Han Solo checked the Falcon's sensors again as he gently let her down on
the frozen ice-fields of Hoth. Outside, the sun had not yet risen, and the
icy winds, laden with wind-blown snow, had reduced visibility to zero.
"Wedge, Hobbie- scope said this should clear up in half an hour. Then we can search."
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this Commander." Hobbie whined.
"You want to know as well as I do. Besides, we'd just be running patrols elsewhere." Wedge replied.
"But I'd be warm!"
"You two have fun talking- we're going to change. Call if you pick up anything." Solo got up and patted Chewie, who followed him.
* Our probe droids in orbit should give us warning if Imperials show up. * Chewie howled.
"Yeah, furball. I hope so." Han shook his head as he began struggling into the heavy insulated pants and jacket for the trip outside. He had chosen to dress for the weather in the main room- it beat trying to walk around the ship wearing too much and sweating.
"But Chewie, I can't decide." The wookie looked at Han, question in his eyes. "Do I want to find Luke, or not?"
* Leave it to fate. *
/
Vader strode across the huge living room. It was filled with several clusters of chairs and sofas, all artfully carved and richly decorated in purple and green. His son was standing close to the large windows on the far side, looking out over the sea.
"It's beautiful." He said as his father came up to him. "I can't help thinking how everything would have been different if I grew up here."
"Blame Kenobi." The mechanical voice rumbled, not impatiently.
Luke looked down at some of the servant's children playing outside, far beneath the window. A game involving chalked lines on white flagstones. Luke smiled. "He's dead. You know, when you killed him, I hated you for it. Now, I see why you did it. I'd stand behind you and help, today." Luke glanced back at the sky and the pounding surf.
"So, why did you kill my squad?" Luke had no heat in his voice, he just wanted to know.
Inwardly, Vader sighed. He had warned the Emperor, but the man wouldn't listen. His son Luke had a great deal of loyalty in him. Once that loyalty was turned towards the Empire, Skywalker would become a tremendous asset. Till then, Vader would have to tread carefully.
"It helped you develop the anger you needed." True, Vader knew. But he almost hoped Luke could figure it out on his own, some small part of him wanted the hero worship of his son. That look of blind trust Luke had given him after Vader had helped him through initiation. Just let Luke know that the Emperor had ordered it. Let Luke blame him-
"True. But was blind anger really wise?"
Vader shifted. Luke had obviously been thinking about this. Dwelling on it. Which was not good, it could weaken the loyalty Luke could feel for the Empire. "It was more important to reach the short term goal of turning you, my son."
"You are more patient than that. I've seen it. The Emperor told you to, didn't he?" Luke had learned quite quickly after the turning that the Emperor was personally interested in Luke's progress. "He ordered you." Luke whispered.
Darth Vader wanted to swear. This was not good. Luke was loyal to him, Lord Vader, but it was obvious from the distaste radiating from the boy right now that Luke did not feel any loyalty towards the Empire, and especially not towards the Emperor. Not good at all.
"Yes, he did. But I was glad to follow his orders."
"Were you? Father," Luke turned towards the black masked monstrosity, stepping close, "I don't like you taking orders from anyone. I don't. Especially ones that might make me. upset with you."
"Are you upset?" Vader asked, voice bland.
"Not with you. I've had to follow orders myself before, orders I didn't like. And I'll follow your orders now, no matter what. But I just don't like you having to follow a man who is, well- beneath you."
"The Emperor is not beneath me." The black mask stated.
"He's not?" Luke asked, doubt in his voice. "Maybe before he was better than you, but I doubt it now. He makes too many mistakes."
"He is not beneath me, Luke. Remember that." Vader stood there, forcing as much strength and assurance into the words as he could. Luke just stood there, looking up at him. Finally, Luke sighed and looked down.
"I'll remember." He whispered, but inwardly Luke was thinking about how his father could be so blind sometimes. He, Luke Skywalker, would remember his father's weakness; that the Emperor seemed to have far too much control over his father's life.
/
"Damn, oh damn." Han Solo was staring across the blindingly bright snow basin. There, peaking out of the windswept plain were the broken shapes of X-wings. Right where Mon Mothna had said the Rouges's ships had been waiting. "Oh, damn, kid."
Chewie howled agreement. It looked bad. * But Han, * Chewie howled as Solo turned to go, * we should check that he is here. *
"Yeah," Solo mumbled, "Came this far."
The slowly freezing pair began to walk from ship to broken ship. The ships had obviously been hit with enemy fire, the scorch marks visible even through the encrusting ice. Inside each cockpit was a frozen body, the orange flightsuits covering the shattered forms.
Ice of a different sort was slowly forming in Han's gut. One ship left, and it bore Skywalker's markings. They walked up to it, slowly, fearing what lay inside. The ship was laying at a crazy angle, yawning sideways, cockpit close to the ground opposite the two rescuers.
The cockpit had been hit directly with a burst of laser fire, the canopy was gone, and the inside was burnt. The body, if it could be called that, was nothing but a few charred remains. Chewie howled. Han just stared, numbly. Even last night, he had had another dream of Skywalker, this time the young man was looking out a large window. But Skywalker was here, he had been here, dead for months.
