AN: I've had to split Chapter 9 into four parts as it's rather long!
A Light Foreshadowed
Part One
He ran, stumbling through the whiteness, his legs sinking into the softness of the snow around him. He ran, fighting the cold as it clung to his skin, as it sapped the strength from his body. Ran, as fast as the hampering ice would allow.
The creature bellowed its rage behind him.
He fell. Went head long into a snow bank. He turned, his hands fumbling at his belt for his lightsabre. Not there. He squinted in the light - sunlight reflecting off the snow, the sharpness stabbing his eyes...
...this is light. This is pain...
...The creature roared again. Closer.
He turned, pulled himself to his feet. Glanced around looking for a place to hide, looking for shelter from the beasts' fury, from the elements of this wilderness and saw only the wampa charging towards him.
A cry was torn from his throat as the brute fell on him, claws tearing his clothing, his flesh, teeth ripping at his neck...
And there was darkness, a peacefulness into which he gratefully sank...
...stay and be safe, the shadows offered, stay and find strength...
"Luke..."
He awakened to darkness, blinked sweat from his eyes as he slowly adjusted to being back in the real world, hearing the trailing whispers of his dream retreat quietly from his mind.
"...Luke..."
He sat up. "Lights."
And the room was abruptly flooded with light...
...this is light. This is pain...
"Lower," he ordered through a scarred throat, burned by the freezing carbonite. A gift from his father and his Emperor; a reminder.
The lights dimmed. He rose from the bed, padded across the cool, slick floor of his quarters and stood before the view port. He stared into space, at the Endor moon, at his father's ship as it slid out from the light side of the orb. It was a beautiful view. The deepness of space sprinkled with stars, the aura of life pulsing through the Force from the moon and from the huge ship, which moved gracefully through the system with TIE fighters darting like carrion flies around its bulk and sunlight bursting on its retreating stern.
And the old feelings were there; astonishment, awe, apprehension, excitement and an adrenaline filled sense of discovery and achievement. He had made it! He was here! He was off that sandy planet of his youth; he was where his dreams had promised. Left behind was a life of drudgery on the farm, gone was...
The farm...
...there had been smoke, blackened bodies lying in the sun. He had shouted for them, saw them, and then buried them. The pain had been stunning, too powerful to allow tears. But he had cried...
...he closed his eyes against the memories. They had no place here, on the Death Star. They were dangerous, if his father should sense them, if he dwelled too long in the past he might...
Might what? Might remember who he had been? What he had been? What he had? Might regret the path his life had taken? Might resent what had happened to him, what had been done to him, how he had changed? How he had accepted that which once abhorred him?
Accepted? Had he taken to this life willingly? Had he held out his hands and taken what was offered?
No. It had been forced upon him, thrust into his outstretched hands that had pleaded mercy and had received corruption in its place. But had he not adapted, had he not taken to the life as though born to it, had he not dealt that corruption onto others?
Accepted? Perhaps. But with a purpose...
He shifted his eyes back to the Executor, abruptly aware that his thoughts had been open, that his father could easily have read his feelings. The Dark Lord's presence was strong, but he was pre-occupied elsewhere and he was concerned, but strangely exhilarated, as though something was about to happen, something which caused a thrill of anticipation to course through him and he showed no acknowledgement of his son's questioning touch. At first Sohn was confused, it was unlike his father to be so distant, so ignorant of his offspring.
There was a tone from the doorway and Sohn turned to the sound, glad that his thoughts had been interrupted, stopped; should they have been sensed by his father his punishment would have been swift and severe. And, given that Emperor was due to arrive...
The Emperor! Sohn was struck with sickening realisation. That was why his father had paid him no heed. Palpatine's ship was approaching. But he had felt nothing, had not sensed his master drawing near...
...this is light. This is pain...
