AN: Again many thanks to those who have been reading and, again, a special thanks to those taking the time to leave some very kind comments.
We are about half way through the tale now (It has grown as I have edited the draft version... ).
I am posting unbeta read... so please point out errors as you find them! I have found that no matter how often I read and edit something always slips through. Although please bear in mind that I write British English.
All Previous disclaimers for the story still apply...
Insidious
Part Five
The Father
Darth Vader stood in the cavernous hangar bay of the Devastator watching as the Emperor's shuttle settled onto the deck. He could feel the tension in the assembled troopers, pilots and officers, could feel their fear and trepidation. It was not every day that the ruler of the known Galaxy deigned to tour his fleet, but now, seventeen years after the creation of the Empire he had decided it was time to inspect the troops that he usually ignored but who he expected to do his bidding nonetheless.
The hatch cracked and the ramp began to lower as the shuttle vented hissing gases into the hangar. Vader lowered himself to one knee, felt the soldiers around him stiffen to attention.
The ramp touched the deck and even above the noise of the gases, the rasp of his own breathing, Vader could hear his Master's cane tap-tapping as he began his descent from the shuttle. He knew Palpatine did not need the walking aid. He knew the stick was to portray himself as benign, as weak and as feeble as any of his subjects.
It was a ruse of course. A trick designed to put people at ease, to allow them to drop their guard and defences and thus leave them open to Palpatine's insidious manipulations or to bring them closer to him so that he could viciously strike against them.
Vader had seen many drawn close and he had seen many of their bloodied corpses dragged, feet first, from the throne room. Vader, however, never forgot what his master was. He never forgot what he was capable of, no matter how weak Palpatine may appear. He never forgot who Palpatine was; Darth Sidious, Dark Master of the Sith.
"Rise, My friend."
Vader stood, fell in at Palpatine's side. "The ship is read for your inspection, Master. The fleet is…."
"I am not here to inspect the fleet, or your ship, Lord Vader."
There was a beat as Vader considered this, his surprise and sudden unease rippling through the Force. "Master, I have not been made aware of any changes to your itinerary."
"I am making you aware now," Palpatine bit, then his tones softened. "You have been curious these last few years of my frequent cancelations of court, of my absences from Imperial Centre."
Vader allowed a regulated breath to pass before answering. It was true he had been curious, he had been intrigued and suspicious about his Master's absences and had attempted to surreptitiously find out what his master was doing, what his master was planning. But his attempts had always been thwarted; his spies openly killed or simply disappeared. His questions, put to the crew members of the vessels his Master travelled on, remained unanswered. The officers, loyal to the end, stayed tight lipped until they died with his hand around their throats. Searches of the ships logs revealed only banal routes through the core systems and no destinations and he was sure they were fake, a ruse to divert his attention. Palpatine hadn't even visited the Death Star; now in its final stages of construction.
It had been frustrating, but Vader had eventually given up looking, grew used to his master's breaks from protocol and the Empire only grew stronger. His own position remained untouched and unchallenged; although he knew envious eyes coveted his closeness to Palpatine and that the Grand Moff Tarkin had his eye on the throne.
"Yes, Master," he conceded, saying nothing else as they walked, knowing that Palpatine would tell him in his own time. He could feel his master's amusement, his enjoyment of Vader's ignorance and his satisfaction of a game well won.
They stepped into the corridor of the ship, walked in silence as passing crew members stopped and kneeled as they passed; Palpatine's cane ever tapping on the floor. They stepped into a turbo lift.
"I have found something, Lord Vader," Palpatine said at last, as the door slid shut and the lift began to move.
Again, Vader remained silent waiting for his master to speak.
"I had been curious all these years about what happened on Mustafar…"
Vader's heartrate suddenly spiked, cold horror pooled in his belly and adrenalin rushed with his searing fury at the name of that hateful place and all it meant for him; the agony of defeat, the loss of his wife and child; his imprisonment in this suit.
"…I had often wondered about your statement, your steadfast belief that Amidala was alive, your denial that you had killed her and your visions of her death in child birth." He paused, allowed Vader the time to contemplate his words, allowing all the memories to roil his anger and hatred. "Tell me, Lord Vader, do you dream of Tatooine?"
Caught off guard by the question Vader could only question. "Tatooine?"
His Master was right. He did dream of Tatooine. He dreamed of a childhood lost, of a mother dead. He dreamed of the farm where her bones lay, he dreamed of blue sky and wisps of white clouds. He dreamed of sand and hardship and of young, tanned, hands toiling under the suns.
"Occasionally," he reluctantly relented, "they mean nothing."
Palpatine chuckled beside him. It was a sound of glee. A sound of victory.
