*******
The blaster nudged Luke in the shoulder, prodding him to walk faster as they stepped out of the elegant rooms into a wide, carpeted hallway.
The walls of the corridor were lined with ornately carved black sconces, small tongues of orange flame curling out of them, lapping at the dark shadows. Stationed in an orderly manner down the hall, stood the imposing Imperial guards, armed to the teeth with visible weaponry.
"Just so you know to behave," the red-haired young woman told him pleasantly, noting his observance of the guards and jabbing the blaster in his back again.
There was little question in Luke's mind of where they could possibly be. Although he wasn't much of a seasoned traveler, the cityscape view from the window, combined with the grandeur of what he'd seen so far, made Luke fairly certain he was on Coruscant in the infamous Imperial palace.
His question was, how had he gotten here?
Luke searched his last memories, trying to figure out what had happened. His last blurry recollection was of the Emperor leering as blue lightning leapt off his fingertips and Luke's own pain-filled pleas to his Father to help him. He remembered nothing after that. Palpatine had gleefully reassured Luke that he would die, but something had obviously changed the wicked leader 's mind.
They reached a bank of turbolifts at the end of the hall and Luke and the young woman rode in silence until the lift deposited them on a new floor, almost completely identical to the last. They walked to the end of another corridor and came to two huge doors of ancient orowood carved in intricate patterns and protected by two red-clad guardsmen. Despite their old- fashioned appearance, the doors slid smoothly open upon their arrival.
Inside was a small, dark anteroom connecting with more doors. Luke took a deep breath as he was nudged forward, knowing what ordeals probably awaited him inside, and secretly dreading it. The second set of doors opened, and Luke, who was expecting a duplication of the throne room on the Death Star, started in mild surprise.
The room was a grand corridor of columns and bleached stone, the extraordinary architecture of some long-extinct civilization.
Massive windows—several stories high—covered the far wall, bathing the corridor in
orange and purple twilight of the planet's setting sun and providing the room's only illumination. Unlike the landscape from Luke's rooms, no buildings or vehicles obstructed the throne room's breathtaking view of the huge city or of space beyond.
Luke could see the dark silhouette of Palpatine's throne, facing away from them and eclipsed by the light from the sunset, and next to the Emperor, as motionless as a statue, a black shadow, stood Darth Vader.
At the sight of his father, Luke felt his emotions unexpectedly rise to the surface. He was suddenly angry at his father for not being strong enough to turn back to the light side, and then the tide of his fury turned and he was furious at himself for being so foolish as to think he could face Vader and the Emperor alone, for naively assuming he could turn his father back.
*Stop it! * He berated himself firmly. * Anger is of the dark side.* And now, of all times, he had to be calm; at peace like Yoda had taught him. His very salvation depended on it.
\
The blaster prodded him in the back again, and he obediently moved forward, slowly ascended the pale stone steps, his feet like lead.
There was only the clipped sound of their footsteps, echoing throughout the hall. Palpatine and Vader watched, silently, as they approached.
They stopped in front of the throne and Luke was aware of the young woman stepping back, placing her blaster back in its holster, and standing at attention.
Palpatine, his shriveled, rotting features hidden under the dark cowl of his black hood, nodded his approval to her. "You are dismissed."
She bowed curtly and turned on her heel. Luke listened to the precision tap of her footsteps as she left.
"Well, my young apprentice," Palpatine brought him back to the present. "It is my privilege to welcome you to your new home, the Imperial palace. How do you like your accommodations so far?"
It did not even cross Luke's thoughts to answer the question, as his mind raced through the possibilities of why he was being housed like a guest instead of a prisoner. What dark motive was behind this?
"Would you rather I put you in a prison cell?" the Emperor inquired mildly.
Fighting down his reflexive anger at having his thoughts read so casually, Luke swallowed a bitter retort, his gaze traveling to his father and back to the Emperor. "Tell me who won the battle of Endor."
