbly back at the screen. The hologram of the Princess was on her feet again, calling the recordings outrageous and the Representatives explanation of them a misinterpretation of what they had seen.

"I know what they are doing," Therriman whispered from beside her as the camera focused on Luke once more. The pilot looked like he was struggling to stay on his feet, his whole body was trembling with the exertion of standing for so long under hot lights, under such emotional and mental pressures. His head was bowed, his jaw clenched tightly, muscles bunched and a drip of sweat dropped from his nose. The camera swept around him and Ehlen saw him work his wrists in the tight handcuffs, saw the dark bruising and abrasions the metal caused as it rasped into his skin and she saw blood soak the bandage that was wound around his hand.

Therriman didn't elaborate. He didn't have, too. She knew what they were doing, too. They had placed Luke into the same situation he had escaped from, they had worn him down with insinuation and perceived threats. Luke wasn't fighting his appeal, wasn't fighting the extradition because they had snatched his hope away from him and left him with nothing.

Escaal hadn't broken Luke. Cusrean hadn't broken Luke.

On the screen that Horaarn Representative stood again. "Your Honours, the People need say no more. The Convicted is guilty and should face the harshest of punishments. The people demand the death penalty." He paused and glanced at Vader. "However, the people recognise the validity of the Cusrean People's request to have the Convicted extradited to face justice with the Empire and we will not appeal if that should be your considered decision."

Horaarn had broken Luke.

ooOOoo

Rubbing the small of his back and favouring his left leg Rhovan stepped from the turbolift into the brig of the Executor. He stood for a moment, glancing around, noting the surveillance cameras, the guards placed strategically about the atrium and behind the central console. Like the Executor itself the detention centre was bigger than any other capital ship Rhovan had been aboard with several cell corridors leading off from the central reception area.

He could feel the curious glances and, in some cases the blatant stares, of the personnel as he continued to stand in the centre of the entrance. Despite the pressed uniform and polished boots and new regulation hair cut Rhovan knew he still looked rough. He knew that if his new staff looked too closely they would see the bruises on his wrists from binders, knew he was slightly hunched and knew the contusions on his face were yellowing as they healed. He didn't care what they thought of him, what they had seen on the monitors that were tuned into the holonet instead of the cells and on which Skywalker's court appearance still played out. He had a job to do here.

He drew in breath as a young, sharp faced lieutenant stepped forward.

"Major Rhovan, sir…."

At least he was polite, at least he showed no animosity despite the unasked questions that toned his words.

"… welcome to the Executor."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," his voice was still rough from the screams Velaptor had wrung from him. "What is our status?"

A flash of uncertainty coloured the man's face. "We currently have five prisoners, sir, in low security. Crew members guilty of misdemeanours and…"

Rhovan turned on his heels and looked around. "I am not interested in the crew," his words were clipped, impatient. "Show me maximum security. Show me where we will keep Skywalker."

The Lieutenant glanced at the monitors and Rhovan couldn't help but follow the look. The Princess Leia was on her feet, protesting something and Rhovan had to wonder what he had missed and how important it was.

Could he use it against Luke once the pilot was back in his custody?

"This way, sir," the Lieutenant gestured and reluctantly Rhovan turned away from the scenes of the court room.

He followed the young officer impressed by the double set of blast doors that opened before them revealing yet another cell corridor. This one was shorter, had fewer cells and, Rhovan noted more staff; every cell had a guard posted outside even although they were empty. He turned to the Lieutenant for an explanation, the question clear in his raised eyebrow.

The young man was quick and Rhovan found that he liked him, but the explanation contained some information that chilled him.

"Captain Velaptor thought that having a high staff ratio would demonstrate to Skywalker that this time he would not be escaping, that it would damage his defences and…"

Velaptor… Rhovan had to fight against showing his twist of revulsion as a shudder.

"And what do you think, Lieutenant?"

The young man tensed at the anger in Rhovan's voice. "I, uh… in other circumstances, sir, I would agree with the captain…"

As would Rhovan.

"….however, we have been watching the court proceedings and I doubt Skywalker will need much pressure before he submits."

