AN: A little reminder that this was written before ROTS was released.

A Light Foreshadowed

Part Three

Han ducked too late, and the branch Chewbacca had pushed aside sprang back as the Wookiee passed and smacked the Corellian on the forehead. He stumbled backward, hand grabbing out for something to stop him falling. "Watch what you're doin', buddy!" he grumbled as he righted himself, and wiped at the thin scratch of blood on his forehead.

Chewbacca didn't answer. The Wookiee had stopped a few paces ahead and was crouched among the grass and the ferns looking at a dark shape. Fear suddenly clogged Solo's throat as he ran to his friend's side.

"Chewie?"

Chewbacca stood, stepped aside and softly grunted. Solo felt cool relief flood through him; it was a wrecked speeder bike, nothing more. There was no mangled rider among the debris, no sign of the princess. He was relieved that he had not found her here, but still concerned at her absence. He glanced around at the surrounding forest wondering if she had been thrown clear and was lying somewhere nearby unable to call out.

Han looked around at the droids, at Artoo Detoo's swivelling head and chattering noise. "What's he saying, Threepio?"

"Uh, General, sir," the golden droid responded with his customary nervous prattle. "Artoo says there are no human life signs nearby, apart from your own. He does admit, however, to be pi…"

"I hope she's alright," Han voiced his concern ignoring Threepio. Leia's disappearance had already taken up time, taken them away from their objective. He knew Leia herself would be unhappy with him for running off to find her, for diverting from their orders, but he couldn't have left her with out trying. He had to find her, had to let her know…

"Oh, My!" Threepio cried and Artoo Detoo screeched.

Han and Chewbacca turned together startled, expecting see a squad of storm troopers descending on them. Instead the undergrowth around them rustled and moved. Han gripped his blaster tightly, Chewbacca raised his bow caster.

"What is it?" the Corellian questioned.

Artoo whistled and Threepio translated. "Natives, I believe, sir. Artoo has picked up a dozen or so life signs around us."

Whispered chattering rose from the bushes.

Han squinted, thought he spotted something brown and furry. He focused, aimed with his blaster a few inches above the quivering foliage and pulled off a warning shot. There was burst of squealing, short staccato babbling and, to Han's amusement, small dark forms began fleeing in all directions. He grinned and holstered his weapon.

Chewbacca grumbled beside him.

"Helped us?" he questioned, in surprise. He gestured at the retreating animals. "How could they have helped us?"

There was a sound from above that drew all of their attentions. Han glanced up as a shuttle rose into the sky, passed overhead and veered sharply upward toward the overhanging Death Star. And he suddenly knew where Leia was and knew who had her.

"I hope she's alright," Han repeated, watching the shuttle's after-burn fade in the early evening sky, silently hoping that Sohn Vader still had some essence of Luke Skywalker within him, or else he may never see his princess again. "We'll camp down here tonight, Chewie. Pick up with the squad in the morning." Then he sat against the trunk of the nearest tree, drew his coat around him and prepared himself for a long night and an even longer day ahead.

Leia fidgeted with the tight binders around her wrists, trying to ease the bite of them while knowing they would be the least of her pains in the coming hours. She was afraid, terribly afraid on many levels. She was afraid for the Alliance attack as she had seen the number of troops on Endor - so many more than the Bothan information had divulged. She was afraid for Han and the others and the consequences for them when they attempted to take out the shield generator; it would seem the Empire knew they were coming and were prepared. The next few hours might well see the end of the Rebellion.

Then she was afraid for herself, afraid of what she would face once more within an Imperial cell. Afraid of Vader - her father - and his torture droid and the memories of her previous incarceration were very close to the surface, kept at bay only by her fear of Luke, her fear for Luke.

He had looked so strangely at her when she had handed him his helmet and mask, when she had spoken to him, when she had acknowledged him as Vader. His eyes had met hers, disbelief flaring within them, satisfaction and distrust of her actions, her words. He had looked away from her and she was sure she saw gratitude and regret before their contact had broken, before he donned his disguise again and turned back to her hidden and aloof once more.

Leia glanced toward the cockpit where Luke had chosen to spend the journey to the Death Star; leaving her in the care of two troopers. All she could see was the back of his head, all she could hear was his course voice speaking to the Death Star Command Station. And she grieved for him; for the youth she remembered, for the man he should have been.

"Acknowledged," Sohn confirmed his approach, focusing on piloting the shuttle. Watching beyond the ship as the Death Star grew to fill the view port, as the slits of docking bays became visible. He could feel the princess watching him, could feel her trepidation, her pain and concern. Leia…

…my sister…

… didn't understand, perhaps would never grasp what it was he had been trying to do and why he'd had to adapt to survive. Why he had accepted…

….never accepted it… had it forced upon me….

