Frozen - Chapter 2
Darth Vader sat in the meditation pod in his quarters the respirator hissing as he concentrated on each breath. He had waited for this day. Waited and watched, plotted and planned. When the fleet had lost the Millennium Falcon, he had nearly screamed in rage. It had been nothing but a tool, a tool to get his son. But even then, his son had already been in his custody, Darth Vader himself unaware.
He thought about his son. He had been unable to gain any information through Imperial spies on what Luke knew of him, knew of his father. He had been forced to fish for information from the boy himself, placing the dark lord at a disadvantage for their first meeting. But then, the boy had given him everything he needed to know right at the beginning.
Vader now knew that Luke knew nothing. Nothing true, at any rate. Obi-wan had stuffed the boy's head with lies. Lies designed to mutilate any relationship he could have had with the boy. Lies designed to set Luke up to become nothing but the Jedi's tool. A tool meant to be sent against him, Lord Vader. A tool meant to kill.
But he would attempt to turn this tool on its makers. Luke would most likely be furious when he was shown the truth. And if Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, could shepherd his son through that rage- the tool would shatter in the Rebellion's hands, cutting deep. With luck, the tool could be reforged into an unbreakable blade, but the dark lord would have to let the Force guide him. If he could not be reforged the broken pieces of his son would be gathered together and kept hidden. At his castle, perhaps.
It grieved the Dark Lord to take this risk, to break his son. But it had to be done. Nothing less would free Luke from the enslaving lies under which he now lived. Even now, it had begun. Luke would be reshaped, transformed into what Darth Vader required. The method was subtle, but it had worked for thousands of years. Skywalker would be striped of everything that he was, and then he would be rebuilt anew.
/
Luke craned his neck after the retreating Darth Vader as he was shuffled off the bridge. He had said that he hadn't killed Luke's father Anakin- that Obi-wan had! But that had to be lie, didn't it? Jedi didn't kill Jedi, did they? Luke was shoved back on the turbolift, still unable to stand on his own. And he had said that his father was still alive!! Well, maybe. Darth Vader had actually sounded uncertain. But wouldn't his father want to find him, and if his father had really been a Jedi- wouldn't he know where Luke had been? The Dark Lord had to be lying. He just had to be.
Luke noticed that they had taken him to the medical bay. He was shoved on a table, while ten Stormtroopers stood guard. Four medical orderlies and one Imperial doctor came over. The doctor was looking at a small datapad, nodding to himself.
"Very well. Remove his uniform." The doctor's voice was nasal. His face was thin and pinched and topped with a few gray hairs. The man was short, and his Imperial uniform was spotless.
Two of the white-jumpsuited orderlies began to cut the pilot's flightsuit off.
The medical scissors cut through the flightsuit, severing circuits and breaking seals. The orderlies cast it aside as useless trash. "His undergarments as well." The nasally voice of the doctor could be easily heard over Luke's feeble attempts to struggle. The orderlies sheared those off also.
When they were done, they stepped back, leaving a naked shivering Luke on the table.
"Bathe him." The doctor clipped.
"Yes, major." One of the orderlies said as they reached forward, grabbing Luke, hauling him to the sonic shower. Skywalker gripped his fear- trying to shove it out. The doctor had military rank. Every Rebel knew that the only Imperial doctors with military rank were the ones in charge of interrogations.
As the vibrations of the shower hit Luke, He remembered Darth Vader's words 'Clean him up, bring him to my quarters.' Skywalker tried not to remember the few stories Leia had been willing to share about her time under the Dark Lord's care. It's been over a year and she still occasionally wakes up screaming from nightmares.
They hauled him back to the table in the medical room. They were rough, their hands firmly forcing him around. He was strapped down on the icy metal table, still naked.
"Scan him. Test his blood. I want a complete evaluation."
Equipment was brought out, a blood sample was taken. He was scanned head to foot. The orderlies reported to the major, brisk military voices snapping through the chill medical bay air.
"Rebels must not have good medical benefits. He's missing half of his vaccinations against known diseases, sir."
"Nothing broken. Neck's in bad shape, however."
"Treat his neck, vaccinate him."
An orderly raised an eyebrow at the doctor.
The doctor smiled a cruel little smile at the shivering Skywalker, strapped to the bed. "Lord Vader has requested that his new guest be in perfect health before he begins."
Skywalker closed his eyes in horror as the orderlies went to work. Medication was slathered on his neck, and he was given multiple injections. Skywalker didn't want to open his eyes. Maybe this would all go away. It had to be a dream. The doctor noticed Skywalker's growing unease, his smile broadened.