Han Solo looked at the body again, and then suddenly leaned in, looking around.
* What is it? * Chewie wolfed.
"His lightsaber. I want it. As a reminder. Damn it, where is it? Kid always had it with him."
* Maybe it was destroyed. *
"Maybe. Doubt it, thing was pretty well built. Something would be left, most of the ship controls made it." Han suddenly pulled back. "Chewie," he asked, suspicions rising, "do you think that it is odd that the controls made it, but Luke's flightsuit is almost completely melted? Even down here, at his feet?"
Chewie howled agreement, then added, * there is nothing left of his face, or his hands. This might not be him, especially if he was taken prisoner and they did not want us to know. *
"A decoy?" Han's hopes rose. "Wouldn't put it past them. Well, I better take a tissue sample. Our labs can verify if it is him." Han contemplated the best way to get the sample. "Sorry kid, I mean no disrespect-" He mumbled, as he reached in and tried to pry a frozen slab of flesh loose. Chewie howled, reached in and yanked hard. The metal screeched, but the 'sample' came free.
"Let's get out of here, furball. I'm freezing." Chewie carefully removed a plass bag from his belt, and dropping the 'sample' in, turned to Han and carefully phrased a question.
"Artoo? The droid? He's frozen solid, you'll get nothing but scrap, even if you can pull his shell free." Chewie warbled. "Yeah, pull his brain, maybe it'll have info on Luke. The little mechanical would have still been operational then."
Chewie woofed, and walked to the back of the fighter. A few well-placed blows, and the ice coating the silver and blue dome fell off in a sheet. Chewie banged on the droid's body, and the casing snapped from the cold, the whole cylinder sliding out. Chewie moaned, looking into the droid's socket, seeing the legs frozen to the fighter. He sighed, and picked up Artoo's body, Wookie strength easily balancing the mechanical on his shoulder.
They walked back, and once out of the radio shadow of the basin, Han called Wedge and Hobbie. "Guys, I have bad news."
"Sir?" Hobbie called back.
"Found the Rouges. Or pieces of them anyway. I'll give you a rundown once we hit space, someone might be listening." Han made his voice as cold as possible. If Luke was being hidden by the Empire, he wasn't about to let them know he was onto their trick.
"Gotcha, Captain." Wedge stiffly answered.
/
The head servant of the castle was trying to orient Skywalker about his new home. He, and several of the other servants, had shuffled Skywalker off after dinner, while Lord Vader saw to some datawork. Luke could tell that they were brimming with curiosity about him, but were afraid to ask. They had sat him down at a table and were proceeding to show him various maps and explain the average day's events. "And this is the map of the compound, Master Luke." The thin one, Gerone, told him as he handed over the sheet of colored plass.
Skywalker's lips twitched at the term. He hadn't even begun to get used to people calling him 'Master Luke', it had always felt weird enough when Threepio did it. And Threepio was just a droid.
Luke looked at the map. The castle was surrounded by gardens. The gardens closest to the master's rooms were mostly flower gardens. Back by the servant's quarters, the gardens grew local foodstuffs and herbs. There was an orchard, fields for Trings, fields for herds of dewbacks and banthas, a firing range, and a landing field for the supply shuttles.
"We grow most of our own food, Master Luke. It helps with security, not to have too many supply shuttles coming in and out."
"Of course." He picked up the map, studying it. "The guard's quarters are uncharacteristically large. I guess it pays to be selected to work here."
"Of course, Master Luke. Once selected, the local guard can not leave. To compensate for that, many of them marry. Most of the maids are married to guard. The second generation is starting to come into the age where they can serve, you know."
"Marry? I've never heard of a married Stormtrooper before. Bet it keeps them happier. They might even be able to shoot straight." Skywalker dryly replied.
"Yes sir." Vincent winced, trying not to think what Skywalker would have done to Stormtroopers not a few months before.
"Where are the patrol routes? I only see markings for the automated systems."
"They don't patrol."
"They don't?" Skywalker eyed the man with disbelief.
"No need to, really. The automated system is state of the art."
"Which one are you using?"
"We just installed an Eco-Imager 3000 with bio-activation." Vincent beamed.
"Huh. Me and three guys infiltrated a compound with one of those about six months ago. Retrieved the data and were heading out with no one the wiser till we ran into a patrol. Ended up having to blow half the compound up." Skywalker shrugged. "Nothing beats a living, breathing, human."
The table went dead silent. Skywalker looked at each of them in turn. "Yes," he said, "I used to be a Rebel. I was living under the assumption that Darth Vader had betrayed and murdered my father. That is what the Jedi told me. And I am not going to apologize for my actions then. But I will learn from them and I refuse to pretend that it never happened."
The men at the table digested this. They had not heard the whole story of what their lord's son had believed as a Rebel. The tale was bad, but they could see how the young man would change sides when he learned the truth. Also, Lord Vader's son seemed to have an iron will, and a complete lack of guilt for his actions. They could respect that. One of them, a man named B'lear, quietly said, "I am in charge of security. Do you wish patrols?"