… his father's and his Emperor's calling. She saw him as a victim, as a casualty lost to war. And her pity sat rough with him, stirred his pride. He had survived in circumstances where lesser beings would have crumpled. He had resisted, he had fought them and he had…

…screamed in the night. He had been chased from the light, kept from its brilliance with fetters of darkness. He had kneeled to them in veneration, learned from them and used their shade to hide his own desires. He had…

…emerged stronger and more powerful than any one of his teachers had ever predicted. And yet, despite his strength, despite all he had learned, all he had fought and struggled to achieve hung in the balance because she was here…

…you wanted her here. You wanted her near. You lifted your hands to your father because he dared question you. You wanted her…

…but not like this…

…not as a representative of the Alliance, or a princess of a lost kingdom. But as just Leia. Leia his friend, his support and foundation.

And now she was his sister.

And his sister had accepted him as a Vader.

Sohn briefly closed his eyes against the pain of his sister's words, hands uncharacteristically trembling as he worked the shuttle's controls. It was so close now, everything he had prepared for these last few months was so close. He could almost reach out and touch it, grasp it and call it his own. It was there, but it could so easily be lost. It could be wrenched from his hands if his control lapsed, as the paths of others clashed with his own. He had to maintain his control, he could not give in to his feelings, to the temptation of the Force has he had done with his father…

…you bested him. You unsettled him. He feared you…

…it felt…..good….

…as he had done with Leia.

At first he was unsure of her actions, suspicious of her motives for dropping her arguments that he was still Luke Skywalker. And then he had understood, and with his understanding came more pain as he saw himself through his sister's eyes. She had conceded to make things easier for him, to lift the burden of guilt he was carrying…

…there is no guilt…

…to relieve some pressure and tension within him. To help him focus. And this had made him at once thankful and remorseful and he was surprised he could still have such feelings, such…

…weaknesses…

…a capacity to still about care what the princess thought of him. And then the disgust descended, anger spooled within as he reminded himself of his duty to his masters and to the Empire. He had drawn his errant feelings in…

…lest they sense them…

…stilled his disquiet and lead her to the shuttle vowing to himself to keep close to her, to…

… shield her. To give her the safety I was denied…

…guide her steps when she was taken to Palpatine and save her the agonies he had endured, show her the futility of resisting their wishes, and teach her the virtues of quiet surrender. He smiled as the shuttle entered the docking bay, as he expertly steered the ship to the landing area, but his smile faltered when he saw his father waiting with a contingent of troopers and loose panic beat in his chest.

He reached out tentatively and touched Vader's thoughts and feelings needing to know why his father was there, but he only found the solid barrier of his father's shields. All was still and silent; concealed. But Sohn knew the Dark Lord was not there for him. His father was there for Leia.

And hatred filled him, a loathing so strong it crawled over him like a living beast; claws piercing and shredding as it moved leaving bleeding revulsion in its wake. This man - his father - had taken from him everything he once had, everything he once loved and cherished. He had been ripped from his childhood, torn from the Alliance and used and twisted to meet Vader's and Palpatine's expectations. And now that he had found her again, he was taking Leia from him.

There had been moments when he had thought Vader was having doubts, had felt hope for things to be different, had felt sorrow from the elder man. However, since the Emperor had arrived his father had withdrawn from him, had become cold and detached having little contact with Sohn aside from those times when they had no choice but come together. But now he had come of his own will to meet the shuttle; not for his son, but for his daughter.

Another light to darken.

This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't what he had thought would happen. She wasn't supposed to be captured, she wasn't supposed to be taken to Vader; she wasn't supposed to be his sister. He had only wanted to go to…

…protect her. Protect them…

… to keep the troopers busy. To keep the Rebels….

…safe…

…occupied on the moon while he consolidated his position. Now, how could he do this? How could he hand her to their father as Vader had handed him to Palpatine? How could he stand aside and allow Leia to suffer as he had suffered?

…my sister…

And he grimaced at the sudden images which flooded him; Han laughing as he twirled a shrieking and protesting princess around, slipping on the ice floors of Hoth and both of them landing in a heap. He heard himself chuckle. Saw Han grin up at him.

"Just wait 'til your birthday tomorrow, kid."

He wanted to close his eyes against the memories, push them out of his mind, but he couldn't; he had to bring the shuttle in, had to focus on his father's waiting figure.

