Another Route
Part Two
Disclaimer: Is this really necessary?
Summary: Word of a supposed Jedi calling himself Anakin Skywalker travels to the ears of Darth Vader, the most feared being in the Galaxy. He races to Tatooine, where the Jedi was last rumored, and finds much more than he expected.
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR ROTS! SPOILERS FOR ROTS! SPOILERS FOR ROTS! The main one is a dream sequence concerning the happenings on Mustafar. To those of you who know what I'm talking about… Yes, THAT scene. /b Also, my Vader is a fairly angry fellow so he will probably vent several times in the foreseeable future. Especially considering what he went through I would think that he'd be pretty pissed. I would! Bitter is like an understatement. If you don't like reading about that side of our beloved (hero? I like to think he is…) then you can just skip over those parts.
PART TWO WARNINGS:
DO NOT READ THIS PART IF YOU HAVE NOT YET SEEN REVENGE OF THE SITH
Author's Note: While reading through some of the stuff at I was intrigued by the responses to the challenge that had a man calling himself Anakin Skywalker, and Vader finding out about it. So, this is my take!
Vader sat in his meditation chamber, trying to focus, but his thoughts were in turmoil over his newly discovered son. Who had hidden the boy from him? Unbidden, an image of Obi-Wan popped into his head, and Vader clenched his fists. Of course—Obi-Wan. He had taken everything else from him; undoubtedly, he would be the one to hide the child.
The vivid memory of the fire, the molten lava sliding up his back—Vader repressed the memories with a mental shudder, only to open his eyes and see his ravaged body, revealed once the armor was removed. The mechanical legs, arms—the contraptions hooked to him that kept the feared, so-called invincible Darth Vader alive. Fury boiled up in him. Obi-Wan had done this—Obi-Wan had left him to die, helpless as the fire consumed him, as the fumes destroyed his lungs, rendered him dependent on the mask, the hated mask—Vader's prosthetic hands clenched. That Jedi, that man who had called Vader his brother--he would pay for doing this to him, for turning Padmé against him, for hiding his son—he vowed that Obi-Wan would die by his hand, and no other.
Once his anger subsided temporarily, Vader clad himself in the life-support suit once more, realizing that he would not be able to meditate in this state. He might as well go to see if the boy was recuperating, he reasoned. Perhaps he was awake.
Luke woke, wishing that his horrible nightmare had come to an end—that he was on the farm, that he had never heard the words Anakin Skywalker, that he had never laid eyes on the most feared man in the Galaxy. He opened his eyes and saw the unfamiliar white ceiling above him and disappointment and sorrow flooded his heart.
It had happened.
His nightmare had been real.
He sat up slowly and then looked to his right hand in horror. His right hand was gone, and was replaced by a multitude of wires and metal. He stared at it unbelievingly at it, and did not notice a droid entered the room. When it spoke, he looked up sharply. "Your new skin will be arriving shortly, Master Patient 9221. I apologize for the inconvenience. I assure you that the skin will not belie that the limb is artificial."
The droid's words did not register in Luke's mind.
He did not have a hand.
His hand was gone.
In its place was a mechanic fake, an imposter, a pretend hand.
Luke felt nauseated and looked away before glancing down again at the mess of wires and metal that was in the place of his hand.
"My hand is gone," he whispered to himself.
"I know the feeling," replied the deep voice that had haunted his dreams. Luke turned sharply to see Darth Vader standing at the entrance of his room, his arms crossed. Luke froze in terror and hatred. He was the one to do it all—he had killed Aunt Beru, and Uncle Owen, and—whoever that Jedi was. He had cut off Luke's hand.
Vader watched Luke stare at him, wide-eyed and obviously petrified with fear. The only sound was that off his mechanized breathing. "It is unfortunate that you lost the hand at so young an age. As you grow, it will have to be replaced to fit with the rest of your body." He did not know why he said that. The fear that he caused—which he normally enjoyed—was making the situation awkward.
"You're not going to kill me?" the boy asked bitterly, his emotions overwhelming the fear for a brief second.
"I don't think so," said Vader, impassive.
Luke turned his head away, a gesture that stirred in Vader the memory of Padmé—his Padmé—doing the same thing. "Why did you do it?" he asked desperately, his voice full of pain. "Why did you have to kill them?
Vader didn't know quite what to say. "They were harboring a Jedi," he said finally, unsure of why he was even answering the boy.
