AN: This part is the last part of Absolute - but it is not the end of Dark Times. I also wanted to take this opportunity to explain that there is an end to story - or rather series of stories - and it is approaching, albeit rather slowly. I know what happens and I have known since the very start (except how I am getting there is very different to my original idea).
I have already written almost 6000 words of the next Dark Times story and with a two week holidAay approaching for Easter I am hopeful that I will be able to finish the next one pretty quickly.
For regular updates on progress either check out my profile here, or follow me on twitter treenahasthaal
As always my gratitude goes to Kazlynh for fixing my grammar and for calling me a Muppet! :)
All previous disclaimers for the story still apply...
Dark Times Chapter 6:
Absolute
Part Nine
"Your Honour!"
Leia leapt to her feet, shrugging Solo's hands from her shoulders as she loudly protested the verdict. "Your honour, I…"
Her words caught in her throat and she stared at the holo equipment, abruptly realising that the transmitter was sending but that the receiver on the other end had been cut. She whirled around to the dejerick board and saw that there was no holo-projection from the court. It was just an empty gaming platform.
It was over.
"Luke…" she breathed in stunned disbelief, staring at the space on the board where his projection had stood. Was that it? Was that going to be last image she ever had of her friend, of the man who had opened the door of her cell on the Death Star and breathlessly announced his name and intention and saved her life?
She had known this could…
…would…
…happen. She had prepared herself for losing Luke, but the reality of it… the shock of it… it was numbing.
There was movement in her peripheral vision and her eyes found Haslam standing awkwardly by the entrance to the passenger compartment. The large soldier looked away, mumbled something about manning the belly gun and left the room.
"Leia?"
She twisted around, looked up, and found Han beside her. The Corellian's face was grave, his eyes dark with pain and compassion. It was a look she had never seen on him before and she was abruptly aware that she had done this to him: she had done this because she had failed Luke. "Han… I'm sorry… I thought I could…"
He said nothing. He merely stepped closer and reached for her. He drew her in, drew her close. She laid her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and wrapped her arms around his waist. They stood quietly for a few minutes, each comforting the other but saying nothing, each knowing there was nothing to be said. Not now, not yet. There would be enough time later.
The moment was shattered by a baying call from Chewbacca in the cockpit and a frantic See-Threepio bustled into the compartment hands waving frantically.
"Captain Solo! Captain Solo… Horaarn control are asking for you!"
Han stepped away, his arms dropping to his sides. "This could be it... You ready?"
Leia took in a breath, nodded. "I'll be in the turret," she assured him, some strength returning to her voice, some determination.
He nodded and turned to follow the golden droid back to the cockpit.
The Princess stood alone, her eyes finding Artoo Detoo still sitting connected to the holotransmitting equipment. The little droid was quiet.
"Artoo?"
The dome spun and Artoo's primary photoreceptor turned toward her with a muted tone, a mournful lament.
She laid a hand upon his dome, feeling the cool metal of the droid against her skin, feeling dull despair and heavy sadness.
We've lost Luke.
"You can un-plug now."
ooOOoo
The canopy of the X-Wing lowered and sealed. In the quiet of the cockpit, Wedge Antilles flicked switches and checked gauges as he listened to his engines fire and power up. He licked his lips, swallowed, adrenalin already flooding his system in anticipation for the coming skirmish. It was a simple brief: protect the Millennium Falcon and bug out.
Easy.
But what of Luke? They'd had no access to the holonet in the hanger of the Victory's Flight and had relied on word of mouth for news of the continuing court case. That word was that it hadn't been going well and the mood among the squad had grown grim and determined.
A brief burst of static interrupted his thoughts and Narra's voice broke over the comm. "We've just heard… Luke's been handed to Vader…" His voice was grave, angry. "The Bridge has also warned that Vader's Death Squadron is currently slipping into the Horaarn system. They're fanning out, encircling the planet. Looks like they are trying to cut off any escape route for the Falcon…" He paused, allowing the squad to vent their frustrations and fear at the news.
"Shit…" Ylanec, breathed.
"…or they have orders to protect any shuttle coming from the surface," Narra continued. "Probably both. But, we have the element of surprise, they won't be expecting us. Your orders are to blast the hell out of anything Imperial, locate the Falcon, protect it and get the Princess and yourselves out."
"What about Luke?" Hobbie wanted to know.
There was silence, a brief hesitation, and Wedge could feel the grief of the squad.
"We can't help Luke now," Narra told them, his voice tight, angry. "But, he'd want us to get the Princess and Solo out of here and that's what we're going to do."
"For Luke," Hobbie vowed.
"For Luke," Janson, choked.
"For Luke," Ylanec echoed.
Wedge faltered, knowing what this was. This was a salute to a fallen comrade, this was an acknowledgement that Luke was lost to them, that he was gone. This was the last thing he wanted to do.
Dammit, Luke isn't dead!
Luke was alive! Luke was still down there on the planet below. Luke would still be fighting. Luke would not give up so easily. He had a knack for getting out of tricky situations. Luke had already survived Imperial captivity, he could survive this, too.
You saw him… you know what he's been like…
Antilles closed his eyes, listening to the soothing hum and whine of his engines, feeling anger tighten his gut, the need…. no... the want for revenge and retribution and he couldn't wait to get out there: couldn't wait to blast a path through the Imperial Fleet.