Even without the trial, even without the humiliation of being paraded before the galaxy, Skywalker wouldn't last long in one of these cells. But, as hateful as Velaptor was, he was also a shrewed son of a bantha…

"The guards stay," he said as he walked down the corridor passing several closed doors before he stopped before one and palmed it open. The door was narrow, heavy and, as it rose, Rhovan ducked and stepped down into the cell.

It was larger than he had expected. It was perhaps three metres wide, 5 metres long with high ceilings; enough room to swing a baton he noted. He turned in the space, his heel scraping on the floor grating, as he took in the orange glow that bled into the area from below his feet, the rough grey durasteel walls and the surveillance systems high above and out of reach. There was no bunk, no 'fresher facility and, glancing up he assumed there was shower facility to cleanse the cell and to keep the prisoners awake – just like Escaal.

He walked around the walls, hands trailing across the coarse walls, fingers tracing the fine lines that hinted of hidden things. "Equipment?"

Sounding uneasy the Lieutenant spoke from the doorway. "It's all there, sir," he cleared his throat at Rhovan's expression that clearly said 'tell me more.' "There are benches enclosed in the walls, restraints, stun cuffs, life sign monitoring, lie detection systems. We have a choice of droids and supplies of drugs; Bavo six, Theohexium, stim-shots and…"

Rhovan nodded absently as the man talked. Here there was no separate holding cell as on Escaal and below on Horaarn, here interrogation and incarceration took place in one room.

"We'll use this one for Skywalker," Rhovan ordered. It was midway down the corridor, Luke would have to be walked past several cells before being turned and pushed into this one. "I want full monitoring and life sign analysis…"

"Lord Vader has already transmitted medical details of the subject, sir."

Rhovan turned at that, nodded. Of course Vader would take an interest in his son's interrogation. Of course Vader would not entirely trust him…

He's still to talk with you, too… He's still to have the discussion that Piett advised would happen…

Rhovan shook off the thoughts. It didn't matter. In this moment his job was to prepare for Skywalker's arrival not to worry about anything Vader might say to him.

He had a last look around, wondering how many hours he would be spending in the room with Luke, before stepping up and out into the corridor. He strode on, back toward the central atrium with the Lieutenant trailing a step behind.

"Where is Captain Velaptor?"

"He is currently off duty, sir."

Rhovan turned on the younger man. "He is to be kept away from Skywalker, no interference. You will arrest him and hold him if he so much as mentions the Rebel. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

Rhovan held the young man's eye for a moment making sure he understood the order and was sincere in his answer. Satisfied he glanced around the atrium, heard muted arguments from the monitor speakers, could clearly hear Leia Organa plead with the Horaarn Judges. He knew her words would have no effect on the outcome.

"Where is my office?"

"This way, sir."

Again Rhovan followed the younger man eager to have his own space, eager to turn on the holonet and catch up with the trial; to watch what he had missed.

In a few short hours Skywalker would be his prisoner, his subject, once more and he would do his duty. What was it he had told Luke back on Ardalii?

"I would do it again."

ooOOoo

It would soon be over.

It had to be over soon.

Didn't it?

Luke wearily closed his eyes, tired beyond anything he thought possible. He had lost track of how long he stood under the hot lights on the same spot as his character was ripped to shreds, as his failings were laid bare for a whole galaxy to see and to judge. His shoulders, pulled back by his hands being bound behind his back, ached uncomfortably. His back, healed over these last few weeks, cramped with a pain that squeezed around his abdomen making it difficult to breathe. His knife wound throbbed in time with his heartbeat, flared with every shallow breath. His legs trembled with the exertion of the forced stance and his head pounded, the pain settling in and growing behind his eyes.

Not long now.

Right?

The damage was done. Almost over.

Not long.

Colours danced behind his eyelids, a kaleidoscope of hues and tints cavorting in the darkness. Sounds were muffled and indistinct and he suddenly felt cold, suddenly felt chilled under the heat of the lights.

Luke opened his eyes, blinked rapidly to clear the watery haze, but the court room slowly turned around him with a stomach-sickening loop and his strength failed him, the floor rushed him.

Stay…up….

A hand caught his arm, a voice murmured in his ear, as he was drawn to his feet. "Stay with us."

He turned his head, saw a gloved hand on his arm, and glanced up into the face of one of his Horaarn guards.