The mincing step of a droid made Luke open his eyes. He glanced over at the sound. A silver and black protocol droid had come into the room, carrying clothes over one arm.
It walked up to the doctor, who glanced at it. "I am C5PO, protocol droid. Lord Vader has sent me to help prepare the guest." Skywalker couldn't believe it. The droid even sounded like C3PO. Probably all protocol droids sounded like that, but it gave Luke a brief breath of hope- couldn't this please be a dream?
"Yes, I was informed you were coming. He's right there." The doctor snipped back. He hated droids. Any good Imperial did, and this one sounded so whinny.
The droid walked over to Skywalker, who was still strapped to the bed. "I have prepared his clothes. Oh my, he needs a haircut. Can you please move him to a sitting position?"
The doctor motioned, the orderlies moved Skywalker. The droid cut his hair and had him dressed.
"There, " the droid said, "that looks much better. You look presentable now, sir." The droid turned, stepping back to retrieve a mirror. Luke got to his feet, looking at himself.
He had on black shinny knee high boots, black military pants with crisp creases, and a close fitting purple shirt with green piping. His hair had been cut and gelled into a rigid style. Gone were the loose-fitting clothes, the shaggy hairstyle so popular with the Rebels. Luke swallowed, and whispered, "I look like an Imperial."
The doctor laughed. The doctor's Dark Lord was a master at the arts that he felt he had barely begun to learn. As soon as the orders had come down on what Darth Vader had wanted done, the doctor had known what was going to happen. Lord Vader was going to break the Rebel pilot. Not break him into some quivering ball of fear, no, that was too easy. By the time he was done, Lord Vader would have a faithful servant. It only remained to be seen how useful this servant would be after the Dark Lord was finished.
/
T5-168, Stormtrooper guard, had watched the little drama down in the Medical Bay with fascination. This man was responsible for the death of over a million of the Emperor's best personnel? This man was responsible for the death of countless officers, technicians, pilots, and soldiers like himself? This scrawny, scarred little man? He was practically a boy! Of course, Lord Vader was going to start working on him soon, and the Rebel knew it. The Rebel was looking a very painful, drawn-out, and messy death in the face. He was actually holding together rather well.
The Major from Intel, the doctor, had finished his work and ordered T5-168, along with all the other guards, to take the Rebel to Lord Vader. T5-168 slapped binders on the Rebel and went to grab him by the arm. The major snapped at him, "Careful! No bruises, no damages- Lord Vader will be most displeased."
"Yes sir." T5-168 lightened his grip. The Rebel came along, desperation in his eyes as he was escorted to the turbolift.
T5-168 kept his eyes on the Rebel. The man squared his shoulders, raising his chin. Desperation became solid determination. Resignation to death became his strength. T5-168 wondered how long the Rebel would keep his pride before Lord Vader broke him into a pleading puddle of flesh.
The turbolift stopped, they marched out. The Rebel walked like an officer, the Stormtroopers somehow becoming his honor escort.
They reached Vader's quarters. The door swished open at their approach, hissing like the soft moan of a sleeping predator. T5-168 hated this room. Lord Vader never bothered to personally kill anyone lower than an officer, so T5-168 knew he was fairly safe; but the room smelled sterile. Like no living thing resided within, only the dead.
The group of Stormtroopers marched in, the Rebel in their center. Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, was waiting.
The Dark Lord was standing on the far side of the room like a statue etched in stone. Darkness clung to him like a wraith. The guards stopped, waiting for directions from their lord. The silence dragged out, as the feeling that something evil, something otherworldly, was watching grew in the silent room. T5-168 glanced over his shoulder with his eyes, not daring to move his head.
The Rebel was staring back at Lord Vader, eyes locked with the Death's Head mask. It was obvious that he was nervous, but he held on, refusing to back down. The feeling that death was stalking the room continued to grow. The Rebel finally blinked, glanced down. The pressure in the room lessened.
Darth Vader stirred. His voice grated across the room, "You cleaned up well."
The Rebel looked calmly back, composed. "All ready for my funeral."
The Dark Lord paused, considering, "No. Your funeral is still a long way off." With that implied threat, the Lord Vader walked up to the Rebel. "Come." The ebony cape fluttered behind the Sith as Luke was hauled after him.
/
One Stormtrooper pulled out the empty chair at the table while the other shoved the Rebel pilot into it. The Rebel's eyes shifted over the room, taking in the table's other occupants. The bridge crew of the Executor stared back at him in silence as Darth Vader took his place at the head of the table.
Fine china graced the large wooden table. A Stormtrooper took the crisp white napkin off the Rebel's plate and put it in his lap before scooting the chair back in. A serving droid poured the white wine that would go with the first course. The bridge crew's officer's mess was more of a fine restaurant than a cafeteria.