Shit, Skywalker, keep it together, buddy. We'll get you out somehow…. Maybe not today, but we'll find you and we'll get you out.
Meanwhile, Luke would want the Princess safe.
"For Luke," he acknowledged and smiled, conveying a lightness he didn't really feel, but the squad needed to hear it, their spirits needed lifted, "and when he gets back he's buying us a round of ale for putting us through this shit."
"Hear, hear!" Hobbie crowed, laughing.
"Don't know what you're so happy about, Klivian, you still owe him twenty-five," Janson reminded him.
"Crap! I'd forgotten about that!"
Wedge smiled again, feeling the mood of the squad lift and his comm crackled on a private channel.
"Nice one, Antilles," Narra acknowledged.
Wedge merely nodded silently as he powered up his engines in readiness to slip from the hanger bay into the cold of space and the heat of battle.
ooOOoo
Rhovan drew the cap from his head and threw it onto the desk before him.
"Gods-dammit."
He had known this would happen; there had been no other outcome for Skywalker, but still he cursed. Truth be told… he didn't want to do this, just as he hadn't wanted to interrogate and kill his own brother. However, in Luke's case, as with Sam, he had no other option. He had to be above reproach, he had to be the dutiful Imperial and go that one extra step for his Emperor.
It was expected of him.
Demanded.
Sam had understood that. Luke Skywalker didn't.
"Go," the Lady Mon Mothma had said. "Do what you have to do."
And here he was doing it, and he would continue doing it. No matter the consequences, no matter how distasteful his actions were; he would do it until he was either dead, or no longer required.
And what would he do then? He couldn't return to Chalandria. Not now, not after everything he had done for the sake of the Empire, for the sake of the Rebellion.
He smiled, a small self-deprecating sound passing his lips. Was he really considering his life after all this?
There would be no after…
Not for him.
The holonet screen on his desk continued to broadcast, the cameras bustling and jostling for the best position to capture Skywalker's handover. There was no finesse to it, no ritual or ceremony. Stormtroopers simply flooded into the courtroom and dragged Luke from the rostrum. Looking dazed and confused he went with them, allowing them to manhandle him without a fight. They closed around him, two grasping his upper arms and walking him forward giving him no choice but to move with them. Vader fell in behind them and the procession flowed from the court room.
The door slid closed behind them and the rest of the dignitaries rose and dwindled out from the room.
It was over.
It was, Rhovan mused, a bit of an anti-climax and if the watching viewers had been looking for some more drama, had been looking for some reaction from Luke, then Skywalker had sorely disappointment them.
And Rhovan couldn't tell if Luke's passiveness was by deliberate design or if he was truly as lost as he looked. He had learned from Escaal that appearances with Skywalker could be deceptive, that the boy seemed to find strength and fight even when he seemed beaten and broken.
"Do what you have to do."
Pushing back his chair, he rose and tugged down his jacket, straightening it. He lifted his cap and replaced it on his head. It wouldn't be long before Vader arrived with Luke and Rhovan wanted to be there to meet the shuttle, just as he had on Escaal when he had first met Luke Skywalker.
This time Luke would be on his feet, not lying unconscious on the ground. This time Rhovan had to finish what he began on Escaal. This time he had to follow through and not hold back or pull away as he had on Escaal.
This time Luke would know what he was facing and from whom.
What was it Ayrn had said in that cell on Escaal months ago?
"You really are a bastard, Rhovan."
Aryn never truly grasped how much of a bastard he could be, but Skywalker did.
ooOOoo
Palpatine switched off the holonet and rose from his desk, crossing the floor to the panoramic window that looked out across the city. He clasped his hands before him and bowed his head.
So, Vader's scheme had worked and he had managed to secure the brat. He shrugged, robes rustling with the movement; not that it mattered.
His agent was in place and soon things would be as he had ordained them to be.
ooOOoo
There was a hush across the rebel base on Adralii; even the volcano had fallen still and silent as though it, too, were affected by the mournful mood. Elhen rubbed the back her neck and sat back into the couch, feeling that she had to say something, but she didn't have any words, couldn't find anything to say to appropriately sum up all she had witnessed.
She could do nothing but sit and watch the screen as Luke Skywalker was taken into Imperial custody once more.
Her eyes flickered to Mon Mothma. The older woman looked tired, drawn and unsettled; lost in her own thoughts.
The moments passed, the silence dragged until finally Mothma met her gaze and said what was on her mind.
"We'd better start the preparations for evacuation. Have Lieutenant Commander Skywalker's access codes wiped from the systems, change hyperspace algorithms, contact all outposts and ships and place them on high alert."
"I'll see that it is done, Ma'am," Ehlen assured her.
The Alliance Chief rose from her chair and slowly walked around her desk, trailing her fingers over the worn wroshyr wood. She glanced at Saa'dan. "Captain, please inform General Rieekan that it's over and tell him we need to carefully word a media release distancing ourselves from the Lieutenant Commander's actions over Cusrean."
The Sullustan nodded. "Of course, Ma'am." He pulled himself to his feet, made a small bow of his head to both women before turning on his heels and striding from the room.