Twins. They were twins; and if their birthdays were correct then Leia was the first born. And this stirred more anger; resentment. Had Obi-Wan known this? Had he known Leia was his sister as surely as he had known that Vader was his father? The Jedi had sat impassively as Leia had given her message through Artoo, had bid him to go to Alderaan. Had used the news that his father had been a Jedi, had used his infatuation with the princess' image to cajole him, had used his guardians' deaths to spur him on and set his feet on a path that Luke…

…Luke?…

…had never considered possible for himself. A pilot, maybe. But a Jedi Knight? And Ben had allowed him to make the decision in anger, in grief and with the desire for revenge.

He had been led so easily through lies and deceit, had wanted to believe and learn and had nurtured his desire to face the man he thought responsible for his pains. And all the while the focus of his misguided vengeance had already killed him; Kenobi. All of this could have been avoided if the truth had been told from the very beginning, then they could have made their choices based on facts instead of fabrications and he wouldn't be here, she wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have to go through with this, wouldn't have to betray everything he once believed in.

He brought the shuttle down, settled it easily into the bay as he closed off his thoughts, silenced his conflicting emotions and rose from the pilots chair, turned and entered the passenger area to where Leia sat, tiny between towering storm troopers. "Your Highness," he greeted gesturing to the opening hatch. "If you please."

The princess straightened her back. Her features calm, but her eyes heavy. She did not look his way as she stepped in front of him, walked before him, leading the way to meet their waiting sire.

Sohn could feel the Dark Lord's fulfilment as Vader briefly bowed his head. "Your Highness," he welcomed. "It has been too long."

"Not long enough, Vader," Leia snapped, injecting a fury she did not feel into her voice.

Vader smiled at her boldness. His daughter was so like her mother, both in looks and in temperament, and yet he had never seen it before. He had been ignorant of Leia's true origins and had never once considered that she had been anything other than Organa's child. But he should have known, he should have seen, should have felt the Force so strong within and questioned it. But all he had seen was a Rebel hunched and afraid on the sleeping platform of a cell, yet still so resilient and defiant. And he had tried to crush her. It pleased him now that he had not achieved that aim.

He turned to his son. Luke had also displayed defiance, had refused to bend to pressure, had proved courageous and bold. But Luke's integrity and innocence could not compete with the intensity of his anger and hatred and his light had been lost to the shadow that even now grew darker. Luke was struggling mentally and emotionally with stresses he had placed upon himself rather than those from his service to the Empire. Palpatine knew something was building, could feel the shifting in the Force and was about to add to those demands.

"You have done well, Commander," he told the boy, feeling Luke's surprise at the rare praise.

"Thank you, father," he acknowledged with a tilt of his head, unsure of his father's intentions but playing along.

"You are to return to your squad," he paused, briefly savouring the disbelief and anger that rolled from his son. "Immediately."

Sohn tensed at the order, glanced to Leia as she watched the exchange with open curiosity. "Father," he blurted as consternation coiled in his belly. "I thought I would…"

"The Emperor commands it," Vader stated firmly, feeling the chill of fear flood his son.

Sohn swallowed trying to fight through his rushing emotions, the white noise in his head, the nausea that swamped his body, pushed at his throat making him want to gag. He drew in a breath, maintained his composure. "But father, the Princess…"

"…is to be held until his Majesty wishes to see her." Vader explained, he gestured to the waiting troopers who stepped forward and surrounded the princess, and the Dark Lord instantly understood why the Emperor had given Luke that order. A darkness so deep, so black, descended over his son. A wrath so hot it was scalding, hatred so strong that Vader had never felt so chilled, and a fear, a terror that embedded itself deeply within his son's soul. Terror, not for himself, but for his sister.

My daughter!

Vader could see the slight tremors that ran through Luke's body betraying his rushing emotions, his barely controlled powers. The boy's fingers twitched nervously over the lightsaber hanging from his belt. And Vader briefly wondered why Luke held so dearly to the weapon, the blue blade that had once belonged to Anakin, when he could so easily have tossed it aside as he had all other feelings he once had for his father and constructed a new one more fitting to a Sith Lord.

"Father," Sohn began, his voice hesitant and hoarse. He drew his eyes from Vader, looked to Leia. "My squad does not need me. My place should be here with my father and my Emperor."

And my sister.

The princess returned his gaze, her eyes dark, face pale with apprehension as she realised she had become a pawn to be played by Palpatine against her brother and her father. Against them, and between them.

"You would question the Emperor's commands?" Vader rumbled the question, his voice dark, heavy with warning. He had asked a similar question of his son some weeks ago, had reached out and offered the boy a destiny so much brighter than the one he now faced. They had openly acknowledge Palpatine's fear of Luke, had openly voiced Rebellion. But Luke had chosen to retreat from his father, had chosen to hide his thoughts and feelings behind a veil of deception. Now the boy had a second chance to grasp the hand his father offered.

