Part 3...
Luke hardly slept for the next two days. Taking apart the locking mechanism had been easy, but putting it back together-
He wiped sweat from his forehead and realized that he had used his mechanic hand. He stared at it for a second before wiping it on the pilot trainee uniform that had arrived the previous morning. It was far better than the awkward clothes that he had gotten upon leaving the medical center.
At times, it was mindless work, and it gave him time to think about what Vader had told him about the Force. Could Luke truly become as powerful as Vader? And a pilot at the same time?
Vader had seemed pleased when Luke told him of that goal. Was he a pilot also? Taking a sip from the water that sat beside him, Luke connected the last wire and leaned back, surveying the fruits of his labor. Did it work? He hoped so-spending the last five or so days in that room was more than enough for him.
Exhausted, he stood up and stretched his arms and legs, yawning. He wondered if Vader stretched. Did he need to? Or did his mechanical appendages never need to? He examined his own mechanical hand. He had had the habit of cracking his knuckles, and had attempted to do so once without thinking, and it hadn't worked. Yawning a second time, he tried to communicate through the Force, and do as he had felt briefly when Vader had spoken to him telepathically. Struggling, he thought, Father?
Yes? The response came immediately in that strange mind-voice of Vader. Luke was so excited that it had worked that he severed the connection and worked to rebuild it quickly.
I'm done, I think.
I'm busy right now. Use the Force to open the door.
What? How?
Focus on the Force-the energy you feel right now-and push it towards the door. Imagine it opening the door. If you do it correctly, the door will open.
But-Luke began to protest before Vader left his mind abruptly. Straining, he tried to reform the connection, but to no avail. Finally, he turned his attention back to the cursed door. Sighing, he tried to feel the energy, and found it more easily than he had the last time, when he had been excited over the completion of the rebuilding. Okay, he thought to himself. Open the door.
Nothing happened.
He tried again, focusing on the feeling that the Force produced. He held out his hands, as if willing the energy to pass through them, and squeezed his eyes shut. Open.
He was almost afraid to open his eyes, but when he did, he was amazed. The door had opened the width of a hand-span. Excitedly, he tried again, and this time it opened all the way. Euphoric, he jumped up. "Yes!" he sang out. To his surprise, six Stormtroopers were staring at him. Slightly afraid, he said, "Um... You're so supposed to show me where to go," he said.
"Yes, sir," said the first one. "Follow us, sir."
Slightly bewildered at the title that he had been given, Luke followed the group down as series of halls that looked all the same. He felt as though they had walked for hours when they finally stopped. This was a ship? It didn't seem possible that something so big could possibly exist. There was a door that looked like all the others had that had the words "Pilot Training Barracks-Group 1" on the identification panel beside it and a keypad at the waist level of the first Stormtrooper. He pressed a button, and the door slid open to reveal a large room with ten bunk beds and little else.
There were nine boys all sitting at desks at the front of the bunks. Their heads all turned automatically to see Luke. "You are to receive initiation. This is now your room," said the first Stormtrooper. "If there are any problems, contact your Squad Captain."
With that, the six turned and left and the door slid closed.
All the boys immediately stood up and the tallest, a black boy with a shaved head, walked up. He was wearing a slightly different uniform than all the rest-he had a black bar on both shoulders. "What's your name, trainee?" he barked authoritatively.
"Uh-Luke Skywalker," said Luke, unsure of himself.
The boy's eyes narrowed. "Trainee Jisk, instruct Trainee Skywalker on the proper way to address a superior officer."
What? This boy was an officer? How? He looked to be fourteen or fifteen, at most.
One of the other boys, a thin one with a shock of brown hair, walked up to Luke. "Address Captain Lang using 'sir' at all times," he explained in a quiet voice.
Luke nodded and the nine boys stared at him expectantly.
"Well?" Captain Lang snapped.
"Uh-my name is Luke Skywalker. Sir," said Luke awkwardly. This certainly was not what he had expected.