He almost thought he saw Vader flinch at the tone of his voice, but he ignored the possible danger he might be putting himself in by speaking to the Emperor that way. Palpatine didn't even raise an eyebrow. "That, my young Jedi, all depends on what you define as winning the battle."
Luke frowned, wondering what kind of tricks the old despot was playing with his mind now. "Was the Death Star destroyed?" he asked quietly.
"I allowed for its destruction, yes," Palpatine corrected. He nodded politely at Luke. "I got what I wanted."
Luke didn't answer, momentarily basking in the relief that Han and Leia were safe and, unlike him, free…
"Do not waste energy entertaining notions of being rescued by your friends," the Emperor answered Luke's unspoken thought, his expression twisting into a malicious smile. "As far as any of them are concerned, you are dead. And don't worry," he assured the Jedi. "It was artistically and masterfully done. I sent a carefully reconstructed replica of your lightsaber, along with an unfortunate crewman who had worn out his usefulness, down in a sabotaged shuttle to crash on the sanctuary moon. Your friends have only a worthless hunk of metal and the charred remains of a complete stranger to console them in their grief. They will not be looking for you. And it will also be of no use of you to try to call out to them."
There was a heavy silence as Luke contemplated Palpatine's words, his expression darting from Vader to Palpatine and back. "By all means, try it if it will make you feel better," the Emperor offered to Luke's unspoken question. "I assure you I am telling the truth."
Despite his misgivings, Luke couldn't resist the proposal. Shutting out Palpatine's gleeful leer, he let his eyes fall half-closed and carefully reached out to the Force, calling his sister's name. *Leia… *
With a jolt, his eyes snapped open in disbelief. His Force connection with Leia had somehow been cut off. He could not feel her presence. Frantically searching again, he realized that he could not detect ANYTHING beyond the throne room and the palace—the whole bustling city below was completely dark to him.
He was brought out of his alarmed discovery by a cackling laugh. "You see?" the Emperor chuckled. "Your friends cannot help you. Oh, no, my young apprentice. I'm afraid you are very much on your own here."
Indeed, Luke felt very much alone. *Ben, * he thought quietly. * I need you.*
The evil ruler laughed again, reaching slowly into his robes and pulling out an all-too-familiar object, setting it on the arm of the throne.
It was Luke's lightsaber.
The Jedi eyed it warily. His glance went to Vader's hand, replaced and working like new; and then his thoughts flashed back to the Death Star.
When they were fighting, it had become swiftly apparent that Luke was the stronger of the two. In his blind fury, he had become powerful enough that he could have killed the man that was his father, willfully sinking himself into the murky depths he'd tried so hard to avoid. But now, he wondered if perhaps he could use that well of brief strength from the Dark Side to escape. Just dipping a tiny bit into those unrestrained powers would surely have no lasting effects. It would not mean he had turned. Would it?
Unconsciously, Luke flexed the fingers of his own right hand, which had also been repaired. No, he could not take the risks. He knew that he did not want to turn into what his father had become.
Luke took a deep breath, his determination fortified. He would not give in to his anger, no matter what.
His head snapped up when he realized, too late, that both Vader and the Emperor were watching him.
Palpatine chuckled in amusement at Luke's pitiful resolve. "Today," he announced, "we will be working on proficiency with a lightsaber."
He nodded pleasantly, noting the object of Luke's repulsed attention. "Your rudimentary skills show you've mastered a basic technique, but you have very much to learn."
"No," Luke croaked, shaking his head. "No," he said again in a stronger voice. "I will not fight."
There was a thick silence. No one moved. When Palpatine finally spoke, his voice was deadly calm. "It was not a suggestion," he informed Luke quietly. "One way or the other, you will have to learn to obey my orders. You must be a loyal servant if you are to properly aid the Empire."
