On the fourth morning, Luke made his way to the Ivory Ballroom at usual time. She didn't show. Although by now he didn't expect to see her, the disappointment hit like a hard fist to his solar plexus. He shrugged it off and started to practice his katas alone, but his heart wasn't in it. Something was off. His breath hitched when he realized the thing he was missing was…her.
He missed the bright flash of her Force signature as she leapt to greet his saber with hers. Missed the way she bit her right side of her bottom lip as she puzzled out her moves. Even missed the sharp-edged taunts she'd throw at him in a fruitless effort to break his concentration.
Sunlight streamed through the ballroom's floor to ceiling windows, but the day was gloomy, bereft. The golden glow lighting the room only reminded him of her unusual yellow eyes, glowing with triumph whenever she managed to get a hit in, softening with appreciation whenever he showed her a new strategy.
He didn't quite know what to do with himself. Looma, Pottz and K'gworth had said barely three words to him since the Beast disappeared, claiming they had pressing work in other wings of the castle. It was too soon for the evening meal, and staring at the four walls of his bedroom had zero appeal.
Perhaps he could find the literary work she mentioned at their last dinner and read it in anticipation of their next meeting (there would be a next meeting, wouldn't there? There had to be). He was sure K'gworth mentioned the castle contained a library. Perhaps it held the volume he sought. He set off to find it, deciding to start with the unexplored chambers in the Northwest Wing.
The sun had long left the sky by the time he finally pushed open a heavy wood door to reveal a room lined from polished stone floor to high, arching ceiling with shelves. So many shelves, it would probably take a day and then some to count them all. And on those shelves were…what were those? Books? He'd heard of them, but books had been phased out of use long before he was born. Tatooine was not kind to fragile items prone to sun damage and decay.
He picked up the nearest one. It was made of sheets of something like flimsiplast, all stitched together and held between two heavier, more durable rifled through and pictures rushed didn't recognize the language, but the illustrations reminded him of the tapestry in his bedroom.
He ventured further into the library, noting a large cavernous space meant to hold a fire and two overstuffed, high backed chairs placed before it. The chairs were worn, the cushions dented as if by decades of use. A thick layer of dust covered one, but the other chair appeared to have been occupied recently. He sneezed, his nose tickled by the room's dry yet somewhat musty smell.
A section of one wall was dedicated to datapads. Finally, something he knew. He hurried over, and began searching for something he could read. But he couldn't find anything in Basic. Frustrated, he sat down on the cold stone to look at the bottom shelf.
But the shelf did not contain datapads, or books. Instead, it held..cubes. And a few other other polyhedral shapes. Made of shimmering crystals and shining metals, they were all sized to fit comfortably in a hand.
One cube, less shiny and noticeable than its neighbors, tugged at Luke's Force sense. He reached toward the back of the shelf, plucked it from its obscure corner. It began to glow, as if responding to his interest. "What are you?" he asked. "It's as if you're trying to tell me something." He turned the cube over and over-
"What are you doing?" said a low, husky voice from across the room.
Luke almost dropped the cube. He hurriedly thrust it into his tunic. "Beast!" he exclaimed, turning to face her. "You're back!" His arms outstretched in greeting, he walked toward the black cloaked figure.
His smile faded as he grew closer. Her normally pale skin was ashen gray, the freckles standing out as dark smudges. Purple shadows, the shade of a day-old bruise, underlined her eyes. "Beast?" he said. "You look like you haven't slept since I last saw you." Concern made his words rough.
She gave a short laugh and stalked toward one of the chairs before the fireplace. Her usual catlike grace was gone, replaced by a stiff-legged march. White lines of pain furrowed her brow, despite her obvious effort to smooth and hide them. "I can sleep when I'm no longer walking among the galaxy's stars," she said, gingerly settling onto the cushions.
"You're injured." Luke sat down on the chair next to her, heedless of the dust that billowed around him.
She started to shrug, but it turned into a flinch. "Nothing time, bacta and a healing trance won't take care of. But," she said and then hesitated, looking down at her hands. They were red and raw, Luke noticed. "I needed to speak with you."
"But what happened to you? Let me call Pottz. You need rest."
"Not right now." She waved off his concern, and then caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Are you happy here?" she said in a rush. "With me, I mean?"