"But they didn't do anything to you!" he burst out. "Aunt Beru was never mean to anyone, and Uncle Owen cared for me! The only reason my father was there was because I wanted to say goodbye to them before we left!"
"You believe that the Jedi was your father?" asked Vader with mild interest.
"That's not the point!" Luke shouted. "They never did anything bad to anyone! They didn't deserve to die!" He seemed to have forgotten his fear.
"Many die who do not deserve to do so," said Vader in as a strangely distant tone as his mostly mechanical voice could portray.
"But they didn't just 'die!'" Luke said, tears spilling from his eyes that he wiped away hastily. "You killed them!"
"How did you meet the Jedi?" Vader said, not sure how to respond to the boy's overly emotional state.
"In a store," said Luke. "He thought I could repair his ship 'cause he didn't know how."
"That should have told you immediately that he was not the true Anakin Skywalker," said Vader sharply.
"What?"
"What did your aunt and uncle tell you of your father?" Vader asked, slightly surprised. He thought that they would have told him basic facts at least, if not that his father was Darth Vader.
"They told me he was a navigator for a spice smuggler," said Luke quietly, refusing to look at Vader.
"That is obviously not the case," he said, not without some derision. "Anakin Skywalker had remarkable skill with mechanics. In fact, that was his best skill before becoming a Jedi."
"Then why couldn't he repair his ship?" Luke asked, confused.
"That was not Anakin Skywalker," said Vader. The traumatic events of two days earlier must have somehow altered his memories of them. "Before I became a Sith, that was my name. I am your father."
Vader could tell from both the boy's expression and gentle probing of his mind that he remembered his uncle's words. I Do not harm Luke, Anakin. He is your son .
After a few minutes of silence, Luke stared at the expressionless mask. "No. I don't believe you."
Vader had not expected that. He said nothing.
"You're lying!" Luke suddenly shouted, throwing back his covers on the bed and trying to stand before his other wrist was caught on the binders keeping him locked to the bed. He pulled at it, attempting desperately to get as far away from Vader as the room would allow. He looked at the man in black wildly. "You're wrong! My father died! He died! He's dead! My father wouldn't kill innocent people, he wouldn't cut off my hand—you're lying! You're lying to me!"
To Vader, the boy's fear, confusion, and pain were as tangible as the suit he wore. "I do not lie."
The boy said nothing as he breathed heavily after his exertion. "No," he said weakly. "No," he repeated. "No, I don't believe you." The words were empty, and Vader knew that the boy realized the truth.
"Lord Vader… Uh… What do you wish us to do with the child?" asked one of Vader's captains nervously.
"I don't see how he is of any importance to you, Captain," said Vader smoothly.
"Lord Vader," the Captain continued hurriedly. "It's just… the men are starting to talk. They're confused. They want to know why the boy is on the ship."
"Will this prevent the men from doing their jobs, Captain?"
"Well, no, it shouldn't"—the Captain said awkwardly.
"It won't, or you will pay. Do I make myself clear?" said Vader.
The Captain nodded furiously. "Yes, sir—Of course, sir."
The Captain left the room and Vader sat down in his chair. Truthfully, he didn't know what he would do with the boy. He had completely recovered, and the sensitive 'skin' had been applied to his prosthetic. He refused to speak except in absolutely necessary sentences—something for which Vader was grateful. The boy's questions had become a nuisance.
But still, something needed to be done. He got his Comm device and called the Medical Wing.
Twenty minutes later, a squad of six Stormtroopers escorted Luke inside Vader's office. The boy avoided looking at his father, and Vader noticed that his prosthetic hand was hidden within the folds of the overlarge shirt with which he had been provided. He was short, for thirteen—he had blond hair, and blue eyes. Vader supposed that Luke looked like he had, only the shape of his eyes and his mannerisms were completely reminiscent of Padmé.
He looked up to the Stormtroopers. "Return to your duty," he told them, and they obeyed immediately. At their departure, the boy seemed to shrink further within himself. He still refused to make eye contact—or the equivalent of eye contact—with Vader. Vader said nothing. He knew that eventually the boy would speak.
They listened to several mechanized inhalations and exhalations. Finally the boy looked up. "What did you mean when you said you knew what it felt like to lose a hand?"
That was not the question Vader expected.
He thought a moment. "When I was still a Jedi, my mentor and best friend dueled with me, believing that I was trying to prevent the Jedi from gaining power of the Galaxy." He chose his words carefully. "We fought on a volcanic planet named Mustafar. It was there that my arms and legs were cut off." It was not completely true—Count Dooku had first cut off his right hand in that ill-fated duel when he was still a Padawan.