Suddenly, Lang's arm swung around and caught him in the jaw. Luke cried out and stumbled back. "I'll tolerate no cheek. If you are the replacement for Trainee Barak, you will be expected to take up his duties," said Lang. He turned back to Trainee Jisk. "Show Skywalker the ropes. You're to watch over him until he gets the hang of things. Everyone, return to duty," he said. "I'm going to report Skywalker's arrival to Commander Beinn." With that, he left the room, walking purposefully down the hallway.
As soon as the door slid shut, the group of boys turned to Luke. "Looks like you got on his bad side, Skywalker," said a pale boy, who held out his hand. "I'm Len Darmic."
Luke shook it. "Nice to meet you, Len," he said, overwhelmed. The other boys laughed. "What?" he asked.
"Refer to everyone by their last names," Trainee Jisk said with a smile. "I'm Jisk."
"Why?"
"Because they believe that calling everyone by their first names creates closeness that can impair the pilot if a friend is shot down," said another boy, crossing his arms. "I'm Vaskall."
"How did you get on here anyway, if you don't even know basic protocol?" Another boy, one who hung back from the others. He had black hair and a thin, pale face. Luke disliked him immediately.
"Shut up, Dase," said Vaskall derisively. He seemed to be the second-in-command, or something, because Dase did as he was told.
"Why did Lang hit me?" Luke asked, touching the sore spot on his jaw.
"Because he can," said Jisk. "You've got rotten luck. Lang is the worst captain of all the groups, and he doesn't like you."
"He's not the worst captain. He's very able and an excellent pilot," said Vaskall loyally.
"Maybe so, but he's still rotten," said Jisk. "You better hope you're up to his standards. How are you on TIE sims?"
"TIE what?" Luke asked, confused.
There was silence. "How did you get to be here?" asked Darmic. "We all had to go through major tests before they even considered us. We all had at least 100 hours on TIE simulations before they let us on. They kick out Barak for no good reason to bring in you?"
There was no malice in Darmic's voice, just confusion.
Luke wished he could tell them the truth, but he remembered that Vader had prohibited him from saying anything. "I... uh... Darth Vader found me on Tatooine and decided I had potential," he mumbled, hoping it would pass their scrutiny.
They all let out awed breaths. "No way! You've talked to Lord Vader?" Jisk asked, amazed. "He put you here?"
"He talked to me once!" said Darmic excitedly.
They all groaned, clearly having heard this story. "Sith, Darmic, he said one word to you!" Vaskall said exasperatedly.
"I heard that he's from a planet where they breathe poisonous gas. That's why he wears the mask," said Jisk conspiratorially. He shivered. "I heard that if he took it off, he could kill people by breathing on them."
"I heard that he can kill people without even touching them," said another boy, who shuddered.
"Did you know that he holds all the records for all the simulators?" said another boy.
Luke was so overwhelmed with the volume of inaccurate information that it was a moment before he comprehended the last bit. He felt a rush of pride.
"You're making it up," said Dase nastily. "Lord Vader would never talk to you."
Luke felt a rush of anger at the boy. "Who says?"
"You've never even been in a TIE sim," said Dase. "I'm the best flyer in this group. Don't mess with me."
"Shut your mouth, Dase," said Vaskall in a warning tone. "Or I'll recommend a transfer."
Dase fell silent.
In an effort to recreate the easy-going atmosphere, Jisk said, "I had a nightmare about Lord Vader once..."
The other boys laughed. "Who hasn't? You remember the time when he killed Commander Dact?"
They all shivered in unison. "He lifted him off the ground with one hand," said Vaskall. "By the throat! He was like two feet of the ground, and Lord Vader wasn't even straining!"
Luke remembered the lightsaber that had killed his aunt and uncle and the faux Anakin Skywalker. He shivered. The lightsaber that had cut off his hand. He may be Vader's son, but he was still terrified of him. And the stories weren't helping.
Suddenly the door opened at Lang reentered. "We're doing flight sims this afternoon. Right now, lunch. Let's go," he said, turning and leaving the room as abruptly as he had entered.