He nodded, his head clearing, the man's presence and care giving him the strength to stand once more.

Not long, now. Not long…

I can do this…

I need to do this….

Luke straightened his back, raised his chin and stared at the green flag with the golden letters that adorned the wall behind his panel of Judges.

He could hear Leia. She sounded upset. She sounded dismayed and angry. He could hear knocking, a quick rapid sequence of hammering from the middle judge that silenced the princess. He'd need to tell Han that's how to shut her up…

He squashed the sudden swell of giggles that threatened to burst through.

No, don't laugh… it wouldn't look right…

They would think him insane.

Maybe he was.

The guard was still holding his arm, was still there with him. That was good of him.

He took is a shaky breath, aware of his rambling mind, aware of how close he was to losing it completely.

He blinked away sweat, trying to blink away the pressure in his head, in his mind. He had to focus, he had to…

Stay up…

Not long now.

"…. Walker? Com….an… der…. Skywalker?"

Fingers squeezing on his arm and the guard's voice again, whispering in his ear, warning. "Pay attention."

Luke stiffened, head clearing a little, suddenly aware that his rank had been called. His name had been called.

He forced his eyes to look to the Chief Justice and found the man staring down at him, brows pulled together looking either worried or angry; Luke wasn't sure which.

"Are we boring you Lieutenant Commander?"

Angry then.

Luke shook his head, licked his dry lips with his dry tongue, tried to speak and managed a hoarse, "No, sir."

The Judge glanced to the guard by his side. "Please ensure that the Convicted remains on his feet and awake."

There was movement behind him, cloth rustling and the guard beside reached down to his colleagues and took something from them. Luke glanced down, saw the hypospray in the man's hand and smiled in recognition. A stim-shot…

His head was angled to the side and the hypo felt cool as it pressed against the skin of his neck. There was puff, a brief sting and his mind suddenly cleared, his body suddenly felt strengthened.

The guard stepped down, leaving him alone on the platform as the Chief Justice began to speak.

"Lord Vader, we have seen and heard evidence from Representative Lapte'cka and from the Convicted's representative, do you have anything else to add in support of your petition for the Convicted's extradition?"

Vader drew his bulk from the chair and stood. "I do, your Honour." He turned his black mask to regard the standing prisoner.

Luke kept his chin up, kept his eyes focused ahead, fought the urge to return the stare.

"I have just one additional piece of evidence. You have seen and heard several recordings that have the Convicted admitting his guilt and his reasoning for firing the shot. All have clearly established that the crime was committed in Cusrean space against the Cusrean people, but not all have captured the true essence of the Convicted, the black heart of Luke Skywalker…"

Luke scoffed; Vader was one to talk. He chanced at glance at Leia, found her watching Vader Vader with concern… no, not concern… dread. She was sitting back, watching the Dark Lord, and absently chewing the nail of her thumb. She knew something, she feared something, but what could possibly be worse than the evidence already presented.

"…I, too, gained a copy of Skywalker's cockpit voice recording. However, unlike the Princess Organa, I am not afraid to play it to the end."

Leia's eyes flicked to him and Luke tried to hold her gaze, tried to silently ask what was going on, but her hologram looked away, unable to look at him any longer.

Leia couldn't look at him. Leia had turned away from him. Quiet panic beat within his chest as a buzz of static broke within the stillness of the court room, and then he could hear his own voice.

"Wedge, Hobbie, form up. Let's do this and go home."

And he suddenly knew what Leia knew…. He knew what he was about hear. He knew what the Galaxy was about to learn about him.

He hung his head, truly defeated.

And he heard his own harsh breathing from the exhilaration of the battle… he heard the subtle click as he fingered the trigger, heard the muted blast of the torpedos launching… and then a pause and in his minds-eye he could see the twin rockets race toward the space station, could feel the motion of the X-Wing as he turned it away in anticipation of the explosion.

There was quiet and then… he heard his gasp as the station burst apart and then he heard his laughter.

As over twenty thousand people burned, he had laughed.

It was a cackle, a crow of delight. A sound of joy and glee.

When the Flames arose I felt….pleasure…

He had laughed because the deaths felt good, they had given him release, and now the whole Galaxy knew how he had truly felt when he had turned his guns on innocent beings.