Luke stood rigidly, his hands at his sides, fully aware that he could be digging his own grave with his defiance. "I'll never serve you or the Empire," he declared softly. "And I'll never turn to the dark side."
A small, dangerous smile crossed Palpatine's face and he cocked his head at Vader. "Young idealism sacrifices itself so nobly." He clucked disappointedly at Luke. "What a senseless waste."
As if on some unspoken signal to attack, Vader's lightsaber was suddenly ignited and bearing down on his son. Luke saw the weapon coming and in a split instant of decision-making, self-preservation won over. His own lightsaber flew to his outstretched hand, blocking the Dark Lord's blow.
Vader struck again and Luke parried, his gaze locking with the dark mask. "Why do you want to do this again, father?" He asked softly. "Don't you think being defeated once was enough?"
Vader's temper surged to the surface and with the strength of his fresh anger he swung to strike a low blow to the knee, but Luke caught it with a sweeping parry. The Dark Lord then initiated a forceful blow over the side of Luke's head, which the Jedi barely deflected. Vader was slowly backing him into the huge windows, but Luke made no effort to go into the offensive. There were a few more clashing blows between them, when Vader suddenly hooked his lightsaber around Luke's, wrenching the sword from the Jedi's grip.
Luke had a fleeting childish hope as he watched his weapon fly to hit the transpristeel window that the material would shatter into a million tiny shards upon contact with the laser beam. But not to his great surprise, the lightsaber bounced harmlessly against the force field and clattered, deactivated, to the floor.
Vader held the tip of his crimson blade under Luke's chin as his son gazed boldly back at him.
"If this were an actual battle, you'd be dead by now," the Dark Lord rumbled. He deactivated his weapon. "Get your lightsaber."
Luke shook his head. "I do not want to fight you."
"So, the Jedi refuses to fight," the Emperor chuckled, walking slowly up to them. "I suppose we shall see how long his resolve will last. Lord Vader," he faced the Dark Lord. "See to it that young Skywalker is shown to his quarters. On my orders, he shall be given nothing to eat or drink until he agrees to cooperate with us and do his duty as part of the Empire."
"Yes, my master," Vader bowed.
Casually, Palpatine called Luke's prone lightsaber to his hand and hefted the weapon thoughtfully before regarding the Jedi once more. "I do hope you will be intelligent enough not to waste any more energy on this pointless defiance."
"Take him away."
*******
The very last thing Luke wanted was for Darth Vader to escort him back to his quarters. He had a barrage of questions and criticisms that he wanted to throw at his father, but, though these accusing words were on the tip of his tongue, Luke saw common sense in not voicing any of them. Or maybe he was just tired.
Vader seemed only too happy to accommodate the silence, as he wordlessly accompanied Luke to his posh quarters. Luke himself was too busy trying to plow unsuccessfully through his own conflicting emotions and they walked in stifled hostility until they reached the suite. Without a word, the Dark Lord keyed open the door and stood like a dark sentinel over Luke as he walked in. The door hissed shut behind the Jedi, and there was the sound of several locking mechanisms being engaged. Then silence.
Exhaustion settled over Luke like a cloud as he collapsed wearily into the black nerf-leather couch and scowled at the window, his mind still reeling from his sudden new set of circumstances. How could things have gone so wrong? As he had bid Leia goodbye on Endor, he had imagined that he might not see her again, had known full well that his life might end in the ensuing battle. But he'd had a strange peace in knowing, a sort of resigned calm. But now… as much as he tried to recreate that peaceful feeling, it would not come. The ominous unknown of his future unnerved him more than he would ever care to admit. A quick and tidy execution on the Death Star would most likely have been preferable to the various horrific ways Palpatine could now drag out his misery. Dread curdled in the Jedi's stomach as he recalled horrible stories and rumors he'd heard as a youth and also as a pilot in the Alliance—legends of the Emperor's wrath.