Skywalker looked at him. "Any attack would most likely come when Lord Vader was not here. It would most likely be for revenge purposes, or to make a point. I can take care of myself, it's your own hide you'd be guarding. Do what you will."
/
Wedge walked into the droid maintenance area looking around till he saw Han and Chewie standing over by a table. A casing stood on the table, dome removed, innards spread out underneath it.
"It's like this," Han was telling the technician, "we have to get a reading off his memory banks as soon as possible. And I don't want any excuses."
"They're shot. You'd be better off just buying a new droid."
"Damn it, I need to know what's on that droid's memory banks."
Wedge looked at the dismantled Astromech droid. "That was Luke's, wasn't it." He said.
"Yes," Han growled, "Mon Mothna won't make it a priority, but I have to see if the little guy saw anything before the cold shut him down. I have to know."
"We could interface the memory core with my Astromech." Wedge said.
"Won't do much for you. Each droid has a personalized memory and encoding system." The tech explained. "You'll get data, but it will be too scrambled to use."
"I've got his counter-part. Maybe Threepio could make some sense of it."
"You're talking about a lot of work. And unless his counter-part is another astromech, you won't be able to use the data at all."
"What about a three-way linkage?" Wedge asked.
"Possible, if the second Astromech had interfaced with this one before and hadn't been memory wiped since. But without clearance, I'm not spending the time on it. I've got too much to do."
Han cursed. Wedge just eyed the man. "You're from Alderaan, aren't you? I can tell from your accent." The tech gave Wedge a nasty glare. Many Aleraanians were trying hard to forget. "I wouldn't bring it up, but that's Skywalker's Astromech you've got there. We may have found a body on Hoth, but we have to be sure. I owe it to him."
"Skywalker?" The tech whispered. "The rumors are true?"
Han hissed, "we have not identified the remains yet. The tests will take a few days. I have to be sure. And we may end up needing this droid's memory."
Wedge nodded and added, "my astromech used to talk to Artoo all the time. I stopped getting mine memory wiped when I saw how it improved Luke's fighter's response time."
The tech nodded, thoughtfully, "I can only give it my free time. But I can get some others to help." The tech sighed. "Just answer me one question. Why didn't he shoot that thing down earlier?"
Han gave the man a brief look of pity. Even Leia asked the same things sometimes, and she knew the whole story. "He flew an X-wing for the first time that mission. He had only been a member of the Alliance for a couple of hours. The galaxy is just lucky he was there at all."
"The rest of the galaxy, you mean." The tech bitterly replied. "No, I don't blame him. And it did prove to a lot of people what we had been saying about the Empire all along. I just wish it hadn't happened."
"Me too." Han said. "I remember Kenobi's reaction to it. We were lightyears away, and he still looked deathly sick." Solo reached out and squeezed the man's shoulder. "But can you do me a favor?"
"Another one?"
"Yeah. Keep this quiet. If the remains we found aren't Skywalker, then the Empire went through a lot of trouble to hide the fact that they have him. I don't want them finding out we're on to them."
"Makes sense. I'll try." The tech said.
"Thanks." Han said. "I'll bring Threepio right down. And Chewie, if you want his help. He's patched both droids up more than once, he's not that bad with droid maintence. You could give him directions and he could work while you attend to the rest of the stuff down here. Do you know Wookie?"
"No. But I'll need someone familiar with the droid's systems, and he'd be perfect. And Commander," the tech asked Antillies, "send you Astromech down as soon as possible. And get yourself a replacement, this could take me a few days. But I'll tell you- there might be some personality bleed- over when I'm done."
"That's all right. I always liked Artoo." Wedge shrugged his shoulders. "Especially how he handled Luke's fighter."
/
"Well, doctor, who is it?" The general growled, glaring at the black man in the white labcoat. Mon Mothna, Han Solo, Wedge Antillies, Hobbie, and even the Princess Leia had managed to get into the meeting to discuss the test results.
"Sirs, ladies, I ran the tests on the, ah, tissue sample that Captain Solo brought back from Hoth and I have to say that the results were not one hundred percent definitive."
"What do you mean?" Solo growled.
"The genetics matched Commander Skywalker's file, but since I had been informed of the suspicions that it might be an Imperial decoy, I ran a test for tri-beta-chyline traces. The sample tested positive. This raises some doubts as to the exact nature of the remains."
"The genetics match, and you have doubts?" Mon Mothna asked.
"Clones, Madam President. Tri-beta-chyline is a chemical that is usually left in any clone body. It is a leftover from the accelerated growth process. If the Empire wished to trick us concerning Commander Skywalker's death, a clone would be an ideal solution. The chemicals left in any clone body are minute at best, and extreme cold and freezing destroys most of the chemicals. Tri-beta-chyline is one of the few chemicals that would survive freezing, but it is only found in the smallest of traces."
"But," the President said, "If it was Skywalker's clone, then it must have been grown at an extreme rate. Wouldn't the chemical be present in higher amounts?"