Suddenly he wished that Thecla were here. That she would come to him and find him so he could put his arm around her and draw her close, take comfort that she was with him just as he had on Ardralii only a few days before.

"I'm sorry they died," she had said, talking of her own tragedy. "I'm sorry I killed them. But I'm not sorry that I lived. I lived."

And Luke had to wonder where she was now, if she had seen this and if she still felt the same way.

Leia had turned away from him.

There was silence in the court as the last strains of laughter died away and the recording shut off. Luke tried to swallow, but his mouth was so dry he merely choked and gagged on nothing.

The silence dragged, broken only by Vader's regulated breathing and the shuffles of uncomfortable court officials.

Finally, drawing himself to his full height, Vader addressed the row of Judges.

"The people of Cusrean, and the Empire, trust that the honoured Justices will deliberate fairly and will come to the right conclusion," Luke refused to look at him, refused to be caught by the blank stare of that terrible mask, "and that Luke Skywalker be given over to the Empire's keeping to face Justice and punishment for his crimes."

The Dark Lord bowed his head to the panel and sat.

Luke licked his lips, his heart beginning to race from the stimulant in his blood stream, from the understanding that his ordeal was drawing to a close…

….or just beginning…

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, quickly cutting off that thought. He didn't want to think of that, not yet…

Not yet…

Again the quiet dragged until the Chief Justice cleared his throat and, leaning over and looking down upon Luke, he addressed the waiting prisoner.

"Does the Convicted have anything to say in his defence?"

Luke worked his parched throat, trying to clear the jam that clogged it, wanting his voice to be clear, heard. He kept his head straight and his eyes on the panel of Judges, feeling both Leia's and Vader's eyes on him.

"I… I have no defence, your honour," he stated, relieved that his voice worked. He thought he sounded tired, hoarse, but resolute. "However, I would like to make a statement if I may?"

Chief Justice Imira'en briefly conferred with his fellow judges. Then he waved his hand. "Go ahead."

ooOOoo

Ehlen Anders shot a glance at her companions. They were all tense, all torn, all worried about what Skywalker was about to say.

Ehlen had a feeling she knew what the boy was about to do and she had to admire his courage.

ooOOoo

Rhovan sat back in his chair, watching with rapt interest as Luke bravely faced his fate. He had to admit that he was surprised by the boy's show of strength and then he had to wonder why this was. Why was he surprised when he had seen Luke rally like this before, had seen him on the verge of collapse only to pull sharply back and face what was before him with obstinacy and audacity?

Skywalker was, if nothing else, resilient and determined. Even when events seemed bleak and hopeless, Luke seemed to find the strength to endure even as he suffered for it.

The boy just didn't know when to give up.

ooOOoo

Thecla had no idea what was happening inside the court building as she approached it in the shuttle; allowing her co-pilot to manoeuvre the Lambda Class vessel into their prescribed trajectory. She could see the building in the distance; the huge domed roof was running with water now as the snow melted and bright light gleamed into the dimming evening sky. They had been called in and that meant time was running out for Luke

ooOOoo

Leia didn't care if the holocameras picked up and broadcast Han's hands into the courtroom as, again, they laid gently on her shoulders. She needed him there, she needed his strength and his comfort.

ooOOoo

Dawn was sending the first tendrils of natural light into the skies above Imperial Central, but darkness remained in Palpatine's chambers with the only illumination coming from the flickering holo player on his desk.

He smiled, grinned, feeling the Force ebb and flow. It was deep and dark like ocean depths; go too far and it would crush you, just as it was about to crush Luke Skywalker.

ooOOoo

At first there was nothing, his mind blank, all his rehearsed speeches suddenly out of his reach. Luke took a deep breath and reached for the Force to steady himself, ignoring the shadows on the periphery of his feelings, ignoring Vader's presence.

"I would…" he stalled, his voiced stilted and unsure. Another breath. "I take full… sole, responsibility for the destruction of the Cusrean Space Station." His voice was getting stronger, his conviction clear and confidence growing, fuelled by his belief that he was doing the right thing. The Alliance planned and staged the assault based on the intelligence they gained, believing that there was a genuine imminent threat to the security of the Galaxy. The Alliance to Restore the Republic acted in good faith and should bear no responsibility."