Therriman also drew himself up and stretched, bones cracking as he did so. "I'll start clearing out my office." He hesitated, obviously uncomfortable. "Ah, what should I do with Luke's records?"
"Seal them," Mothma ordered, "and give them to Major Anders…."
Elhen glanced at her in surprise.
"… you never know when they may come in handy."
Therriman looked confused, opened his mouth to ask a question, but closed it and just nodded before he too left the room leaving the two woman alone.
"You don't expect them to execute Skywalker, do you?" Elhen challenged after the door closed after the psychologist.
Mon Mothma looked back at the holoplayer as the cameras cut to the outside of the courthouse and focussed on the main entrance where a Lambda class shuttle sat waiting in the court yard. "No," she admitted, softly, "No, I don't. I expect them to do much worse with Luke."
ooOOoo
"You both in place?" Han asked, as he piloted the Falcon along the flight corridor he had been given by Horaarn control. They were above the city now, heading out of the troposphere, steadily climbing away from the surface of the planet.
Chewbacca grunted beside him and Han glanced at the sensors the Wookiee had indicated. Two more Horaarn ships had come up behind them to join the two in front and the two on either side of them. They were definitely being corralled and contained; it was obviously an attempt to discourage them from hightailing it to the court district in an attempt to rescue Luke.
"Please, Han. Get her out. I can do this if you get her out."
He had promised his friend to do just as he asked, but it was killing him. Every instinct screamed to turn the Falcon around and blast through the ships that enclosed them to get back to Luke, but that same instinct also told him that it would be a futile gesture and that the odds of them getting near the kid would be impossible.
He knew he had to get the Princess out. He had to keep his promise to the kid.
"We're all set." Leia's voice sounded tinny over the com, flattened. Or, perhaps, that was just how she was feeling. Maybe he should have manned one of the guns instead, brought her to the cockpit, leaving her with Chewie as he had done for the flight from the Death Star.
"We have two more birds at our back," Han told her and Haslam. "They've boxed us in."
"We see them," Leia advised.
They climbed higher, quickly passing through the stratosphere and the mesosphere. The light faded and the darkness of space closed in.
Han licked his lips, glanced around the cockpit. "Hold together for us, baby…" he told the ship, knowing the Falcon was about to take a beating.
Chewbacca growled an agreement as he increased the density of the shielding.
Further on and the friction of atmosphere fell away, releasing the Falcon from the fading grip of gravity and Han's sensors lit up with multiple contacts. He tensed, scanned the signals: it looked like an armada surrounding the system, but there were many civilian ships, freighters, private yachts, luxury liners and…
Several alarms went off as one….
"Heads up, we have two Imperial Destroyers and…."
The warning systems went into overdrive… the cockpit blazing with noise. Chewie wailed and Han automatically banked away from the wave of TIE fighters that filled his vision.
The ship bucked as warning shots from the Horaarn escorts strafed past and a voice over the comm warned. "Millennium Falcon you are not to deviate from your allocated path."
Han ignored it, shouting. "Chewie, bring us about, set course, four-seven-two and…."
More warning shots and Han brought the Falcon back into their given path through the flotilla of ships.
"Han?" Leia called from the top turret.
"It's fine…" he told her, grimacing, nervously watching the approaching fighters. "They just don't want us to go any other way and I ain't listening too well."
"Chewie bring all secondary guns on line, set targeting to automatic, but hold off on release until I say. Haslam, Leia…"
The TIES roared past without firing a shot.
"What the…"
A corridor had been created for them through the myriad of ships that had collected in the system, waiting for the landing embargo to be lifted. Han watched each one warily as they passed. Sometimes moving so close to them that he could see curious faces staring out of view ports at the Falcon.
"I don't like this, Chewie…." He muttered, unsettled. He would have almost preferred the TIE fighters to have opened fire. Action he knew and understood, but this silent journey was disturbing.
The seconds and minutes ticked by until the ships were behind them and space before them.
"Millennium Falcon, this is Horaarn Control."
Han keyed the comm. "Go ahead."
"You are free to plot your course, safe journey."
Han's brows knitted, concerned, watching the ships in front of him peel away and turn back to the planet. A visual check on his scanners showed the ships trailing them doing likewise. "Thanks control," he acknowledge slowly, disbelief underscoring his words. It couldn't be that easy, could it? Was Vader keeping his word to Luke and just letting them go?
"Chewie, let's set course two-eight-five and…."
Again multiple alarms erupted, light flashed.
"Han, more fighters coming up behind us!" Leia shouted.
"I see 'em…. I see 'em… they've come from the…"
More alarms… More fighters and…
"We have a capital ship, looks like a…" He trailed off, staring. It was huge: the same wedge shape as a Star Destroyer, but so much larger. Han knew what it was. "We've got ourselves a Super…."
"Vader's ship," Leia supplied.
"More TIEs!" Haslam interrupted, abruptly.
"They'll drive us toward it and…"
Another set of squawking sirens. Han dropped the ship, pushing down on the controls only to find more Imperial cruisers boxing them in.
"We have a whole fleet out there!" Leia warned, alarm stealing her breath.
"I told the kid, Vader wouldn't keep his word!" he growled, bringing the Falcon around and away from the approaching Imperial ships, only to find two more heading toward them. "Shit!" he cursed, "That's a helluva lot of fire power out there!"