"Unfortunately," the doctor replied, "I can not in good faith state the traces of this chemical could not have been found in the body due to less sinister reasons. The contamination of the corpse from the melted flightsuit and canopy could give the test a false positive."
"Yeah, the flightsuit." Han growled. "It was burnt all the way to his feet, even if the controls were perfectly fine."
The doctor sighed. "Which would support the clone theory. The Empire only had an active presence on Hoth for a week. I checked the records. Therefore, the clone would have had to be grown in less than a week, which is very fast. It was most likely deformed, which would explain why it was so extensively burned."
"A clone." Mon Mothna whispered.
"I can not guarantee it." The doctor said. "I can not prove or disprove that the body found in Skywalker's ship was or was not a clone. The body was frozen, which did destroy any of the better chemical indicators that this was a clone."
"Oh damn," Solo growled, "Vader has the kid."
Mon Mothna looked at the general, then at Han Solo. "We do not know that Captain. We do not know that at all. And I realize that you and your Wookie friend are working on retrieving the information from Skywalker's R2 unit. But, I want you to stop."
"What?" Han looked furious, but Leia put a hand on his arm.
"You will tell a few people that the Astromech droid's memory was hopelessly scrambled. Antillies, you will complain that the procedure damaged your droid's memory as well. The three droids will be disconnected from each other, and then, quite quietly, they will be transferred to a more secure location."
Han's eyes took on a gleam. How could he have doubted Mon Mothna?
"Next, and this is the hardest part. I want the results of this meeting to be revealed, but only part of them. The remains found in Skywalker's fighter did match his genetic file. But I want no mention of chemicals or clones. Someone else is bound to bring up the issue of clones, at which point the doctor will reveal that he did test for such a possibility, and NO TRACES of anything was found. We have to act as if Skywalker is dead. In a week we will even hold a quiet memorial, and I want everyone to do their best acting."
"Why?" Wedge fretted, "why do you want to bury this? We'll loose time."
"Yes," said the general, "but letting Vader know we may even suspect would endanger Skywalker if he is still alive. That man is a crafty devil, and what he is trying to hide is worth finding. And if he thinks we have taken the bait, he might make a mistake."
Mon Mothna sighed. "Time may be against us, but we have to be very careful here. Or we could loose Skywalker, permanently."
"I understand." It was Leia, "I know more than anyone what could be happening to Luke right now, but I understand. It's our only hope."
"If," the general growled, "he's still alive."
Han stared at the floor. Did he really want his friend alive? Vader was probably torturing Luke even now.
/
"Your right side is open," the mechanical voice growled as the shinning yellow blade nicked Skywalker's skin. Luke bit back a curse. The practice blades hurt and left welts. He'd carry that burn for a week.
"You need to let the Force guide you, let it move your arms. You are trying to move the Force, not let it move you." They continued to circle in the sparing room, its blank walls offering no distractions.
"Yes, my lord-father." Luke replied, watching the armored form. That was part of the problem, he mussed. His father was wearing armor. Even though he had managed a few hits- his father was not feeling their sting. Welts on his arms and legs were not slowing him down. Unlike Luke, who felt like a children's drawing board, he had so many lines.
Vader paused, thinking of the new title his son had just called him. He liked it. "Enough." He growled, "you're getting sloppy." Vader watched his son switch off the practice blade and mop his brow with a towel. "You need to get in better shape."
"I know, father. I also need to read about fifty reports, meditate, eat, sleep, and find some time to get to know you better. I need to find about six more hours in the day."
"Ten." Vader hissed, inwardly smiling. Vader was busier on this 'vacation' than he had ever been, but it was worth it.
"Actually, I could find time to do some things I've been wanting to do if I could find twelve."
"Which are?"
"I want to ride one of the Trings around in the woods out there. It's driving me nuts not to know the lay of the land here. I'm used to being part of a patrol."
"You've got my security up in arms about patrols."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. They needed it. You'll have to tell them how to keep the trooper's minds fresh when patrolling the same area over and over, you know."
"I will if you want me to."
"They are your security too, my son."
"Yes." Luke said, realizing it was true. He wasn't really used to the idea, yet.
"Now, let's work on your ability to scan an area with the Force. You can visit the woods that way."
"As you wish, my lord-father." Luke gave him a mock bow.
"Imprudent whelp." Vader growled, tousling Luke's hair with a gloved hand as they left the sparing room. Luke grinned back. Their re-forming bond rippled between them, basking in their closeness.
/
Luke warily took the towel from the manservant, stepping from the tub. He was exhausted. No matter how much he learned each day, there was always more. Saber practice, meditation, sensing, he was constantly stretching himself. Paradoxically, what took the least movement, took the most out of him. Sensing the land around the castle had completely drained him. He wrapped the towel around his waist, taking another to wipe his arms.
"Shhh." Luke hissed, glaring down at the red welts on his skin. "Damn, they hurt." He whispered. He lifted his arm, sniffing it. "I even smell scorched." He grumbled, turning to the man in red and black livery. "Do you have anything for these?"