The Admiral was sitting in the chair to the right of Lord Vader. His steely eyes took in the Rebel's newest appearance. Crisp civilian clothes, new hairstyle, and binders made an unusual combination for this unexpected guest. Interesting, he thought, Lord Vader appears to be playing mind games with the Rebel Scum. I wonder why he brought his new toy here? The Dark One has never come to dinner before.
The Rebel kept looking at the different officers, glancing at the dark lord. The first dish was served, green noodles in a white sauce. All eyes looked to Lord Vader, he nodded, and they began to eat. The silence continued to stretch out, none of the officers daring the normal chit-chat with the Dark Lord in the room. Great, thought the Admiral, I was at least hoping to talk to my officers about what they had heard about what Lord Vader was doing with the Rebel, but now he's here, and nothing is happening. This is boring. The Admiral glanced at the young man.
The Rebel had not touched his food, his hands remained in his lap as he stole glances at the Dark Lord, glaring all the while. Darth Vader's head tilted forward, daring the Rebel to speak.
Amazingly, the Rebel took him up on the dare. "What if I don't want to eat at the table of a murder?" His voice was young, but strong. He did not seem afraid. And he was not talking to anyone but the Dark Lord. The Admiral could not believe it- this man cared to object to Lord Vader's methods? The Rebel with the blood of over a million lives' on his hands? He noticed that many of the other officers felt the same way.
Darth Vader's voice rumbled a reply. "I have killed many, ordered many more- but I have never been as efficient as you. There were more than a million on the Death Star. You killed them all, with one shot. I'm quite impressed with you, in a way." Irony dripped from the words.
The Rebel's face flashed guilt. He buried it as he replied, "There were more on Alderaan."
"I did not give that order, Tarkin did."
"You could have stopped it." The reply had no heat. The Rebel was military enough to recognize the impossibility of his own statement. The Rebel began to play with his food, fork twirling the noodles.
"Possibly." The Dark Lord's reply surprised the Admiral. "The Alderanians were a peacefully people, but they were anything but loyal. They proved that afterward. Many of the survivors joined the Rebellion." Darth Vader continued to sit stone still. The Admiral continued to slowly eat his food, listening intently.
The Rebel twirled his fork in the sauce, seeming to regroup his thoughts. He looked at his food, looked at Vader, then took a bite. Took another. He methodically finished his dish, deep in thought. His binders were holding his hands together, making eating awkward, but he managed. The Rebel took a drink of his wine, washing down the noodles.
Does the Rebel even realize that he let Lord Vader win that round? The Admiral wondered.
The dishes were cleared, the next course was served. Dewback sautéed in Trill Brandy and mushrooms with green beans. Red wine was poured. The crystal glittered, the silver shone.
The Rebel leaned back, his face still holding that thoughtful expression. He swallowed, and spoke softly, his voice carrying across the table.
"Does it ever bother you to serve an Emperor that is so overwhelmingly stupid?" The Rebel paused as the room froze from the audacity of the prisoner being so insulting. "I mean, recruitment tripled after Alderaan and is still holding steady. Every time you Imperials blast through a system we get an inrush of new recruits, supplies, and support."
The Admiral growled back at the Rebel, unable to control himself, "They were never loyal to begin with!" The Admiral's mouth snapped shut, afraid he had somehow offended his lord.
"Not really." Skywalker returned. "Over a third of all recruits were, at one time, completely loyal Imperials. But they were somehow betrayed by your government. Usually their families had unintentionally lived close to an Alliance Cell. The Imperial policies for retributions in an area for Rebel involvement would result in the family's death."
Darth Vader's mechanical voice grated out, "Your point?"
"We have a saying in the Alliance. 'The Emperor is our best recruiter'. If he wasn't such a bloody-minded. well. He does more harm than good."
Lord Vader seemed to be considering the Rebel's claim, but the Admiral could not let it slide. "You exaggerate. The people understand the need for our actions to keep the peace."
The Rebel looked at the Admiral, disgust in his face. "They understand? When their children, their brothers and sisters, or their parents are killed because some Alliance member might have been spotted in the area? They understand all right- they understand that we've been speaking the truth- and they rush out and join us."
"A few instances of misunderstanding. You are still exaggerating." The Admiral sniffed, turning to his food.
"A few? I was 18 when my Aunt and Uncle bought two droids from some Jawas to help out on the farm. Turned out that the droids had been carrying stolen information, information on your Death Star. But we didn't know that. I was off in the fields when the Stormtroopers came. When I came back, the house was burned to the ground, my Aunt and Uncle nothing but charred remains."