Luke was properly horrified. "But why would he fight you if you were best friends?"
"I suppose that he was so overcome with fear that the Jedi would lose power that our relationship meant nothing to him," said Vader, anger bubbling up to the surface as it always did when he thought about Obi-Wan.
Luke said nothing for a few seconds. "Why do you wear that mask?" he asked finally, almost fearfully.
Vader's fists clenched. "He left me to die on the banks of a lava flow. The fumes that the lava produced—as well as the fire—destroyed my lungs and most of my other organs. The mask is part of a body-wide respiration system." Vader detested speaking about his medical situation and no one other than the Emperor, his droids, and the doctor to whom he occasionally went knew of the extent of his injuries. But, he reasoned, if he was to win the boy's trust, it was best not to lie. No doubt, the truth would make him a more human character than the mask and suit allowed.
Luke looked horrified. "But—weren't the Jedi supposed to be good?"
"They pretended to be," said Vader.
Vader smiled behind the mask as he sensed that the boy's opinion of him was softening.
They sat in silence for a few moments until Luke had fully absorbed the information. He turned and sat down in the chair as kind of a gesture of truce. "You're really my father?" he asked after a few moments.
"Yes."
Luke looked at his prosthetic hand. "Why did you have to kill them?" he whispered bitterly.
"The Jedi are my sworn enemies," said Vader. "In both personal and official respects. It is part of my duty to remove Jedi, or those who show their lack of loyalty to the empire, from the galaxy."
Vader could tell that the boy was evaluating his response. He was probably recalling what Vader had told him of Obi-Wan. He looked up at the fearsome mask. "But… Aunt Beru…"
"You will be provided with a room close to my own," said Vader, interrupting him. "You will be protected by a squadron of Stormtroopers at all times. If anyone speaks to you, tell me and they will be punished."
Vader saw the memory of Beru's dead body flash through Luke's mind. "Not fatally," he added, though it was probably a lie. Though, he thought to himself, none of the Stormtroopers would dare to disobey his orders. There would be no reason for them to die.
"You were my brother, Anakin!" said the man, clearly pained as he stared at Luke from the ridge. "I loved you!"
Luke screamed as he felt his legs—or what was left of his legs—catch fire, as he slid helplessly down the ridge. The pain was unbearable—the flames licked the flesh, searing it, cutting deep into the wounds already inflicted.
He felt the words tear themselves from his damaged throat—the fumes already beginning to do their work. "I HATE YOU!" He screamed, terror and helplessness and betrayal seeping through his body.
The man lowered his eyes and stared at him, his eyes reflecting Luke as he slid perilously close to the lava. Sorrowfully, he pocketed the metal cylinder and Luke felt a rush of anger as his lightsaber—the blade over which he had labored for so long—was taken from him. The man walked away and Luke's anger was soon forgotten as his body touched the lava.
He screamed in unadulterated agony as the fire consumed him, as it ate away his flesh, permeated his bones. He struggled to breathe, the toxic fumes suffocating him. With his remaining hand—his mechanical hand, he realized, he clutched the earth and attempted to pull his destroyed, burning body from the lava. Hatred flowing through him, he swore that he would survive this, that he would kill Obi-Wan. Fresh pain coursed through him and he let out another scream…
Luke realized he was screaming when he woke up. He jerked up and ripped back the covers on his new bed to check to make sure his legs were still there, to see if his body was scarred from lava burns. He jumped out of his bed, staring in horror as his eyes showed him mechanical limbs, as he saw twisted, disfigured skin. Luke let out a yell and shut his eyes, stumbling to the ground. He breathed heavily for several minutes, his head spinning. No—it wasn't possible—
He opened his eyes and nearly cried in relief when his own body stared back at him. Just a dream.
Luke.
Luke jerked around, searching for the voice. Who is that?
This is your father, Luke.
Luke couldn't muster the energy to respond—he was terrified to tell Vader what he had seen. Was that what he had lived through? Had Luke just experienced the results of the duel on Mustafar? He shuddered and clutched his knees to his chest, burying his face. He moaned as a cold sweat came over him.
I will be there shortly.
Luke tried to breathe normally but he was half-paralyzed by hyperventilation and his fears that he had, in fact, breathed in the toxic fumes and could not breathe, that his lungs couldn't function…
Luke gasped for air and slid to the floor, welcoming the coolness of the concrete, especially after... He cleared his head, trying desperately to forget the sensations of his dream. He slowly began to calm down and managed to prevent full-on hyperventilation.