And yet not one shot had been fired.
"They wa… us …live."
Haslam said Han's thoughts aloud, his voice breaking up over the comm.
"Yeah," Han agreed, thinking fast. The Imperials wanted them alive, that meant no shoot to kill order and that meant…. "but that doesn't mean that we can't shoot at them! Leia, Haslam… give 'em hell! Chewie let loose the secondary guns. We need to cut a path through them to open space."
The Falcon's guns opened up. Streaks of deadly red light sliced through the TIE fighters. Brief explosions flared and died as fighter after fighter, pilot after pilot, burned and disintegrated.
The Falcon bucked as a barrage from behind raked across her shielding. Sparks flew from the console.
"Now they shoot back!" Han exclaimed as Chewie howled information at his Captain. "I know, I know…"
"Know what?" Leia shouted, triggering her guns and bring down another Imperial ship.
"They're goin' after the shields, they're trying to disable us!"
"We have another wave!" Haslam called out in consternation.
"I see 'em!" Han banked the ship away, spinning the Falcon to avoid more Imperial fire, flying on pure instinct. Again the sensors triggered alarms. "Ah… we have a Destroyer twenty clicks ahead…." The Falcon bounced under more fire. The shielding held but the output level dropped ten percent and Han knew they wouldn't hold indefinitely. "They're pushing us towards it, and…"
A blur of something flew past the cockpit at an incredible speed, spitting red laser bursts and carving through the TIE fighters that swarmed over the Falcon.
"What the…"
"Need any help, Captain?"
"Narra?" Han burst, grinning with relief at the appearance of Red Squadron. He sobered a little, wincing at another burst of light that brightened up the cockpit, before admitting. "We could use a little..."
ooOOoo
Luke was tired of standing. So very tired.
His back cramped, thigh muscles ached, and his head was pounding. Each beat of his heart sent a wave of nauseating pain through his skull. He wanted to rub at his temples, pinch the top of his nose and massage his fingers into the back of his neck, anything to try and ease the throbbing, but with his hands still firmly secured behind his back, any relief was impossible.
He was dehydrated, knew he needed water, but he also knew there would be none offered, not now, not anytime soon. They would want him in discomfort, would want him in pain, would want him confused and easy to manipulate.
Heaving in a breath, Luke closed his eyes and hung his head. He had thought that the end of his ordeal was in sight. That he would be taken from the court straight to Vader's ship, but they had been standing in this hallway for a while now just…. waiting.
But waiting for what?
He opened his eyes, feeling Vader approaching and he glanced up, but Vader strode passed him without a look in his direction…
…and why did that disappoint him? Why did he want Vader's attention? Shouldn't that be the last thing he wanted?
He shook his head, then grimaced against the sharp pain that lanced from front to back. He swallowed back the surge of nausea, glad that he'd had nothing to eat all day, not wanting to gag and vomit in front of all the people who mingled in this hallway.
There were the troopers surrounding him, two still grasping his arms tightly, fingers digging to his flesh. There were Horaarn security guards standing in groups watching the Imperial troopers with, Luke thought, some suspicion. And there were court officials lingering around in their heavy, dark robes. No-one seemed to be doing very much and he was, again, aware of curious glances being thrown his way. He had also noticed that no-one had entered or left the building by the huge set of double doors that Luke knew from experience led into a large courtyard that was big enough for an Imperial Shuttle to land in.
He sighed, tired of waiting, tired of having to follow the instructions of others. He looked down at the floor. The dark marble beneath his feet looked a lot more comfortable option than all this standing around and he wondered what they would do if he just sat down.
He smiled; it was tempting.
The stone looked cold, if he could just lay his forehead against the cool surface, if he could just lie down for a few moments then…
The doors opened and Luke jerked his head up, his stomach twisting. Was this it, was this where he would be taken out, taken to Vader's ship? Taken to a small dark cell where he would be…
No! Not yet….. Don't think that yet…
What was his aunt once told him?
"There is no used worrying about something that hasn't happened yet."
As always his aunt's words spoke of wisdom and tender affection.
"You are his weakness, Luke and you have a strength within you that he craves…"
He blinked at the echo of his aunt's voice. The words that had been repeating over and over in his head since Escaal. Maybe he was going mad…
An Imperial officer rushed into the lobby, his eyes raking over Luke and his escorts, his expression unreadable. "Lord Vader!"
Vader turned. "What is the delay, Commander?"
And Luke thought Vader sounded angry. He shrugged then winced as the hands on his arms tightened their grips in response to his movement; didn't Vader always sound angry?
"There has been a complication, my Lord," The man sounded nervous now, he sounded reluctant and Luke couldn't help but hope Vader was about to get some bad news. "We have not yet secured the Millennium Falcon. A small group of X-Wing fighters have…"
Luke chilled, took a step forward, as the Imperial officer's words untangled in his head to make alarming sense. They were waiting here because…
The Falcon! Han!
He was dragged back. "Wait!"
Leia!
They were waiting here because Vader was still going after Leia.