...but he had. His dreams had been invaded, Palpatine's presence manifesting into the attacking Wampa, the whispers, and he had withdrawn when Sohn wakened, enjoying the continued mind games he had begun when a weakened Luke Skywalker had fallen from the carbonite so many months before.
"You were correct Lord Vader, he is just a boy. Perhaps my fears were unfounded."
The tone from the door, again. Why didn't they just call him on the comlink? Why always the messenger?
"Enter."
The door swept aside revealing a young lieutenant and four stormtroopers. "My Lord Commander," the officer began squinting in the dim light, seeing only shadows and the silhouette of the younger Vader. "The Emperor commands your presence for his arrival."
"Of course he does," Sohn answered, tightly. "And he requested the escort?" As though he would disobey his master's command or, as though he was still a prisoner and Palpatine was letting him know it. He smiled ruefully, cherishing the knot of anger forming within him; as though mere troopers could stop him now.
"Yes, my Lord."
Sohn turned from the soldier, looked back to the view port and watched as a Super Star Destroyer burst from light speed. Palpatine's presence filled him, the man's evil seeping through him, chilling him to the core and he welcomed it, opened to it, allowed it to brush his very soul and he gloried in the freezing passion of the Dark Side of the Force, cried out with the sheer agony of its power. He buckled and fell to the floor.
Then it left him, the Emperor having moved his attentions elsewhere leaving Sohn, on his knees, gasping in calming breaths of air. He closed his eyes and focused inward trying to still his twisting emotions, trying to disperse his lingering revulsion at the Emperor's touch.
"Uh, Sir?" The lieutenant began a distinct nervousness now obvious in his tones. "My Lord, you..."
"I know," Sohn cut in sharply, turning his attention to the soldiers. Smiling inwardly at the fear which he felt within them. Fear of him, of the Emperor, should they not complete their given task. "We cannot keep Him waiting."
He stood, dressed, lifted his mask and helmet from beside the bed, and donned them. Then he lifted his lightsabre - the one Kenobi had given him, his father's - and hooked it to his belt. He strode from the room subduing his feelings, keeping in check the tension and anticipation he knew were growing within him, dulling all facets of his being except those which were Sohn Vader.
Walking down the corridor of waiting troops, he took his place by his father's side as the Emperor's shuttle touched down in the docking bay. The elder Vader did not acknowledge him, his attention focused on the shuttle before them, on the ramp that was lowering. It had been many weeks since they had been with the Emperor, since His Majesty had allowed Sohn to be given a rank within his forces and to leave the nurturing darkness of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant, and Sohn struggled to check the unease, the fear which swelled abruptly within him as the hatch opened. But he rose above the feelings, emptied his mind and stood firm.
Darth Vader kneeled as his master emerged from the ship, sensing his son and those around them doing likewise. Sohn appeared calm, his feelings quiet to the moment at hand. And Vader was proud; proud of his son's ability to control himself. Sohn was indeed strong. Stronger than he, or the Emperor, had imagined and he had sensed his master's disquiet growing even as he had felt Sohn become more sure of himself and his skills.
Proud and yet, there was something else, feelings trailing like a loose thread which teased the edge of his emotions. Feelings he had not felt for a long time, so long he could barely recognise them. Regret, guilt, grief. Regret that his son had turned - after a fight, a struggle. Guilt, that he had been a party to his son's fall, his child's suffering. Grief, that Luke...
..Luke?
...There was a truth in that name. A truth he was finding more difficult to deny. He had acknowledged Luke Skywalker as his son, and had thus acknowledged the Skywalker name once more as being his own. And, with this acknowledgement came the acceptance of himself as Anakin Skywalker. And he had remembered himself as a youth, the dreams and aspirations he had once had and how none had come to fruition.
They had been lost, as had he, to the Dark Side, to Palpatine's own ambitions.