He paused, his head high, his eyes bright. "As you heard from the recordings the Princess Leia and Lord… Lord Vader provided, I alone knew the station posed no threat and that my orders were, therefore, illegal. It was I who obeyed those orders and it was I alone who killed those people," he faltered, head dropping. "My behaviour before the attack… during it… and since… was unbecoming from what is expected of an Officer of the Alliance and… I… I hereby resign my commission with immediate effect…"

ooOOoo

"What is he doing?" Sa'adan wanted to know.

"Damage control," Mon Monthma said sadly, glancing at Ehlen Ander's drawn and pale expression. She knew that the Intelligence officer had understood Luke's tactic before the boy had even began to speak. There was no doubt Skywalker had courage, no doubt that he was taking the only option that was open to him. Sorrowfully, she added, "He's giving us permission to do what you suggested two days ago, Captain. He's giving us permission to disavow him."

And she could only hope that, somehow, Rhovan was close by and in a position to act.

ooOOoo

"An apology will never make amends for my actions. It will not lessen the pain of those who lost loved ones, but I offer it nonetheless. I apologise to the people of Cusrean and…" He stared at Imira'en, the Chief Justice, determined to follow through on his chosen course of action' for Leia, for Han, for the Alliance. "… I am ready to face the consequences of my actions."

Again the quiet, and Luke blew out a little breath, relieved, glad that his speech was over. It wasn't what he had rehearsed in his mind, it wasn't the words he had wanted to say, but it was the same message and it would have to do.

"Very well…," the Chief Justice glanced around at his colleagues. "Are the esteemed gentlemen ready with their verdicts and the decisions with regards to the extradition requests, or do you need more deliberation time?"

Luke watched as each nodded or shook their heads, fingers tapped vigorously as they entered information to their datapads to be collected centrally. He could feel his legs trembling again, could feel the anxiety twist in his belly and he drew himself as straight and as proud as he could; ready to face his fate.

Imira'en read his own screen, his face dark and his eyes heavy. He glanced up at Luke, eyes skirting across to Vader before looking back down at his screen.

Finally, he placed the datapad down, fixed Luke with his stern stare and delivered the verdict of the court.

"The Princess Leia has attempted to persuade the court that you are a man who has suffered, and that, as a consequence, you were not in complete control of you mental capacity and emotions during the attack. While the court recognises that you appear to be struggling with both we are of the firm belief that this is due to the circumstances in which you now find yourself and not a result of your incarceration on Escaal. We therefore reject her petition of extradition to the Alliance and we also reject her plea of innocence and your conviction stands.

"Luke Skywalker, it is the opinion of this court that you acted wilfully and maliciously during the battle of Cusrean. As you admit, you acted in the full knowledge that there was no danger to yourself or your colleagues from the people within the Space Station. You admitted to Lord Vader that the space station was in your way. You, young sir, were out for blood that day and it was blood that you got.

"You are guilty of the murders of twenty-thousand four hundred and fifty-two innocent souls of which one hundred and five were Horaarn. People who had sought refuge and sanctuary on board the station only to have their lives snatched from them by a man who then laughed and celebrated his actions…. Taking joy from the destruction and the deaths.

"It is, therefore, the unanimous judgement of this court that you, Luke Skywalker, be put to death."

Luke swallowed; a nerve pulsed in his cheek.

The Chief Justice paused, lifted his datapad and read on, before continuing his speech. "However, we have also had to consider the petition from the Cusrean People for your extradition to the Empire of which Cusrean is a loyal system and, as Representative Lapte'cka and Lord Vader have demonstrated, there is more than sufficient evidence to support that extradition. Horaarn and Cusrean have known only friendship for a millennia and we are not about to jeopardise our relationship over one man.

"So," he sat back, his job almost done, "bearing that in mind, we hereby suspend your death sentence in favour of the Cusrean extradition request and your fate is being placed firmly within the judiciary of the Empire. We have granted the extradition and order that you be immediately placed into Lord Vader's custody and removed from this court, this city and from this planet."

The Judge lifted his gavel and brought it down for one final strike.

ooOOoo

To be continued...