Jisk grabbed Luke's arm. "Let's go, Skywalker."
The food was nothing like what he had grown up with on Tatooine. They ate some sort of tough brown bread and some other things-green things-that Luke had never seen before. After having barely eaten for two days, though, Luke was ravenous and ate everything in front of him. "Slow down, Skywalker. When's the last time you had a real meal?" Vaskall questioned.
Luke shrugged. "When do we learn to fly real TIE fighters?"
Jisk snorted. "Not until we're sixteen. Then we've got another two years of training-that is, unless you're good at it-until we're officially pilots."
"And since none of us is Darth Vader, it looks like we've all got fours years to go," said Vaskall."
Luke smiled at the irony of the situation until he noticed Dase sitting by himself, staring moodily at his plate. His smile vanished. "Is he really the best?"
Jisk's expression darkened. "His father is a General, really high up. He's practically grown up on the Executor. His older brother was a pilot and taught him really well, so he's got more experience than all of us..." Jisk trailed off.
"He's a bad leader," said Vaskall. "Can't make decisions. So, Lang was chosen as Group Captain and he's been bitter since. He's gotten Lang in trouble plenty of times over stupid stuff with his father and all. Don't mess with him, or you'll be out of the program and off the ship before you can say, 'rebellion.'"
Luke thought a moment. He obviously would not be in any danger from Dase... but still he didn't want to be enemies with him, either. He stood up for a second and walked over there. "Skywalker, what are you doing?" Jisk called, bewildered.
"Hey, Dase," said Luke awkwardly.
Dase glared daggers at him. "What do you want?" he spat.
"Listen... I think we got off on the wrong foot," he said, undeterred. He held out his hand. "Truce?"
"Get away from me, Skywalker," Dase snarled. "Don't ever presume to talk to me again, or I'll have my father kick you off this ship. You'll go back to Tatooine where you belong."
Anger bubbled up in Luke, and he opened his mouth to say exactly what he would do to him with the Force, but he stopped himself just in time.
"That's right," Dase said with a wicked grin. "Go back to your little friends, Skywalker."
Furious, Luke turned and went back to Jisk and the others. "Told you, Skywalker," said Darmic. "Don't mess with him."
You don't know the half of it, Luke thought angrily, gripping his glass bottle angrily.
Excuse me? A familiar voice said in the back of Luke's mind.
Sorry, said Luke quickly. I was thinking about... one of the other trainees.
You're angry.
There's this trainee named Dase who thinks he's untouchable, Luke told his father. He's been messing with me.
General Dase's son?
Yeah, Luke replied
Use the Force to deal with him, Luke. With that, their mind-connection was broken. Luke, still angry, gripped his bottle tighter and tighter until it shattered, showering bits of glass everywhere.
"Hold on, there, Skywalker!" Jisk shouted, staring at him. "How in the Sith's name did you do that?"
Luke realized that the abnormal strength of his mechanical hand had done it. "I..." He decided that he could just tell them the truth. "I have a mechanical hand," he told Jisk, showing him his right hand. "Didn't realize how hard I was gripping it."
Jisk stared at him in surprise as a clean-up droid whirred over and sucked up the glass and spilt water.
"How'd it happen?" asked Vaskall interestedly.
Luke thought quickly. "Speeder accident," he said. "Last year. I was twelve," he told him.
"Hold on, how old are you?" Darmic asked, surprised. "You're only thirteen?"
"You just keep surprising us, Skywalker," said Jisk, taking a mouthful of food.
That afternoon, Lang led them into a room with strange, pod-like devices, each with a number on them. He turned to the group. "Everyone into their sims. Evens, you're a team. Odds, you're the other team. Whichever teams lasts longest has two hours of free time tonight." He turned to Luke. "Until you prove yourself to be better than a 10, that's your number. Go to your groups."
Jisk turned to Luke. "I'm 4. Vaskall's 2, and Darmic's 6. Welcome to the evens, Skywalker."
"Thanks," said Luke nervously. "Who's 8?"
"I am," said a short boy. "I'm Jons."
