AN: Last post for today - and the last chapter of Missing will be posted tomorrow. Again - thanks for sticking with it this far...
Back to Luke...
All previous disclaimers apply...
Missing
XXII
The tiny dining room was in silence; a heavy pall of sorrow hung over the table. The quiet was broken only by the scraping of a knife on a plate, and by the clink of a glass being laid on the table's smooth surface. Someone coughed to clear their throat. It was like a meal with a table of strangers rather than a family. There was no laughter, no bickering about who got the larger portions, no swapping stories from a day of hard work. There was only quiet awkwardness.
Tamara played with her food, shifting the pile of vegetables from one side of her plate to the other. Not one morsel of food had passed her lips. Occasionally, she would glance at the empty seat opposite hers, but her face would crumple with grief, and her eyes would shift back to her plate. Abruptly, she pushed the plate away and stood, running from the room.
Mhari glanced at Alex, who only shook his head sadly, never raising his eyes from his meal. Brett watched his mother rise from her chair, ready to follow his sister.
"Mhari," Alex's voice stopped her, "leave her, let her work through this herself. We can't…"
"I have to, Alex." Mhari's voice was even, determined, leaving no room for debate. She had to know what Tamara had done when she had disappeared two nights before. They had been frantic with worry, had searched for her in the woods and had called on neighbours. Alex had gone into town and trawled among the shops and searched the park. That evening she had been delivered back to them by Imperial troopers and they understood where she had gone and why and, from her demeanour, they knew what she had seen. Mhari needed to ease her daughter's pain.
"Why?" The farmer wasn't arguing; his voice held a depth of pain only his wife understood. "Why tell her?"
"The children have to know. They have to know, because one day they will be the adults." Her hand lay gently on Brett's hair, smoothing it with love. He stared up at her with large eyes, not understanding his parents' words. "It's time for the truth."
"We could be wrong about the boy."
"But our suspicions could give her hope," she looked around the room, at Brett, thinking of their imposed servitude to the Empire. "It will give me hope."
As she left the room, a large tear grew at the side of her husband's eye.
ooOOoo
His head swam, swirled with stomach-sickening speed. Pain seeped from his every pore, from every part of his body. It was a gaping maw, engulfing, swallowing him. It burnt, throbbed, ached, pierced. He shivered, the movement convulsing his taut muscles; beads of sweat wept tears from his brow. Fear tormented him, nibbled him; terror tricked him; fright crawled along his skin, spread over his being - all living creatures, from which there was no escape.
"Help me, Obi-wan Kenobi; you're my only hope."
Leia? But she was dead now, wasn't she? Ahana was gone - and so was Leia.
"What would happen?"
Tamara? Why had she come? Why did she tell? Why had she betrayed him?
Why had he betrayed Leia?
"I'm a pilot, damn it! I don't know anything about ground force tactics!"
The beginning of all of this. Why wouldn't it end?
"Hey, Luke! You coming to the canyon? Biggs'n me are racing!"
Tank.
"You have no friends here, Luke."
Tank, help me.
"Tank?"
"He's Luke Skywalker."
Vader would come. Vader was coming.
Coming for him.
"Vader betrayed and murdered your father."
Ben?
"Ben?"
"Stretch out with your feelings."
"Ben - please."
"Luke, trust me."
I did. I do.
"You have to see it, Luke, and suffer it to understand."
Leia - I'm sorry.
"Leia."
"Not betrayal, Luke; survival."
"Ben?"
"Luke, trust me."
Silence.
Sleep.
Tank brought, the empty syringe away from Luke's arm; the sedative he had administered taking effect almost immediately, temporarily relieving Luke from his mind's own torture. The medic had no idea what Luke was mumbling about, had no idea who "Ben" was – although there had been an old Ben Kenobi who lived way out past the Dune Sea. But it couldn't be him; could it? And how had Luke come to be here anyway? How had Luke broken away from Owen Lars' stifling control and joined the Rebellion? What had made Luke so important to the higher echelons of the Empire?
Tank sighed with frustration, with remorse; it was doubtful he would receive the answer to these questions and he wondered what Biggs would have made of it all. Knowing Darklighter he'd be wading in here trying to pull his young friend out of trouble again.