"What?" Luke felt like a womp rat caught in the crosshairs. "I…," his voice trailed off as he turned the questions over in his mind. "I am happy," he said finally. "When I'm with you. But…"
"You're needed elsewhere."
He nodded. "My friends. I'm worried about them."
"Of course." She stared into the empty fireplace, her shoulders slumping. Then she sighed before turning back to him. "Right. We don't have much time."
"What's going on?" But even as the words left his mouth, Luke understood. "It's the Emperor," he said, his voice flat. "He's finally coming for me."
The Beast pulled the hood off her head, her red-gold curls falling free. "Yes," she said. "But not just for you." She pulled a small device out from under her cloak. The surface was flat and glassy, like a mirror. She pushed a button and a holographic star chart of the galaxy sprung to life around them. "This," she said, using her hands to spin the chart and zoom in on a particular coordinate, "is the Stellar Peace II." A familiar moon-shaped object appeared before Luke.
"That's the Death Star," he said, a hollow pit in his stomach. "I destroyed it." The voices started up again: you killed them all they are all dead- no! you did what you had to do you saved even more lives- It was as if the cube whispered back, fought against the dark messages. His fingers tightened on it underneath his tunic.
She shook her head. "No. It's the second Stellar Pe—I mean, Death Star. "
"A second one?" Luke stared at her. "But that's…"
"Impossible. Only it's very real." She swiped her finger, and the chart shifted. "And here is Diswalt." She zeroed in on a planet with two moons. They were positioned as if Diswalt were a head and the satellites its ears.
"The Death Star is in the same quadrant as us."
She nodded. "And this—" she pointed at a nearby star system, "-is where your Rebellion fleet is stationed."
The realization slammed into him with the force of two photon torpedoes. "The fleet is heading into a trap."
"Yes," she said simply. She waved her hands and the map disappeared.
Anger hit like a lightning strike, sharp, fast and hot. He concentrated on his breathing, each gasp a struggle. "Why are you telling me this?" he managed to force out. "Why, when I can see what will happen but I can't stop it! Are you really such a Beast?" He automatically stretched out with the Force, searching for Leia, anyone, someone who could hear him and heed his warning. But just as it had been since his first night, he felt no one.
No one, except the Beast. She remained still, as if a statue had replaced her in the chair. Only her gaze remained vibrant, shimmering with hot emotion. "Yes, I am a Beast," she eventually said. "That's what I am. But I can think like a human. Feel like one." A short, mirthless laugh. "At least, I haven't been able to deny it these last weeks.
She rose from the chair, wincing slightly. Here," she said, handing him the device, "this is top of the line Imperial tech. It will allow you to find your friends. My shuttle is cloaked in the back garden, fueled and ready. The transponder code should allow you to escape Imperial notice. " She have him a tight smile. "You're on your own in persuading your Rebel friends to take you in."
Luke turned the device over and over in his hands. "I don't understand."
She ignored him. "I'll send a White Worker to escort you to the ship. Looma is packing your things as we speak."
He caught her slender hand in his, causing her to stop. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.
She looked down at their joined hands, then back up at him. "Let's just say someone showed me how to stop using the Force as a blunt instrument. Once I did that, many things to which I was blind became clear."
He held her yellow gaze with his – no. Not just yellow. There were flecks of green he had never seen before. A green as clear and as vibrant as an emerald. "What happened while you were away?"
She swallowed, her fingers tightening on his. Warmth spread from where they connected, traveled the length of his limbs."I was sent on a hunt by one of my Master's subordinates," she said softly. "The prey didn't deserve to be hunted. I did what I could, but his life wasn't mine to save. Now I am ensuring others won't die."
"But you're hurt," he said, fighting the urge the brush an errant curl off her face.
Her gaze dropped to the floor. "Not as much as I have hurt others in the past. Now go. You don't have much time."
"Come with me," he blurted out. "The Rebellion could use you."
"Just the Rebellion?" She raised an eyebrow and half-smirked at him.
"I-" he began, but she cut him off, with a shake of her head, the humor disappearing from her expression as quickly as it had appeared.
"I cannot. My Master still commands me. But you? I release you, Luke Skywalker. You are free to go." She let go of his hand, leaving his fingers empty and cold, and walked through the door.
"I'll return," he called after her. "I promise."
"Don't be stupid, farmer," he heard from a distance – or maybe through the Force – and she was gone.