*******************

The long conference room of the Mon Calamari cruiser was a stark, uninterrupted white. Several dozen pristine white chairs were arranged in immaculate rows towards the head of the room. The room's occupants-all members of the Rebel Alliance who knew Han Solo and Leia Organa-were seated quietly, watching happily as the couple was married.

Standing opposite each other, the infinity of space stretching out behind them through the floor-to-ceiling viewports, the husband-and-wife-to-be gazed into each other's eyes, their fingers twined, most likely oblivious to everyone else in the room.

General Rieekan, wearing a crisp white uniform, his hair neatly combed, stood in front of them. "Do you, Han Solo, take Leia to be your lawfully wedded wife as long as you both shall live?" He asked, glancing up from a small book he held in his hand.

The former smuggler grinned, realizing that he probably looked like a soppy lovebird. Chewie would never let him live it down. But Solo didn't care. Who could have imagined that he would have gone from being some low-life, self-serving scum, to a man with a cause, friends, a belonging place, and most importantly, a beautiful wife whom he loved with all his heart. "Yes," he nodded, staring into Leia's dark brown eyes. They were sparkling with happy tears. "I do."

"And do you, Leia Organa, take Han to be your lawfully wedded husband as long as you both shall live?"

She nodded. "I do."

"Then," Rieekan smiled, "I now declare you husband and wife." He nodded to Han. "You may kiss the bride."

As Han drew his new wife into a long kiss, a whooping cheer from one of the pilots set the whole room into a ripple of happy laughter, which turned into roaring applause. Leia's face turned crimson, but she smiled at the crowd, Han's hand still gripping hers tightly.

The cheering onlookers followed the newly married couple to the main hangar bay, where, like a hodgepodge of bolts, the FALCON was humming and ready to go. Solo lifted a hand in farewell to the Rebels as he and Leia boarded the ship and the ramp sealed behind them.

"Off we go, Chewie!" Han called to the Wookiee in the cockpit. Because of security reasons, the FALCON would only be gone for the day, but they had planned to make the most out of it-braving the wild animals to tour various parts of the luscious, green planet, packing a picnic lunch to eat on the rocks underneath the waterfalls. He leaned down to kiss a smiling Leia. "Sweetheart," he murmured, "our honeymoon has officially begun."

**************

The moment Luke had been dreading had finally arrived.

He was awakened, in the dead of Coruscant's night, city lights blinking silently outside his window, airspeeders zooming every which way, despite the hour, but he took no notice as his heart thudded with a very vivid premonition of danger.

Slipping cautiously out of bed, senses extended, he detected a flurry of activity several floors down. Four stormtroopers, preceded by a grim but determined Mara Jade, were heading, at Palpatine's spur-of-the-moment bidding, swiftly up to his quarters.

Luke sat on the edge of the bed, shivering in spite of the warm air of the room. It was so very like Palpatine to spring his trap swiftly and unexpectedly. He felt numb as he briefly thought of Han and Leia. Would they ever know what he had done for their sake-what he had given up for their happiness and well being? Or would they only hate him for the enemy that he had become to them? For he had little doubt in his mind that the Emperor would succeed in twisting his powers and his loyalty into something completely unidentifiable, completely evil. To this, Luke had knowingly promised to submit, in order to save his friends. He hadn't been so delusional that he thought the time would never come, but had anticipated it with a dark, gnawing dread.

How might he view the universe in the days to come? He wondered. Would he see it only as opportunities for insatiable greed and power? Darkness and personal gain?

Hollowly, silently, he apologized to Yoda and Obi-wan. *I have failed you all.* He thought despairingly. *But this is the only way.*

Coldly, committing his last moments to memory, Luke swiftly donned a dark gray tunic and his black boots. They were almost to his door.

As he passed the bureau mirror and his darkened reflection flitted by, he wondered again how the horrors of the Dark Side would change him forever.

Stars, he did not want to turn!

Then, without any forewarning, the large wooden doors to his quarters flew open, and Mara stood there, two alert stormtrooper guards standing behind her. "The Emperor wants you to come now, Skywalker," she informed him without any preamble. Her voice was emotionless, flat. She did not meet his eyes.

Luke cast a final glance at the glittering stars outside his window, hovering as they did over the dazzling cityscape.

Then he turned to meet his fate.

**********

The throne room was shrouded in darkness. The eerie blue glow of some sort of hidden lamps offered the only illumination, casting long, moving shadows across the bleached stone. Luke entered hesitantly, and a stormtrooper blaster prodded him forward.

