Chapter 7: Non-Replaceable
Unfortunately, Doctor Leeson wasn't working at the medical center that evening. But L-160 appeared to have been reprogrammed, and immediately summoned a medical droid to see him. The droid bound up his ankle again, and suggested resting for two days.
Luke would have readily agreed, if it had been possible.
He was getting favouring one leg down to a fine art by now, anyway. Upon arriving back home, he limped across the hangar bay floor, trying not to notice the Dunesea's absence. The elevator ride gave him an opportunity to stretch out and locate his father. An immediate response followed.
Hello, Son.
He was home. Luke sighed, and braced himself to walk without a limp. It shouldn't be difficult to manage the short distance from the elevator to his bedroom.
When the doors slid open, there was no sign of his father. Luke decided not to risk it, however. As predicted, when he was within a meter of his bedroom, his father emerged from his own private room.
"Hi," Luke mumbled. He opened his bedroom door and walked straight in.
His father followed him. Luke sat down on the bed and looked up. "Is something wrong?"
"Where have you been?" his father asked.
"At the senate," Luke said. "The lessons. Remember?"
"I see. How are they progressing?"
"Fine."
His father didn't reply. His breathing filled the awkward silence, making Luke feel uncomfortable.
"Well," Luke said, finally, "if that's all ..."
"How was the rest of your day?" his father enquired.
"Great," Luke said, doing his best to stay calm. His father would pick up nervousness in a heartbeat.
"Then everything is well?"
"Yes," Luke said, starting to feel annoyed. "Didn't we cover this yesterday?"
"Why didn't you return my calls when I was away?"
"I was busy."
"You seem upset with me," his father noted. "Is this about the incident you witnessed?"
Luke felt an old pain return. "Incident? You mean the murder?"
"A necessary action to prevent further loss of life. I don't expect you to understand yet, but—"
"No, I understand," Luke said, standing up. "You enjoy cold-blooded murder, but you don't want to admit it, so you pretend it's all about saving the galaxy. Lie to yourself all you want, but don't expect me to believe it. Or was choking my mother about saving lives too?"
His father stood completely still for a moment, as if in shock.
Luke met his gaze squarely, pushing away any thoughts of regret. It felt good to finally say it.
Finally, his father turned and left without another word. Luke watched until the last edge of the cape had disappeared through the doors, and then he flopped back on the bed. He was so tired, he couldn't even be bothered taking off his boots.
Luke traced his finger down a scar on the back of his non-artificial hand. He didn't recall where he'd received that particular one. He did know the person who'd given it to him was dead.
That's all that mattered. He resumed tightening the bolt on the starfighter engine, ignoring the dripping syn-oil.
"Luke."
Luke looked up from his work, seeing his father.
"What?"
"I thought you were going to accompany me to the senate."
"I changed my mind," Luke said. "Decided I'd rather do this instead."
"I see."
"Your presence is distracting."
"I apologize." His father sounded sarcastic.
"Is there anything else?" Luke asked, pointedly.
His father turned away. "You have been distant since I returned. I realize I have not been here in six months. It takes time to get used to each other again. But you give the impression you don't wish to spend any time with me."
"Boy, now there's some supernatural perception." Luke smirked.
"And this disrespectful attitude you seem to have adopted during my time away," his father said, pointing at him. "It is not acceptable."
Luke stood up. "You can't tell me what is and what is not acceptable anymore."
"Watch me."
Luke tossed the hydrospanner so it bounced off the ship.
The clang caused Luke to open his eyes. He looked around rapidly, taking in the room. His bedroom ... he wasn't in a ship hangar. His father wasn't here. Another Force vision.
Luke became increasingly frightened as the content of the dream rushed through his mind. That was horrible. He'd never treat his father like that, no matter how badly they were arguing. More proof that whatever these dreams were, they were definitely not the future.
Luke considered it for a moment, and then climbed out of bed. His bedside chronometer said it was just after six am. With any luck, his father was still here. He had to apologize for his remark last night. The dream was probably some kind of warning.
In the corridor, he banged loudly on his father's door, not bothering with the door-com. When there was no reply, he opened the doors and barged on in. It was immediately obvious there was no one here.
The ship hangar. He could be in the ship hangar ... Luke limped down the corridor to the elevator, noting that his ankle felt a little better, despite being stiff after being stuck in a boot all night.