"Yes, Master Luke. I will have something sent up right away." The man bowed, scurrying off. He was back before Luke made it to the bed. "Here, Master Luke."
"Wedge, Hobbie- scope said this should clear up in half an hour. Then we can search."
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this Commander." Hobbie whined.
"You want to know as well as I do. Besides, we'd just be running patrols elsewhere." Wedge replied.
"But I'd be warm!"
"You two have fun talking- we're going to change. Call if you pick up anything." Solo got up and patted Chewie, who followed him.
* Our probe droids in orbit should give us warning if Imperials show up. * Chewie howled.
"Yeah, furball. I hope so." Han shook his head as he began struggling into the heavy insulated pants and jacket for the trip outside. He had chosen to dress for the weather in the main room- it beat trying to walk around the ship wearing too much and sweating.
"But Chewie, I can't decide." The wookie looked at Han, question in his eyes. "Do I want to find Luke, or not?"
* Leave it to fate. *
/
Vader strode across the huge living room. It was filled with several clusters of chairs and sofas, all artfully carved and richly decorated in purple and green. His son was standing close to the large windows on the far side, looking out over the sea.
"It's beautiful." He said as his father came up to him. "I can't help thinking how everything would have been different if I grew up here."
"Blame Kenobi." The mechanical voice rumbled, not impatiently.
Luke looked down at some of the servant's children playing outside, far beneath the window. A game involving chalked lines on white flagstones. Luke smiled. "He's dead. You know, when you killed him, I hated you for it. Now, I see why you did it. I'd stand behind you and help, today." Luke glanced back at the sky and the pounding surf.
"So, why did you kill my squad?" Luke had no heat in his voice, he just wanted to know.
Inwardly, Vader sighed. He had warned the Emperor, but the man wouldn't listen. His son Luke had a great deal of loyalty in him. Once that loyalty was turned towards the Empire, Skywalker would become a tremendous asset. Till then, Vader would have to tread carefully.
"It helped you develop the anger you needed." True, Vader knew. But he almost hoped Luke could figure it out on his own, some small part of him wanted the hero worship of his son. That look of blind trust Luke had given him after Vader had helped him through initiation. Just let Luke know that the Emperor had ordered it. Let Luke blame him-
"True. But was blind anger really wise?"
Vader shifted. Luke had obviously been thinking about this. Dwelling on it. Which was not good, it could weaken the loyalty Luke could feel for the Empire. "It was more important to reach the short term goal of turning you, my son."
"You are more patient than that. I've seen it. The Emperor told you to, didn't he?" Luke had learned quite quickly after the turning that the Emperor was personally interested in Luke's progress. "He ordered you." Luke whispered.
Darth Vader wanted to swear. This was not good. Luke was loyal to him, Lord Vader, but it was obvious from the distaste radiating from the boy right now that Luke did not feel any loyalty towards the Empire, and especially not towards the Emperor. Not good at all.
"Yes, he did. But I was glad to follow his orders."
"Were you? Father," Luke turned towards the black masked monstrosity, stepping close, "I don't like you taking orders from anyone. I don't. Especially ones that might make me. upset with you."
"Are you upset?" Vader asked, voice bland.
"Not with you. I've had to follow orders myself before, orders I didn't like. And I'll follow your orders now, no matter what. But I just don't like you having to follow a man who is, well- beneath you."
"The Emperor is not beneath me." The black mask stated.
"He's not?" Luke asked, doubt in his voice. "Maybe before he was better than you, but I doubt it now. He makes too many mistakes."
"He is not beneath me, Luke. Remember that." Vader stood there, forcing as much strength and assurance into the words as he could. Luke just stood there, looking up at him. Finally, Luke sighed and looked down.
"I'll remember." He whispered, but inwardly Luke was thinking about how his father could be so blind sometimes. He, Luke Skywalker, would remember his father's weakness; that the Emperor seemed to have far too much control over his father's life.
/
"Damn, oh damn." Han Solo was staring across the blindingly bright snow basin. There, peaking out of the windswept plain were the broken shapes of X-wings. Right where Mon Mothna had said the Rouges's ships had been waiting. "Oh, damn, kid."
Chewie howled agreement. It looked bad. * But Han, * Chewie howled as Solo turned to go, * we should check that he is here. *
"Yeah," Solo mumbled, "Came this far."
The slowly freezing pair began to walk from ship to broken ship. The ships had obviously been hit with enemy fire, the scorch marks visible even through the encrusting ice. Inside each cockpit was a frozen body, the orange flightsuits covering the shattered forms.
Ice of a different sort was slowly forming in Han's gut. One ship left, and it bore Skywalker's markings. They walked up to it, slowly, fearing what lay inside. The ship was laying at a crazy angle, yawning sideways, cockpit close to the ground opposite the two rescuers.
The cockpit had been hit directly with a burst of laser fire, the canopy was gone, and the inside was burnt. The body, if it could be called that, was nothing but a few charred remains. Chewie howled. Han just stared, numbly. Even last night, he had had another dream of Skywalker, this time the young man was looking out a large window. But Skywalker was here, he had been here, dead for months.