But there was no Biggs here. This wasn't Tosche Station and Luke hadn't annoyed Fixer with some tall tale. This was a prison in an Imperial Garrison and there was no friend here to bail Luke out.
There's you…
Tank shook his head, denying his thoughts. He was a servant of the Empire; he was loyal and dedicated to his Emperor. Luke was a rebel, a terrorist and was now his enemy. He could do nothing to help him now.
Troubled he lifted he lifted his med-scanner and passed it briefly over Luke's head, taking note of the contusion and the blood, looking for damage more deadly than the concussion he already knew Skywalker was suffering. He scanned Luke's shoulders, his broken arm and the mottled bruising that marked the rest of his body.
"What the hell are you doing here, Luke?"
Luke stirred and mumbled incoherently.
"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say, Wormie," he whispered with a smile.
ooOOoo
The evening was clear, peaceful, quiet. The trees rustled softly with a light breeze. Insects chirped and danced on the wind. Tamara stood by the empty nerf enclosure, and Mhari was reminded of the Rebel's last evening with them, when she had seen the two of them together. Quietly, she walked to her daughter's side, her arm encircling the girl's trembling shoulder. Together they looked over the rippling grass, toward the darkness of the woods and the Imperial installation beyond.
"Tamara?" She questioned softly.
"Leave me alone, Mom," she whispered. "I want to be alone."
Mhari stayed, knowing her daughter, knowing Tamara needed comfort, knowing whatever she had seen, and done, at the Imperial base was something she had to talk about. She stayed silent allowing Tamara to open up in her own time, at her own pace.
"You should have seen him, Mom." Tamara leaned further toward her mother, and in turn Mhari embraced her. "You should have seen what they've done to him." Thin tears lined her cheeks. "He was all - bloody, broken, and…" Her voice cracked, not strong enough to continue. Mhari held her tightly, giving her courage.
"Why did I do it? Why?"
"What did you do?" Mhari was careful not to put an accusation in her voice; she held it level, calm.
Tamara's head jerked up; she stared at her mother looking for disapproval in Mhari's features then her gaze faltered and fell when she found only concern and compassion. "I told them who he was." Her voice was scarcely audible.
Mhari nodded, now understanding what had happened. "You overheard your father and I, didn't you?"
"You said if the Empire knew him, it would save him. They were going to kill him, I heard the order given and a medic there told them what I said. They said some Lord was anxious to find him," her voice caught, tears flowed freely. "I was only trying to help him! But I made it worse." Her lip trembled. "He looked at me and… and I felt like I had…" She began to sob.
Mhari held her daughter's head to her shoulder, her hand lightly stroking the girl's red curls, giving comfort with her touch. She knew none of this would have happened if she and Alex had been honest with their eldest, especially after learning Ryder's true identity. But, like fools, they had chosen to continue like normal and ignore the coming future, to pretend nothing had changed. Of course, she knew inside that the majority of the blame had to rest with the Empire; after all, they were the ones who suppressed the truth, or bent it to suit their own gains. However, like most people, she blamed herself. She nibbled at her lower lip, a characteristic Tamara had picked up from her. She was unsure of what she had to say, but sure that Tamara had to know the truth of the past; not only to understand the consequences of her actions, but also for her peace of mind. Mhari drew in a long breath, the action the physical result of drawing in strength, and hesitantly spoke.
"Tamara, I know you feel as though you've…" She groped for a better word, but failed. "Well, as though you've betrayed Ryder…" She corrected herself, "Luke… but you have to know something about him. It's something we should have told you when we realised who… what he may be." She shrugged lightly. "And for all we know, it's something we should have told him, too."
Tamara glanced up, her grief temporarily forgotten, as her curiosity gripped her. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Mom?"
"You're too young to remember the rise of the Empire. But those of my generation do," she held Tamara's hand. "Do you remember when Luke was ill, he spoke of the Jedi Knights?"
Tamara nodded.
"Well, the Jedi Knights protected the galaxy, the Republic, in the days before the Empire. They were special. They had a - well, there's no other word for it - a power, which they called the 'Force.' They used it to protect, heal and, if there was cause enough, to fight." She paused, gathering her thoughts, not letting her memories rush her. "During the Clone Wars many of them were killed and when the Emperor came to power there was a purge and the remaining Jedi were destroyed."