The hangar was eerily silent when he arrived. He wandered down the rows of ships, looking left and right for a hint of black.
"Father?"
The only response was a maintenance droid whirring into life.
Luke turned back, sensing his father wasn't here. He'd have to try his comlink. Making it sound normal would take some effort. The last thing he wanted to do was make his father suspicious.
A large familiar shape caught Luke's eye, and he came to an abrupt stop. He blinked in amazement, scarcely believing the sight in front of him. The Dunesea ...
No, it couldn't be! He was either still dreaming or going crazy. Either way, this was impossible.
Luke walked a few steps forward, and banged the palm of his hand against the side. A loud clang followed, and he withdrew his fingers from the cold metal. Solid and real. But how?
After a minute of blank staring, the Emperor's words replayed in Luke's mind. So this was what the old man had meant. Somehow, he'd produced a replacement, visually indistinguishable from the other. Not only that, but he'd had it delivered and placed in the ship hangar without any disturbance at all.
Luke turned away, too unsettled to investigate further. This was downright creepy.
It was nearing lunchtime when Vader flew into the ship hangar. His morning had not been going well. He'd thought to occupy himself in interrogating the recent Rebel prisoners, in a bid to avoid dwelling on his deteriorating relationship with Luke. Instead, he'd been so distracted, a prisoner had actually pointed out that he was not only addressing him by the wrong name, but asking him the same questions he'd already answered.
He'd killed the man for his insolence, but it had done little to alleviate his mood.
He should have been more careful with Luke. Of course his son would have tried to follow him to the military command centre when he knew there were battle recordings on offer. The boy wasn't ready to accept such harsh realities of leadership, and all it had done was remind him of his worst crime against the boy's mother.
Padmé. She had not accepted the demands the Dark Side placed on a Sith Lord who had sacrificed everything in exchange for its power. Was it really a surprise that Luke could not either? They would inevitably drift apart. Luke no longer had need for him now that he was almost an adult.
He rested in the speeder for a moment, staring out through the glass at the multitude of ships. The number of times he and his son had worked side by side in here, working out their differences through a common love of flying and machinery. Were those days a thing of the past?
Vader considered it for a moment, and then pushed the speeder door open. If he wasn't careful, he was going to start getting sentimental. Perhaps some dueling practice would restore his focus.
On the way towards the elevator, he idly picked up his comlink, recalling that he'd switched it off while at the detention center. Having a comlink beeping in the middle of an interrogation was never a desirable situation.
As soon as he switched it on, it displayed a flashing message. Ten missed calls, and one recorded message.
Vader stopped and quickly set it to play. Had something happened? The last thing the Empire needed was another Rebel attack.
The projector lit up with a small image of Luke.
"Hi ... I tried to find you, but you're not home, and I have to go to school. I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what I said last night. I was tired and ... no, that's no excuse. I said something horrible, and I'm sorry. I guess I was angry, and it just slipped out. I don't agree with what you did to the officer, but I still love you. You'll always be my father, and I'll always be your son, no matter what."
The holographic Luke paused for a breath. He fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, and then reached up to stop the message.
"I'll see you later," he said, before disappearing.
Vader stared at the blank projector, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. Part of him wanted to send an acerbic reply telling his son to kindly leave the l-word out of any future apologies, because it was wasted on him. Another part was already considering giving his brilliant son a gift. Perhaps another new speeder ... or perhaps he could relax that rule about letting the boy fly alone. He'd been whining about that for a while now.
And speaking of flying ... Vader paused beside the Dunesea, noting how clean it was. Luke must have given the surface a polish while he'd been away. Its smooth lines and gleaming white surface were a pleasure to behold.
"Lord Vader!"
Vader looked down the row of ships, seeing an assistant walking quickly towards him. He came to attention.
"General Garblicon wished to confirm your meeting this afternoon at military HQ."
"Tell him I will be there shortly after 14-hundred."
"Yes, sir. The Ilis regional fleet reported a Rebel cell discovery at 1123, with immediate engagement. We're monitoring the regular updates. All appears to be going well. We're also waiting for clarification on the state of Governor Herow. He was reported dead, most likely by assassination, but we received an update ten minutes ago that suggested reports of his death may have been exaggerated."