There was a familiar, bone-chilling chuckle from the depths of the shadows. With a suddenness that startled him, searing bright light flooded the cavernous room. "At last, we can begin," the voice laughed.

Luke squinted up at the dark figure standing at the head of the steps, trying to shut out the maniacal laughter. "Come," Palpatine beckoned Luke with a gnarled hand. "Come, my young apprentice." Reluctantly, the Jedi started forward, realizing that sometime in his preoccupation, his escorts had departed. He tried to set aside the cold dread in his stomach and the perpetual tingling shout of danger that seemed to make his ears ring, but the feeling only worsened.

"I have an assignment for you to complete, boy," the Emperor told him. Luke made his feet to continue plodding forward. "The purpose is two-fold. And since you are a part of my Empire now, you must begin carrying out important Imperial tasks."

Luke reached the steps below the Emperor when Palpatine suddenly gestured ominously to the doors that he had come through. The Jedi turned, and watched as they opened. The four stormtroopers entered, this time with someone being dragged between them, hands shackled, hair disheveled. When he saw that the prisoner was clothed in a very familiar orange flight suit, Luke went cold.

The warning shout of danger in his mind was unmistakable now, but he could only watch, frozen, as the prisoner, who was obviously a Rebel pilot was dumped at his feet. Tycho Celchu raised his head in an expression of willful defiance that Luke recognized well as one that had been his own for endless weeks. As the Rebel's eyes took in the Jedi Knight before him, his expression turned to shock, and then disbelief. "Luke Skywalker?" he murmured.

Luke could only nod, leaden fear twisting in his stomach, his mind spinning sickeningly. What was going on here?

Somehow, despite his shackles, Tycho was climbing to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he cried. "You know the Rebellion thinks you're dead? Are you a prisoner here too?" Luke barely nodded. "They aren't going to do something sick like make us fight each other, are they?" Tycho asked, jerking his head to look around the room and suddenly stopping cold when he saw Palpatine's shadowy figure standing like a shrouded statue.

Luke saw the Rebel's earnest mannerisms of a fellow pilot abruptly leave his features, replaced by his previous expression of cold defiance, but with something far more dangerous underneath the surface. His shoulders straightened noticeably and his eyes narrowed. "Well," he said softly, his tone suddenly quiet and on edge. "If it isn't the Tyrant himself."

Like an inanimate demon coming to life, Palpatine took a step forward with a grotesque cackle. "Of course we also enjoy the pleasure of your company, however short it may be," he returned affably, chuckling again.

"Why you son of slime-ridden-"

"And of course you already know my young apprentice," The Emperor cut him off smoothly, gesturing to Luke. "Perhaps his presence gives you a sense of false security because you think he is on your side, when the reality is that he serves the Empire now. He serves me."

With a faltering step, Tycho reeled back to turn his darkly scrutinizing gaze on the Jedi. Luke opened his mouth to protest, and then clamped it shut again. He couldn't speak. Palpatine was right-he did serve the Empire. Whether by choice or not wasn't significant anymore because he knew that he would never again be able to return to the Rebel Alliance. He tried to push down the familiar ache that the reminder gave him, tried to dispel the image of a friend's immediate distrust in him.

"We have brought you here to try you and execute you for the despicable traitor that you are." The Emperor informed the pilot pleasantly.

Tycho only looked more defiant. "Well, at least I shall not die as a cowardly-"

"My young apprentice?" Palpatine ignored the Rebel, turning to Luke, and the Jedi saw that the polished metal cylinder of his own lightsaber rested in the ruler's hand. The Emperor was holding the weapon out to him-waiting for him to take it, to perform this "execution".

Luke swallowed. The noose of the Dark Side was about to be yanked taut once and for all. Perpetrated by Luke's own actions. He had known it was going to happen. Palpatine was ordering him to murder a friend in order to save his friends.

The room was silent, waiting. The Emperor was watching him with delighted interest. Tycho was eyeing him without fear, only hardened anger. The four stormtroopers stood watching, their blank, plasteel faces and dark polished eyes boring into the Jedi. Standing inconspicuously near the door, arms folded, Mara Jade watched, a dark, scrutinizing frown of marring her chiseled features. Luke felt nausea churn in his stomach. He didn't think he could do this. With all his heart, he did not want to do this.