Sohn turned his eyes back to his father. He heard the warning in Vader's tones, and humiliation burned at being questioned thus in front of lowly storm troopers, but beneath this Sohn could feel that peculiar flicker of light he had sense before.

"Even now the Emperor fears you."

"I know, father."

"You could destroy him"

"That is not my place."

Their short exchange of words returned to him and he stared into Vader's mask from behind his own, searching his father. The elder man nodded silently and the moment between them swarmed with sudden possibilities. If he disobeyed the Emperor now and remained on the Death Star - where he needed to be, where he had planned to be - Palpatine's retribution would be swift and severe and Leia may be caught within it. If he obeyed the emperor and left the station and joined his squad to battle the Alliance, Leia would be alone and all may be lost. He had not prepared himself for this; he had not seen the relationship with Leia. He had to focus, he had to silence his doubts. He could not allow the princess's presence interfere with his destiny.

Sohn briefly closed his eyes seeking the sanctuary of the Force…

…stay and be safe…

…and opened them with his decision.

He bowed his head. "As the Emperor commands, my Lord," he told Vader with a hint of a smile to his lips. "I am his faithful servant." Then he turned to Leia and bowed once more, ignoring her look of horror. "Your Highness, it was a pleasure…" And he strode from the docking bay, back straight, exterior calm, nothing betraying the conflicting emotions of a few moments ago.

"Take the princess to the detention centre," Vader addressed the soldiers as his son disappeared through the doorway.

Leia hesitated, wanting to say something, searching the ebony mask for some indication of the Dark Lord's feelings. Luke had said Vader knew of their relationship; that he had felt it. But she could sense nothing and she knew from past experience that pleading with the Dark Lord merely resulted in further hurt. So she remained silent and allowed the troopers to nudge her forward. She walked with a similar carriage to her brother.

Vader watched the princess leave, watched the bay doors close at her back, and then he turned to contemplate the dormant shuttle. The Force had never felt as potent as now, had never resonated so strongly and he almost believed that if he reached out with his hand he would physically touch the power around him. Strands of the Force were gathering, binding, creating a nexus around them, a focal point and the Dark Lord was left with no illusion; this was where the balance of the Force, the fate of the galaxy, would be decided. And it hinged upon the decisions and actions of an unpredictable boy. Vader hoped he could guide Luke's steps when the time came, that he could somehow counsel him in a way that he should have done when they first met. He had failed Luke then, he would not fail Luke now.

Palpatine opened his eyes, his piercing yellow irises shining in the darkness of the throne room. The boy's rage was pure and unadulterated, and Palpatine had drank deeply, feeding from it, savouring the taste of it as he had the flavour of the terror the boy first experienced when he fell from the carbonite block so many months before. It was almost time, he could feel it; the Force was converging to this area, to him and to his disciples. The girl had provided the last catalyst he required and his hold on the galaxy would finally be secured.

The girl… something about the girl… hidden…

He smiled with pleasure ignoring the quiet inner voice. The girl was a means to an end, nothing more. He relaxed into his throne, taking in a long breath of cool air, gorging on the anger which flowed through the Force from the boy; the offspring held more potential than even his sire. When this day was done, young Skywalker's fall would be complete and he would either be standing by his Emperor's side, or lying dying at his Emperor's feet.

Wedge Antilles worked the pitch and roll pedals bringing his X-Wing into wide swoop under the medical frigate. He followed the Millennium Falcon as it flew past Akbar's command ship to take up its position at the head of the fleet.

The com crackled and Lando Calrissian's voice broke through the static. "Admiral we're in position. All fighters accounted far."

"Proceed with the count down," Ackbar replied, his voice slightly distorted by the com waves. "All groups assume attack co-ordinates."

Wedge double checked his Nav-computer, looked to his scanners and scopes and smiled when he saw Red Squad in formation. He hoped that General Solo and the Princess Leia were successful or else the whole of the Alliance would die today. Command was taking a huge gamble to end this conflict based on the information that the Emperor was over seeing the construction of the Death Star. If the Emperor was there, then it stood that Vader would be there and, if the Dark Lord of the Sith was present, then logic told him Sohn Vader, Luke Skywalker, was also there.

Another reason why he hoped Solo and his group was successful; he didn't relish fighting in a drawn out dogfight, didn't relish firing on Imperial ships for fear that one of them was his friend. Luke had spared him in conflict and Wedge knew he may not be able to return the favour in the heat of battle.

"All craft, prepare to jump to hyperspace on my mark," Ackbar's voice broke into his thoughts, drawing him back to the moment at hand.