Suddenly the door slid open and the man Luke least wanted to see stepped through, clad as ever in the suit. He moaned a second time and shut his eyes tight, the memories of his struggles to breathe wracking him. His brief repose from the act of desperation over, he gasped for air.
Suddenly, he felt himself begin to calm. It was as if something invisible was cooling him, was reassuring him. Some unseen force began to help him to breathe, and he felt his mind clearing, ridding itself of the agony and the fear—temporarily at least.
He felt himself being lifted and set on the bed. He opened his eyes to stare at Vader, whose mechanical breathing and Luke's own mingled now. Luke shuddered as he remembered the reason for the respirator and almost succumbed to his dream once more but for a gentle presence in his mind that had retrieved him.
"You saw Mustafar " Vader stated, more than a little disturbed.
Luke did nothing, his face blank.
Vader said nothing. The images from the boy's dream were so vivid that they projected themselves into Vader's mind, not that he needed any aid remembering. He recognized that he needed to say something to Luke, who was still staring at him, pale and breathing raggedly. He almost shuddered himself as the boy emanated the pain he had felt in the dream. Guarding his mind was something Vader would need to teach himself as soon as possible. "His name was Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said finally, stepping in front of Luke and clasping his fists together behind his back. Luke looked at him, obviously not trusting himself to speak. "I am going to show you how to meditate," said Vader at last. That, at least, would help the boy calm himself.
"To what?" Luke finally asked, his voice hoarse and weak.
Vader mentally winced at the similarity between it and his own, when unaided by the respirator. "Meditate. It will help you relax, using the Force."
Luke stared at him blankly. "The what?"
Vader felt the fury build in him quickly. They had not even told the boy of the Force, his birthright? "You mean you do not know of the Force?" he said finally.
Luke did not need to shake his head for Vader to realize his honesty.
"It is the energy field that surrounds us and is part of everything," said Vader, unconsciously reciting what he had been told throughout his training as a Jedi. "It binds the universe together. There are some that feel it, and can bind it to their will. I can, and you can as well. I will teach you to use it, and you will be my apprentice."
"Apprentice?"
"Yes," said Vader, and Luke detected a small change in the voice—satisfaction, perhaps? "But first, you must learn to meditate."
Luke nodded slowly, and Vader sensed that he was ready. "Close your eyes," said the Sith. "And control your breathing. Recall the pain and fear, and reach for the Force," he told his son, who did as he was told. "Good," said Vader as a calm seemed to come over the boy. He turned to leave and walked out the door, casting one last look at Luke, whose posture seemed serene as he sat on the bed.
Looking away, Vader strode down the hallway, perturbed. He had instinctively used the Light Side of the Force to calm the boy, and had hardly realized it. His mood darkened. That must not happen again, he commanded himself. The boy would become a Sith. He did not need Vader using the Light Side to help him recover from nightmares.
Vader sighed inwardly. Even those nightmares.
Obi-Wan Kenobi jerked awake at the movements of the Force. He stood and grabbed his lightsaber, not sure why he had woken. Was something wrong with Luke? He sensed ripples in the Force that indicated someone's death nearby. He cast the Force over the area, trying in vain to sense Luke and his guardians. When he felt nothing, cold fear settled in his breast and spread to his body. Fearing the worst, he took his speeder to the farm just as the first of the suns—Tatoo I—was rising.
The scene was worse than he had imagined. The decapitated forms of Beru, Owen, and a younger man whom he had never seen before lay on the sand. Swallowing, he knelt down to inspect the gruesome wounds. He shuddered as he realized that that the cause of their deaths was as he feared—a lightsaber. And there was only one lightsaber left that would do so much damage, which meant…
He looked around the farm, calling with the Force to try and find Luke. But the boy's strong presence was no where to be found, except for…
Obi-Wan let out a short cry as he saw a Padawan's lightsaber on the ground, the hand of a boy still clutching it. He fell to his knees, stunned and horrified at the same time. "Oh, Anakin—what have you done? Have I failed again?" Was Luke in the hands of his father, the monster that he himself had created?
With a violent tremor of guilt, Obi-Wan recalled that night thirteen years earlier as he had stared at his horribly crippled protégé, his brother, his best friend, crying out in agony and hate. Repressing the painful memories, he stood and steeled himself. It was time to contact Yoda—no doubt he would have felt the distress. Bail Organa would also have to be notified. Leia was now their only hope—Luke was sure to be killed. He had failed him just as he had failed Anakin.