An older man walked into the room and cast a wary look at Luke. He had obviously been informed of his parentage, Luke realized. "I'll be grading you all this afternoon. Captain Lang, get underway," he said.
Lang saluted. "Yes, Master Commander Dirk. Group 1, enter your sims," he barked.
The groups rushed to climb in the pod-devices and Luke did the same, placing the helmet over his face. He stared at the controls. They looks more or less the same as speeder controls-with a few added switches and lights, of course. He steeled himself.
"Evens, this is B2 speaking. B10, you're my wingman. B8, you're wingman for B4. B6, you're recon. A1 favors a sneak attack, so you're all going to have to be vigilant." Luke recognized Vaskall's voice over the two-way Comm device in the helmet. He looked in the radar screen and saw blips with numbers on them. He saw himself as 'B10.'
"All right, let's get moving. B6, get up there."
Luke saw the blip with B6 on it zoom forward. He reached down and grabbed the controls, knowing innately how to maneuver the craft. He felt exhilaration at the sensation of flying and zoomed over to Vaskall's TIE fighter.
"B6 reporting that north is clear," came Darmic's voice. "B6 moving to recon east."
Luke glanced down at his radar and saw a blip with 'A3' on it racing towards Jons' ship.
His anger returning in an instant, Luke considered leaving Vaskall's side. It was wrong to target Jons, if he was only an 8! Making up his mind, Luke swerved away and raced towards the confrontation. "A3 attacking B8," he explained over their Comm device. "B10 going to help."
"B10, B6 will engage A3," said Vaskall's voice. "You don't have enough experience, B10."
Ignoring him, Luke saw through the screen Jons' TIE fighter trying desperately to fend off Dase's expert handling. Angry, he flew his TIE to the left of Dase's ship. Dase didn't seem to realize that he was there as Luke let out a barrage of laser fire.
He hit the side of Dase's ship, but it didn't explode. Dase turned quickly and rushed towards Luke's ship, but Luke pulled back at the last second and turned, letting out more fire. This time, Dase's ship exploded.
Luke grinned. "You all right, B8?"
"Skywalker?" Jons was surprised. "I owe you one, B10!"
"Good work, B10, despite blatant disregard for orders," came Vaskall's voice. He sounded impressed. "But you're still my wingman. A1 and A9 approaching. Get back here, B10."
Group B won the exercise. Luke destroyed A9, Lang's wingman, and then joined in the attack on Lang himself. With Vaskall, they destroyed the ship and then raced to help Darmic, who was getting double-teamed by A5 and A7. His ship was destroyed, but Jisk and Jons came to help them destroy the remaining members of Group A.
In all, the exercise lasted for only twenty-one minutes. They climbed out of the ships and the team all congratulated Luke, excited. Normally the sims took much longer. "Nice job, Skywalker," said Darmic, though he was subdued considering his had been the only ship lost in an otherwise perfect run.
Jons came up to Luke. "Thanks, Skywalker," he said gratefully. "Dase does that every time... Now the team practically accepts that I'll get knocked out early."
"Obey orders next time, Skywalker," said Vaskall, but Luke could tell he was pleased. "It's pretty impressive that you shot down Dase. This isn't going to make him like you any better, you know." He paused for a second. "We've never gone that fast. I've never heard of anyone going that fast, either."
"Excellent job, Group A," said Commander Dirk, peering at Luke with confusion and almost fear. "Impressive run, Skywalker." He turned to the group. "Let's go discuss this performance." Luke followed the others in an adjoining room with a large holo-broadcast platform on a table. "Sit down," he told them. Group A, subdued, did as they were told, and Group B did so with smiles, still excited over their win.
Commander Dirk pressed a button and immediately holo-projections of their TIE fighters showed up. They watched the entire run through in silence.
"Group A, explain yourselves."
"We underestimated the prowess of B10," said Lang immediately. "It will not happen again."
"Trainee Skywalker has never done a simulation in his life," said Dirk, crossing his arms.