"We can only hope to the contrary," Vader said.
"And finally, sir ... the manager of the Border Zone mall called to say one of your ships has been parked on their landing pad for three days. They wanted thousands of credits in parking fees. The security office insisted there were no ships missing, so I sent someone out to investigate."
"And?"
"I think you should see for yourself, sir."
Vader followed the man towards the other end of the hangar, curious as to what he would see. When he came within sight of the ship, he first thought it had to be a mistake. Underneath the blackened, buckled and cracked hull, it looked like the Dunesea. Same angular cockpit, same folded wings.
But it couldn't be the Dunesea. He'd just been looking at the Dunesea. It was in immaculate condition, parked a short way down the side of the hangar.
"What made this manager think this ship was mine?" Vader asked.
"The computer's registry, sir. It survived intact."
"And what is the ship's name listed as?"
"The Dunesea."
"If this is the Dunesea, then what is that ship over there?" Vader said, gesturing back at the other ship.
"Based on my last discussion with the security officer investigating the matter, I believe it to be another prototype, sir."
"Are you saying that someone took my ship—" he gestured at the wreck. "Crashed it, and then had it replaced with an identical copy?"
"It ... it is starting to seem that way, sir."
One word entered Vader's mind. Luke.
"I suspected Luke, at first," the lieutenant continued, echoing Vader's thoughts. "But I don't believe Luke would have the resources to have that second prototype delivered here."
"What do the security logs show? Every flight in and out of this hangar is recorded, is it not?"
"The security team is still investigating, sir."
"It takes less than a minute to recall security footage. I could do it myself from any terminal in this room."
"Normally, yes, sir. But the logs appear to have been tampered with. Any records of the Dunesea's departure ... or the second prototype's arrival ... have been removed."
Vader was walking around the wreck while the lieutenant was talking. The front windshield was completely smashed. The cockpit was a burned out mess of exploded computer panels and blackened chairs.
"This ship was attacked," Vader said, gesturing at the blaster burns along the remains of the side wing.
"Another mystery, sir."
Vader stared at the wreck, imagining how horrible it would be if Luke actually had been flying this thing. But no pilot could have survived such a crash without extensive injury. He'd seen his son last night, and he was in good health. And the lieutenant was right. Luke could not procure something as classified as a prototype ship.
"A mystery I want solved," Vader said, leaving no room for protest. "When I return, I want a full and complete report as to what happened to this ship, or someone is going to pay for this security breach with their life."
He walked away, not waiting for acknowledgement.
"I don't believe it," Ben whispered.
Luke looked up to make sure their politics teacher was still occupied with a student in the front row. He was safe to answer, for now.
"I swear it's the truth. You can come over and see it, if you want. It's a perfect copy."
"Maybe it's just the shell. Are you sure it has an engine? Can it actually fly?"
Luke shrugged. "I wasn't about to fly it again. Besides, the Emperor wouldn't go to all that trouble only to send over a shell."
"So you trust the Emperor now? A month ago you said he reminded you of a moulding piece of fruit," Ben said.
"I never said that," Luke said, hastily, as a student at a nearby desk glanced over.
He resumed reading the assigned work for a moment, and then spoke quietly.
"I guess it is pretty weird, though."
"Weird? Creepy, more like it. What does he want? It sounds like he's trying to get on your good side. Gain your trust."
"Why would the most powerful person in the galaxy need my trust?"
They fell silent as the teacher glanced in their direction. There was only ten minutes to the end of the school day, but with exam season creeping closer by the day, 'there's a lot you can do in ten minutes' seemed to be the motto around here.
After class, they made their way towards the landing pad. Ben was silent, and Luke knew he was mulling over everything. Everything he'd told him, at least. If the Emperor didn't want him to tell his father about the Force training, he certainly wouldn't want him telling Ben. But the fear of his friend's reaction was a far more pressing reason for his silence. The thought of seeing the same confusion in Ben's eyes that he'd witnessed in his supposed future-vision was unsettling.
"Are we going to the library?" Luke asked, as they pulled open the speeder doors.
"I was going to study at home," Ben said, tossing his bag into the back seat. "I've got the place to myself. My dad is still on evening shifts."
Something occurred to Luke as they rose from the school landing pad.
"Maybe you should ask your father."