"Mom, what's this?" Tamara was confused by the history lesson - which was so different from the one she had been taught at school.
"Hush, let me finish." Mhari placed her finger on Tamara's lips. She stared out across the empty field as she spoke, knowing that what she was saying was tantamount to treason in the eyes of the Empire. "The Emperor clamped down on the galaxy, and it's been the same since. No one is to know the Jedi ever existed; their memory is to be erased from the universe."
Tamara let her mother pause once more, although inside she was bursting with questions.
"I feel that I should have recognised Luke," Mhari sighed heavily. "But time dulls memory."
"I don't understand," Tamara finally spoke, not grasping her mother's meaning. "How could you have known Luke?" Suddenly the older woman seemed a stranger, and it scared her. "What has all of this to do with Luke?"
Mhari looked to her daughter, and realised she had almost been talking to herself. "I fled to Irlam after my father was executed by the Empire. He was a historian at the Coruscant University, specialising in the history of the Republic. He just knew too much and was only one of thousands of academics killed, many more were imprisoned." Her eyes grew teary as she remembered the gentle, soft-spoken academic. "I grew up surrounded by the great people of our galaxy's history: the senators, the inventors, the warriors, and the peacemakers - and the Jedi Knights. They were in all the books, all the holotapes, my father collected."
The confusion remained in Tamara's eyes. Mhari brushed a lock of hair back from her daughter's face.
"The Jedi," she continued explaining, "have always played a large part in our history, and so I know of a great number of them; their exploits, their victories, and their losses. I know their names, their faces..." Again, there was hesitation. "Tamara, the night before his arrest, Luke told you his name; 'Skywalker'. I recognised it immediately. There was one Jedi that my father had a special interest in, he used to say that future history books would be full of his exploits. He was a young knight and he fought during the Clone Wars," she paused, smiling, remembering.
"The holonet news called him 'the hero with no fear', and after he and his Jedi Master saved the Senator Palpatine's life I became rather fascinated with him myself. I even saw him a few times on Coruscant walking out of the Jedi Temple. He had such a swagger about him!" Mhari smiled ruefully as she remembered her crush. "I was about the same age as you at the time. I never did find out what happened to him after the Clone Wars ended. I suppose he must have been killed, too," her voice became sad, heavy with memories. "His name was Anakin Skywalker, and when Luke told you his name it suddenly struck me how like that young Jedi he was. The hair, the eyes and that striking dimple in his chin and, of course,the Skywalker name. I don't really know if he is related to Anakin Skywalker, of course, " she conceded. "The Jedi weren't supposed to have relationships, but I'm sure some must have."
Tamara listened intently to her mother, intrigued by her story. But she still felt unsatisfied, she still felt as though she'd committed a terrible wrong in returning to the installation. "Why have you told me this?"
"So you have hope," Mhari told her firmly. "Luke may not look it, but he's strong. If he is Jedi then the Force is with him and that power alone may be enough to support him through what's been happening. It's going to be difficult for him, but you've already said there is someone in the Empire interested in him. That alone may keep him alive."
Tamara smiled, wistfully, remembering back to the day of Luke's arrest, the river and to their game. "He is Jedi, Mom, I think I saw him using the power he has; though he didn't tell me what he had done. He joked about using a "little Force" when I tried to teach him how to skip stones on the river."
Mhari allowed herself to chuckle, the tension of the last few minutes lessening, if not disappearing. She lifted Tamara's chin; bringing her face up, she studied the young girl's features, realising her child had become a woman without her noticing the growth. "Tamara what you did probably saved Luke's life. He'll come to understand that, I'm sure."
Tamara slid her arms around her mother once more, and the two women held one another. Although she was not entirely convinced, Tamara had to admit she felt did feel a little comforted by her mother's story and reassurances. "Thank you," she whispered.
ooOOoo
"Luke Skywalker," Byron Jared shook his head, still incredulous. He was sitting in the observation chamber, staring at Luke, who lay sleeping on the bunk. The sedatives Tank had given him hours ago were still doing their job. "To think that kid destroyed the Death Star…"
"He did what!" Tank asked by his side. His voice was sharp with surprise at Jared's announcement.
"I thought you knew," Jared said, with smile.
Tank slowly shook his head while looking at Luke as though he was only just seeing him. "The offences listed for him only mentioned 'destruction of Imperial Property,' it didn't go into specifics."