Han Solo looked at the body again, and then suddenly leaned in, looking around.
* What is it? * Chewie wolfed.
"His lightsaber. I want it. As a reminder. Damn it, where is it? Kid always had it with him."
* Maybe it was destroyed. *
"Maybe. Doubt it, thing was pretty well built. Something would be left, most of the ship controls made it." Han suddenly pulled back. "Chewie," he asked, suspicions rising, "do you think that it is odd that the controls made it, but Luke's flightsuit is almost completely melted? Even down here, at his feet?"
Chewie howled agreement, then added, * there is nothing left of his face, or his hands. This might not be him, especially if he was taken prisoner and they did not want us to know. *
"A decoy?" Han's hopes rose. "Wouldn't put it past them. Well, I better take a tissue sample. Our labs can verify if it is him." Han contemplated the best way to get the sample. "Sorry kid, I mean no disrespect-" He mumbled, as he reached in and tried to pry a frozen slab of flesh loose. Chewie howled, reached in and yanked hard. The metal screeched, but the 'sample' came free.
"Let's get out of here, furball. I'm freezing." Chewie carefully removed a plass bag from his belt, and dropping the 'sample' in, turned to Han and carefully phrased a question.
"Artoo? The droid? He's frozen solid, you'll get nothing but scrap, even if you can pull his shell free." Chewie warbled. "Yeah, pull his brain, maybe it'll have info on Luke. The little mechanical would have still been operational then."
Chewie woofed, and walked to the back of the fighter. A few well-placed blows, and the ice coating the silver and blue dome fell off in a sheet. Chewie banged on the droid's body, and the casing snapped from the cold, the whole cylinder sliding out. Chewie moaned, looking into the droid's socket, seeing the legs frozen to the fighter. He sighed, and picked up Artoo's body, Wookie strength easily balancing the mechanical on his shoulder.
They walked back, and once out of the radio shadow of the basin, Han called Wedge and Hobbie. "Guys, I have bad news."
"Sir?" Hobbie called back.
"Found the Rouges. Or pieces of them anyway. I'll give you a rundown once we hit space, someone might be listening." Han made his voice as cold as possible. If Luke was being hidden by the Empire, he wasn't about to let them know he was onto their trick.
"Gotcha, Captain." Wedge stiffly answered.
/
The head servant of the castle was trying to orient Skywalker about his new home. He, and several of the other servants, had shuffled Skywalker off after dinner, while Lord Vader saw to some datawork. Luke could tell that they were brimming with curiosity about him, but were afraid to ask. They had sat him down at a table and were proceeding to show him various maps and explain the average day's events. "And this is the map of the compound, Master Luke." The thin one, Gerone, told him as he handed over the sheet of colored plass.
Skywalker's lips twitched at the term. He hadn't even begun to get used to people calling him 'Master Luke', it had always felt weird enough when Threepio did it. And Threepio was just a droid.
Luke looked at the map. The castle was surrounded by gardens. The gardens closest to the master's rooms were mostly flower gardens. Back by the servant's quarters, the gardens grew local foodstuffs and herbs. There was an orchard, fields for Trings, fields for herds of dewbacks and banthas, a firing range, and a landing field for the supply shuttles.
"We grow most of our own food, Master Luke. It helps with security, not to have too many supply shuttles coming in and out."
"Of course." He picked up the map, studying it. "The guard's quarters are uncharacteristically large. I guess it pays to be selected to work here."
"Of course, Master Luke. Once selected, the local guard can not leave. To compensate for that, many of them marry. Most of the maids are married to guard. The second generation is starting to come into the age where they can serve, you know."
"Marry? I've never heard of a married Stormtrooper before. Bet it keeps them happier. They might even be able to shoot straight." Skywalker dryly replied.
"Yes sir." Vincent winced, trying not to think what Skywalker would have done to Stormtroopers not a few months before.
"Where are the patrol routes? I only see markings for the automated systems."
"They don't patrol."
"They don't?" Skywalker eyed the man with disbelief.
"No need to, really. The automated system is state of the art."
"Which one are you using?"
"We just installed an Eco-Imager 3000 with bio-activation." Vincent beamed.
"Huh. Me and three guys infiltrated a compound with one of those about six months ago. Retrieved the data and were heading out with no one the wiser till we ran into a patrol. Ended up having to blow half the compound up." Skywalker shrugged. "Nothing beats a living, breathing, human."
The table went dead silent. Skywalker looked at each of them in turn. "Yes," he said, "I used to be a Rebel. I was living under the assumption that Darth Vader had betrayed and murdered my father. That is what the Jedi told me. And I am not going to apologize for my actions then. But I will learn from them and I refuse to pretend that it never happened."
The men at the table digested this. They had not heard the whole story of what their lord's son had believed as a Rebel. The tale was bad, but they could see how the young man would change sides when he learned the truth. Also, Lord Vader's son seemed to have an iron will, and a complete lack of guilt for his actions. They could respect that. One of them, a man named B'lear, quietly said, "I am in charge of security. Do you wish patrols?"