He knew the moment when Anakin had surfaced, when he became acutely aware of these feelings for the first time. They had just finished another training session with Sohn, Palpatine teasing and goading, demanding more and more. Vader had felt Sohn's anger and frustrations growing with each order, and suddenly the Emperor had ended the session and turned his attentions to the affairs of state, dismissing father and son with a wave of his hand. The youth had been interrupted during a sabre drill, one they had criticised and scorned time after time, and now he was doing it correctly it was to be left incomplete and unrecognised.
Sohn had stormed away, his fury simmering at the dismissal, his body and mind trembling with exertion. Understanding this, Palpatine had sent a lowly soldier to Sohn's quarters with a trivial request. It was one demand too many. Sohn killed the man, using his rage to crush him. Vader had felt his son's churning emotions, had felt the burst of sheer power. When he had arrived at his son's quarters, Sohn had looked up at him from the twisted corpse, his feelings convoluted and confused. Vader felt the revulsion, the grief and shame, as Sohn had stammered out his excuse of; "he annoyed me." But, he had also felt the boy's pleasure, the growing understanding of the power he held within his grasp. He had killed without a weapon, without a reason, using only the Force. His remorse would fade whereas his power could only grow.
Vader had turned from him, left him without a word. What had happened had been a turning point for them both. For Vader it reminded him of his first kill using the dark side. Both father and son had demonstrated the same failing; allowing their anger to cloud them to the dark side and thus leaving them open to its manipulations. Vader's mind had cleared, and Anakin Skywalker stirred within him.
He was also aware that Sohn was holding something close, knew that from the day he had pledged his life to the Emperor and the Empire, the boy had been keeping something hidden. However, Sohn had been clever in diverting both himself and the Emperor from that concealed place when they touched and probed his feelings.
However, his own feelings were a different matter. Although Palpatine had not yet sensed his doubts...
...his hope...
...he knew that Sohn had sensed them, for he had allowed the boy easy access. They now danced lightly around each other, prying and pulling back for fear of rejection. Both were curious, but unwilling to trust, unwilling to be the first to speak the unspoken. He had offered Sohn his hand, had uttered treasonous words, perhaps as a test to Sohn's loyalties for the approaching battle. Perhaps not, for at times now he was unsure of his own motives.
"You could destroy him."
"That is not my place."
Vader had been rejected, but the thoughts had lingered, being nurtured by them both. They could destroy the Emperor together Then, the galaxy would be theirs. Father and son. The power would be theirs. Vader could almost touch it now, feel it coursing through him. The power...
...and what would they do with that power? End the current conflict, and then what? Bring more death and grief to the systems? Perpetuate what the Emperor had begun? Or would they rebuild what had been destroyed?
"Rise, my friend." The Emperor bid him.
Vader shut off his thoughts, closed down his feelings. Relieved that Palpatine had not chosen the few minutes it took to exit the shuttle to caress his thoughts, to touch the core of his feelings. He rose and walked with his master, passing Sohn without a glance, ignoring the boy. Vader knew, however, that Sohn too had risen and was walking at his back with Moff Jerjerrod, the Death Star's commander, and the other dignitaries
How wise was it for them to turn their backs on the boy?
"The Death Star will be completed on schedule," he told Palpatine
"You have done well, Lord Vader," and now he felt his master's touch, allowed himself to open under its command. "But, I sense you are not entirely comfortable with our plans to route the Alliance."
"I would never question your wisdom, my master." Vader assured him, firmly.
"But your son does," The Emperor snapped, turning swiftly to Sohn who dropped to his bended knee once more before him. Palpatine relished the brief burst of terror which rose from the boy. "Explain, child! What gives you the authority to question our actions?"
"Forgive me, Sire," Sohn begged, quietly, calmly. He was horrified at this sudden attention, this humiliation before the battle station's crew. "I know these rebels, their fanaticism."
"Yes, you do, don't you," the Emperor conceded, menacingly, but impressed by Sohn's control. "Perhaps we should discuss this fanaticism further?"
