An AU story, at the time of ANH - what would
have happened if Biggs hadn't jumped ship and had mouthed off at the
wrong moment about Luke's piloting skills?
Chapter Eleven...
and yes you've been waiting for this, and so patiently(!), so thank
you! I've updated About
Turn tonight too, and now I need sleep.... please review!
Mina
Luke
nudged back the black covers from his head uncertainly, not really
sure what he would find when his vision cleared, but having the
nagging feeling it would be neither a dark Tatooine bedroom nor a
white med bay. And he was right. The room he had thought only a dream
was the same, except perhaps the lights were burning a little
brighter. Morning?
The soft bed lined rustled against his skin
as he pushed it away reluctantly. It was warm in here, warm like you
never wanted to move again from the deep bed. Warm like distant
Tatooine. In here everything was doused shades of black and silver,
but it wasn't cold or stark for it. It was just close, and close
meant comfort right now when he felt so... alone.
He slipped
the covers back completely and sat on the edge of the bed. If he
moved slowly, he barely felt the aching remnants of Tatooine in his
muscles. Tatooine... whenever he thought of his last look on that
planet it sent nasty little shivers up his spine, the insanity of it
threatening to overwhelm him. The memories were not pleasant, but
were still not distinct either. He couldn't think about it without
getting himself wrapped up in confusion, but he couldn't not
He
slipped his feet into the dark pile of the carpet and wiggled his
toes appreciatively. Wherever he was, it didn't seem so bad. Not
nearly as bad as a bloody cliff-top beyond the Dune Sea. He frowned,
pushing unruly blonde hair back from his eyes with his fingertips.
This black... the ominous sense of darkness, it reminded him of...
something.
'Something.' Yeah, great one Skywalker. Real
useful.
He sighed and walked for the door, steps slow and
deliberate. The simple black pajamas were soft and comfortable, much
better than anything he had had back home. Surely he had been wrong -
this couldn't be Imperial detainment, could it? Detainment that gave
him a bed big enough to swallow Tosche Station and a carpet deeper
than the dunes outside his homestead? His burnt out, smoking
homestead.
He reached the doorway and it opened to his
approach. Tentatively, he placed a hand on the frame and moved into
the shadows beyond.
It was like moving through a lair; he
felt he should be pushing cobwebs from his eyes or tripping over
discarded bones. But all he saw here was the quite blinking of a few
consoles, the silent conversation area, a wide expanse of stars
winking at him encouragingly from beyond the viewport and-
"I
see you're awake."
His blood froze and his head snapped
around to the sound as his mind struggled to keep up. The dark shadow
in a far doorway stepped forward and Luke knew
His feet
compelled him forward, more mindless action than courage. It didn't
give him the nerve to speak yet, though.
The dark form...
Darth Vader. In the Tatooine sunshine he had seemed huge, avenging,
powerful. Here he seemed... well, just as huge, but less angry.
Nervous, almost; inviting, almost. Luke shivered.
"Yes...
I... thank you." The strangest thing was that he meant it.
Really. Darth Vader... the stories he'd heard were horrendous, and
yet here he was, skulking in a doorway like... like he was almost as
apprehensive as Luke. But that was ridiculous.
"You're
quite welcome." The deep bass tones rumbled, brought memories
breaking into his mind as a dark tide of memories and he found his
legs wavering. There was almost a step forward by the dark giant, but
it never got beyond an idea and Luke braced himself on the wall.
"What happened?" He asked, remembering the medics
joke about asking the right questions if you really wanted the right
answers. But what was he supposed to ask here? He felt
"You
don't remember?" He rumbled.
"Well, yes, but I don't
understand." He admitted. The small breaks in speech were little
silences that seemed to tear at him in the quite dark of the room and
Luke cautiously approached further, not 'feeling' in any danger.
After all, why would the man heal him and give him shelter just to
kill him now?
"It is rather... complicated. Sit."
The figure moved into the light and indicated the plush
sofas. Luke could do nothing but obey, swamped by the soft material
and the stars. He pushed at his hair again in what he knew was a
nervous gesture as Vader seated himself opposite Luke. The Tatooine
farmboy had a funny, creeping feeling that this wasn't the usual way
for someone like himself to be greeted by the second in command of
the Empire and he bit his lip in apprehension. Realising the childish
gesture, he quickly set the his jaw into something resembling
determination and waited for the dark figure to continue. Vader
was... strangely compelling and Luke had to resist the urge to lean
in conspiratorially, fascinated. After a while, Vader spoke, but not
before carefully studying the boy in front of him. Luke gripped the
edge of the seat and held on.
"When you fly, what do you
feel?"
The question made him blink and he stuttered for
words. This was not what he'd expected. But... what had the medic
said about asking the right questions? Perhaps Vader was better at
that than he was...
"I.. I don't
"Your Uncle is no longer here to
chastise you for your words. What do you feel?" The deep voice
cut through him and Luke gave a defiant glare as the memories swam
back up.