The Rebel paused, eating a few bites. He continued, voice bitter with remembered pain. "Took the droids straight to the Alliance. They threw me in a snub fighter. I blew up your Death Star, a tombstone for my family's grave."
Silence gripped the table as the Rebel and the Imperial officers turned to their food. The Admiral kept wondering when the Lord Vader was going to say something, but the dark lord stayed still as stone, silent as the grave.
The Admiral tried to decide if he was supposed to say something when one of his officers spoke up. "This does not prove you were loyal to the Empire before that incident."
The Rebel replied, voice dripping in amused irony. "My application for the Imperial Naval Academy was down in my bedroom. I had filled it out- I was going to join up at the end of the next season. If the Imperial Stormtroopers had just taken the droids and left, I might have even ended up on this ship, as one of your TIE fighter pilots."
Well, thought the Admiral, looks like the Rebel wins that round.
Darth Vader spoke, deep voice cutting the air, "I have seen the tape of that incident. Your Uncle did not cooperate with the authorities."
"I doubt that would have made any difference. Palpatine's policies call for blood."
A minor officer came in, snapping to attention. The petty officer's eyes glanced at the Rebel, then widened in surprise.
The Admiral looked at the man, disappointed in his lack of professionalism, called out "What is it?"
"Sir, we have received a message from the Emperor. He requests Lord Vader contact him." The petty officer looked straight at the Admiral, ignoring Lord Vader. It would break protocol for a minor officer to speak directly to the Dark Lord, until spoken to.
"Have the bridge make contact." Darth Vader said, "I will take it in my quarters." The Dark Lord got up and walked out, leaving the Rebel at the table.
The room was silent for a few breaths, until the Darth Vader was well gone. Then the Admiral turned his steely gaze on the Rebel, who had returned to his food. "So, scum, have you been enjoying our hospitality so far?"
The Rebel glanced at the Admiral like he was a complete idiot. "So far."
"Looking forward to tonight?" The sneering Admiral said, words digging into Skywalker's fears.
Luke shrugged, giving his best Sabacc face. "Beats talking to you."
/
Lord Vader kneeled on the transmission disk, bowing before his Master. The looming face hovered over him, its glowing eyes boring into Vader's bowed helmet.
"You have the boy?" The Emperor crackled, voice unsteady with age.
"Yes, my master." Vader replied, mechanical voice booming out.
"Well- how is he?" The Emperor sneered. He had made it quite clear to Darth Vader that the Dark Lord could look for the boy, but only if he proved strong enough in the Force to be of some worth.
"Quite strong, almost entirely untrained, and completely ignorant of his heritage."
"How ignorant?" The Emperor questioned, compemplating the situation.
"Kenobi told him that his father, Anakin Skywalker, was betrayed and murdered by Darth Vader." The Dark Lord tried to remove all emotion from his voice. It would not do to let his master realize how personally interested he was beginning to become about Luke.
The Emperor laughed, an evil crackle coming over the transmission. "Perfect! The Jedi lied to him, he will be ours." The crackle died to a wheeze as the Emperor collected himself. He leaned forward, licking his lips as he grinned in anticipation. "Now, my servant, you must make him angry. Have the remainder of his squad killed before his eyes. Let him feel rage, show him how to use it to gain power through the darkside of the Force.
The Dark Lord cautiously replied, "My master, most Rebels care deeply about their men. I do not wish to damage any loyalty that he will feel towards us."
The Emperor waved an emancipated hand, dismissing the thought. "The darkside will make him greedy for power, for the status I can give him. In time he will forget that they even existed."
"As you wish." The Dark form rumbled. "When do you want him brought before you?"
The Emperor thought. "When he is ready to kneel to me. It should not take too long, should it Lord Vader?"
"No, my master."
"Very well, keep me informed of his progress." The Emperor cut the transmission.
Darth Vader rose to his feet, went to the console and sent orders to the detention center. He used the Force to probe down to the officer's mess, were Luke was finishing his meal. Skywalker had just accused the Imperial Forces of six different bombing runs on Imperial citizens that had failed to kill even one Rebel. Lord Vader realized that his bridge crew was barely holding on to their end of the debate. Like most Imperial officers, they were purposefully kept quite ignorant of the larger effects of the Empire's policies and effectiveness.
The Dark Lord suddenly realized that if he didn't keep Skywalker isolated from the crew, the boy might be able to start a mutiny. He was quite well informed, and thoroughly saturated with Rebel propaganda. It didn't help that he also had a good dose of personal charisma.
Wonderful, Vader fumed as he went to collect his son. My only child had been stuffed full of nonsense and I have to straighten him out or my master will kill him.