Sohn struggled to contain his emotions, his hatred for this man almost overwhelming, his fear of what a further discussion would entail. But beneath this was an understanding that Palpatine did not trust him, indeed the Emperor held his own fear of him; fear of what he was capable of should the tight controls he was subjugated too be loosened just a little too much. And fear him he should. Sohn bowed his head, staring at the polished floor of the docking bay, hiding the slight smile which tinged his lips. "As you wish, Majesty."
Palpatine smiled, savouring the moment, the utter obedience Sohn displayed despite his open hatred. The boy had learned his lessons well and by the time the coming battle was over Sohn would belong fully to the Dark Side. "Perhaps not. Use your knowledge, young one. But use it carefully," he warned. "It may be an advantage to us. Tend to your duties, Commander."
"As you command, Sire."
"Come, Lord Vader," Palpatine requested, now turning from Sohn and walking on. "Remain at my side, we still have much to discuss."
Sohn remained where he was until the Emperor's entourage had passed him by, and the troops had begun to break up. Then he stood and strode from the hanger, mentally daring anyone to smile or glance in his direction.
The Rebel hanger bay was filled to capacity. It looked, Solo mused as he weaved his away through the ships, fighters and personnel, like the Deluvian Vehicle Auctions on Tari'un IV before the bidding started. Noise was just as bad too; he could hardly hear Calrissian beside him speaking.
Now there was a turn about. Lando Calrissian, a Rebel General. The self-centred, self-serving gambler had found a cause...
..So have you...
Well maybe, he conceded to the tiny inner whisper. But then maybe he wanted some pay back for what they did to him: all those months in carbon freeze lost while events twisted themselves around him until very little made sense anymore. Calrissian, who help orchestrate his capture with Vader, helping Leia plan his rescue and risking his life in return. The Empire building another Death Star, and Luke... Dead, but not dead. Introduced by the Empire as Vader's son...and Leia, his sister...Vader's daughter?
No sense, just an awful truth.
"Look," he interrupted, stopping at the ramp of a small Imperial shuttle, and waving his hand in the direction of the Millennium Falcon. "I want you to take her." Calrissian looked at him dubiously. "I mean it, take her. You need all the help you can get. She's the fastest ship in the fleet."
Lando's doubt turned to a smile. He'd been relishing piloting his old ship again while Han had been missing and, if truth be told, had been reluctant to return her to her rightful owner. Any chance to continue flying her was to be jumped at. "All right, old buddy. You know, I know what she means to you. I'll take good care of her. She...she won't get a scratch."
Han winced, scratch? Had he done the right thing after all? "Right. I got your promise now. Not a scratch."
Lando grinned. "Look, would you get going, you pirate." Then he turned serious, and saluted his friend. "Good Luck."
Han returned the gesture, "you too." He turned then and walked up the shuttles ramp.
Leia was frowning at the control panel in front of her and Chewbacca was gesturing and complaining at the blinking lights on the co-pilot console as Han entered the cockpit. "You got her warmed?" he asked, skirting past Threepio who, for once, was quietly buckling himself into an acceleration chair.
"Yes," Leia answered him over Chewie's rumbles. "She's coming along nicely."
Chewie shifted his bulk in the confines of the co-pilot chair, barking loudly at Han. The Corellian grimaced at the Wookiee's words, but could offer no consolation except; "Yeah, well, I don't think the Empire had Wookiees in mind when they designed her, Chewie."
He settled into the pilot's chair taking a moment to familiarise himself with the shuttle's controls. He glanced up, looked out the cockpit window and stopped when he saw the Millennium Falcon sitting across the hanger.
What a piece of junk!
Han dismissed Luke's past burst of derision. The kid had come to appreciate the Falcon, had pleaded to be allowed to pilot her, and besides it was a long time ago now. Things were different, Luke was...different. The Falcon was looking good, looking sharp and eager. He'd spent hours working on her - those he could afford since becoming a Rebel General - had relished every task, every cross of wires, every instrument light, every power cell he installed. It had helped take his mind off things, helped refocus him to the future instead of looking to the past and everything that had occurred since Hoth...