"To the hands of Darth Vader Luke has gone," said Yoda once Obi-Wan stepped inside the Jedi Master's humble home.
"Master… It is my fault," said Obi-Wan sorrowfully. "I should have kept closer watch! I should have just told Luke about his father—I should have trained him!"
"Change the past dwelling will not," said Yoda heavily. "In both of us the responsibility is," said Yoda. "But find him Vader would have still if the boy was trained."
"What can we do?" Obi-Wan asked desperately. "Luke could be killed—or worse, trained as a Sith!"
"Only hope that there is still some Anakin left in Darth Vader, we can," said Yoda as he poured a miniature, rough-cut drinking vessel full of water.
"You did not see the Lars' home, Master," Obi-Wan said as he accepted the water from Yoda. "It was a slaughter. I cannot believe that Darth Vader is anything other than a monster. There is no Anakin left in him. And it is my fault."
"Caught by Darth Sidious, Anakin was," said Yoda quietly. "Blamed you are not to be."
Obi-Wan held his head in his arms and massaged his temples. "I wish that I had killed him, more than ever," he said softly. "Released him from his torment, to join Padmé."
"Torturing yourself you are," said Yoda gently. "Focus we must on Leia. Lost is Luke to us."
Obi-Wan nodded silently. "Yes, Master," he said softly, though his heart still ached for those that had been lost—good, noble Anakin—kind Padmé—and now, he realized, Luke. Luke, in his innocence, was lost forever.
"Return you must to Tatooine," Yoda urged. "Erase your life there you must."
"What news have you to report, Lord Vader?" the sinister voice of the Emperor croaked. The Darkness emanated even from the holo in front of which Vader knelt.
"The rumors of a Jedi calling himself Anakin Skywalker were true, Master," said Vader, choosing his words carefully. The Emperor would learn of Luke's existence soon enough—there was no point in hiding the boy from him. "He was nothing but a Padawan during the Purge, and too weak for me to feel him."
"It is good that he is disposed of, Lord Vader," said the Emperor.
"Master… There was the presence of another Force-sensitive person on Tatooine," said Vader. "I think that the Jedi was attempting to take and train him."
"Did you terminate him?" the Emperor asked unconcernedly.
"Well—the boy was remarkably strong, though untrained," said Vader quickly. "I thought that he could become my apprentice."
The Emperor said nothing for a few minutes. "You seek to destroy me by training another Sith, Lord Vader?"
"Master, I would never"—Vader remedied quickly. He began again. "I thought only that if the boy could be trained, then there would be two Sith that you would trust to carry out your orders. This is a large Galaxy—the presence of another Sith would relieve some of my duties."
"You grow weary of your obligations, Lord Vader?"
Vader knew his Master well enough that he recognized that he was walking on thin ice. "No, Master. I only thought that if I am destroying the seeds of rebellion on the Outer Rim, I cannot see to the problems of the Core Worlds. An apprentice—one we could trust—would solve this."
Darth Sidious said nothing for a few minutes, and Vader knew that his argument had won. What came next, however, he did not expect.
"Why this interest in a strong Force-sensitive boy, Lord Vader?" the Emperor questioned. "Never have you had qualms destroying strong Jedi."
"This boy is not a Jedi, Master. He is impressionable, and"—Vader paused. "He is the child of Anakin Skywalker."
Vader could sense the surprise and disgust of the Emperor. "Your child ? So, then, you have not released all of your former self? You still feel the weaknesses of the Jedi, Vader?"
Vader had known that this would be the response. "I believe that he was hidden from me to insure that we would not be able to train him, Master. I believe that the Jedi was sent by Obi-Wan Kenobi to retrieve him and train him to defeat us. Also… If I manage to gain the boy's trust and loyalty, he will become a faithful servant of the Empire."
That was the clincher—the Emperor knew that if the strength of Darth Vader's son was trained for the Jedi, his own position would be threatened. Finally, he said, "Very well, Lord Vader. You have your apprentice. But"—he continued darkly—"If I hear of anything displeasing to me, you shall pay. And the boy shall die—and you the one to kill him."
"Yes, Master," Vader replied as the blue form of his Master disappeared. He let out a particularly heavy breath. His excuses had worked.