"All right," Gold Leader responded. "Stand by."

Wedge swallowed, adrenalin rushing as the signal was given, and he engaged his hyper-drive; all thoughts of Luke pushed from his mind.

It was early morning, the sun only just beginning to lift the mist from the forest floor as Han and Chewbacca lead the squad to the edge of a ridge overlooking the Imperial outpost. He stooped as he neared a fallen log and crouched behind it, signalling for the squad to do the same, and he peered over the log looking down at the landing platform and shield generator the Imperials had built in the valley below.

The droids came up behind him, Artoo tooting softly and Han looked to See Threepio for an explanation.

"Artoo says the entrance to the bunker is on the other side of that landing platform," Threepio whispered, trying his best to hide himself in some nearby foliage.

Han nodded his understanding as Chewbacca quietly woofed beside him. The Corellian smiled tightly. "Yeah, I know Chewie, but you and me have got into a lot of places more heavily guarded than this."

Chewie chuffed soft laughter as memories of those other places spilled into his mind.

Han turned his squad, "Let's do this thing." His eyes settled on the nearest soldier. "Lantaff, take point."

The young man came forward and the squad moved off toward their target.

Sohn Vader climbed into the cockpit of his TIE Interceptor and settled into the acceleration chair. He quickly strapped himself in, pulled his breathing apparatus from its setting and fixed it to his mask and his flight suit's portable oxygen feed. Even here, with his squad, he was to hide his features, to stay apart from them. He was excluded from their camaraderie, viewed with fear and suspicion - just like his father.

"I want to learn the ways of the Force, and become a Jedi like my father."

He wanted to discard that thought, the memory of his decision made in grief, the childish statement that had become so true. He had been so innocent then, so easily swayed by the glory of light.

And light had become his betrayer.

This is light. This is pain.

Ben had ignored his pleas. He had reached out through the Force, through his pain, through the agony of Palpatine's teachings, to his old master and the Jedi did not answer. Obi-Wan had remained silent to his cries, to his agony of body and spirit. He had sought the calm of the light and found only emptiness and silence. There was no hope, no comfort, no succour and only one path had been left before him. And still he made his own.

"Executor First Squad, this is Control. Launch in thirty minutes."

Sohn frowned, briefly. So soon. "Acknowledged, Control. We'll be ready"

The battle was about to begin; the Alliance fleet had left Sullust and he was being sent out against them. Sent away from Palpatine, from Vader, from his sister. He needed to be on the Death Star, he needed to stand by his father and his Emperor, that is where he had planned to be, had wanted to be. Before she had come. Before his designs had started to unravel and spool out of his own hands and into the hands of fate.

He drew in a breath, soothing his feelings, pushing them back and shifted his focus to his task at hand. He ran through his pre-flight checks, engaged his engines. He could feel his squad's anxiousness, the tense expectancy that precluded a battle; the fear of death was strong in many and he knew that before this day ended most would have that fear justified. However, only the deaths of three would truly see the end of this conflict and only Leia's presence could prevent that from happening.

He could not sacrifice her to meet his own ends.

And now to protect her, he had to protect the Death Star, could not allow the Alliance through. His father had shown him this when he had taken his sister from him, when Vader had also shown him…

…hope…

…that to argue with Palpatine was pointless.

But, still, he was conflicted. Caught in the eye of the maelstrom, the Force twisting and funnelling around him teasing him with images of his past life, tormenting him with images of current events and tempting him with future possibilities. The patterns of the Force shifted and heaved about him, and he had never felt so strong, so potent, so powerful. He had to maintain his control, had to temper his emotions to achieve his goal. For it could still be done. There had to be another way.

But the Force held this vision back, refused to yield to his searching, his questioning and a quiet voice whispered at the back of his mind that no matter what actions he took now, there could only be one outcome and it was not the one he had hoped for. He was not the puppet master. He was the puppet, and only when he found the strength to cut his strings would his true destiny be revealed.

"First Squad, we are to Rendezvous with the Fleet on the other side of the Moon," he ordered, his voice scrapping through his throat. "Prepare to launch on my mark." As his men acknowledged the order, he powered up the throttle, felt the energy ripple through his fighter as he eased the Interceptor out of the Death Star docking bay.

Leia could do little else but sit and wait for the cell door to lift open. She stared at the familiar blank walls around her, the dim lights from overhead barely illuminating her prison. It was an exact replica of her cell on the first Death Star. Then she had been waiting execution, bereft after the destruction of Alderaan, and had been rescued in a flurry of enthusiasm and gun fire.

Luke.