...Past...Future...
...and Han felt a chill.
A warm hand was placed on his shoulder.
"Hey, are you awake?"
Han pulled himself back a little, still staring out at the Falcon. "Yeah. I just got a funny feeling. Like I'm not gonna see her again."
Chewbacca caught his words, looked up, and he too, gazed out at their ship; memories chasing each other through his mind.
Leia patted Han's upper arm. "Come on, General, let's move."
Han tore his eyes away from the freighter to the controls before him, and the mission ahead. "Right," he agreed with Leia. "Chewie, lets see what this piece of junk can do. Ready, everybody?"
Leia glanced behind her at the ground squad in the passenger compartment. "We're all set."
Han gunned the throttle and the shuttle moved forward past the Falcon, past waiting X-Wings and ground crews, and out through the docking bays doors to the space beyond.
"Here we go again." Threepio commented, as Han manoeuvred the shuttle past the ships of the fleet.
"All right, hang on." Han told them as the star lights beyond the cockpit window streaked to hyperspace.
Standing by his X-Wing, Wedge Antilles watched the Tydirium leave the docking bay sending his silent best wishes after them. His fate, and that of every fighter pilot, was in their hands. It was up to that one small group to deactivate the Death Star's shields to allow the fighters access to the battle station's interior. If they failed in that task then the entire foundation of the attack would fail, and with it the Rebellion itself. He was glad that burden did not rest on his shoulders.
But that didn't mean he didn't have burdens of his own. His was knowledge he didn't really want, knowledge that he could meet an old friend in battle and be forced to kill him, or be killed by him.
"Hey, Wedge! Deep thoughts?"
He turned and found the Deck Officer watching him. "Nah, just thoughts."
"Dangerous things at times like this, Commander."
Wedge grimaced, and then smiled sadly. "I was just wishing Luke was here."
"Skywalker?" The Deck Officer questioned, looking out to the stars beyond the docking bay doors. "I'm sure he'll be with us, sir. In spirit at least."
"I hope you're right." Wedge told him quietly, following his gaze. And I hope I'm wrong.
"Pull in tighter, number 2," Sohn commanded, as he and his squad came around the Death Star for the second sweep of their patrol. He hated this routine, this numbing boredom. This waiting. And waiting they were. Waiting for the Alliance to make their move, to break the monotony. Every hour which past brought the battle closer, heightened the tension every man felt. However, they were ready; the Emperor had planned it all to the tiniest detail himself. Victory was assured, and the Dark Side would...
"Always in motion is the future. Difficult to see..."
Yoda's words now mocked him. If he had seen his future clearly, would he still be here? Would he have taken a different path? One which did not have him running off to Bespin to save his friends. Would he have sat in the mud of Dagobah, continued his lessons while those he cared for screamed and died?
"And sacrifice Han and Leia?"
"If you honour what they fight for… Yes."
Yes, he had honoured it, valued it. The fall of the Empire, freedom for the systems and for himself. He still could tingle with the dream of it. But, he had valued Han and Leia more... No, that was a lie. He had valued facing Vader more. Valued facing the man who he had been lead to believe had killed his father. Valued standing before him as a Jedi and as an equal.
A small smile creased his lips. How wrong he had been, then. But he still valued this idea. Valued it even more now that he knew Vader was his father.
His flight crossed the path of the Executor. His father's ship. However, Vader was not on board; his father had been spending much of his time with the Emperor. Sohn could only guess at what the two discussed and plotted when alone together, but he could sense his father was...
There was a whisper, a light caress at the edge of his mind like a breeze gently brushing by. And then it was gone. He frowned, confused by this wave within the Force. This had not come from Vader, or the Emperor. Nor was it a feeling of his own concerning events and possibilities. It had come from another, another whose presence rippled the Force as they passed. And they were familiar to him.