"Oh, my apprentice. They mean everything."
Vader turned his helmet, looked down at the man who had raised him up from the ashes and given his focus and purpose. "Master, I do not understand."
The elevator stopped, the doors opened and they continued in silence through the ship to the suite of rooms that had been prepared for Palpatine. At last they were alone once more, and the Emperor dropped the cane and walked unaided to the large view port to look upon the planet that had once been Coruscant and the seat of the Republic. It now held the power of the Empire and the shimmering towers of the Republic now reflected a dimmer glow; the sunlight blocked and hampered by the many low orbiting ships that pandered to Palpatine's paranoia.
Imperial Centre must be fortified, must be defended. Quite who it was to be defended from, Vader was never quite sure, for there was no organisation in the Galaxy capable of launching an attack on any Imperial stronghold, least of all against the bastion of the Empire. Not even the few dissenting voices of Rebellion across the galaxy were a threat; they were but a few shouting in the dark without leadership and organisation and he had been swift to silence them all.
Vader waited for his master to speak, to continue their conversation, his impatience growing with every passing moment of silence; knowing that Palpatine was playing with him, baiting him.
"Amidala did not die on Mustafar, my friend," Palpatine finally stated, not turning around to look upon his apprentice. "I have been unable to trace the place where she did pass, but I am sure now that she was alive, at least for a while, following your attack on her."
Vader bowed his head, images flashing through his mind; reds and blacks, her betrayal, her face as she gasped for breath and clutched at her throat as she struggled to release the fingers around her windpipe, fingers that existed only in his mind as he reached out to…
"I fear that she was gravely wounded and that she did eventually die of the injuries you inflicted," there was no accusation in the Emperor's voice, he was simply stating a fact and letting Vader know that he remained responsible for his wife's death and then, after yet another prolonged pause, he turned around and uttered the words that he had been longing to say for the last four years since finding the boy on Tatooine.
"But not before she birthed your son."
ooOOoo
The Pupil
Luke pulled back on the control column sending his T-Sixteen Skyhopper soaring into the sky. He yelled in delight at the rush it gave him, at the feeling of pure adrenalin flowing into his bloodstream; his heart pounded, his stomach twisted… he felt alive! Flying was what he had been born for... this was his destiny!
"You were born to be Sith."
He grimaced at the echo of his master's voice. Shook away the whispered words that his master had often repeated.
"You are Sith…"
His master's visits had lessened these last few years; since he had discovered the identity of the Jedi. The gaps between his lessons had become longer and longer and Luke had to wonder if this was deliberate or just something else he had to learn. It had been three months since he had last seen Sidious and he had begun to fear…
…hope…
…that perhaps something had happened, that perhaps his master had become ill or that some other mishap had occurred. He had thought that he had been forgotten, that his master had found another pupil on whom to turn his attention.
Luke fought the urge to reach out into the Force and seek his Master, but it was strictly forbidden and the Jedi, Kenobi, might sense such a move. No, he must live as a farmboy, but practice and train as Sith in his master's absence while hiding within the veil of the Dark Side. That was his only mission, his given task.
But, now… He grinned. Now he had flying!
It had taken months of pestering his uncle… he'd even tried to use a mind trick, to no avail and a strange look from Owen Lars who clearly thought that Luke had a few loose circuits… but now he had the T-Sixteen and, after spending hours on her taking her engine apart and rebuilding it, he now owned the slickest, fasted ship, in the area. Not even Biggs' 'hopper could match it.
Not that anyone knew. He had been careful not to show it off; he had learned that caution from his master.
"Do not give cause for suspicion of your gifts, do not bring attention to yourself in any aspect of your life. Keep hidden, my apprentice, for your enemies will not recognise what you are until it is too late…"
Grinning, he abruptly shoved the control stick down, pressed hard on the pedal and sent his craft barrelling down, banking hard left to plummet into the canyon below.
"Luke!" A voice yelled in his ear over the comm. "What the hell are you doing?!"
I've kept hidden… now it's too late!
He laughed, ignoring the howls from the others in the race. He had the lead! He banked right, his wing tips millimetres from the canyon walls as he took the corner.
"Luke!" Biggs shouted, frantically. "That's the wrong way! Luke…"
The walls of sand stone rushed passed the cockpit and he had to lift the craft up to avoid the boulders that littered the canyon floor and….
"Luke! Watch it!"
He blanked left, right and left again, slaloming around jutting protuberances and slammed on the speed to drop under a rocky bridge, his engine backdraft sending up a cloud of sand from the canyon floor…
"Kark, Luke! You're gonna kill yourself," Biggs called again. "Slow it down!"