"No!" he burst, yanking against the soldiers, wrenching his arms from their grips and stumbling forward within the phalanx of troopers, tripping on the chains around his ankles. He almost went down, but anger drove him, fear rushed him and, as the solders grabbed at his arms again, he roared at Vader "You said you would let them go! You said you would…"
Luke ripped his arms away, determined to get to Vader, but someone kicked the back of his knees and he went down with a yell of frustration, knees hitting hard against the stone flagging. Then he was prone on the floor, the heavy weight of his captors falling on him, knees on his legs, knees on his shoulders, the cold floor chilling against the flush of his face.
"You son of a bitch!" he screamed up at the figure of the Dark Lord looming over him. "You said you would let them go!"
"I made no such assurances," Vader told him.
"No!" Luke was confused, lost, frantic. Not Han and Leia, too. He'd only done this for them, he'd only agreed not to fight so that they would be free. "You did!" He gasped in a breath, the weight of his captors pressing down on him, compressing his chest. "You said…"
"I gave you no such assurances," Vader repeated.
"Liar!" he snarled into the floor, trying to crane his neck to look up, trying to gain purchase to push the soldiers off him, but they only pressed down harder, making it difficult to draw breath. "You said…."
He trailed off… trying to remember, trying to work through the panicked fog of his mind. In the cell…. in the cell…. Vader had said….
And horror rattled through him.
Vader hadn't said.
"…I'll not fight the extradition. You can have me! Just leave Leia…"
He had said it himself. He had offered himself up and Vader had merely….
"You would willing surrender yourself to me to save your friends?"
… taken.
Luke stopped struggling, laid his brow against the floor, his body loose, and breathed one word of defeat against the cold hard stone.
"Leia…"
ooOOoo
"Hobbie!" Wedge called, wrenching his flight controls and stamping down on his foot paddles, sending his fighter into a roll to avoid enemy fire. "Contacts coming in at point two! Evasive manoeuvres!"
"I see 'em!" Klivian sounded rattled as he banked his ship, pulling away from the target he had been lining up. He looped up and around several TIEs, strafing their hulls, shearing wings from the fuselage. "How many more do you think they have?"
Wedge didn't answer, he knew Hobbie wasn't expecting an answer; neither of them truly wanted to know how many enemy craft they were up against. Wedge drew a gloved hand under his nose, wiping away tickling sweat. His eyes darted across his sensors, looking up and out of his canopy. "We have another destroyer moving in to intercept the Falcon."
"Yeah, I noticed," Solo's voice cut across the comm. "We got another coming in from…. point nine."
"Also Point six," Wes supplied, "point three and…."
"We hear you Janson," Narra interrupted, shutting Wes up. His voice was tight, controlled.
Wedge swallowed, breathing harshly, heart hammering and he….
"Ah!"
"Ylanec!?" Wedge called, frantically searching for the young man's fighter. The cry had come from the youngest of the squad. "Kid?"
"I'm hit!" the younger pilot told them. He sounded terrified. Then a beat later there was relief. "I… ah… I'm all right…. But… they've knocked out my hyperdrive."
Wedge cursed, dropped his stick, opened fire and obliterated the TIE fighter that flew across his bow. "Get your astromech to…"
"Lost him, too," the kid announced, his voice suddenly brighter, "but hey, my guns still work, I have sub-light…"
And he proved it by blasting past Wedge and taking out two more Imperials with a barrage of red fire.
"Nice shot, Red Four," Narra praised over the comm.
ooOOoo
Han turned the Falcon around, tearing through the pack of TIE fighters that had been tailing them, Haslam and Leia letting loose with the cannons, blasting at any moving target, eyeballing it and to hell with the targeting systems.
Han grinned. Leia was a better shot than any seasoned soldier. Then he sobered, remembering that Leia had been fighting this war far longer than any of them.
"We need to get a way out of here," he commented, thinking aloud rather than talking directly to any one person, but Chewbacca barked a quick agreement. The Falcon shook under another barrage, the instruments showed another ten percent drop in shields. "Shit," he breathed. "We're down to thirty percent."
Over the comm he heard Narra giving more orders to his squad. "Red Two, Red Three run ahead of the Falcon. Reds Four and Five take up positions port and starboard. I'll bring up the rear. Solo?"
"Yeah, I'm listening," Han told him.
"There's none of us gonna last much longer in this…"
Han thought that was the understatement of the century.
"… we're gonna point straight at one of the destroyers, run it fast and duck under. If we're fast enough they won't get a tractor lock on you, or they'll lock onto one of us instead."
Han grimaced at that, unhappy that he would be escaping due to the sacrifice of another.
It seemed Leia felt the same way. "No, Commander," she protested, her voice crackling over the comm. "We can't risk losing any more pilots…"
"Sorry, Your Highness," Narra stated with, Han thought, a tinge of humour to his voice. "You don't get to give the orders today." There was a pause, the sound of laser fire and then Narra continued. "Falcon, turn to point nine, we'll run straight and pour on the speed."
"Copy, Red Leader," Han acknowledge as the Falcon shook again, sparks rained down from the panel above him and he eyed the flickering lights with suspicion.
…hold together, girl….
He brought the ship around, watching as one of the Imperial ships became centred in the cockpit window. "Gun it, Chewie!"
The ship shot ahead, the five X-Wings falling in around them blasting at the swarming TIE's, cutting at path toward the bulk of the Star Destroyer.