He banked his fighter, broke away from the formation of his flight and ignored the questions from his wing-man. Again he passed the executor. Chatter from the shipping lines, controlled from the bridge, filled his com. Supply ships running errands from Endor to Destroyer, shuttles ferrying troops and passengers.
" ..You have permission to dock at..."
"…requesting deactivation of the deflector shield."
"..Be advised that..."
"Shuttle Tydirium, transmit the clearance code for shield passage."
"Transmission commencing."
The man's voice was a little garbled by the com signal, but he had grown used to hearing it that way over the years; he in his X-Wing, Han in the Falcon. Han...
"Be careful."
"You, too."
Knowledge had passed between them at that moment on Hoth. An understanding that they may not see each other again, that if they did things would not be the same, that they each shared the same feelings for one another although they would remain unspoken; respect, admiration and love. On Hoth everything had changed, their friendship had been redefined; their love for Leia had altered, with Han's being the strongest and the more right. His own love had been a crush which over the years had dimmed and mellowed into love of company, of friendship, of kindred dreams and hopes.
Pushing back his sudden burst of delight, he wiped the smile from his face and keyed his com; "Shuttle Tydirium what is your destination?"
There was a pause, then. "Ah, the forest moon. We have parts and technical crew for the shield generator."
"Is there a problem Lord Commander?" The bridge controller interrupted. "The code checks out, I was about to clear them."
"No problem," Sohn answered, tersely, coming along side the shuttle. There was a definite presence from the small ship, someone he knew, someone gentle but resolute, someone who...
Leia! It could only be Leia accompanying Han. Leia and Chewie, and possibly the droids. But, that presence...so comforting, so soothing. He closed his eyes, reached out and was immediately welcomed...
...Luke?
...he withdrew, surprised, unsettled. He had never considered this before. Never imagined that Leia had Force potential. And she knew her gifts and had allowed him access to her, and she was strong - lacking experience, training, but so strong. Her existence sparkled within the Force, caused ripples to wave outwards much like a pebble in pond. How was this possible? How could Leia be Jedi?
Then the coolness of fear flooded him; if he had sensed Leia then had Vader? Had Palpatine? Did she realise the risks she was taking by coming here, did she not understand how alluring her light would be to them...
...to me...
...how they would want to possess it, possess her in the same way they now possessed him. He dared not reach out to them, he dared not bring their attention to him and thus to her and so he resisted the urge… the need...to feel for them to probe and explore the direction of their attentions. He would need to tread more carefully now if he wished to hide her...
....to have her to himself, to cradle her light jealously and guard it so it could not be lost as his was...
...from them. To take stock of what this meant for him, for his...
"Lord Commander," Admiral Piett's curt tones interrupted his thoughts. "If there is no problem here, then allow the shuttle to pass and return to your assigned duties at once. I shall have to explain your infraction to your father." The last was said with some humour, and Sohn could almost see the smile on the thin lips.
He bit back his anger, swallowed his pride, his loathing for the man who commanded him - or thought he did. "As you wish, Admiral. However, I shall explain my infraction, to my father myself." He banked his fighter away from shuttle and headed toward the Death Star, unsure of how to give account of his actions to his father and very sure that Piett, even now, was contacting Vader.
"That was close." Han commented, with a relieved smile as he watched the fighter leave their side.
"That was Luke." Leia replied quietly, and Chewie softly grunted by her side.
"You think?" Han questioned as the forest moon filled the view port. "Sounded nothing like him."
"That was Luke." Leia repeated. "I know it was, and he knew it was us."
Han grimaced, not knowing if it was Luke recognising they were here, or that Leia could...
… could what? Could sense Luke? Could feel Luke? ...Know it was Luke? …
…that made him uneasy. "Think he'll rat on us?"