"I'll remember that next time we're on speaking terms," Ben said, staring out the window. "Ask him what, exactly?"
"About the Emperor ... and me. See if he knows anything about why he's being nice to me."
"The Emperor could be plotting to kill you, and my father wouldn't breathe a word."
Luke glanced over in shock. "But ... he likes me, doesn't he?"
"He loves you. But being a royal guard is more than a job for him. It's like a spiritual calling. He'd sacrifice his life before he'd betray the Emperor. He'd even sacrifice my life. They're all like that. It's how they've been trained."
Luke was shaking his head in disbelief. "No one could be that loyal."
"If any guard is even suspected of disloyalty—even suspected—they're executed, no questions asked. It's happened to a few in the past. It's not a job you get into unless you can dedicate your heart and soul to it."
Luke was feeling uncomfortable. "Forget my idea. You're right. I could never ask him to risk everything for what's probably nothing."
Ben wasn't paying attention. "And he can't understand why I was never interested in a government job."
Luke brought the speeder down to land. "How about we watch some holovid before we work?"
"Maybe I will," Ben said, grabbing his belongings from the back. "You should go home and make sure that fake ship has an engine."
"There's not much I can do about it if it doesn't!"
"Imagine if your father decided to go for a flight in it, and it didn't even start ... I think you'd have been better off with no ship there at all."
"Maybe I'm just tired of this whole deception," Luke sighed. "I shouldn't have told the Emperor anything about this."
"I'm not saying you should confess," Ben said, hastily. "This is your father we're talking about. Go home and make sure the Emperor's ship is all he said it would be. If it is, you're fine. If not ... get rid of it."
"Maybe I could chop it up with a lightsaber and push it into the trash compactor," Luke said, rolling his eyes. "No one would notice me doing that. I think I actually preferred your idea about starting a new life in the Outer Rim."
But in spite of his reluctance, he had a strange hunch that he should go home, and it wasn't connected to Ben's suggestion about checking the fake Dunesea. He was starting to feel embarrassed about the message he'd left on his father's comlink, the product of a strange dream that left him panicking. His father probably thought he was cracking under the stress of his final school year.
Maybe he should return to the palace, if only to reassure his easily worried parent that he still had some shreds of sanity left. If this Dunesea saga would somehow solve itself, he might gain back a few more.
He said goodbye to Ben, and launched again into the busy Coruscant sky. As he'd often done since the accident, he found himself watching the other ships with suspicion, half expecting to see the killer ship again. But he knew it was irrational. If they'd meant to finish him off, they could have done it that night in the industrial district. Or perhaps they thought they had.
When he landed in the ship hangar, the first thing Luke noticed was a serious looking Lev talking with two junior security officers. As Luke approached, the other two men left, leaving Lev alone. He was reading something on a datapad.
"Hi!" Luke said, brightly.
Lev jumped. "Luke! You startled me."
"Everything okay?" Luke said. Lev was not easily startled. He was usually the picture of military composure.
"It will be if you can explain that," Lev said, gesturing over his shoulder with the datapad.
Luke turned his head, and then it was his turn to be surprised. A small towing vehicle sat below the second-level conference room windows. Connected to the towing vehicle was a blackened, broken wreck of a prototype shuttle.
"Where did that come from?!"
"The Border Zone mall. They said it had been parked on their landing pad for three days. Someone's been hacking into the hangar logs, there's an identical copy ship sitting over there—" he gestured down the ship line with the datapad. "—no one has any idea why, and your father is expecting an explanation in two minutes."
"From who?" Luke said, swallowing a very dry throat.
"From those two officers I was just talking to. But I've offered to go if they can't come up with anything better than this report."
Lev gestured at the datapad, which appeared to be largely blank. Luke stared in surprise.
"You should stay in your room," Lev added, firmly. He had caught sight of his expression. "No sense hanging around here. It won't be a pleasant evening." He gave him a slight push towards the elevators.
"No!" Luke said, suddenly. "No, don't go near him! Don't let anyone go near him!"
"Luke—"
"Listen, it was all my fault. All of it."
"You mean the ship?"
"I was just taking Ben to an interview ... then a ship attacked me, I thought it had been completely destroyed!"
Lev looked from him to the fake Dunesea, disbelief clear on his face.
"Are you saying you arranged for that other ship to be delivered?"