"Here goes nothing, Chewie…"
The Wookiee wailed his own sentiments as they drew nearer to the Imperial ship at incredible speed.
Green streaks erupted in their direction from the cruiser speeding past the cockpit and…. The ship bounced again as the shielding was raked.
Chewie roared….
"I know! I know!"
Twenty-percent.
Closer still, the ship looming before them.
Heart in his mouth, Han wrenched the controls sending the freighter into a dive, heading straight down the side of the massive Imperial ship. He slipped the Falcon underneath.
The Falcon lurched, the engines screamed and he and Chewie were abruptly thrown forward onto the consoles in front of them as the Falcon's momentum suddenly ceased. Yells sounded from the turrets as Haslam and Leia were tossed around within the gun compartments.
"Han!" Leia called, sounded hurt, sounding rattled.
Solo picked himself up as Chewie dropped back into his chair with a bark. He checked his readings, already knowing what he would find. "They've gotta lock!" he shouted.
The Falcon bucked, shook and they bounced in their seats.
"Solo?" Narra's voice hissed over the comm. "We're coming back around."
ooOOoo
Wedge wrestled with his controls as a barrage of cannon fire from the Star Destroyer streaked passed. He jinked, zig-zagged, getting his shields skimmed by a passing blast.
"We're coming back around," he heard Narra tell the Falcon. Then, "Red flight?"
"We're on it!" Wedge told him, turning the X-Wing around and racing back toward the Millennium Falcon: racing away from open space, back into the tumult of the Imperial trap.
He didn't know what they could do here, didn't know how they were going to release the Princess and Solo from the inexorable pull of the tractor beam. Flying on instinct, blasting TIE fighters on reflex he sent his fighter down under the Imperial Ship, opening up his guns on the docking bay in the under belly of the vessel.
They bounced harmlessly against the blast shielding.
Maybe proton torpedoes would be better and…
"I've got this!" a young voice announced.
"Ylanec?" he questioned.
"Red Four?" Narra voiced, as Wedge spotted both Narra and Ylanec's fighters racing toward the Falcon as it was dragged under the ship.
The young pilot ignored them both and addressed Solo. "Captain, get ready to run!"
Wedge chilled, horror growing cold in the pit of his stomach as he realised what the young man was thinking, what he was planning.
"Kid," he heard Solo say. "You don't need to do this…"
"Ylanec," Wedge shouted into his comm. "Get back, don't do this!"
The small craft pulled ahead of Narra who was shouting orders at the young man, telling him to haul ass and get away from the battle.
"I have no hyperdrive!" the boy shouted, fear and resignation in his voice. "They'd pick me up…"
Wedge closed his eyes, another battle, another pilot's voice suddenly running through his mind.
"Bang out, Luke!"
"No, not here!"
"Eject, dammit! You've lost a foil!"
"I know! Not here! They'll pick me up..."
"Shit!" Wedge cursed. Ylanec feared capture the same as Luke had. Ylanec, who hadn't known Luke before Ardalii, had seen the toll captivity had taken on Skywalker and feared it even more. "You don't have to do this!"
"I do… my shields are gone, hyperdrive gone, systems failing. I'm dead anyway, or captured."
"Ylanec!" Wedge yelled, hearing his squad mates echo his sentiments.
"Remember me!"
Wedge watched in horror as the small X-Wing raced ahead of the Falcon. He watched as Narra and Hobbie took down two TIEs who were flying intercept. He watched as Ylanec slammed his fighter into the docking bay of the Star Destroyer, as the boy and his ship disintegrated into a ball of flame and as secondary explosions flared and spread under the cruiser.
"We're free!" Solo announced.
The Falcon suddenly pitched forward, blasting toward open space, gunning through more Imperial Fighters.
"Pour it on Red Flight," Narra ordered, sadly. "Let's get outta here."
Wedge followed, green laser fire following in his wake.
"Punch it!"
His hands moved automatically and the stars before him streaked into infinite lines.
ooOOoo
Pinned, belly down, Luke watched his breath ghost against the polished marble of the floor. He was trying not to think, trying not to picture what was happening above Horaarn. Trying not to allow the terror for Leia to take hold and drag him down. He needed to stay calm, he needed to stay focused and not lose it completely.
Please, not Leia….
He took in another breath, grunting with the effort, wishing the troopers holding him would get off him. He exhaled again, the floor steamed with condensation. He watch it evaporate as he drew in more air. He could smell stale sweat, probably his own, and the sweet tang of the cleaning fluid that had been used on the floor. It smelled familiar, it smelled like…
Marave berries.
The smell brought back memories of his aunt's baking, of the suns setting and of sitting outside the homestead dome with Beru as she told him stories. When he had been younger, and while he munched on her freshly baked berry cookies, she would regale him with children's stories; tall tales of space pirates and daring do and of the hero getting the girl. When he was older, when he asked more questions, she would sometimes slip in a snippet or two about his father.
"Your father had come back for his mother and it devastated him when he learned what had happened, that the Tuskens had taken her. You remember we told you about that?"
Luke closed his eyes. He could almost feel the sand beneath him, could feel the warm evening air tug at his hair and tunic. If only he…
An unsettling silence had fallen over the hallway. He lifted his head, trying to see what was happening, trying to look beyond the soldiers who were restraining him, trying to see where Vader was. He could hear the Dark Lord, but could not see him. He was close though, so very close.