Darth Vader sat in the meditation pod in his quarters the respirator hissing as he concentrated on each breath. He had waited for this day. Waited and watched, plotted and planned. When the fleet had lost the Millennium Falcon, he had nearly screamed in rage. It had been nothing but a tool, a tool to get his son. But even then, his son had already been in his custody, Darth Vader himself unaware.
He thought about his son. He had been unable to gain any information through Imperial spies on what Luke knew of him, knew of his father. He had been forced to fish for information from the boy himself, placing the dark lord at a disadvantage for their first meeting. But then, the boy had given him everything he needed to know right at the beginning.
Vader now knew that Luke knew nothing. Nothing true, at any rate. Obi-wan had stuffed the boy's head with lies. Lies designed to mutilate any relationship he could have had with the boy. Lies designed to set Luke up to become nothing but the Jedi's tool. A tool meant to be sent against him, Lord Vader. A tool meant to kill.
But he would attempt to turn this tool on its makers. Luke would most likely be furious when he was shown the truth. And if Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, could shepherd his son through that rage- the tool would shatter in the Rebellion's hands, cutting deep. With luck, the tool could be reforged into an unbreakable blade, but the dark lord would have to let the Force guide him. If he could not be reforged the broken pieces of his son would be gathered together and kept hidden. At his castle, perhaps.
It grieved the Dark Lord to take this risk, to break his son. But it had to be done. Nothing less would free Luke from the enslaving lies under which he now lived. Even now, it had begun. Luke would be reshaped, transformed into what Darth Vader required. The method was subtle, but it had worked for thousands of years. Skywalker would be striped of everything that he was, and then he would be rebuilt anew.
/
Luke craned his neck after the retreating Darth Vader as he was shuffled off the bridge. He had said that he hadn't killed Luke's father Anakin- that Obi-wan had! But that had to be lie, didn't it? Jedi didn't kill Jedi, did they? Luke was shoved back on the turbolift, still unable to stand on his own. And he had said that his father was still alive!! Well, maybe. Darth Vader had actually sounded uncertain. But wouldn't his father want to find him, and if his father had really been a Jedi- wouldn't he know where Luke had been? The Dark Lord had to be lying. He just had to be.
Luke noticed that they had taken him to the medical bay. He was shoved on a table, while ten Stormtroopers stood guard. Four medical orderlies and one Imperial doctor came over. The doctor was looking at a small datapad, nodding to himself.
"Very well. Remove his uniform." The doctor's voice was nasal. His face was thin and pinched and topped with a few gray hairs. The man was short, and his Imperial uniform was spotless.
Two of the white-jumpsuited orderlies began to cut the pilot's flightsuit off.
The medical scissors cut through the flightsuit, severing circuits and breaking seals. The orderlies cast it aside as useless trash. "His undergarments as well." The nasally voice of the doctor could be easily heard over Luke's feeble attempts to struggle. The orderlies sheared those off also.
When they were done, they stepped back, leaving a naked shivering Luke on the table.
"Bathe him." The doctor clipped.
"Yes, major." One of the orderlies said as they reached forward, grabbing Luke, hauling him to the sonic shower. Skywalker gripped his fear- trying to shove it out. The doctor had military rank. Every Rebel knew that the only Imperial doctors with military rank were the ones in charge of interrogations.
As the vibrations of the shower hit Luke, He remembered Darth Vader's words 'Clean him up, bring him to my quarters.' Skywalker tried not to remember the few stories Leia had been willing to share about her time under the Dark Lord's care. It's been over a year and she still occasionally wakes up screaming from nightmares.
They hauled him back to the table in the medical room. They were rough, their hands firmly forcing him around. He was strapped down on the icy metal table, still naked.
"Scan him. Test his blood. I want a complete evaluation."
Equipment was brought out, a blood sample was taken. He was scanned head to foot. The orderlies reported to the major, brisk military voices snapping through the chill medical bay air.
"Rebels must not have good medical benefits. He's missing half of his vaccinations against known diseases, sir."
"Nothing broken. Neck's in bad shape, however."
"Treat his neck, vaccinate him."
An orderly raised an eyebrow at the doctor.
The doctor smiled a cruel little smile at the shivering Skywalker, strapped to the bed. "Lord Vader has requested that his new guest be in perfect health before he begins."
Skywalker closed his eyes in horror as the orderlies went to work. Medication was slathered on his neck, and he was given multiple injections. Skywalker didn't want to open his eyes. Maybe this would all go away. It had to be a dream. The doctor noticed Skywalker's growing unease, his smile broadened.