Skywalker looked at him. "Any attack would most likely come when Lord Vader was not here. It would most likely be for revenge purposes, or to make a point. I can take care of myself, it's your own hide you'd be guarding. Do what you will."
/
Wedge walked into the droid maintenance area looking around till he saw Han and Chewie standing over by a table. A casing stood on the table, dome removed, innards spread out underneath it.
"It's like this," Han was telling the technician, "we have to get a reading off his memory banks as soon as possible. And I don't want any excuses."
"They're shot. You'd be better off just buying a new droid."
"Damn it, I need to know what's on that droid's memory banks."
Wedge looked at the dismantled Astromech droid. "That was Luke's, wasn't it." He said.
"Yes," Han growled, "Mon Mothna won't make it a priority, but I have to see if the little guy saw anything before the cold shut him down. I have to know."
"We could interface the memory core with my Astromech." Wedge said.
"Won't do much for you. Each droid has a personalized memory and encoding system." The tech explained. "You'll get data, but it will be too scrambled to use."
"I've got his counter-part. Maybe Threepio could make some sense of it."
"You're talking about a lot of work. And unless his counter-part is another astromech, you won't be able to use the data at all."
"What about a three-way linkage?" Wedge asked.
"Possible, if the second Astromech had interfaced with this one before and hadn't been memory wiped since. But without clearance, I'm not spending the time on it. I've got too much to do."
Han cursed. Wedge just eyed the man. "You're from Alderaan, aren't you? I can tell from your accent." The tech gave Wedge a nasty glare. Many Aleraanians were trying hard to forget. "I wouldn't bring it up, but that's Skywalker's Astromech you've got there. We may have found a body on Hoth, but we have to be sure. I owe it to him."
"Skywalker?" The tech whispered. "The rumors are true?"
Han hissed, "we have not identified the remains yet. The tests will take a few days. I have to be sure. And we may end up needing this droid's memory."
Wedge nodded and added, "my astromech used to talk to Artoo all the time. I stopped getting mine memory wiped when I saw how it improved Luke's fighter's response time."
The tech nodded, thoughtfully, "I can only give it my free time. But I can get some others to help." The tech sighed. "Just answer me one question. Why didn't he shoot that thing down earlier?"
Han gave the man a brief look of pity. Even Leia asked the same things sometimes, and she knew the whole story. "He flew an X-wing for the first time that mission. He had only been a member of the Alliance for a couple of hours. The galaxy is just lucky he was there at all."
"The rest of the galaxy, you mean." The tech bitterly replied. "No, I don't blame him. And it did prove to a lot of people what we had been saying about the Empire all along. I just wish it hadn't happened."
"Me too." Han said. "I remember Kenobi's reaction to it. We were lightyears away, and he still looked deathly sick." Solo reached out and squeezed the man's shoulder. "But can you do me a favor?"
"Another one?"
"Yeah. Keep this quiet. If the remains we found aren't Skywalker, then the Empire went through a lot of trouble to hide the fact that they have him. I don't want them finding out we're on to them."
"Makes sense. I'll try." The tech said.
"Thanks." Han said. "I'll bring Threepio right down. And Chewie, if you want his help. He's patched both droids up more than once, he's not that bad with droid maintence. You could give him directions and he could work while you attend to the rest of the stuff down here. Do you know Wookie?"
"No. But I'll need someone familiar with the droid's systems, and he'd be perfect. And Commander," the tech asked Antillies, "send you Astromech down as soon as possible. And get yourself a replacement, this could take me a few days. But I'll tell you- there might be some personality bleed- over when I'm done."
"That's all right. I always liked Artoo." Wedge shrugged his shoulders. "Especially how he handled Luke's fighter."
/
"Well, doctor, who is it?" The general growled, glaring at the black man in the white labcoat. Mon Mothna, Han Solo, Wedge Antillies, Hobbie, and even the Princess Leia had managed to get into the meeting to discuss the test results.
"Sirs, ladies, I ran the tests on the, ah, tissue sample that Captain Solo brought back from Hoth and I have to say that the results were not one hundred percent definitive."
"What do you mean?" Solo growled.
"The genetics matched Commander Skywalker's file, but since I had been informed of the suspicions that it might be an Imperial decoy, I ran a test for tri-beta-chyline traces. The sample tested positive. This raises some doubts as to the exact nature of the remains."
"The genetics match, and you have doubts?" Mon Mothna asked.
"Clones, Madam President. Tri-beta-chyline is a chemical that is usually left in any clone body. It is a leftover from the accelerated growth process. If the Empire wished to trick us concerning Commander Skywalker's death, a clone would be an ideal solution. The chemicals left in any clone body are minute at best, and extreme cold and freezing destroys most of the chemicals. Tri-beta-chyline is one of the few chemicals that would survive freezing, but it is only found in the smallest of traces."
"But," the President said, "If it was Skywalker's clone, then it must have been grown at an extreme rate. Wouldn't the chemical be present in higher amounts?"
"Unfortunately," the doctor replied, "I can not in good faith state the traces of this chemical could not have been found in the body due to less sinister reasons. The contamination of the corpse from the melted flightsuit and canopy could give the test a false positive."