Thoughts of his father unwittingly popped into his mind again and he wondered silently, *Why? * He'd been so sure about Vader, so certain that the Dark Lord would be turned back to the Light side. Obi-wan Kenobi's ghostly words from Dagobah came back to him. *I was wrong. *
* I was wrong. * The old Jedi had been wrong about training Anakin. Luke had been wrong about turning him back. His anger still burned deep inside him where he'd tried to bury it and lock it away—anger at his father and himself. The sense of being betrayed by Vader again was an ache in his heart, his fury like a raw wound that refused to heal.
*Control your anger, * Luke thought impatiently to himself, envisioning a disappointed Yoda sadly shaking his head at his student. *Be at Peace. Passive. *
Perhaps he didn't have to love his father or even forgive him for the things he had done, if he could just bury his emotions so deep that no one—not even the Emperor—could reach them and twist them around for their own purposes. That way, he could not be turned to the Dark Side.
Luke sank lower into the couch, his mind automatically reaching out to his sister's familiar, comforting presence—and then jolting back to awareness when his call again rebounded against the invisible mental wall. No doubt, this was another amusing game of Palpatine's. His Force connection to Leia had been severed. She might never learn what had truly happened to him. Perhaps just as well, Luke thought glumly. When he did finally meet his fate, it was not likely to be pleasant.
*For crying out loud, I'm starting to sound like Threepio! *
With that sobering thought, Luke slowly got to his feet. Perhaps there was something here in these ritzy rooms that could be useful to him—something the Emperor had overlooked. Not likely, he knew, but worth a look, even if only to take his mind off of his dismal situation.
He started his search at an intriguing antique wood desk and, after briefly examining its strange alien woodwork, went through each of its tiny drawers and niches. Not surprisingly, they were all empty.
He walked over to the next possibility; an old-fashioned wardrobe, whose design he recognized as being Alderaanian, set against the far wall. He grasped the gilded antique knobs of the decorative doors and peered in, mildly surprised to find it full of clothes. He quickly rifled through several non-descript tunics of black and gray, and hooded robes much like the traditional Jedi attire—except for their color.
Luke shut the wardrobe, his blue eyes probing the rest of the room for places to search. The refresher across the room could be a good possibility, and he went to check it out.
The room was decked out in expensive polished stone and was, quite frankly, the most elaborate refresher Luke had ever seen. But his attention was not directed toward the furnishings, but rather, to the marble sink. The Emperor's words came back to him, ordering Vader not to allow him food or water until he cooperated. Well, Luke thought with a triumphant smile, turning on the faucet and watching the cold, clear water pour into the basin. Palpatine had made his mistake.
He cupped his hand underneath the flow to catch some of the precious liquid and raised it to his lips. But instead of sweet, fresh water, he was met with a horribly bitter, salty flavor, and in one smooth motion, reeled back over the sink, spewing water and gagging at the vile, nasty taste in his mouth.
Luke grimaced, kneeling at the cabinet, and tiredly rubbed a hand over his eyes. *So much for that idea. * He should have known better than to think that the Emperor would settle for anything less than total control over him.
Growing up on a desert world, Luke knew well the importance of water. His mind swiftly calculated that, using Jedi trances and other techniques to save his energy, he could last maybe four days without having anything to drink. But that was pushing it. With or without Luke's consent, the Emperor was going to be able to goad the Jedi into doing what he wanted him to do.
With a defeated sigh, Luke got to his feet and returned to the darkened room. The glitter of Coruscant's lights cast a serene illumination on the room, and fleetingly, he wished for the peace that he could glimpse just outside his window.
Slowly, he pulled off his boots and lay down on the oversized bed, feeling its gentle, kind comfort shrouded in the dark intentions of his enemy. All of this artificial compassion only served Palpatine's cruel purposes. Still, they'd drilled into him in the Alliance to eat when it was offered to you, sleep when you could, because you never knew when the opportunity would arise again.
At least he might try to get some rest.
