Frozen Chapter 1

By Zekkers

Zekkers@juno.com

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Summery: AU. The battle at Hoth ends up a bit differently.

Warning: I'm ignoring all books, magazines, comics, and any movies released in the last 10 years. Just ANH and ESB here folks.

////

Luke stumbled in the snow. Sounds of the Imperial attack on the Rebel outpost thundered in the distance. Luke pushed himself to his feet, the icy breath of Hoth stinging his skin. He had only a little ways to go and he would find his waiting ship, and be off this ball of ice- hopefully forever.

He crested the rise of the frozen drift. The prickly bite of the windblown ice intensified with the wind. It briefly reminded him of the sand dunes and wind-blown grit of his youth. If only he could be that warm, right now. His hands were numb; he couldn't feel his toes.

He saw his ship, the orange markings standing out in the snow basin below him. He threw himself forward, half running, half stumbling through the thick whiteness that grabbed at his ankles.

Almost there-

"FREEZE!" The word was shouted into the brittle air. Suddenly, Skywalker saw a whole squad of Snowtroopers rise out of the drifts like snow-wraiths. They surrounded him, white armor and white blasters blending into the terrain. Too many to fight, too many to run.

Luke Skywalker slowly raised his hands. "I'm already freezing!" The Imperials didn't think it was funny, the stun blast hit him square in the back.

/

"Sir! Report on the prisoners, sir!" The Snowtrooper was bristling with over-enthusiasm. The Lieutenant hoped for good news, Lord Vader was very upset on the recent escape of the Millennium Falcon.

"Report"

"Sir! One of pilots taken at the ambush point was identified as Luke Skywalker, sir!"

"Luke Skywalker?!" The Lieutenant was stunned.

"Yes sir!" The Snowtrooper almost sounded as giddy as a child opening birthday gifts. Skywalker had recently been placed on the Imperial most wanted list, for destruction of the Death Star. Lord Vader had issued orders that the Rebel be placed under the strictest security and held without damages for his personal attentions.

"Where is he?"

"With the other prisoners, sir!"

"Well, get him isolated, I want a whole squad watching him! And he better be unharmed- Lord Vader ordered it!" The Lieutenant was both nervous and ecstatic. If he could deliver this prize to Lord Vader, he would be rewarded, but if something happened to the Rebel, he knew he was dead.

"Yes sir!"

The Lieutenant decided to follow his Snowtrooper. Blood lust ran high for this particular Rebel, many of the Imperial troops had friends or family stationed on the Death Star when this Rebel destroyed it. It would take careful watching to be sure no one took personal revenge on this particular pilot.

/

The prisoner holding pen was a makeshift affair. The durasteel cage was haphazardly welded together of whatever parts the fleeing Rebels had left behind, and Stormtroopers patrolled its exterior. The prisoners waited inside. Many were dirty, or injured. Most sat or lay unconscious on the pen's floor. The sound of soft moaning could be heard. An orange pile of flightsuited pilots littered one section- most of the returning squad had been taken, one by one, by the hidden Snowtroopers on return to their ships.

Two Rebel techs slumped against the wall next to the orange pile.

"Hist- Drake," one prisoner whispered, trying not to be heard by the patrolling troopers outside the makeshift cage.

"Oh, Zack, they got you too?" The other prisoner groggily replied.

"Yeah. But at least I got nothing to tell. But him-" The prisoner whispered, indicating a particular pilot.

"Oh no." The prisoner was shocked. This was bad.

"Yeah. Um, Drake. should we kill him?" Zack whispered, almost pleading.

"Wha-"

"Think what they'll do to him. Even if he doesn't know anything- they'll want revenge." The prisoner tried to explain.

"You're right." The man sounded sick. "It would be mercy at our hands."

"Look casual, but hurry- they're coming."

They tried to casually move over to the pile of pilots. Movement was painful, after the stun-blast. They sat on the dirty frozen floor, and reached for the pilot's throat.

The squad of troopers reached the cage, several entered as the remainder of the squad and their lieutenant kept watch. The Stormtroopers in the cage randomly stun-blasted anyone who twitched in their direction, checking faces of the prisoners.

Skywalker had started to struggle, sluggishly. He weakly gasped for air, as the two techs held on.

The lieutenant saw the three in the corner. "Over there!" The white armored group shuffled over to the prone Luke dying at the hands of his comrades. The troopers kicked the Rebel techs off the pilot, checked the purpling face.

"That's him- better take him to medical." One white armored figure commanded.

The pilot was dragged off, one trooper taking each arm.

All became quiet again in the cage, as Drake and Zack tried to catch their breath.