All nine boys stared at Luke, Dase looking particularly murderous. "He seems to have a knack for it," Vaskall offered.
"Evidently so. Dase, how did you allow yourself to be fooled by the side-step?" Dirk turned his attention to the pale boy. "You lost control of your emotions once again. That is why you will never be the pilot you could be. That is why Skywalker beat you today."
"Commander, I was fighting B8 as well," Dase protested.
"So you are saying that an 8 and a 10 were too much for you to handle, while Darmic managed A5 and A7 for approximately four minutes longer?" Dirk was clearly upset with Dase.
He turned to Darmic. "You're promoted to A3, Darmic. Skywalker, take Darmic's spot. Dase"-he paused. "You're off the squad until you have a handle on your emotions. When you return, you'll take B10. You must prove yourself to be capable."
There were no words to describe Dase's emotion. He glared at Dirk. "I'll have my father demote you!" he snarled, standing up.
Dirk looked nonplussed. "My squads have consistently been the best in the Imperial Navy, Dase. I doubt that Lord Vader would take kindly to my dismissal, regardless from whom the recommendation came." Dirk inadvertently looked at Luke before quickly returning his attention to Dase. "Move your belongings to Room 9c, Dase. You're to remain there at all times. Meals will be given to you. Take some time to reflect upon your choices today."
Dase did nothing for a few minutes until he left the conference room in a flurry of emotion. "Group A, spend the next two hours reviewing group fighting strategy and planning your next sim without Dase. Group B, dismissed," said Dirk.
Vaskall, Jisk, Luke, and Jons stood and saluted the Commander. They turned to go, but Dirk said, "Skywalker, stay here."
Luke stopped and turned to face Dirk. "Sir?"
Dirk ushered him out into an adjoining room. "Skywalker, I would appreciate it if you do not speak to your father of the matter of Trainee Dase. I understand that Dase is not your favorite of the group, but if your father hears about his actions, he may punish the boy. I do not want that to happen. There is always a hotshot in a group, it's normal." Commander Dirk spoke very quickly.
Luke was surprised. The Commander thought that he was going to try and get his father to hurt Dase? "Sir..." he began slowly. "I fight my own battles."
"Yes, yes, of course," said Dirk hastily. "Go and enjoy your free time, Skywalker."
Luke saluted once more and let his feet carry him to the barracks. His father had said to use the Force to deal with Dase, to make him pay. He remembered the anger at the way the trainee had treated him at lunch time. His eyes narrowed. He did not need his father to help him defeat Dase.
He was absorbed in plots of revenge when he opened the door to the barracks and did not notice that Dase was within the room.
"YOU!"
Luke glanced upwards and saw Dase barrelling towards him. The other boy swung his fist and it crashed into his jaw, the same place that Lang had hit that morning. They crashed to the floor, Dase using his superior strength and size to pummel Luke. "How-dare-you-come-here-and-try-to-make-me-look-bad!" Dase yelled.
Luke finally got a hit in edgewise and scrambled out of the way. "You're supposed to be out of here," he said, breathing heavily and wincing as he stood up.
"Shut up! You don't know who you're messing with!" Dase's eyes were wild, and spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed at Luke. "My father will have your entire family killed! He'll send you to be a slave on the Outer Rim!"
Anger—close to the surface considering that Owen and Beru had died so recently-billowed up in Luke. He touched the Force and used it to strangle the other boy, not even realizing his actions. The effort exhausted him, and he maintained it only for a few moments before he let go. Dase coughed and stared at him, open-mouthed. "What are you? Some type of freak?" he was obviously scared. He backed up against the wall.
"Hardly," a new voice—the deep, inhuman voice that haunted half the Galaxy's nightmares-responded.
Dase looked over Luke's shoulder and all the color drained from his face and his jaw went slack. Luke did not need to focus to feel the unparalleled fear emanating from him. He turned slowly to see Vader standing impassively at the doorway.