*****
The blaster nudged Luke in the shoulder, prodding him to walk faster as they stepped out of the elegant rooms into a wide, carpeted hallway.
The walls of the corridor were lined with ornately carved black sconces, small tongues of orange flame curling out of them, lapping at the dark shadows. Stationed in an orderly manner down the hall, stood the imposing Imperial guards, armed to the teeth with visible weaponry.
"Just so you know to behave," the red-haired young woman told him pleasantly, noting his observance of the guards and jabbing the blaster in his back again.
There was little question in Luke's mind of where they could possibly be. Although he wasn't much of a seasoned traveler, the cityscape view from the window, combined with the grandeur of what he'd seen so far, made Luke fairly certain he was on Coruscant in the infamous Imperial palace.
His question was, how had he gotten here?
Luke searched his last memories, trying to figure out what had happened. His last blurry recollection was of the Emperor leering as blue lightning leapt off his fingertips and Luke's own pain-filled pleas to his Father to help him. He remembered nothing after that. Palpatine had gleefully reassured Luke that he would die, but something had obviously changed the wicked leader 's mind.
They reached a bank of turbolifts at the end of the hall and Luke and the young woman rode in silence until the lift deposited them on a new floor, almost completely identical to the last. They walked to the end of another corridor and came to two huge doors of ancient orowood carved in intricate patterns and protected by two red-clad guardsmen. Despite their old- fashioned appearance, the doors slid smoothly open upon their arrival.
Inside was a small, dark anteroom connecting with more doors. Luke took a deep breath as he was nudged forward, knowing what ordeals probably awaited him inside, and secretly dreading it. The second set of doors opened, and Luke, who was expecting a duplication of the throne room on the Death Star, started in mild surprise.
The room was a grand corridor of columns and bleached stone, the extraordinary architecture of some long-extinct civilization.
Massive windows—several stories high—covered the far wall, bathing the corridor in
orange and purple twilight of the planet's setting sun and providing the room's only illumination. Unlike the landscape from Luke's rooms, no buildings or vehicles obstructed the throne room's breathtaking view of the huge city or of space beyond.
Luke could see the dark silhouette of Palpatine's throne, facing away from them and eclipsed by the light from the sunset, and next to the Emperor, as motionless as a statue, a black shadow, stood Darth Vader.
At the sight of his father, Luke felt his emotions unexpectedly rise to the surface. He was suddenly angry at his father for not being strong enough to turn back to the light side, and then the tide of his fury turned and he was furious at himself for being so foolish as to think he could face Vader and the Emperor alone, for naively assuming he could turn his father back.
*Stop it! * He berated himself firmly. * Anger is of the dark side.* And now, of all times, he had to be calm; at peace like Yoda had taught him. His very salvation depended on it.
\
The blaster prodded him in the back again, and he obediently moved forward, slowly ascended the pale stone steps, his feet like lead.
There was only the clipped sound of their footsteps, echoing throughout the hall. Palpatine and Vader watched, silently, as they approached.
They stopped in front of the throne and Luke was aware of the young woman stepping back, placing her blaster back in its holster, and standing at attention.
Palpatine, his shriveled, rotting features hidden under the dark cowl of his black hood, nodded his approval to her. "You are dismissed."
She bowed curtly and turned on her heel. Luke listened to the precision tap of her footsteps as she left.
"Well, my young apprentice," Palpatine brought him back to the present. "It is my privilege to welcome you to your new home, the Imperial palace. How do you like your accommodations so far?"
It did not even cross Luke's thoughts to answer the question, as his mind raced through the possibilities of why he was being housed like a guest instead of a prisoner. What dark motive was behind this?
"Would you rather I put you in a prison cell?" the Emperor inquired mildly.
Fighting down his reflexive anger at having his thoughts read so casually, Luke swallowed a bitter retort, his gaze traveling to his father and back to the Emperor. "Tell me who won the battle of Endor."