Leia smiled briefly at her memories of the wild and impromptu rescue; the sheer impudence that both Han…

…Han! What are you doing? Are you safe?…

… and Luke had shown by merely strolling into the detention block to save her. A woman they had never met. Luke had told her later about seeing the message she had programmed into Artoo and, to her amusement, he had blushed and stumbled his words when she pressed further trying to understand why he had felt compelled to place himself in so much danger for her.

She was touched by his actions, humbled by his simple courage and slightly embarrassed by his attraction to her. And she wondered if Luke had thought about these memories at all during their conversation on the Endor moon, if he was thinking of them now.

She stared at the door, waiting, anticipating it opening and she was afraid. Afraid it would slide open and admit Vader…

… father…

…and his droid. Afraid it would be Luke who stepped down into her cell to prod and question her. Afraid that the door would remain closed and never open, that she would be alone when her Alliance comrades were successful and the battle station disintegrated around her. There would be no rescue from this cell, no wild escape and she would suffer only the pain and death she had expected of that first one.

She fought to calm herself, fought to draw the strength she so required to face whatever the future yielded.

Crouching again in the foliage, Han surveyed the entrance of the Imperial Compound, the structure of the building that housed the shield Generator, the huge dish that loomed over them. There were six storm troopers that he could see; four on the ground, two in guard towers either side of the large doorway. They needed to deal with the soldiers without raising an alarm or suspicion.

He turned to his squad, silently signalling individual soldiers and pairing them to their targets with a series of hand gestures. The men nodded their understanding and quietly fanned out along the edge of the forest. Han lined his blaster sights on his own target as Chewie softly grunted encouragement behind him.

The sound of his shot was echoed by five others at exactly the same time and the Imperial troopers all crumpled silently to the ground.

Han was immediately on his feet and swiftly heading for the open door. "C'mon, Chewie!" He paused at the entrance, staring into the dim interior. It was quiet. Too quiet and Han's honed senses tingled with warning. He turned to his companions searching for the droids. "Threepio!" He whispered as loudly as he dared. "Anyone on Artoo's sensors?"

The small droid scooted beside him, softly twittering and Threepio translated. "Nothing, General. Perhaps they have…"

Han waved him silent. This wasn't right. This was too easy. But they had no choice, they had to move on for the fleet would be arriving within minutes.

Palpatine relaxed into his throne and closed his eyes. He smiled with pleasure, smiled at the sensations building within the Force; the tensions among his crew as the hour of battle fast approached, the darkness flowing from his elder apprentice beside him, the burning rage of the boy as he waited with the fleet for his old comrades to arrive.

Soon.

Wedge Antilles drew himself upright in his acceleration chair as his fighter nearer the attack co-ordinates. He checked his instruments, ran through his internal systems looking for last minute glitches that could affect his fighter's performance in the battle. He grinned as the slow trickle of adrenalin he had felt through out the journey suddenly rushed his body; he was ready for this fight.

Three minute's to reversion to normal space.

The Rebel squad stealthily worked its way through the Imperial complex. It remained deserted of all personnel and Han's unease had grown by each passing moment. They reached a junction and Han paused, pressing himself against the wall with Chewbacca beside him.

"I don't like this, Chewie," he finally admitted and Chewie woofed in anxious agreement as Han rechecked his chrono. Almost time. He glanced behind him at his squad at the young lives he was leading into the very bowels of Imperial territory.

"You ready?"

And Chewbacca growled softly, nodding.

"Let's do this, then!" He waved the squad forward and they flowed across the junction to the opposite blast door. Han hit the door release and the entrance lifted revealing the shield control room. The Rebels spilled into the room surprising the few Imperials stationed by the controls and the banks of computers.

"Move! Move!" Han ordered, gesturing with his blaster. "Up against the wall!" he turned looking for his own men and the explosives they carried. "Charges!"

"Freeze!"

The barked command came from behind and in a fluid move Han caught the bag of charges thrown to him by his sergeant and redirected it toward the Imperial officer standing before the generator. It caught the man in the chest tumbling him over the railings and into the reactor. He screamed as he fell. Han turned at the clattering of boot steps behind him, at the shouts of his men as they were overwhelmed by a flood of stormtroopers and found himself facing another officer, one whose blaster was inches from his chest.

"Rebel scum!"

And Han knew the attack was over before it had even begun.

"All Wings report in," Lando Calrissian's voice crackled over the com and Wedge tore his gaze away from the Death Star that loomed before them. He had been prepared for this. Of all the Rebel pilots he was the only one who had known what to expect and still he was appalled by the sight on the Empire's terror weapon as it sat malignantly over the Endor moon.