"This is the trainee of whom you spoke?" he addressed Luke, who nodded. He walked into the barracks, his size dwarfing the room. "It seems that you need to learn a lesson in humility, son of General Dase," he said, using the Force to lift the boy to his feet. "I would advise you not to anger my son," he said.
Dase seemed unresponsive in his fear as Vader approached him. "Do you understand, trainee?"
The boy suddenly seemed to come to his senses. He nodded furiously, gasping, "Yes, my lord, sir, I understand."
Vader turned away, letting go of the Force and causing the boy to fall to the ground. Luke looked on admiringly. "Come with me," he said tersely.
Luke, sensing the power that was always at the surface of his father's mind, nodded and followed him out of the room.
The corridors immediately cleared themselves as Vader strode through, Luke following at his heels, feeling even shorter than normal. If Vader was his father, why could he not have inherited some of his height?
Luke was startled as Vaskall, Jisk, and Jons suddenly came down another corridor, talking animatedly until they saw Vader with Luke close behind. They all stared at Luke, who winced. How would he explain this one?
Luke lost track of how many elevators and corridors they took. Finally, Vader turned down a hall that had only a door at the end. He walked towards it and it opened just in time for he and Luke to enter.
It was a large room with a durable floor. It was well lit, but there was nothing else in it. "Whenever you have free time—and many times when you do not—you will come here for your training. The time you spend here is far more important than TIE simulations," Vader told him.
Remembering a fact from this morning's talk about his father, Luke burst out, "Is it true that you hold all the records for the simulations?"
Vader cocked his head slightly at Luke, a mannerism that seemed to indicate amusement. "Where did you hear that?"
"One of the other boys," said Luke lamely.
Vader was silent for a few moments. "Yes, it's true. That is why I was not surprised at your performance this afternoon. Though I am curious as to why I was a topic of conversation."
"How do you know how I did at the sim?" Luke asked, choosing to ignore Vader's last comment.
"Your exhilaration was easily felt, my son," said Vader with another trace of amusement. "I was in the middle of an interrogation at the time. It proved an interesting experience."
"Oh," said Luke.
"Right now, I am going to begin to teach you to fence," said Vader, unhooking what Luke knew to be his lightsaber. He unhooked another one as well, and dropped it on the ground. "Pick it up," he instructed Luke.
Luke started towards it but was stopped by an invisible hand. "Use the Force," Vader commanded.
Luke looked at his father. "What?"
"Did you not hear me?"
Sighing, Luke recalled the anger he felt for Dase. Already he could tell that it was easier to use the Force that way. He concentrated on the lightsaber, willing the Force to push it to his hand.
After a second of focus, the lightsaber flew to his hand. He looked at it, as if surprised to see it in his hand.
"Well done," said Vader. "Use both hands to hold it, like this," he said, showing Luke how to hold the weapon by demonstrating with his own. Luke emulated the hand placements, taking care to angle the cylinder away from himself. "Now press the button beneath your left thumb."
Luke did so and the lightsaber hummed to life. It was a bluish white color and Luke waved it around experimentally, excited. This felt nothing like the weapon of the Jedi, on Tatooine. That one had felt delicate, almost as if it wasn't real. This one-it thrilled him. He felt powerful with it.
"Always pay attention to your opponent," said Vader, lifting his own and igniting it.
Luke shivered once he saw the blood-red blade--the blade that had killed Aunt Beru, the blade that had cut off his hand--He was terrified of it. He stepped away. "I"-
"Do not lose focus," said Vader. "And do not fear the weapon."
"I can't not fear it!" Luke exclaimed.
"Fear is for the weak," said Vader. "Those such as Dase fear things-you must go beyond that. You must become the object of their fear. You cannot do so if you are a slave to fear yourself," he explained. "The lightsaber does not hold the power, Luke-you do. You hold it in your hands."
It suddenly seemed to make sense. Why would he fear the lightsaber, of all things? It was completely irrational, Luke realized.
Good, Luke. You begin to understand. Luke heard his father's voice in his head.
"On guard," said Vader, projecting a mental image of what he wanted. Luke understood and obeyed, adjusting his footing.