He almost thought he saw Vader flinch at the tone of his voice, but he ignored the possible danger he might be putting himself in by speaking to the Emperor that way. Palpatine didn't even raise an eyebrow. "That, my young Jedi, all depends on what you define as winning the battle."
Luke frowned, wondering what kind of tricks the old despot was playing with his mind now. "Was the Death Star destroyed?" he asked quietly.
"I allowed for its destruction, yes," Palpatine corrected. He nodded politely at Luke. "I got what I wanted."
Luke didn't answer, momentarily basking in the relief that Han and Leia were safe and, unlike him, free…
"Do not waste energy entertaining notions of being rescued by your friends," the Emperor answered Luke's unspoken thought, his expression twisting into a malicious smile. "As far as any of them are concerned, you are dead. And don't worry," he assured the Jedi. "It was artistically and masterfully done. I sent a carefully reconstructed replica of your lightsaber, along with an unfortunate crewman who had worn out his usefulness, down in a sabotaged shuttle to crash on the sanctuary moon. Your friends have only a worthless hunk of metal and the charred remains of a complete stranger to console them in their grief. They will not be looking for you. And it will also be of no use of you to try to call out to them."
There was a heavy silence as Luke contemplated Palpatine's words, his expression darting from Vader to Palpatine and back. "By all means, try it if it will make you feel better," the Emperor offered to Luke's unspoken question. "I assure you I am telling the truth."
Despite his misgivings, Luke couldn't resist the proposal. Shutting out Palpatine's gleeful leer, he let his eyes fall half-closed and carefully reached out to the Force, calling his sister's name. *Leia… *
With a jolt, his eyes snapped open in disbelief. His Force connection with Leia had somehow been cut off. He could not feel her presence. Frantically searching again, he realized that he could not detect ANYTHING beyond the throne room and the palace—the whole bustling city below was completely dark to him.
He was brought out of his alarmed discovery by a cackling laugh. "You see?" the Emperor chuckled. "Your friends cannot help you. Oh, no, my young apprentice. I'm afraid you are very much on your own here."
Indeed, Luke felt very much alone. *Ben, * he thought quietly. * I need you.*
The evil ruler laughed again, reaching slowly into his robes and pulling out an all-too-familiar object, setting it on the arm of the throne.
It was Luke's lightsaber.
The Jedi eyed it warily. His glance went to Vader's hand, replaced and working like new; and then his thoughts flashed back to the Death Star.
When they were fighting, it had become swiftly apparent that Luke was the stronger of the two. In his blind fury, he had become powerful enough that he could have killed the man that was his father, willfully sinking himself into the murky depths he'd tried so hard to avoid. But now, he wondered if perhaps he could use that well of brief strength from the Dark Side to escape. Just dipping a tiny bit into those unrestrained powers would surely have no lasting effects. It would not mean he had turned. Would it?
Unconsciously, Luke flexed the fingers of his own right hand, which had also been repaired. No, he could not take the risks. He knew that he did not want to turn into what his father had become.
Luke took a deep breath, his determination fortified. He would not give in to his anger, no matter what.
His head snapped up when he realized, too late, that both Vader and the Emperor were watching him.
Palpatine chuckled in amusement at Luke's pitiful resolve. "Today," he announced, "we will be working on proficiency with a lightsaber."
He nodded pleasantly, noting the object of Luke's repulsed attention. "Your rudimentary skills show you've mastered a basic technique, but you have very much to learn."
"No," Luke croaked, shaking his head. "No," he said again in a stronger voice. "I will not fight."
There was a thick silence. No one moved. When Palpatine finally spoke, his voice was deadly calm. "It was not a suggestion," he informed Luke quietly. "One way or the other, you will have to learn to obey my orders. You must be a loyal servant if you are to properly aid the Empire."