There was nothing in his room except for a bed and a table with nothing on it. The walls were white, the floor was white, and there were no windows. Luke assumed that he was on a ship of some kind, but it did not feel like it. Vader had not contacted him once since his dream two nights earlier. Since then, he had almost driven himself crazy. Vader had provided him with a droid, which he had named Bede, because of its serial number of BD-261. But, it was not built for personality, only for care-taking. So far, Luke had tried to teach it the Word-Association game, but it seemed that the model was not able to perform such a humanoid feature. And so, he was left with nothing to do, except to meditate.
Vader had been right about that, Luke granted. He had remained in a trance for several hours and had reemerged newly revitalized. Still, the chill that the Force seemed to emanate made him uneasy. He did not feel quite comfortable with it, and it did not give him the same calm that he had felt when Vader had used the Force to pacify him after the dream. He would have to speak to Vader about it—perhaps there was something he was not doing correctly.
He had refrained from meditation and for the past day he had been working at the door of his room. It was a door that could be opened by a series of codes or by voice recognition. It was a distraction from the truth of his situation to try and crack the code. He had ordered the droid to get him some basic tools, and had spent the better part of nine hours attempting to dismantle the mechanism that locked him inside the room.
He was terrified of getting electrocuted—would the metal of his prosthetic hand act as a conductor for the rest of his body? Would they find him, days later, dead on the floor from electrocution?
Nonetheless, he plodded on with the primitive tools that the droid had procured. The mechanism was in shambles around him, but he lay no closer to discovering the codes that would allow him to escape his room.
He still vaguely hoped that he would wake up from this dream, but he knew now that it was pointless to deny what had happened. When he had stopped meditation the first day in isolation, he began to mourn over Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. The next day—this morning—he remembered how evil the Jedi had been. That his guardians had harbored one was unthinkable, and Luke began to wonder if perhaps they were guilty of crimes punishable by death. Why couldn't they have just obeyed the law?
When the door opened, he was ecstatic to think that his efforts had finally paid off—but then a dark shadow blocked his light and he realized that Vader had entered the room, and was now staring down at him.
He swallowed fearfully and glanced down at the mess of wires and parts and circuitry that lay all over the floor of his room. "I—uh"—
"What, exactly, were you doing?" Vader asked, his voice expressionless.
"I was trying to open the door," said Luke, hanging his head.
"Why?"
"I—uh—was bored," said Luke, gesturing to his surroundings. "What was I supposed to do?"
Vader seemed mildly amused—if that was possible—when he spoke next. "Why did you not use the Force to open the door, instead of destroying the locking mechanism?"
"I didn't think that was possible"—
"You will become a Sith, Luke," said Vader. "You will soon learn that everything is possible through the Force."
Luke was silent for a few moments while he contemplated Vader's words. He looked back up to Vader, and stood. "Can I be a pilot too?"
That was not the question that Vader had anticipated—he had expected more questions about the Force and the Sith, but it seemed that the boy had accepted his future readily. "You wish to train as a pilot?" he said, raising his brow behind the mask. It seemed that the boy had inherited that love as well.
"Yes," said Luke eagerly. "I always wanted to—I was going to go to school and try and get accepted into the Imperial Flight School, but Uncle Owen refused." The boy's face clouded over. "I know why, now, obviously."
Another reason to detest Owen Lars. "Imperial pilots begin training at fourteen," he told Luke. "They train on the Star Destroyers. However, there is a group that trains here," he said, motioning to the ship with a gloved hand. "You will remain here, so that you will be trained as a Sith as well. I will allow you to begin now, even though you are not of age. If you do not perform to the standard the Empire expects of students selected to learn on the I Executor /I , then your training will be stopped."
Luke could hardly believe his ears. He was going to be allowed to fly? He had asked only in vain hope…
"You will be moved to their quarters," said Vader, continuing. "You are to tell no one of your relation to me. Your instructors will be informed of the situation. He glanced down—or, at least, Luke thought he did—at the dismantled locking mechanism. "You are not to leave this room until you have rebuilt this," he said, indicating the mess strewn about the room with a gloved hand. "Once you have, tell me and I will open the door. The Stormtroopers will tell you what to do then," he said.
He turned and moved to leave and was nearly out the door when a shell-shocked Luke called out, "Thank you!"
Vader paused almost imperceptibly. "When I return, I want this door fully functional." With that, he swept down the corridor, leaving Luke with the seemingly impossible task of putting the mechanism back together.
Luke looked despairingly at his mission and picked up the main circuit board. He'd get to fly once it was fixed, he told himself. Heaving a sigh, he began collecting the parts.
Author's Note: Um.. yeah.. I have been posting this on the L/V Writer's group, but not here. Sorry!