Vader showed him how to thrust and parry and then had Luke copy the actions. He showed him how to block, and to use the Force to overpower someone of greater strength.
After half an hour, Vader backed away. "Are you ready?"
"What?"
"You have a set of perfectly useable ears," said Vader, annoyed. "Do not incessantly ask, 'what?'"
"Sorry," Luke mumbled.
"You are going to be on the offensive," said Vader. "Begin as soon as you wish."
Luke steeled himself and brought his lightsaber down in a fierce thrust that Vader countered easily. Luke parried and attempted to thrust again. He began to grow tired as he was constantly blocked. He lost concentration for one second and then cried out as he felt his father's lightsaber swing by his cheek, the close proximity scorching his skin.
He dropped his lightsaber and held his hands to his face, still breathing heavily.
"Never let go of your weapon," said Vader, kicking the lightsaber away. "You lost focus."
"I'm tired," said Luke, gasping for air.
"Use the Force," said Vader.
"But"-
"My lungs barely function and I am more than twenty years your senior, Luke," said Vader impatiently. "If I can manage, I think you are able to as well." Luke said nothing. Vader's respirator let out a particularly loud "whoosh" and it occurred to Luke that he was sighing. "You have done well. You are a quick learner." Vader turned off his lightsaber and hooked it to his waist. "When you return to your barracks, I want you to meditate."
"Meditate?" Luke asked, bewildered.
"Yes," said Vader. "Relax, and reach for the Force. You will know when you do it," he said, holding out his hand to accept Luke's fallen lightsaber, which had lifted off the ground.
At the last second, it swerved over to Luke, who grinning. "Can I keep it?"
"No,
One of the other boys, a thin onoing off to become a Sith," he reasoned. "And you already said I couldn't tell them who I was."
"You are intelligent enough to think of something," said Vader unconcernedly. "Go. You're dismissed."
Luke had no idea how he managed to find his way back to the barracks. He received several strange looks. He still wore his trainee uniform, but the injury on his cheek did not seem like one a student pilot should have received. He opened the door to the barracks, dreading the reception he knew was coming.
As he predicted, Vaskall, Jisk, and Jons rush towards him. "Why were you with Lord Vader?" Jisk exclaimed. "And what happened to your cheek? That looks pretty nasty," he observed, peering closely at the lightsaber burn.
"I fell," said Luke lamely.
"You were with Lord Vader?" Lang asked suddenly, walking towards Luke. "Why?"
"He-uh-wanted to see how I was doing," Luke lied, knowing that it was a pathetic excuse.
Lang looked at him suspiciously. "That two almost an hour and a half?"
Luke shrugged. "Lost track of time," he mumbled.
It does not feel as though you're meditating.
Luke jumped. Well I'm trying to explain why I-a trainee-was with you!
There was a strange laugh from the other end-a sound Luke was certain was not feasible through Vader's physical form. He focused his attention back on his groupmates. "I'm kind of tired," he muttered, walking to the empty bed.
"Hold on," said Jons, procuring something from his pocket. "Here. A Bacta patch. It'll heal your cheek."
"Thanks," said Luke, gratified.
"You're not getting away so easily," said Jisk impatiently. He grabbed Luke's arm. "Tell us what he's like."
Luke sat down on the bed and the others crowded around him. "Well..." he began. He was tired and his head hurt. "He's tall," he offered.
Jisk snorted. "No way."
Luke sighed. What could he tell them? Jisk was obviously not going to give up. "He has a really short temper. And... he can move stuff without touching it."
"Whoa," said the other boys in unison.
"I heard that he's got a laser sword thing," said Vaskall. "Did you see it?"
"His lightsaber?" said Luke without thinking. Well, he's been on the receiving end of it. Twice. He glanced down at his wrist without realizing it. "Yeah, I saw it." And I dueled him, Luke thought with a touch of pride.
The other boys let out huge breaths. "Wow."
"I'm really tired..." Luke mumbled.
They took the hint. "Fine," said Jisk. "You can tell us tomorrow."
More coming up...