Luke stood rigidly, his hands at his sides, fully aware that he could be digging his own grave with his defiance. "I'll never serve you or the Empire," he declared softly. "And I'll never turn to the dark side."
A small, dangerous smile crossed Palpatine's face and he cocked his head at Vader. "Young idealism sacrifices itself so nobly." He clucked disappointedly at Luke. "What a senseless waste."
As if on some unspoken signal to attack, Vader's lightsaber was suddenly ignited and bearing down on his son. Luke saw the weapon coming and in a split instant of decision-making, self-preservation won over. His own lightsaber flew to his outstretched hand, blocking the Dark Lord's blow.
Vader struck again and Luke parried, his gaze locking with the dark mask. "Why do you want to do this again, father?" He asked softly. "Don't you think being defeated once was enough?"
Vader's temper surged to the surface and with the strength of his fresh anger he swung to strike a low blow to the knee, but Luke caught it with a sweeping parry. The Dark Lord then initiated a forceful blow over the side of Luke's head, which the Jedi barely deflected. Vader was slowly backing him into the huge windows, but Luke made no effort to go into the offensive. There were a few more clashing blows between them, when Vader suddenly hooked his lightsaber around Luke's, wrenching the sword from the Jedi's grip.
Luke had a fleeting childish hope as he watched his weapon fly to hit the transpristeel window that the material would shatter into a million tiny shards upon contact with the laser beam. But not to his great surprise, the lightsaber bounced harmlessly against the force field and clattered, deactivated, to the floor.
Vader held the tip of his crimson blade under Luke's chin as his son gazed boldly back at him.
"If this were an actual battle, you'd be dead by now," the Dark Lord rumbled. He deactivated his weapon. "Get your lightsaber."
Luke shook his head. "I do not want to fight you."
"So, the Jedi refuses to fight," the Emperor chuckled, walking slowly up to them. "I suppose we shall see how long his resolve will last. Lord Vader," he faced the Dark Lord. "See to it that young Skywalker is shown to his quarters. On my orders, he shall be given nothing to eat or drink until he agrees to cooperate with us and do his duty as part of the Empire."
"Yes, my master," Vader bowed.
Casually, Palpatine called Luke's prone lightsaber to his hand and hefted the weapon thoughtfully before regarding the Jedi once more. "I do hope you will be intelligent enough not to waste any more energy on this pointless defiance."
"Take him away."
*******
The very last thing Luke wanted was for Darth Vader to escort him back to his quarters. He had a barrage of questions and criticisms that he wanted to throw at his father, but, though these accusing words were on the tip of his tongue, Luke saw common sense in not voicing any of them. Or maybe he was just tired.
Vader seemed only too happy to accommodate the silence, as he wordlessly accompanied Luke to his posh quarters. Luke himself was too busy trying to plow unsuccessfully through his own conflicting emotions and they walked in stifled hostility until they reached the suite. Without a word, the Dark Lord keyed open the door and stood like a dark sentinel over Luke as he walked in. The door hissed shut behind the Jedi, and there was the sound of several locking mechanisms being engaged. Then silence.
Exhaustion settled over Luke like a cloud as he collapsed wearily into the black nerf-leather couch and scowled at the window, his mind still reeling from his sudden new set of circumstances. How could things have gone so wrong? As he had bid Leia goodbye on Endor, he had imagined that he might not see her again, had known full well that his life might end in the ensuing battle. But he'd had a strange peace in knowing, a sort of resigned calm. But now… as much as he tried to recreate that peaceful feeling, it would not come. The ominous unknown of his future unnerved him more than he would ever care to admit. A quick and tidy execution on the Death Star would most likely have been preferable to the various horrific ways Palpatine could now drag out his misery. Dread curdled in the Jedi's stomach as he recalled horrible stories and rumors he'd heard as a youth and also as a pilot in the Alliance—legends of the Emperor's wrath.