Luke was about to deny any involvement, and pin it all on the Emperor. But a second later, he realized that was impossible. He couldn't admit the Emperor was involved. That would expose the secret meetings.
"I'm sorry," Luke said. "Just tell everyone I'm sorry."
He began to walk towards the elevators, knowing he couldn't waste any more time talking with Lev. It was time to face his father.
"Luke?"
Luke glanced back.
"Who attacked you?"
Luke could only shrug.
He spent the short elevator ride trying to think of a good opening sentence. One that summed up both his total remorse and his understanding of the serious nature of his mistake. Luke idly wondered if these were the same thoughts that had run through Captain Yahza's mind as he'd gone to face his father.
The idea almost caused him to lose his nerve as he stood outside the conference room doors. But he pushed it from his mind, and tried to remind himself of all the times his father had forgiven him for other disasters as he'd grown up.
The doors slid open slowly. Luke's gaze immediately fell on his father. The man was standing by the viewing windows, with his fingers entwined behind his cape. After a few long seconds, he glanced in Luke's direction.
Luke stepped forward. The doors closed, trapping him in the room.
"Uh ... hi," he said, deciding to ease into the topic of destroyed ships gradually.
"Son."
"Did you ... did you get my message?"
"Yes."
"Sorry, it was a little ... emotional," Luke said, staring down at his boots. He twisted his sore ankle from side to side, noting that it was feeling much better. "I ... I had a bad dream, and ..."
"Consider it past, Son. I will speak with you later. I am waiting for a report."
"Ah yes, about the Dunesea," Luke said, continuing to stare at his boot. "About that ... it was me."
No response. Just awkward silence. Luke couldn't bring himself to stretch out to test his father's mood.
"What I mean is ... I'm responsible. No one else, especially not the security officers."
His father was silent for another few breathing cycles, and then he spoke.
"Are you trying to tell me," he said, slowly, "that you took my ship for a flight, destroyed it, and then altered the hangar logs and procured a replacement ship?"
"I didn't destroy it," Luke said. "It was someone else who did that. Someone in a starfighter carrying an arsenal like a Star Destroyer. I ejected to safety, and I thought the ship had blown up and—"
His father was crossing the distance between them, and Luke backed away, raising his hands.
"I'm sorry! Please don't be angry!"
His father didn't reply. Instead, he grabbed Luke's right forearm, and then pulled up the sleeve with his other hand. The action revealed purplish bruises, and the faint traces of cuts.
"You were injured! How badly?"
"I'm fine!" Luke insisted. "I went to the medical center."
"Someone attempted to kill you and nearly succeeded, you were injured badly enough to need medical treatment ... and you did not tell me?!"
"I just did tell you!" Luke protested.
"Three days after the event!"
"I was afraid you'd overreact!"
"How could I possibly overreact to an attempt on your life." He released Luke's arm, and proceeded to point at him. "Go to your room. Now! I will deal with you later."
Luke couldn't help but think it was a long time since his father had sent him to his room. He turned immediately and reached for the door release.
"And tell that officer who is lurking in the corridor to come here," his father added, having turned back to the viewing windows.
Luke felt his stomach churn, but he didn't argue. Now that he knew who was really responsible for this, his father wouldn't blame the officers. At least, he hoped he wouldn't.
Lev was waiting a few meters down the corridor.
He smiled at Luke's arrival. "Glad to see you're in one piece."
"That might not last," Luke said, gloomily. "Why are you so happy?"
"I'm relieved that no one is going to be killed. Have I ever told you how glad I am that you came to live with your father?"
"Speaking of him, he wants to see you," Luke said.
The smile faded from Lev's face.
Vader spent the next hour at the ISB Coruscant surveillance office, poring over every piece of security film the techs had obtained for him. He learned a lot about Luke's growing piloting skills and his tendency for mindless thrill-seeking tricks, but absolutely nothing about the identity of his attacker. Even as the hologram of the sleek attack craft zoomed past his vision for the fiftieth time, he still could not recognize any flight techniques that might hint as to this pilot's origins.
Making a list of people who would have the motivation to do this was pointless. There were billions of people with murderous feelings towards him. Millions with the financial resources to do this, and millions depraved enough to target an innocent child to settle a score with him.