"Take the lightsaber," Palpatine told him coldly. "I'll remind you that obeying or disobeying my orders will not do anything to save this man's life, for he is a traitor to the Empire and that warrants his immediate execution, but your cooperation will have something to do with ensuring the continuing well-being of your friends. Or need I remind you of the conditions of our agreement?" He asked.

Luke shook his head, feeling that the world seemed to be closing in around him. He mechanically took the weapon from Palpatine's tainted hand and it rested like lead in his cold fingers. Slowly, he turned the lightsaber around, examining the ridges of its metal grip, the familiar workmanship that was his own. He was stalling for time.

"You seemed to have misplaced the activation button, boy," The Emperor said, beginning to get impatient. Luke's head snapped up to look at the evil ruler and back at the lightsaber, then to Palpatine again. He felt dizzy as his thumb slipped over the small red button. With a snap-hiss, the green blade extended, humming and crackling in the waiting silence. He was to execute a man-a friend-in cold blood with this weapon. *It is the weapon of the Jedi Knights* Obi-wan had told him on the first day, ages ago, when he had met the old hermit.

*The Jedi Knights.*

*I am a Jedi Knight* he thought, feeling lightheaded. Raising the weapon higher, he saw Tycho's hard, unforgiving gaze staring unwaveringly back at him; a traitor. Luke forced himself not to flinch from the angered emotions of a former friend. For soon, the pilot's hatred would be justified and the Jedi would be the very object of loathing that Tycho now thought him to be. Yoda's voice echoed in his turbulent mind. *Beware of the Dark Side.*

Luke shut his eyes. How many times had he been cautioned, berated, and warned against the dangers and consequences of the Dark Side? Apparently, their effort had been for naught. *But what else can I do?* He thought desperately to the nagging voice of conscience in his mind. *Han and Leia will be killed because of me.*

*You are a Jedi Knight*, the voice reminded him again.

*Jedi Knight*.

*Jedi Knight.*

The next thing Luke was aware of was feeling like a bucket of icy water had been poured over his head, and he back-stepped, his lightsaber dropping from his lifeless fingers with a solid clunk as it hit the floor. He realized he was shaking his head.

"No," he whispered, and then in a louder voice, "No!"

The room was as still as death. Luke took another step back. His hands were suddenly trembling and he felt weak in the knees, feeling that any moment he might sink limply to the floor.

"What kind of monster do you think I am?" he cried to Palptine in rising fury and desperation. "I can't do this-I won't do this!"

There was a dangerous silence that filled the room with the Jedi's words. The tension was like a tight string about to snap. But Luke could only hear the thunderous pounding of his own heart echoing in his ears.

Palpatine kept his searing, putrid gaze on Luke, and time seemed to stretch like hot molasses, the Jedi wondering distantly if perhaps his life would end here and now under the fury of the Emperor's white-hot rage.

"So be it," Palpatine said finally, not sparing Luke another glance as he gestured to the stormtroopers, their weapons drawn and pointed towards Tycho.

"Kill him," he said simply.

"No!" Luke cried, not thinking as he dove towards the Rebel pilot, his mind racing with the insane idea that he could repel the blaster shots, save the life that he had come so close to ending himself. Perhaps he could stop this crazed nightmare that his life seemed to be unfurling. He had to do something. But the ripping puncture of blaster fire reverberated in Luke's ears and he saw Tycho jerk back with the force of the shot and collapse into a lifeless heap to the rough stone floor. A split second later, the searing pain of the familiar blue energy from the Emperor's Force- lightening tore through Luke, drilling him to the ground with a muted cry.

The stone was cold and hard. Ignoring the pain, he dug his fingernails into a shallow crack, trying to find the leverage to get up. He could no longer detect Tycho's presence in the Force, and knew, with bile welling in his throat, that the pilot must be dead. Luke rolled drunkenly, crawling painfully to his elbows and knees, trying to stop the world from careening dizzily around him, and realized that Palpatine was standing over him, gnarled cane digging into the floor.

"At least I must commend you on your stubbornness," the Emperor commented quietly. "It's unfortunate that it will cost you the lives of your friends. But first, we have a matter to take up concerning your disobedience to me. Jade?" he called. Luke's eyes were shut, his forehead pressing into the rough-hewn stone, but he heard Mara's voice somewhere nearby.

"Yes, my master?"

The Jedi could feel Palpatine's eyes boring into the back of his head as the evil ruler replied. "Escort Skywalker down to sublevel 12," he told her. "They will be expecting him."

********