Thoughts of his father unwittingly popped into his mind again and he wondered silently, *Why? * He'd been so sure about Vader, so certain that the Dark Lord would be turned back to the Light side. Obi-wan Kenobi's ghostly words from Dagobah came back to him. *I was wrong. *
* I was wrong. * The old Jedi had been wrong about training Anakin. Luke had been wrong about turning him back. His anger still burned deep inside him where he'd tried to bury it and lock it away—anger at his father and himself. The sense of being betrayed by Vader again was an ache in his heart, his fury like a raw wound that refused to heal.
*Control your anger, * Luke thought impatiently to himself, envisioning a disappointed Yoda sadly shaking his head at his student. *Be at Peace. Passive. *
Perhaps he didn't have to love his father or even forgive him for the things he had done, if he could just bury his emotions so deep that no one—not even the Emperor—could reach them and twist them around for their own purposes. That way, he could not be turned to the Dark Side.
Luke sank lower into the couch, his mind automatically reaching out to his sister's familiar, comforting presence—and then jolting back to awareness when his call again rebounded against the invisible mental wall. No doubt, this was another amusing game of Palpatine's. His Force connection to Leia had been severed. She might never learn what had truly happened to him. Perhaps just as well, Luke thought glumly. When he did finally meet his fate, it was not likely to be pleasant.
*For crying out loud, I'm starting to sound like Threepio! *
With that sobering thought, Luke slowly got to his feet. Perhaps there was something here in these ritzy rooms that could be useful to him—something the Emperor had overlooked. Not likely, he knew, but worth a look, even if only to take his mind off of his dismal situation.
He started his search at an intriguing antique wood desk and, after briefly examining its strange alien woodwork, went through each of its tiny drawers and niches. Not surprisingly, they were all empty.
He walked over to the next possibility; an old-fashioned wardrobe, whose design he recognized as being Alderaanian, set against the far wall. He grasped the gilded antique knobs of the decorative doors and peered in, mildly surprised to find it full of clothes. He quickly rifled through several non-descript tunics of black and gray, and hooded robes much like the traditional Jedi attire—except for their color.
Luke shut the wardrobe, his blue eyes probing the rest of the room for places to search. The refresher across the room could be a good possibility, and he went to check it out.
The room was decked out in expensive polished stone and was, quite frankly, the most elaborate refresher Luke had ever seen. But his attention was not directed toward the furnishings, but rather, to the marble sink. The Emperor's words came back to him, ordering Vader not to allow him food or water until he cooperated. Well, Luke thought with a triumphant smile, turning on the faucet and watching the cold, clear water pour into the basin. Palpatine had made his mistake.
He cupped his hand underneath the flow to catch some of the precious liquid and raised it to his lips. But instead of sweet, fresh water, he was met with a horribly bitter, salty flavor, and in one smooth motion, reeled back over the sink, spewing water and gagging at the vile, nasty taste in his mouth.
Luke grimaced, kneeling at the cabinet, and tiredly rubbed a hand over his eyes. *So much for that idea. * He should have known better than to think that the Emperor would settle for anything less than total control over him.
Growing up on a desert world, Luke knew well the importance of water. His mind swiftly calculated that, using Jedi trances and other techniques to save his energy, he could last maybe four days without having anything to drink. But that was pushing it. With or without Luke's consent, the Emperor was going to be able to goad the Jedi into doing what he wanted him to do.
With a defeated sigh, Luke got to his feet and returned to the darkened room. The glitter of Coruscant's lights cast a serene illumination on the room, and fleetingly, he wished for the peace that he could glimpse just outside his window.
Slowly, he pulled off his boots and lay down on the oversized bed, feeling its gentle, kind comfort shrouded in the dark intentions of his enemy. All of this artificial compassion only served Palpatine's cruel purposes. Still, they'd drilled into him in the Alliance to eat when it was offered to you, sleep when you could, because you never knew when the opportunity would arise again.
At least he might try to get some rest.
*****