"He must be one hell of a pilot," Jared stated with some admiration to his voice.
"He is." There was an almost wistful expression on Tank's face.
Byron glanced over, intrigued. "So, you did know him before the girl told you who he was?" There was no malice in the question, no condemnation. They were alone, and so they could be truthful.
Tank nodded, a tiny smile curling his lip. "You were right. We grew up together on Tatooine. But Luke - he was the odd one out among us—a bit of a nerf."
"What the hell do you think you were doing, Skywalker?" The question was shouted loudly. Fixer was intentionally trying to embarrass Luke in front of everyone. Deak smirked, nudging Windy, who rolled his eyes in his "typical Wormie" expression.
"I—" Luke tried to answer, his feet shifting uncomfortably in the sandy floor of the garage, his eyes watching the patterns they made.
"I—" Fixer mocked, enjoying himself.
"I was only looking at it, Fix; I never meant any harm."
Fixer's eyes narrowed in anger, "You broke the damned thing, Wormie." He sneered the last word, indicating the damaged instrument. "How am I meant to repair the Teaguean's droid now, huh?"
He stepped closer to Luke, using his height to unnerve the younger boy.
"Leave him alone, Fixer."
Fixer turned to face the speaker. "Keep outta this, Darklighter. This is between me and Wormie."
"I don't think that's the name that's on his birth register." Biggs' voice was low, dangerous, a warning in itself.
"Wanna make something of it?" Fixer was finding the situation rapidly turning on him, but he had a reputation to keep.
Tank smiled, entering the room after Biggs. He put his arm protectively around Luke's shoulder. "If you're willing, Fix, I am."
The other youths in the room exchanged nervous glances.
Fixer sullenly eyed Luke, not wanting to fight with either of the boy's friends. "Just as long as you pay for the damage, Skywalker."
"He will," Biggs said on Luke's behalf, knowing the boy would have answered with something that would only have further fired the mechanic. "If you realise that accidents happen..." He glanced at Luke, grinning. "...And that certain people are more susceptible than others. "
Luke smiled sheepishly, as Tank chuckled loudly.
"The kid was always a bit of a mystery to most of us. Only Biggs seemed to really understand him," Tank remembered, as he spoke with Jared. "They were close, despite the age difference." He laughed quietly. "Used to call themselves the 'two shooting stars." He shook his head, staring into the cell as Luke moaned. "How he came to be with the Rebellion isn't listed, but something must have happened at home to bring him here."
"You were friends, and yet you sold him out." Byron couldn't understand that.
His words drew Tank from the reverie he had been sinking into. A frown dropped his brow. Annoyed, he tried to explain himself. "I'm an Imperial and he's a Rebel—a traitor to the Emperor. A terrorist! It was my sworn duty. Wouldn't you have done the same?"
The reply was quiet, barely audible. "No."
"So, what are you? Forgiving and pious?" Bower didn't mean to sound contemptuous, but he did.
Jared's anger flared with an uncharacteristic temper lapse. "No, I'm a guy who's stuck somewhere he hates, doing something he hates. A guy who keeps his mouth shut about having a brother in the Allia—" He stopped himself quickly, his jaw clamping closed; but it was too late.
Tank didn't know who was the more surprised at the revealing slip, himself or Jared.
"What they say is true," Byron explained, in a more subdued tone. "I let a Rebel escape: my younger brother. I couldn't arrest him to see him treated like Skywalker has been." His eyes seemed to plead with Tank to believe him. "He is my family. My friend." He finished pointedly.
Bower couldn't keep the eye contact; he couldn't think of anything to say. He glanced into the cell, watching Luke sleep.
Byron followed his gaze. "I saw you during his interrogation. You were concerned for him."
The medic laughed derisively. "Of course I was. If he died, I'd be stuck here. Fat lot of good it did anyway; Dassu's going to get all the credit."
"You're lying, Tank," Byron argued gently. "You were concerned for him, not yourself."
Tank couldn't look at the technician, couldn't argue with him anymore. He shook his head in silent denial, his eyes wandering back to Luke. The boy was awake and staring directly at the view screen; it was almost eye-to-eye contact, and it shook the medic.
"It's okay," Jared told him, "he can't see you."
Bower would have sworn otherwise.