Not a chance… not this time… this time… It was his turn.
There was fork just up ahead and…
"Break right, Luke! Break right!"
He took left.
Ignoring the screaming in his ear he pushed his 'hopper on. The engine screeched in protest, the little ship began to shudder and, despite the noise, despite the air rushing passed the canopy and the yelling over the comm, all fell silent around him as he focused on only one thing. His goal, his chance to shine, to prove himself once and for all.
Taking a dangerous risk, he dropped his shield, immersed himself in the Force. He could feel his ship, could feel the air around him, could sense the path he had to take to succeed and he gently eased his stick to make minute course corrections. He ignored his sensors, ignored the alarms beginning to sound in his cockpit and at the last minute he closed his eyes and sent his Skyhopper sailing through Beggars Canyon's Stone Needle.
Seconds passed and he cautiously opened his eyes and saw blue sky above him and sand below. He was out of the canyon!
He'd done it!
He let out a whooping breath, yelled in victory and could barely hear the cacophony of calls over the comm above the thundering of his heart.
He'd threaded the Stone Needle!
Luke was the first one to land at Tosche Station. He leapt out into the heat of the afternoon and stood grinning beside his Skyhopper as he watched the others trail in one after the other. Engines slowly cut out, whines dying down and canopies popped open. No-one was smiling, as they trooped passed him into the cool of the building with Fixer, as always, taking the lead. The older boy… now a man… glared at him, but he said nothing just rubbed unconsciously at the arm Luke had broken four years before in an alley way.
Biggs came last and rounded on him as soon as they were alone.
"What the kark, Luke! What the hell were you playing at!"
"I won!" Luke explained, confused by the attack, confused by being ignored by the others and the anger he felt from them all. "I threaded the needle!"
"You nearly killed yourself!"
"I never got a scratch! Not on me and not on the 'hopper!"
"What would I have told your aunt and uncle, Luke? What would I have said, huh?" Biggs retorted, angrily. "I promised them to keep an eye on you, and you pull that stunt on me because you wanted to impress the others?"
"That's not…"
"But it is, Luke!" Biggs yelled, his voice shaking with fading adrenalin and fear. "You could have killed yourself just because you want to be accepted."
Rage began to replace elation. Disappointment and rejection were familiar emotions for Luke, but never had he felt it from Biggs. "Biggs I…"
Biggs sighed, swept back his sweat damp hair, his anger failing. "Luke… you're never gonna learn, are you?"
"You're just jealous because I did it younger than you!" Luke accused, his fists bunched as he turned away, daring for Biggs to reach out and touch him because if he did then…
A touch in the Force, a mild curiosity.
The Jedi!
He swallowed his instinctive reaction to turn around and look for Kenobi, was acutely aware of how dangerous a position he was now in. He was being watched and his mind raced, had the Jedi felt him channelling the Force during the race. Could the Jedi feel his anger now… Did Kenobi suspect?
"Luke," Biggs did reach out, did take his arm and turn him around.
Luke allowed him.
"What?" he mumbled, sulking now as he would do if he were a simple farmboy and not a Sith.
"I'm sorry…"
"Yeah, me too," Luke looked to the ground, to his boots scuffing in the sand. He was still very aware of the Jedi's presence somewhere nearby.
"That… that was some flying," Biggs conceded, a smile now in his voice.
"You think?" Luke asked, at last looking up at his friend, his lips beginning to curl into a genuine smile again.
"Yeah," Biggs breathed, also smiling. "Dammit, Luke. I've never seen anything like. The speed you were at when you threaded the needle, that was…. Well, it was dumb, but kark, Luke, that was incredible!"
The traces of anger drained away. He knew Biggs was genuine, knew his friend wasn't lying. "I told you I would do it someday!"
Biggs swore again. "Someday, yeah… not less than six months since getting the 'hopper, kid."
Luke could feel the Jedi move again, the old man's touch in the Force beginning to fade as he grew satisfied that all he had sensed was Luke's innate instincts at work and he couldn't help but grin, not just at Biggs' praise, but at his ability to fool the Jedi. "I just knew I could do it!"
Biggs was quiet for a moment and Luke chose the silence to turn around and lounge against his 'hopper. Looking up and past his friend he could make out Kenobi's brown robes disappearing around the corner of a building on the outskirts of town.
"You do realise, Luke," Biggs explained, quietly, "that the others… that Fixer… isn't going to like this… they aren't going to accept you just because you beat the pants off them."
Luke kept his eye on the building, watching should Kenobi appear again. "Don't worry about Fixer, Biggs. He and I came to an understanding years ago…"
ooOooo
To Be Continued...