The mincing step of a droid made Luke open his eyes. He glanced over at the sound. A silver and black protocol droid had come into the room, carrying clothes over one arm.
It walked up to the doctor, who glanced at it. "I am C5PO, protocol droid. Lord Vader has sent me to help prepare the guest." Skywalker couldn't believe it. The droid even sounded like C3PO. Probably all protocol droids sounded like that, but it gave Luke a brief breath of hope- couldn't this please be a dream?
"Yes, I was informed you were coming. He's right there." The doctor snipped back. He hated droids. Any good Imperial did, and this one sounded so whinny.
The droid walked over to Skywalker, who was still strapped to the bed. "I have prepared his clothes. Oh my, he needs a haircut. Can you please move him to a sitting position?"
The doctor motioned, the orderlies moved Skywalker. The droid cut his hair and had him dressed.
"There, " the droid said, "that looks much better. You look presentable now, sir." The droid turned, stepping back to retrieve a mirror. Luke got to his feet, looking at himself.
He had on black shinny knee high boots, black military pants with crisp creases, and a close fitting purple shirt with green piping. His hair had been cut and gelled into a rigid style. Gone were the loose-fitting clothes, the shaggy hairstyle so popular with the Rebels. Luke swallowed, and whispered, "I look like an Imperial."
The doctor laughed. The doctor's Dark Lord was a master at the arts that he felt he had barely begun to learn. As soon as the orders had come down on what Darth Vader had wanted done, the doctor had known what was going to happen. Lord Vader was going to break the Rebel pilot. Not break him into some quivering ball of fear, no, that was too easy. By the time he was done, Lord Vader would have a faithful servant. It only remained to be seen how useful this servant would be after the Dark Lord was finished.
/
T5-168, Stormtrooper guard, had watched the little drama down in the Medical Bay with fascination. This man was responsible for the death of over a million of the Emperor's best personnel? This man was responsible for the death of countless officers, technicians, pilots, and soldiers like himself? This scrawny, scarred little man? He was practically a boy! Of course, Lord Vader was going to start working on him soon, and the Rebel knew it. The Rebel was looking a very painful, drawn-out, and messy death in the face. He was actually holding together rather well.
The Major from Intel, the doctor, had finished his work and ordered T5-168, along with all the other guards, to take the Rebel to Lord Vader. T5-168 slapped binders on the Rebel and went to grab him by the arm. The major snapped at him, "Careful! No bruises, no damages- Lord Vader will be most displeased."
"Yes sir." T5-168 lightened his grip. The Rebel came along, desperation in his eyes as he was escorted to the turbolift.
T5-168 kept his eyes on the Rebel. The man squared his shoulders, raising his chin. Desperation became solid determination. Resignation to death became his strength. T5-168 wondered how long the Rebel would keep his pride before Lord Vader broke him into a pleading puddle of flesh.
The turbolift stopped, they marched out. The Rebel walked like an officer, the Stormtroopers somehow becoming his honor escort.
They reached Vader's quarters. The door swished open at their approach, hissing like the soft moan of a sleeping predator. T5-168 hated this room. Lord Vader never bothered to personally kill anyone lower than an officer, so T5-168 knew he was fairly safe; but the room smelled sterile. Like no living thing resided within, only the dead.
The group of Stormtroopers marched in, the Rebel in their center. Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, was waiting.
The Dark Lord was standing on the far side of the room like a statue etched in stone. Darkness clung to him like a wraith. The guards stopped, waiting for directions from their lord. The silence dragged out, as the feeling that something evil, something otherworldly, was watching grew in the silent room. T5-168 glanced over his shoulder with his eyes, not daring to move his head.
The Rebel was staring back at Lord Vader, eyes locked with the Death's Head mask. It was obvious that he was nervous, but he held on, refusing to back down. The feeling that death was stalking the room continued to grow. The Rebel finally blinked, glanced down. The pressure in the room lessened.
Darth Vader stirred. His voice grated across the room, "You cleaned up well."
The Rebel looked calmly back, composed. "All ready for my funeral."
The Dark Lord paused, considering, "No. Your funeral is still a long way off." With that implied threat, the Lord Vader walked up to the Rebel. "Come." The ebony cape fluttered behind the Sith as Luke was hauled after him.
/
One Stormtrooper pulled out the empty chair at the table while the other shoved the Rebel pilot into it. The Rebel's eyes shifted over the room, taking in the table's other occupants. The bridge crew of the Executor stared back at him in silence as Darth Vader took his place at the head of the table.
Fine china graced the large wooden table. A Stormtrooper took the crisp white napkin off the Rebel's plate and put it in his lap before scooting the chair back in. A serving droid poured the white wine that would go with the first course. The bridge crew's officer's mess was more of a fine restaurant than a cafeteria.