A hand was placed on his head and he was roughly pushed back down. The gloved and armoured hand held his cheek firmly against the marble.
Something was wrong…
No, that wasn't it…. Something was….
Right.
It felt right to him, but wrong to these people.
Leia… something about Leia?
He blew out a breath, unable to stop the hope that had begun to bloom within.
Leia…
The sound of her name in his mind made him smile. The feeling of dread for her safety began to wane although he did not yet know why.
The Force?
Had Han kept his promise? Had he got the Princess out?
What was it the officer had told Vader? He'd been so worried about Vader going after Leia and Han that he hadn't fully listened to what the man had told the Dark Lord.
"We have not yet secured the Millennium Falcon, a small group of X-Wing fighters have…"
X-Wings! The Alliance had sent in help!
…But not for me…. Not me… They have no way of getting to me…
He pushed away the beat of panic: the heavy, selfish dread, if Leia was safe he could do this… Whatever this was…. Whatever Vader had to throw at him; he could take it, deal with it, if she and Han and the others were safe.
There was a chirp from a comm and Luke felt the tension in the hallway rise. He grinned into the floor, unable to help himself as a voice within the hallway answered with a terse, "Report."
They had gotten out. He felt it!
He could already feel the Dark Lord's ire, but he didn't care, wasn't worried about what that might mean for him.
Aren't you?
The voice on the comm was quiet, distorted and Luke couldn't hear what was being said.
Then: "My Lord Vader!"
Quick footsteps and again Luke tried to raise his head to see, only to have it pressed back down.
"The Princess and her companions have made the jump to lightspeed and…"
And the weight of the Galaxy was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes in relief; Han had gotten her out.
He could do this and not have worry about anyone else.
You are alone. No-one can help you now.
A shadow fell over him.
"Get him up!" Vader's voice was angry, harsh.
The weight on him vanished and he was hauled to his feet to stand before the Dark Lord. He straightened, held his head high and stared at the dark lenses of Vader's mask. He stood his ground, set his jaw and refused to look away.
"Your friends have abandoned you, Skywalker."
Luke swallowed, allowed a smile to play over his lips. "They didn't abandon me," he retorted, with confidence, "Han only did as I asked."
"You think you have won," Vader observed, sounding incredulous. "You believe their escape to be a victory."
At that, Luke did look away, eyes briefly flicking to the stormtroopers and Horaarns loitering about the hallway. Then he looked back up at the Dark Lord. "No," he agreed, "not a victory. Not yet, but I will still win."
Again there was ire, a gust of hot anger shimmering through the Force.
"Take him out!" Vader ordered turning away. "Secure him on the shuttle."
Luke was dragged away, tripping over the shackles on his legs as he was manhandled toward to the opening doors, his mind reeling in disbelief at his words to Vader. His mouth would get him into serious trouble someday.
And this isn't trouble?
He stifled a laugh, tried to supress his smile.
A blast of freezing, evening air caught him, sucking the warmth from his breath, raking his lungs with chilled talons. Camera lights highlighted him, flickering in the dull light, initially blinding him with their intensity. He blinked, grimaced as he realised that the short walk from the doors of the court house to the waiting shuttle was being broadcast.
The courtyard was brightly lit, but was empty bar the waiting shuttle and the lines of white-armoured soldiers that created a corridor in the compacted snow leading to the ship.
It was beginning to snow again. Large, fat flakes were drifting down from the dark clouds.
A push from behind and, still encircled by troopers, he stepped out and down the steps into the piazza, allowing the men holding his arms to determine the pace of their walk along the passageway of Imperial soldiers toward the shuttle.
He could hear Vader coming behind them, could feel the burn of Vader's gaze on the back of his head. He shuddered, wondering what Vader had planned for him…
…not yet…. Don't think of that yet….
He shivered in a gust of winter wind, his sweat-damp hair blowing into his eyes, warmth lifting from his body.
And he was reminded of the freezing water that was dumped on him on Escaal as part of Dade's…
...Rhovan, he firmly told himself, his name is Rhovan...
… treatment to wear him down and break him. No water, no sleep, no rest, freezing water full of cleansers that made it undrinkable, the beatings, the droid, the drugs, the…
Stop! Not now…. Maybe later… but not now…
…it's not happening now…
… but it had happened…
…it would happen again…
Shit! Get a grip!
The ramp of the ship lowered as they approached, reminding Luke of the gaping maw of the Gulletbeast that had been the antagonist in a cheesy holovid he had watched with Biggs when they were kids. He lowered his head, hiding yet another smile. The beast had looked so fake and he and Biggs had rolled around the floor flapping and screaming like the animal's prey.
He choked, heaved in a gulp of freezing air, feeling his limbs tremble and not knowing if it was cold, fright or mirth that caused his shivers.
"My Lord Vader!"
The small procession stopped at the shout, the stormtroopers hesitating with him as Vader turned around to face the man hurrying toward them from the court house.
Luke craned his neck around and he scowled with recognition; it was one of the men who had met him and Leia on the landing platform it was…
"First Minister," Vader greeted, his voice carrying the inflection of an unasked question.