"Yes...yes he will, but…" she frowned, confused by her own feelings and thoughts."…but for the right reasons."
"There's no right reason for what he's doing, Sweetheart." Han answered, as they entered the moon's atmosphere. He pointed to the scanners, "There, Chewie, our landing point." Then he turned to the princess anger biting his words. "This is going to be hard enough without Luke making it more difficult. Don't pin your hopes on getting him back. If he wanted to be with us, he would be. But he's not. He's chosen his side."
"You don't believe that, Han," Leia commented, sadness in her voice.
No, he didn't believe that. The fact was he wasn't sure of what he believed about Luke. He missed the kid, missed his friend; the young man he had enjoyed watching grow and mature. He grieved for him. But of one thing he was sure. "If he gets in our way, Leia..." Beside him Chewie quietly chuffed.
"I know, Han. But, it won't come to that."
It can't come to that...
They continued in silence, each considering their own thoughts. Solo brought the shuttle down into a small clearing within the Endor forest, and closed down the engine. Behind them in the passenger compartment the rebel soldiers began gathering their gear. Han turned to Leia. "Time to go, Sweetheart."
"I'm ready."
Even before Piett had contacted him Vader knew something had happened. He had sensed his son's sudden surge of emotions. Had felt his curiosity, his realisation, his fright, his lingering trails of a remembered love. Then the shutters had clamped down and all he felt then was the cool blackness of Sohn Vader.
Piett's report had given some meaning to these feelings. The shuttle heading to moon's surface was undoubtedly an early Rebel landing, and Sohn had recognised them. The door of his private quarters slid open and Sohn strode in still clad in his pilot's flight suit and his half-mask and helmet, lightsabre swinging from his belt. Behind him, lying on the floor of the corridor beyond was the prone, gasping figure of Vader's personal guard. Vader smiled behind the mask. Even now Sohn abhorred killing, though he did not hesitate to punish subordinates if they got in his way.
"Father," he greeted as he pulled the helmet off.
"Is it Solo?"
Sohn halted, surprise crossing his features; horror.
"Or the Princess Leia?"
He bowed his head, closed his eyes. Answered with the truth. "I believe both, father."
"I will alert the Emperor to this development."
"Father..." Sohn stalled, unsure of what he was about to say. He stepped forward, keeping his feelings in check. "Allow me to lead a detachment down to apprehend them."
Interesting. But not surprising. "For what reason?"
Reason? What was his reason, what was he thinking? To prove his allegiance to the dark, or to try and grabble his way back to the light - her light. "My Lord," he bowed his head. "They are enemies of the Empire. The Emperor would..."
"Liar!" Vader burst, watching as Sohn dropped to his knees, as he bowed to his father. And the sight did not satisfy the Dark Lord, it disturbed him. "I can feel the deception within you..."
"Father! Please..." Sohn pleaded. "I do not intend to deceive you. I...
Vader turned away from him. "Then what are your intentions?"
...to get to them first...to keep them from you...
Sohn climbed back to his feet. "To bring them to the Emperor, of course," he said, eyes narrowing as he watched his father's back closely, trying to gauge Vader's feelings. "To prove to my Master and my father that I am truly theirs."
Vader suddenly turned around, and Sohn instinctively took at step backward. The Dark Lord could still feel the lie within his son's words, could feel Luke...
...Luke?
...cover his true emotions, his true intentions, but the boy had them so well hidden, so well buried within his darkness that Vader could not penetrate...
When had Luke become so deep? When had Luke become so dark?
And Vader felt a stirring of fear for his son, felt the youth moving further from his grasp, moving further to...
...not Palpatine...
And a sudden realisation punched through to shake the Dark Lord; Sohn was rejecting them both and marking his own path! Sohn had been working carefully, had been quietly honing skills to keep his Masters unaware of his treachery. He moved swiftly forward, gathering the Force around him, reached out with his mind and ripped into his son's, shredding and discarding Sohn's mental and emotional defences with a violence and fury of Force which flowed from his control.