"Yeah, the flightsuit." Han growled. "It was burnt all the way to his feet, even if the controls were perfectly fine."
The doctor sighed. "Which would support the clone theory. The Empire only had an active presence on Hoth for a week. I checked the records. Therefore, the clone would have had to be grown in less than a week, which is very fast. It was most likely deformed, which would explain why it was so extensively burned."
"A clone." Mon Mothna whispered.
"I can not guarantee it." The doctor said. "I can not prove or disprove that the body found in Skywalker's ship was or was not a clone. The body was frozen, which did destroy any of the better chemical indicators that this was a clone."
"Oh damn," Solo growled, "Vader has the kid."
Mon Mothna looked at the general, then at Han Solo. "We do not know that Captain. We do not know that at all. And I realize that you and your Wookie friend are working on retrieving the information from Skywalker's R2 unit. But, I want you to stop."
"What?" Han looked furious, but Leia put a hand on his arm.
"You will tell a few people that the Astromech droid's memory was hopelessly scrambled. Antillies, you will complain that the procedure damaged your droid's memory as well. The three droids will be disconnected from each other, and then, quite quietly, they will be transferred to a more secure location."
Han's eyes took on a gleam. How could he have doubted Mon Mothna?
"Next, and this is the hardest part. I want the results of this meeting to be revealed, but only part of them. The remains found in Skywalker's fighter did match his genetic file. But I want no mention of chemicals or clones. Someone else is bound to bring up the issue of clones, at which point the doctor will reveal that he did test for such a possibility, and NO TRACES of anything was found. We have to act as if Skywalker is dead. In a week we will even hold a quiet memorial, and I want everyone to do their best acting."
"Why?" Wedge fretted, "why do you want to bury this? We'll loose time."
"Yes," said the general, "but letting Vader know we may even suspect would endanger Skywalker if he is still alive. That man is a crafty devil, and what he is trying to hide is worth finding. And if he thinks we have taken the bait, he might make a mistake."
Mon Mothna sighed. "Time may be against us, but we have to be very careful here. Or we could loose Skywalker, permanently."
"I understand." It was Leia, "I know more than anyone what could be happening to Luke right now, but I understand. It's our only hope."
"If," the general growled, "he's still alive."
Han stared at the floor. Did he really want his friend alive? Vader was probably torturing Luke even now.
/
"Your right side is open," the mechanical voice growled as the shinning yellow blade nicked Skywalker's skin. Luke bit back a curse. The practice blades hurt and left welts. He'd carry that burn for a week.
"You need to let the Force guide you, let it move your arms. You are trying to move the Force, not let it move you." They continued to circle in the sparing room, its blank walls offering no distractions.
"Yes, my lord-father." Luke replied, watching the armored form. That was part of the problem, he mussed. His father was wearing armor. Even though he had managed a few hits- his father was not feeling their sting. Welts on his arms and legs were not slowing him down. Unlike Luke, who felt like a children's drawing board, he had so many lines.
Vader paused, thinking of the new title his son had just called him. He liked it. "Enough." He growled, "you're getting sloppy." Vader watched his son switch off the practice blade and mop his brow with a towel. "You need to get in better shape."
"I know, father. I also need to read about fifty reports, meditate, eat, sleep, and find some time to get to know you better. I need to find about six more hours in the day."
"Ten." Vader hissed, inwardly smiling. Vader was busier on this 'vacation' than he had ever been, but it was worth it.
"Actually, I could find time to do some things I've been wanting to do if I could find twelve."
"Which are?"
"I want to ride one of the Trings around in the woods out there. It's driving me nuts not to know the lay of the land here. I'm used to being part of a patrol."
"You've got my security up in arms about patrols."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. They needed it. You'll have to tell them how to keep the trooper's minds fresh when patrolling the same area over and over, you know."
"I will if you want me to."
"They are your security too, my son."
"Yes." Luke said, realizing it was true. He wasn't really used to the idea, yet.
"Now, let's work on your ability to scan an area with the Force. You can visit the woods that way."
"As you wish, my lord-father." Luke gave him a mock bow.
"Imprudent whelp." Vader growled, tousling Luke's hair with a gloved hand as they left the sparing room. Luke grinned back. Their re-forming bond rippled between them, basking in their closeness.
/
Luke warily took the towel from the manservant, stepping from the tub. He was exhausted. No matter how much he learned each day, there was always more. Saber practice, meditation, sensing, he was constantly stretching himself. Paradoxically, what took the least movement, took the most out of him. Sensing the land around the castle had completely drained him. He wrapped the towel around his waist, taking another to wipe his arms.
"Shhh." Luke hissed, glaring down at the red welts on his skin. "Damn, they hurt." He whispered. He lifted his arm, sniffing it. "I even smell scorched." He grumbled, turning to the man in red and black livery. "Do you have anything for these?"
"Yes, Master Luke. I will have something sent up right away." The man bowed, scurrying off. He was back before Luke made it to the bed. "Here, Master Luke."