Someone against the wall whispered, "why did you do that?"

Drake answered, "That was Skywalker. It would have been mercy."

"Skywalker? The one who-"

"Yeah."

"Oh no." The other prisoner began to whisper a prayer to their planet's gods. Imperial mercy for the one pilot responsible for the destruction of the Empire's greatest superweapon would be horrible indeed.

/

The raven form stood on the bridge of the Executor, masked eyes taking in the frozen sphere of Hoth. The hiss of its respirator filled the bridge. It was a soft noise, yet it carried to every corner of the large room, past all natural expectations.

Admiral Piett deferentially walked up to the shadowed man. "My lord, the prisoner is regaining conousness."

"Bring him here."

"Yes, my lord."

Shortly thereafter, the turbolift at the back of the bridge hissed open and six Stormtroopers marched out, two with the prisoner between them. The Stormtroopers were obviously holding him up. The Rebel prisoner staggered between them, unwilling or unable to take his own feet, as he was half dragged to the Lord Vader.

The two Stormtroopers stopped, the form slumped exhausted between them. His head lolled, his flight suit torn and dirty. The prisoner coughed, weakly spasming, as Darth Vader inspected the bruised form of the Rebel, the pilot. Vader could feel the terrified thoughts of the bridge crew, the Stormtroopers. They were terrified of their Dark Lord, yet there was also an undercurrent of morbid expectation. They expected him to do something horrific to this prisoner for revenge of the Imperial Death Star. He would take his time.

The prisoner pulled himself to his feet, pushing himself up, dazed. He coughed again, bleary eyes unfocused as they tried to look around. He spoke, hoarse whisper "Wha- Where?-"

Lord Vader's hand reached out, took the Rebel's chin, tilting it. Revealing the thick purple bruises on his neck.

"Admiral." The voice was commanding, and harsh. The Rebel's eyes began to focus. He caught the vision of who was before him, who was touching him. He began to struggle, weakly. Vader ignored it, hand firm, as the Admiral came up, snapping to attention.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I said undamaged." The Rebel continued to struggle, chin in a black vice. The Rebel started to cough, again.

"I'm sorry my lord. He was held in a group holding cell before he was identified. Some of his comrades tried to strangle him." Darth Vader could feel the itching fear of his Admiral, but he ignored it. He knew what had happened, and it was only one more tool to use against this Rebel.

The Rebel heard the officer, he glared at the Imperial, head still in the Dark Lord's hand. He wheezed out "You lie."

Darth Vader released the Rebel. His respirator hissed. "My Admiral would not lie to me." The Rebel continued to weakly thrash, the Stormtrooper guards holding him up more than they were holding him still. The Dark Lord turned to the Stormtrooper escort, "His weapons?"

"His gear is in the medical bay, my lord. But he did have this." The Stormtrooper held out a metallic cylinder.

The Dark Lord turned the lightsaber in his hands, inspecting it. He noticed that the Rebel's eyes were glued to the weapon and that the Rebel had become helplessly furious.

"Give that back!" The Rebel croaked, "It's mine!"

The Admiral smirked, but Vader continued to casually inspect the saber. Lord Vader replied, unconcerned, "No, it is not yours- you did not build it." A moment's pause, "Who gave it to you?" Idle curiosity hummed in the mechanical voice.

Righteous anger burned in the Rebel pilot's eyes. "Kenobi" he hissed.

"Obi-wan? Ah yes, that old man. I wonder why he wanted you to have it?" The same curiosity, almost a casual conversation; but the Rebel spat a reply.

"My father wanted me to have it. Anakin Skywalker."

"Anakin?" The Dark form shifted, lost in thought.

"You should know- you killed him," the hoarse voice grated. The Rebel coughed and wheezed, his throat a raspy bruised mass.

"Anakin Skywalker? I have killed many Jedi, young one, but he was not one of them. I did not kill Skywalker. It would be far more accurate to say that Kenobi was responsible for his death." The Dark Lord paused, letting that immense statement sink in. Then he continued, softly.

"If he's even dead, at all."

Darth Vader turned, suddenly. His dark cape billowing behind him as he walked away. The stunned Rebel watching the retreating form in silence, unable to make a reply.

The mechanical voice rumbled over the bridge. "Take him away, clean him up, have him changed. Bring him to my quarters. No damages, Admiral." The Dark Lord was gone.

The Admiral motioned to the guards, mind awash with the possibilities. It appeared that Darth Vader would take his time with this one. The Dark Lord would play with his new toy. The Admiral smiled. He had a nephew on the Death Star, and he trusted that Lord Vader's revenge would be thorough indeed.