"Look at the size of that thing"

He smiled briefly at his memory before pushing it away and focusing on the task at hand as he answered the call with all the coolness of a seasoned warrior. "Red Leader standing by. "

This Death Star was incomplete; this Death Star would not have the opportunity to cause the death and destruction of the first. This time there would be no Alderaan.

"Lock S-foils in attacks position," he ordered as he scanned the area using his eyes as well as his instruments. He frowned as something about the Death Star struck his as being odd. It sat alone. There were no ships. No fighters. And only the shield generator protected it. If the Emperor was truly on board wouldn't it be better protected?

"Break off the attack! The shield is still up."

Wedge searched his instruments again at Calrissian's warning. "I get no reading. Are you sure?" And even as he said it he knew; the Empire had been expecting them.

"Pull up!" Calrissian called. "All craft pull up."

Voices calling over the com filled his head as he pulled his craft away from the Death Star barely avoiding scrapping his foils on Red Two.

"Take evasive action! Green Group, stick close to holding sector MV-seven." Ackbar's voice sounded above the rest.

"…enemy ships in sector four-seven!"

"It's a trap!"

It was a swarm, a cloud of TIE fighters screaming towards them and behind them, supporting them, an entire fleet of Star Destroyers. And then there was no time to think, no time plan and strategize. There was time only to react and survive as Wedge found himself in the midst of a furious dogfight.

"Hey!" Han protested as the Stormtrooper behind him prodded him forward with the muzzle of his blaster. He glanced around drawing the man a sour look.

"Move!" the soldier coldly ordered and they stepped out of the installation into the sunlight, into a forest clearing.

Han looked around, frowning; this wasn't the way they had entered the installation. "Back door," he muttered. "We should've used the back door." Then he saw what was waiting for them. There were hundreds of troopers, biker scouts, and several AT-ST Walkers. He leaned into Chewbacca. "Bit off an overkill don't you think?"

Chewbacca grunted in agreement. All of these troopers just for them.

"Move!" They were told again. "Hands on your heads"

Han complied walking into the centre of the clearing, surrounded on four sides by Imperial soldiers. He glanced up saw the Death Star looming overhead, saw tiny flares and sparks through the blue and he knew the fleet had arrived and was now fighting for its life. He didn't like their odds, or his for that matter. They were caught and surrounded, the fleet trapped over head and he had no idea where Leia was, but he presumed she had been taken to the battle station since she hadn't been reunited with them. And so he appealed to the only one he thought could help them now.

"Come on, kid. Help us a little here."

"Cut right! Lead the Rebels away from the Death Star," Sohn brought his fighter into a spiral, barely avoiding the cutting lasers of an opposing ship. Instinctively he looped back, found himself behind the X-Wing and drew the Rebel into his sights. His finger tightened on the trigger…

What am I doing?

… he relaxed, drew away from the Rebel, let him go.

"Sir?" His wingman questioned.

Sohn ignored him, veered left, evading a burning TIE which exploded behind him. He winced, pushing his interceptor down, hearing shrapnel hitting his hull. He quickly checked his sensors, looking for damage to his ship. Everything read normal. He slammed the controls forward. "Leave the larger ships, target only the fighters."

Away from Leia….

"Commander… I…"

His wingman's young cry ended abruptly in a brief flare of flames. Sohn glanced around for the assailant as a larger craft passed over head, quad guns spitting deadly fire in his direction. He twisted away only just dodging the shots.

The Falcon!

Han!

No, Han was on the moon. Leia had said Han and Chewbacca were with her. Who was flying the Falcon? He watched as several TIEs converged on the freighter, as the Falcon performed evasive manoeuvres, as the guns took out the attacking Imperials.

Whoever he was he flew the Falcon as if he knew her well.

But Leia had said Han had been with her! He watched as a group of Interceptors converged on the Falcon and he quickly keyed his com. "Leave the freighter. Concentrate on the fighters."

"But, sir it's…"

Sohn winced as another of his men died, brought down by an A-Wing that spun away followed by the remaining members of his squadron. The Falcon looped around, following, gunning down more TIEs; the cries and pleas of the dying reverberating painfully over the com.

"Your wingman died because of your hesitation…"

His father's scathing reprimand from after his last battle returned. His wingman had perished and he had allowed Wedge Antilles to escape. He should not be so indecisive, he should not be apprehensive. He knew what he should do, after all he was Sohn Vader, and he was the son of the Dark Lord of the Sith, he was apprentice to the Emperor Palpatine, he was…

"….Luke Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you."

Instinctively he brought his gloved hand away from the controls of his fighter to rub at his face, but his hand met only the cool façade he was forced to wear, the hated disguise under which he hid his true identity.