Despite all this, he had a suspicion. Millions who could do this, true, but very few who would dare. And only one who had always wanted Luke dead.
But it was only a suspicion, and he couldn't act on a suspicion. And if it was correct, it would remain as such because the Emperor would have covered his fingerprints under a thousand layers of clues that led nowhere.
Perhaps it was meant merely as a warning. That his master knew about Luke's growing awareness of the Force, and he was entirely willing to eliminate him and make it look like an accident if required.
"Sir."
Vader turned to find an assistant had appeared beside him.
"Did you get the report I asked for?"
The lieutenant handed him the datapad. "Yes, sir. Luke's doctor was very cooperative."
Vader scanned the report. Cuts, bruises ... and a sprained ankle. Nothing compared to what could have happened, but it stirred his anger, nonetheless. He wished passionately that his master was not behind this. Then he could hunt the culprit down and make them pay.
"Sir, I realize I should have said something earlier," the lieutenant said, "but Luke's behavior was somewhat ... erratic while you were away."
"Erratic how?" Vader asked, wondering how much more bad news he could take.
The lieutenant was about to answer, but they were interrupted by the arrival of one of the senior intelligence operatives.
"Lord Vader, I have a preliminary analysis of the situation."
Her gaze wandered to the lieutenant, who was staring at her in surprise. Vader couldn't blame him. The operative appeared to be made of lots of short pieces of black wool tied together. One of the more unusual species in the galaxy.
Vader waved her on. "Proceed."
"There are two possibilities. One is that this was an attack specifically targeting your son, and the assassin kept a constant surveillance for many months, waiting for him to venture out of Imperial City alone. The other option is that Luke was targeted by rookie bounty hunters. They loiter outside the borders of Imperial City, hoping to pick off someone important, with the goal of making a name for themselves. Luke was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"I am inclined to believe the latter," the woman continued. "This attack has all the hallmarks of an inexperienced bounty hunter. The Dunesea is no attack craft, yet your son managed to hold his own against this assailant all the way back to Imperial City. And the fact that the wreckage was never checked to ensure success ... a contractual bounty always requires proof."
They had gleaned security footage of the mall landing pad for several hours after the attack, and it had indeed remained untouched.
Still, Vader did not believe this was the result of a fledgling bounty hunter attempting to earn a name. Perhaps it was his tendency to always assume the worst, but something stirred in the Force. There was more to this.
"We have circulated images of the ship to every field agent," the operative continued. "With your consent, we will spread word of a reward for information leading to the capture of this ship and its pilot."
"Very well," Vader said. "Do what you must."
The woman nodded and left. Vader turned back to the lieutenant.
"You were saying?"
"Luke stayed out late on two nights, past his curfew, and was evasive about where he'd been. I didn't believe it was serious, because he was with Ben at the time, so I assumed they were simply cruising around the city. But this incident makes me wonder if he'd ventured further afield."
Vader was silent, considering this information. Was there something more going on with Luke than first appeared? Attempting to extract information from him was never a pleasant task, but there was nothing further he could do here. It was time he and his errant son had a serious conversation.
"Contact the sky patrol and city guard," he said, walking towards the door, "Finding the ship will be of the highest priority."
"Yes, sir."
Luke lay flat on his back, flying his T-16 model back and forth. He'd been doing this for an hour, stopping occasionally when his arm became tired. Hopefully, his father was taking so long because he was taking his anger out on something else. Something inanimate, like a duelling droid. On the other hand, maybe he was taking so long because he couldn't get his anger under control.
The sound of the doors sliding open caused him to slip half off the bed in shock. The dark shape filling the doorway was already turning away as he looked up.
"Come with me."
Luke sighed and swung his legs down onto the floor. Seventeen, and about to be lectured like a seven year old, no doubt. Still, it could be worse.
In the corridor, he found his father was waiting outside the nearby conference room. He gestured as Luke came closer, indicating that he should go in first. Luke shuffled past him, and then rested against the table. His father followed him in, and then turned around to shut the doors.
When he turned back to face him, Luke folded his arms, anticipating a question. It was not the one he was expecting, however.
"You are walking with a limp. Have you returned to your doctor to ensure your ankle is healing as it should?"
"Uh ..." Luke glanced down and bent it from side to side. "A medical droid saw it yesterday. It's a lot better today. I was lucky, I guess."