The man seemed flustered, he rubbed at the back of his neck, shifted on his feet. "My Lord, I… I trust that you will be removing your soldiers from our streets now that you have Skywalker."
Vader briefly looked over in his direction, before turning his attention to the Horaarn politician. "No," his voice carried in the evening air. "I feel the Empire has to look after its interests in the Horaarn system. A battalion from my fleet will be transferring to the planet and I am leaving two destroyers for your protection."
Luke smirked with a twist of dark satisfaction.
Vader's head jerked up and turned to him again, and Luke looked away confused and ashamed by his feelings. Did he really wish a world to be invaded by the Empire - even if they had been instrumental in his capture? It wasn't the fault of the people, it was the fault of the politicians who represented them.
But still, it felt good to see the blood drain from the man's face.
"Take Skywalker to the shuttle," Vader ordered, gesturing toward the idling ship.
"Lord Vader, I must protest! Assurances were given that once…."
It was all Luke heard. He was pushed forward and he lifted his head high and walked towards the ramp unable to clear the smile from his face. His boots hit the durasteel incline, the chains around his ankles catching, making his strides awkward, and the troopers had to catch him, hold him and help him up, only releasing his arms once they had entered the ship.
Luke was vaguely aware of the figures in shuttle, only noted dark uniforms on the peripheral of his vision. All he saw was her.
Everything slowed. Everything cleared. Everything became sharper: the sounds, the colours, the cold breeze following them in, the pistol in Thecla's hand, the dark barrel pointing at him.
He caught her eyes, saw her intention.
He felt calm, he felt collected, he felt at peace.
"Do it," he told her.
Someone shouted from outside the shuttle.
Vader?
"No!"
There was a shock of blinding light, a brief kaleidoscope of agony that punched him backwards. He landed hard, rolled down the ramp, fell from the edge and landed to lie on the trampled snow, staring up at the sky, at the clouds. He was loosely aware of shouting, of movement around him, of pain and compression in his chest.
"Luke…"
He rolled his head, blinking away a snow flake. It fell onto his cheek and began to melt. He smiled at the robed man who stood there, snowflakes passing through his body. "B…en…." he gasped, trying to reach out to the image of the dead Jedi Knight, tugging against the cuffs that held his hands behind his back.
Obi-Wan smiled, it was an expression of compassion, of deep sadness and he faded into the growing blizzard.
"Be…" he tried to speak, but he had no air.
"Get those cameras back!" a voice roared in anger and agony. Something smashed, something fell to the ground with a metallic clattered. "Switch them all off!"
A shadow fell over him and his head was cupped in a large hand. A baritone voice softly said his name.
"Luke."
His head was turned and he saw Vader kneeling beside him. A corona of light glowed around the black armour. The helmet and mask obscured his view of the sky, sheltering him from the falling snow.
Vader pulled him up, settling him in the crook of his arm.
Struggling for breath, Luke looked up into the dark lenses of the man who had killed his father. There was nothing there: no expression, no emotion just dark angular contours. He swallowed, choked, tried to hitch in a breath. He could taste blood; could feel its warm, thick, wetness trickle down his chin; could hear a rattle in his throat; could feel his bound hands growing cold beneath him.
"Luke, stay with me!" Vader urged, his voice sounding desperate, pained. "Stay with me, my son."
Son?
Confusion shook Luke as Vader wiped away the blood from his chin, only for more to spill from his mouth.
My Son?
His world twisted around him and he was sent plunging down by the sudden, awful understanding of Vader's words.
My son.
His eyes flared wide with comprehension. He looked up at the man who held him.
"It was not I who left your father to burn."
Luke struggled in horror, body jerking, feet scuffing in the snow, denying his thoughts.
The helmet turned away. "Get a medic, now!"
And back, "Luke, no…. stay with me…."
The man cradling him, the man pleading with him to stay was...
It made sense now: all of it. Vader's obsession with finding him, with capturing him because…
"Because you are Anakin Skywalker's son."
Son!
The visions of the dark-robed figure standing by his grandmother's grave was of a grieving son. Shmi Skywalker's son.
His father.
And in that same vision Beru Lars had pushed him toward the figure, leaving him alone to watch as it had transformed into the image of the Dark Lord: who had fought him, bested him and had shown him how darkness nested within him, too.
When the flames arose, I felt pleasure…
His uncle: who never wanted to discuss his father.
Obi-Wan: who hesitated when he had asked how his father had died.
His Aunt, Beru: who always knew more than she could ever say.
"You are his weakness, Luke, and you have a strength within you that he craves."
All of this…. Escaal, the raid on Ra'imar, Cusrean and Horaarn was all because Vader was...
His body jerked, went into spasm. He tried to draw a breath, got nothing. His vision blurred, his head spun with a quick gyration and he closed his eyes.
"Luke, look at me… Luke!"
Suddenly he needed to say it. He needed to tell the Dark Lord. It was important he say it before he died. He forced his eyes open, trying to cough up and swallow the blood that filled his airway. He fought through the searing agony in his chest and reached out to grasp at the Force, using it to pull a last breath into ruined lungs. It gurgled in his throat as swift darkness rushed him.
"I… w..in… fath..er…"
He stared up at Vader and smiled as oblivion took him.
ooOOoo
To be continued in: Dark Times: Interludes