Sohn cried out, stumbled backwards against his father's unexpected approach, against his father's vicious invasion of his thoughts and feelings. Pain enveloped him, splitting through him physically and emotionally. His back hit a wall and he doubled over, groaning. "Father! Don't...Please..." He pleaded, he warned. "Don't!" And he drew his arms in, wrapped them around his body trying to defend himself, his eyes tightly shut against the onslaught and he slid to the floor at his father's feet.
...almost there, almost...
...father...no...not... there...
Vader bent down and hauled Sohn up by his flight harness, overpowering him physically and spiritually. He threw him against the wall, held him by the shoulders sensing his son's defeat, sensing that the secret the boy had been nurturing was within his understanding.
"No!" Sohn yelled in horror, in terror, in rage. He brought his hands up, placed them against his father's chest and pushed him back, pushed him and pushed until...
...he was lost in noise and light and... screaming... screaming... he was screaming...
"Luke!"
Vader's bellow tore through his twisting passions, sliced him to the core; the usually resonant tones sounded confused, hurt and desperate. Panting heavily, Sohn opened his eyes.
The Dark Lord was standing, somewhat stooped, yards away, his respirator quickening as it worked to keep up with his body's oxygen demands. His father had his sabre ignited and was holding it defensively before him, and his father's feelings were convoluted and cautious; ragged with horror and dismay.
What have I done?
Gasping still, Sohn looked to his hands, caught the trailing flickers of light around his fingers as the Force within was brought back under his control. And he understood what had happened, what he had done, the power he had suddenly commanded. Alarm washed through him as the last sparks of Force-lightening disappeared and, stricken, Sohn glanced back at his father as Vader deactivated the lightsaber he had used to deflect the corrupt power.
"Father? I..." he choked, swallowed, tried to clear his rough throat. What could he say to explain this abomination? He had demonstrated the darkest of the Sith's abilities, one which sickened him, one which even his father had avoided; he had lifted his hands against his father when he should have granted the elder man passage to his thoughts, to his private feelings. Those were his lessons from the past; he should have no knowledge that Vader and Palpatine did not have easy access to. He had disobeyed and he had...
He had bested his father and this was, at once, a compelling and repellent notion.
"Luke?" Vader questioned, feeling his son's inner struggle, unable to keep the antipathy from his voice at Luke's actions, the grief for a child so lost.
"That is not my name, Father," Sohn told him evenly, pulling himself up and straightening his back. The Force burned coldly within him and he smiled, eyes dark with strength. "Skywalker is dead."
...which one?
"Indeed," Vader acknowledged, stilling his own thoughts and emotions. Sohn's abilities had shaken him, had almost brought him to his knees, and he could feel Palpatine probing gently, aware that something significant had occurred. His summons would come soon. "You have learned well, my son." And his voice was weighed with sorrow.
"I was taught well," there was bitterness in those words. Bitterness and hatred.
Vader nodded. The child spoke the truth this time, but there were many lessons yet to learn. "Then go to the Endor moon, and bring your friends to the Emperor."
Sohn closed his eyes in satisfaction, briefly bowed his head, as darkness thrilled through him. Darkness, and... "Thank you, father." He turned and left the room.
The Dark Lord watched him leave, was relieved when the door closed shutting the youth from his sight. His senses heaved with apprehension, with a heavy feeling of loss and guilt. His son had become the Sith Lord he and his Emperor had planned; indeed his son had exceeded their expectations to a dangerous level. It was clear Sohn had his own ambitions and Vader knew they could prove fatal should the Emperor become aware of them. And here was where the remorse lay; his son had become too dark, was unpredictable, and would surely perish for his treachery.
Troubled, he turned to the view port, gazing out at the Endor moon, at the fleet, waiting for his Master's call. And, for once, Vader was unsure what to tell Palpatine.
To Be Continued...