"No," he growled to himself. "Skywalker is dead."

There was a flare from beyond his cockpit and he winced at the brightness of it.

This is light. This is pain.

He knew what he should do; he knew what his path should be. His destiny could not be overshadowed by doubts. He reached out and touched the Force seeking strength, seeking its potency to replace his weakness. He reached out and saw….

Leia!

Vader stood impassively by the side of the Emperor as the despot cackled and sniggered with delight. Each tiny flare from the fight seemed to delight him, each cry within the Force seemed to strengthen him.

"Look at them, my friend," Palpatine gloated. "See how they scuttle like insects. Here the Alliance will die. Here the Dark Side of the Force will truly triumph. And your son shall be fully mine." He turned his throne, looked up at his towering servant with a smile. "He has been growing strong, my Lord, but his path remains unclear to him. Despite his pledge to me he still doubts, still has lingering loyalties to the Rebellion."

"Yes, My Master," For of course it was true. Vader could feel Luke's conflict, could sense his indecision and his inability to fire upon the Alliance ships, to take the lives of those he once called friend. There was hope; it was not yet too late for his son.

"We shall remove those loyalties. We will wipe out the Rebellion and he will have no-one but us. Nothing but darkness. Perhaps then he will understand what we offer him." The smile widened, the glint sharpened in the yellowing eyes. "Bring me the Organa girl. I should enjoy her company while the battle rages. Once she has seen the end of her Revolution, I shall terminate her myself." Palpatine turned his attention back to the conflict beyond the Death Star.

There was a brief twist of fury; an abrupt blade of fear knifed the Dark Lord in the chest. But he smothered it, stifled it lest his master sense his feelings for his daughter. He bowed to his Emperor's back. "As you wish, my master."

As Vader turned away Palpatine smiled once more, fixing his gaze more intensely on the battle, searching for one presence among the many. The boy was not difficult to find, even in the midst of such chaos his presence shimmered within the Force; burning brightly with his confusion, his uncertainty and indecision. These feelings were about to be removed, these feelings of doubt would be eradicated and the boy would be left with but one.

With a sigh of pleasure, and aware that Vader had not yet left the room, Palpatine opened himself to the Force and touched Sohn's mind. He allowed the youth to see the girl sitting alone in the darkened cell, allowed Sohn the sight of his father dipping his head to enter that cell and he shared his plans for the Princess Organa's fate. Allowed Sohn to see her writhe and scream as the Alliance died.

Then, as the boy's rage erupted, he severed their link and brought his throne back around. The dark Lord had hesitated in his steps and was still regarding his master. Palpatine met his gaze and maintained it as he turned to the com set within his throne. "Jerjerrod!"

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"If the Lord Commander Vader wishes to board the Death Star you are to deny him access."

"Of course, Sire. We cannot drop the shields the Alli…"

"But you will, Commander," Palpatine hissed, still looking at his elder apprentice. "You will keep him waiting but a moment or two before capitulating to his demands."

"But…Sire… If the shields are down even for a moment there is a chance the Rebels may be able to…"

"Have the gun turrets manned, but allow Sohn Vader on board. However," he added almost as an after thought. "Increase my security. No one apart from the senior Lord Vader may enter my sanctum."

"As you wish, Sire." The confusion was clear within Jerjerrod's voice but he would not dare question or disobey. "Shall I ready the primary weapon?"

"Yes. But fire only on my command. "

"Of Course, Your Majesty. "

Palpatine relaxed, allowed a smile to once more trace his thin lips. "I believe I made a request of you, My Lord?"

"Yes, Master."

The thin smile remained on the Emperor's lips as he watched the Dark Lord enter the waiting elevator then he returned his attention back to the space battle, back to the torn feelings from the boy. His order given, his servant's obedience assumed.

Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen.

"No!" The cry was ripped from the very core of him. The future images of Leia's torment gouging into his mind; Palpatine releasing his dark energy to feast upon the helpless princess as their father stood dispassionately by and did nothing.

As he did with me.

His anger was blinding. His terror for his sister overwhelming. His hatred and loathing for his Emperor and his father consuming. Nothing mattered now; not the battle, not his dreams or desires. There was only the power within that craved release.

Stay and be safe. Stay and find strength.

He pulled his ship around and ploughed through the field of battle, firing indiscriminately at any ship that dared cross his path, that dared put themselves between him and his sister; Imperial and Rebel alike died under his guns and he felt nothing for them. He ignored the protests of his men, his vision firmly on the Death Star ahead, his actions guided solely by the Dark Side of the Force, his focus only on Leia and those who plotted to harm her.