"You killed him." He realised he was
ignoring the question. Youth told him that was not important; Vader's
growl told him it was.
"Answer me."
Luke
trembled a little and relented, having enough sense to know not to
push that tone of voice. He had heard it often enough from his uncle,
if not quite so... dangerous. "I feel... I feel like I could
close my eyes and still fly. Like... it's all laid out for me. That I
don't have to think, just to act on it. I-" He blushed
furiously, "That sounds ridiculous." He leaned back into
the sofa, as far from the dark image as he could get, and looked
away.
"No."
He risked a glance at Vader, saw
nothing of the laughter he expected there. "No?"
"You're
very strong in the Force, Luke. Easily as strong as your
father."
His head snapped around and he couldn't help but
lean forward intently, falling neatly into the trap. "You knew
my father?" This dark menace, this henchman, could he have known
lowly Luke Skywalker's father?
"I did. You are much like
him."
He blew out a breath through pursed lips, trying
desperately not to grin. Hadn't he always wanted someone to tell him
that? It made an unfamiliar warmth glow inside him and he thought it
might have been pride.
"What's the Force?"
Vader
never faltered. Had he finally asked the right question...? No, it
felt more like he'd asked completely the wrong
"The Force is... an energy field
which those sensitive to can manipulate and use. It binds all living
things together so that nothing is beyond your reach or influence, if
you are powerful enough. And you, Luke Skywalker, have the potential
to be very powerful indeed."
That stopped him in his
tracks, stopped the question that was on his lips about his father.
Instead, he turned to gape at the Dark Lord. "Me?" The word
was quite and small, almost not daring to be voiced. "But
I've... I've never
"That
is... not surprising."
Luke looked up from studying his
hands and stared straight into the black mask across from him, deeply
earnest. Pleading for answers. "Why?"
To his
surprise, the answer came. For the first time in too long someone was
finally replying to him. "Because your Aunt and Uncle feared you
would be a threat if you knew. And Obi-Wan wished to keep you from
me."
Luke looked puzzled, his brow wrinkling in
confusion. In the quite dark of the room there was no sound except
the respirator of Vader's suit. It reminded him of... something.
Something comforting and warm. Great; another memory to try and
rediscover.
"Obi-Wan?"
"Kenobi."
Vader said, the word dripping with hatred.
"Old Ben."
Luke nodded in understanding, and then faltered. "And he
tried..." He paled, wished his voice would continue working but
it refused point-blank as the memories reappeared.
Vader
watched him silently until Luke shuck the fear from him like a dirty
cloak. "Why? Why did he do that." He was on his feet before
he knew it, fists balling. He barely managed to stop himself from
stalking towards Vader.
Vader seemed unalarmed, maybe even a
little amused, a little pleased. Then it was wiped from his voice as
he spoke. "He feared you and the power you could
wield."
"Feared me? Power? I can't – I can't do
that. I'm just-"
"You're are Luke Skywalker, the
hidden son of Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. You can do that and
much, much more." There was little room for argument, only
for... what was that? Pride, maybe?
Luke kept a calm demeanor,
to his own wonderment, and gazed down at the Dark Lord. "I can?"
he asked quietly.
"Yes."
There was still a
question here he needed to ask... what was it? It tickled the edges
of his mind, frustrating and elusive. He tried to ignore it. "How?"
It was almost a whisper and the Dark Lord leaned in closer to him.
Luke didn't flinch when he took his arm.
"Sit
here."
Luke obeyed, sitting on the low table directly in
front of Vader, his eyes wide and his mind gaping. Vader touched a
cool black glove to his temple and Luke stared uncomprehending.
"What...?" The words faltered as he felt another elusive
question fragment as he stared into the dark mask.
The
starlight fell across them both, the only light in the room, and the
air was signing in anticipation. His lips were suddenly dry at the
seriousness of Vader's voice. "Remember when you're
flying?"
"Yes."
"Can you... imagine
what that feels like? To
"
"
He
let his eyes flutter shut, seeing Vader through his lashes.
All
right... remember what it's like to fly. He let his mind wander back
to those moments, those blissful, far away moments on Tatooine when
there was nothing but the skyhopper and The Needle. It all seemed so
simple now. The hand on his temple tightened a little as he felt the
awareness flood him and he gasped.
"What... what is
that? It's like..."
It was like... like storm rains on
his home planet, like snow on the dunes and water in the canyons.
Like nothing he'd ever experienced and yet something he knew
Instinctively,
he reached deeper for that warm and ebb and flow, drinking it like
fine wine he never would have had on Tatooine; like something both
alien and completely natural. It was... like a dream.
He
reached too deep and was suddenly panicking, power rushing through
him uncontrolled and he stopped breathing, started drowning-
"Luke?"
The voice was tentative, gentle,
worried. He snapped his eyes fully open and sucked in a breath,
wanting to both choke and laugh at the same time.
"Slowly."
Vader warned him and he nodded, gasping and grinning.
"Wow..."
Vader laughed – actually laughed
Luke felt a little
foolish, but he meant it.