The Admiral was sitting in the chair to the right of Lord Vader. His steely eyes took in the Rebel's newest appearance. Crisp civilian clothes, new hairstyle, and binders made an unusual combination for this unexpected guest. Interesting, he thought, Lord Vader appears to be playing mind games with the Rebel Scum. I wonder why he brought his new toy here? The Dark One has never come to dinner before.
The Rebel kept looking at the different officers, glancing at the dark lord. The first dish was served, green noodles in a white sauce. All eyes looked to Lord Vader, he nodded, and they began to eat. The silence continued to stretch out, none of the officers daring the normal chit-chat with the Dark Lord in the room. Great, thought the Admiral, I was at least hoping to talk to my officers about what they had heard about what Lord Vader was doing with the Rebel, but now he's here, and nothing is happening. This is boring. The Admiral glanced at the young man.
The Rebel had not touched his food, his hands remained in his lap as he stole glances at the Dark Lord, glaring all the while. Darth Vader's head tilted forward, daring the Rebel to speak.
Amazingly, the Rebel took him up on the dare. "What if I don't want to eat at the table of a murder?" His voice was young, but strong. He did not seem afraid. And he was not talking to anyone but the Dark Lord. The Admiral could not believe it- this man cared to object to Lord Vader's methods? The Rebel with the blood of over a million lives' on his hands? He noticed that many of the other officers felt the same way.
Darth Vader's voice rumbled a reply. "I have killed many, ordered many more- but I have never been as efficient as you. There were more than a million on the Death Star. You killed them all, with one shot. I'm quite impressed with you, in a way." Irony dripped from the words.
The Rebel's face flashed guilt. He buried it as he replied, "There were more on Alderaan."
"I did not give that order, Tarkin did."
"You could have stopped it." The reply had no heat. The Rebel was military enough to recognize the impossibility of his own statement. The Rebel began to play with his food, fork twirling the noodles.
"Possibly." The Dark Lord's reply surprised the Admiral. "The Alderanians were a peacefully people, but they were anything but loyal. They proved that afterward. Many of the survivors joined the Rebellion." Darth Vader continued to sit stone still. The Admiral continued to slowly eat his food, listening intently.
The Rebel twirled his fork in the sauce, seeming to regroup his thoughts. He looked at his food, looked at Vader, then took a bite. Took another. He methodically finished his dish, deep in thought. His binders were holding his hands together, making eating awkward, but he managed. The Rebel took a drink of his wine, washing down the noodles.
Does the Rebel even realize that he let Lord Vader win that round? The Admiral wondered.
The dishes were cleared, the next course was served. Dewback sautéed in Trill Brandy and mushrooms with green beans. Red wine was poured. The crystal glittered, the silver shone.
The Rebel leaned back, his face still holding that thoughtful expression. He swallowed, and spoke softly, his voice carrying across the table.
"Does it ever bother you to serve an Emperor that is so overwhelmingly stupid?" The Rebel paused as the room froze from the audacity of the prisoner being so insulting. "I mean, recruitment tripled after Alderaan and is still holding steady. Every time you Imperials blast through a system we get an inrush of new recruits, supplies, and support."
The Admiral growled back at the Rebel, unable to control himself, "They were never loyal to begin with!" The Admiral's mouth snapped shut, afraid he had somehow offended his lord.
"Not really." Skywalker returned. "Over a third of all recruits were, at one time, completely loyal Imperials. But they were somehow betrayed by your government. Usually their families had unintentionally lived close to an Alliance Cell. The Imperial policies for retributions in an area for Rebel involvement would result in the family's death."
Darth Vader's mechanical voice grated out, "Your point?"
"We have a saying in the Alliance. 'The Emperor is our best recruiter'. If he wasn't such a bloody-minded. well. He does more harm than good."
Lord Vader seemed to be considering the Rebel's claim, but the Admiral could not let it slide. "You exaggerate. The people understand the need for our actions to keep the peace."
The Rebel looked at the Admiral, disgust in his face. "They understand? When their children, their brothers and sisters, or their parents are killed because some Alliance member might have been spotted in the area? They understand all right- they understand that we've been speaking the truth- and they rush out and join us."
"A few instances of misunderstanding. You are still exaggerating." The Admiral sniffed, turning to his food.
"A few? I was 18 when my Aunt and Uncle bought two droids from some Jawas to help out on the farm. Turned out that the droids had been carrying stolen information, information on your Death Star. But we didn't know that. I was off in the fields when the Stormtroopers came. When I came back, the house was burned to the ground, my Aunt and Uncle nothing but charred remains."
The Rebel paused, eating a few bites. He continued, voice bitter with remembered pain. "Took the droids straight to the Alliance. They threw me in a snub fighter. I blew up your Death Star, a tombstone for my family's grave."
Silence gripped the table as the Rebel and the Imperial officers turned to their food. The Admiral kept wondering when the Lord Vader was going to say something, but the dark lord stayed still as stone, silent as the grave.
The Admiral tried to decide if he was supposed to say something when one of his officers spoke up. "This does not prove you were loyal to the Empire before that incident."
The Rebel replied, voice dripping in amused irony. "My application for the Imperial Naval Academy was down in my bedroom. I had filled it out- I was going to join up at the end of the next season. If the Imperial Stormtroopers had just taken the droids and left, I might have even ended up on this ship, as one of your TIE fighter pilots."
Well, thought the Admiral, looks like the Rebel wins that round.
Darth Vader spoke, deep voice cutting the air, "I have seen the tape of that incident. Your Uncle did not cooperate with the authorities."
"I doubt that would have made any difference. Palpatine's policies call for blood."
A minor officer came in, snapping to attention. The petty officer's eyes glanced at the Rebel, then widened in surprise.
The Admiral looked at the man, disappointed in his lack of professionalism, called out "What is it?"
"Sir, we have received a message from the Emperor. He requests Lord Vader contact him." The petty officer looked straight at the Admiral, ignoring Lord Vader. It would break protocol for a minor officer to speak directly to the Dark Lord, until spoken to.
"Have the bridge make contact." Darth Vader said, "I will take it in my quarters." The Dark Lord got up and walked out, leaving the Rebel at the table.
The room was silent for a few breaths, until the Darth Vader was well gone. Then the Admiral turned his steely gaze on the Rebel, who had returned to his food. "So, scum, have you been enjoying our hospitality so far?"
The Rebel glanced at the Admiral like he was a complete idiot. "So far."
"Looking forward to tonight?" The sneering Admiral said, words digging into Skywalker's fears.
Luke shrugged, giving his best Sabacc face. "Beats talking to you."
/
Lord Vader kneeled on the transmission disk, bowing before his Master. The looming face hovered over him, its glowing eyes boring into Vader's bowed helmet.
"You have the boy?" The Emperor crackled, voice unsteady with age.
"Yes, my master." Vader replied, mechanical voice booming out.
"Well- how is he?" The Emperor sneered. He had made it quite clear to Darth Vader that the Dark Lord could look for the boy, but only if he proved strong enough in the Force to be of some worth.
"Quite strong, almost entirely untrained, and completely ignorant of his heritage."
"How ignorant?" The Emperor questioned, compemplating the situation.
"Kenobi told him that his father, Anakin Skywalker, was betrayed and murdered by Darth Vader." The Dark Lord tried to remove all emotion from his voice. It would not do to let his master realize how personally interested he was beginning to become about Luke.
The Emperor laughed, an evil crackle coming over the transmission. "Perfect! The Jedi lied to him, he will be ours." The crackle died to a wheeze as the Emperor collected himself. He leaned forward, licking his lips as he grinned in anticipation. "Now, my servant, you must make him angry. Have the remainder of his squad killed before his eyes. Let him feel rage, show him how to use it to gain power through the darkside of the Force.
The Dark Lord cautiously replied, "My master, most Rebels care deeply about their men. I do not wish to damage any loyalty that he will feel towards us."
The Emperor waved an emancipated hand, dismissing the thought. "The darkside will make him greedy for power, for the status I can give him. In time he will forget that they even existed."
"As you wish." The Dark form rumbled. "When do you want him brought before you?"
The Emperor thought. "When he is ready to kneel to me. It should not take too long, should it Lord Vader?"
"No, my master."
"Very well, keep me informed of his progress." The Emperor cut the transmission.
Darth Vader rose to his feet, went to the console and sent orders to the detention center. He used the Force to probe down to the officer's mess, were Luke was finishing his meal. Skywalker had just accused the Imperial Forces of six different bombing runs on Imperial citizens that had failed to kill even one Rebel. Lord Vader realized that his bridge crew was barely holding on to their end of the debate. Like most Imperial officers, they were purposefully kept quite ignorant of the larger effects of the Empire's policies and effectiveness.
The Dark Lord suddenly realized that if he didn't keep Skywalker isolated from the crew, the boy might be able to start a mutiny. He was quite well informed, and thoroughly saturated with Rebel propaganda. It didn't help that he also had a good dose of personal charisma.
Wonderful, Vader fumed as he went to collect his son. My only child had been stuffed full of nonsense and I have to straighten him out or my master will kill him.