"Was that... was that the
Force?" He turned bright, blinding blue eyes on the Dark Lord
and the other nodded sagely, his presence beaming even if the mask
betrayed no emotion. The Dark Lord was overwhelmed as he was. He felt
"That was... amazing
The gloved-hand left his temple. Vader leaned back from him,
as if to study the small farmboy. "You have much potential in
you, Luke. That didn't even scrape the surface."
"I..."
He didn't know what to say. It was all too much.
"I can
show you more, how to tame it to your will, how to use it and
understand it." It was more than an offer, it was a statement.
Luke looked curiously at the dark figure, skin crawling and
he wasn't sure why. It sounded wonderful. It felt
"I have to
leave now, there is important business I must attend to." There
was sincere regret in his voice. Luke's expression fell and he
wondered why.
"But-"
"I must." The
word was as much to convince Vader as it was for Luke. "The
Death Star-"
"Death Star?" Luke bit his tongue
at interrupting the Dark Lord, expecting a punishment. None
came.
"Look out the viewport, Luke."
The Dark
Lord stood, towering over the seated boy and the starlight made
patterns on his mask. He whisked around with a last look at Luke as
he glanced out the window – and gasped. There was... it was...
indescribable. Huge swathes of metal structures and pinnacles rising
from a steel-grey surface that stretched to a distant horizon. Like
the view on a planet, only metal and in space...
He turned in
askance to the Dark Lord, but V
---
"I didn't
ask the right question..." He murmured, playing with the edge of
the sofa with his fingers.
Vader had been gone some time now,
and although lavishly furnished, there was little to do in these
rooms. He supposed Vader intended him to sleep, but he had done
entirely too much of that lately. He plucked at the black fabric and
it came loose in little peaks from the cushion before he smoothed it
back down again. He was laying stretched out on the soft material but
his feet still didn't reach the other end. He wiggled his toes
against the soft material, luxuriating in the feeling.
But...
even this comfort was nothing compared to what he'd felt earlier.
That heat that didn't burn. The cool that didn't freeze. The
comforting that didn't choke and the understanding that didn't
overwhelm. It was... delicious. Utterly. There was no better word for
it. Delicious.
He played with the sofa edge again, trying to
take his mind off of that feeling, away from the temptation to reach
out again. Because now he knew there was a way through to that...
whatever it was - energy field? - he wanted more.
But....
He pushed up off the sofa and sat on it's
edge, chin in his hands, elbows resting on the soft black pajama
fabric. Well, why not? Who was it going to hurt just to repeat the
experience? He was insanely curious about it, needing to discover and
understand it, desperate for more.
He
was sure it couldn't hurt...
He let his mind drift back to
Vader's instruction and, quicker than he really expected, that warmth
was there for him again. It wrapped around him as he leant back
against the sofa; as he leant into the strong, warm arms of it's
embrace. It was... yes; delicious. How had he not seen it before?
He lay out flat on the material, staring at the stars but
seeing nothing. Purely feeling. He held a hand out in front of his
face, and it felt fuzzy, removed from reality. He was sure there were
little tendrils twirling like cobwebs around his fingers, splayed
against the star-scape. He smiled at that, at coming back to the
analogy of a predators lair.
"Caught in the web now, I
suppose? And I
Experimentally, he tried to
Senses
jumped back to him like a vid screen finding its focus and they
plagued him with information.
His arms hurt, little pinpricks
running up and down his skin. His eyes were sore with tears; his
mouth stung with the taste of blood and citrus fruit. His skin
His panic
didn't bring him back out; it only pulled him deeper into the
sensations as a jolt of electricity ran up his spine on sharp little
claws and started scratching away at his mind. He yelped; screamed;
pleaded. Soft white skin bled red under the needles of the serums
they injected him with.
Him? No –
He
tried to pull away from the presence but it shrieked at him and
clutched closer, desperate for solace from the pain and the endless
questions. And he cried with it, embracing it because there was
nothing else he could do, murmuring soothing little thoughts and
feeling tears bleeding down his cheeks.
Then Vader appeared,
dark mask demanding he/she answer, and Luke felt the resolve of the
little, frightened presence and tried to help her. Tried to push away
the feeling that she
Panic and pain took them in a
black tide and they drifted through the torture, together, clutching
so tight they could never have been snapped apart. She buried herself
in him and he sought freedom from the lancing pain in her soft
thoughts, in her long, long chestnut hair and sad brown eyes.
Mentally, he saw her, beautiful and radiant and bleeding. And she saw
him, blue eyes swirling in confusion. He clasped her petaled hand
close in his and screamed as the pain ripped through him, shredding
his control and leaving him abandoned to the Force and this strange,
familiar presence.
In his muddy, false-vision, Vader's head
snapped upwards. Up and up and up, and in his starry true-vision he
felt darkness envelop him in sudden wash of fear and confusion that
was not his own.
He cried out, felt the strange girl's mental
hand slip from his own, and drowned.
Mina.