"There is no such thing as luck," his father said, starting to pace. "Despite that, I am surprised you were not killed. I suppose you imagine I make rules merely to prevent you from having fun."
"It wasn't flying alone that put me in danger," Luke protested. "I was fine before someone tried to kill me."
"They tried to kill you because you were alone," his father said, being annoyingly logical. "You are older now—you should understand that there are many who would wish you dead."
"Maybe so, but you can't fly with me forever."
"When you are skilled enough to defend yourself, then you will fly alone. Until that time, you will obey my rules."
"I survived, didn't I?" Luke said. "I even managed to hit them ... even with only two pathetic laser guns."
"Which suggests either your attacker was grossly incompetent, or they did not really wish you dead."
Luke rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you have so much faith in my piloting."
"Your piloting is exceptional. Your experience in combat is non-existent. That will change with time."
Luke was momentarily at a loss for words. Exceptional? He'd never said anything like that before. And he was supposed to be in trouble ...
His father stopped pacing and paused in front of him.
"Luke," he said, sounding more serious, "I can understand that you did not anticipate the attack. What I cannot understand is why you felt the need to hide this from me."
Luke looked up in surprise. "You're kidding, right? Anyone could tell you why. Even the computer hooked up to the trash compactor could tell you. What did you expect?"
"I expect my son to take responsibility for his mistakes."
Luke felt a blaze of anger at the slight. "That's what that officer did," he said. "And you murdered him."
"That was not a mistake. That was gross incompetence that resulted in the deaths of hundreds. And I cannot see what that has to do with me and you."
"If I had told you three days ago, you could have easily choked me too."
"Luke, if I was going to kill you, it would have happened a long, long time ago."
His father sounded amused. "I'm serious!" Luke said, annoyed.
"You honestly think I would kill you?"
"I'm still trying to understand why you killed him. How am I supposed to understand that you wouldn't kill me? What did he do to deserve that?"
"He failed. People died from his failure," his father offered.
"That's no reason to kill him!"
"Even if the lives of those he commands are saved because of it? Son, there is no room for compassion when ruling an Empire. The slightest hint of instability, and the Rebels will smell blood and multiply in number. I have done my best to protect you from the harsh realities of war, but now you must accept them."
"But what if that guy had a family?" Luke said. "What happens to them?"
"I am sure they were aware of the risks of military service."
"How can you be so cold?!"
"I am simply a realist. You are too idealistic, young one."
Luke groaned in frustration, burying his head in his hands. At times like this, he found it hard to believe they were really related.
"Perhaps sometimes I do demand too harsh a standard from the officers," his father said, eventually, more to himself than Luke. "But it is necessary. Failure cannot be tolerated in these troubled times. And likewise, I cannot tolerate reckless behavior from you. I need to leave Coruscant without having to worry about how you will endanger yourself next."
Luke slumped. "It wasn't intentional. I liked the Dunesea. She was a good ship ... I'm going to miss her."
"She is still a good ship," his father said, "and you are going to repair her."
Luke looked up at his father in surprise.
"Are you kidding? It's junkheap material!"
"Unfortunate. Because you will not be leaving this building, for anything other than school, until that wreck is in better condition than before your little escapade. You can use the parts from the replacement."
"What?! You're grounding me? I'm seventeen years old for stars sake! Besides, that's going to take weeks!"
"Do you think I'm treating you unfairly?" his father asked, pointedly.
"Yes!" Luke said, refusing to be intimidated. He waited for his father to make some threatening response, but instead he seemed almost amused.
"A minute ago you were worried I was going to kill you."
"That was then," Luke said, smirking.
"Perhaps I could devise a more appropriate punishment for someone of such advanced years," his father said, sounding thoughtful. "A few days in the detention center? A thousand credit fine to cover the insurance excess?"
"I'll stay home until the shuttle is fixed," Luke said, raising his hands in defeat.
"Very wise," his father said, reaching up to give him a gentle push in the direction of the door. "Now, go to bed. I can sense you are tired. We will talk further at another time."
Luke was about to leave, but something made him hesitate. He turned to face his father, and raised his head to meet his masked gaze.
"I really am sorry about what happened to the shuttle. We spent so long making modifications, and I know you really liked the design, and—"
His father waved a hand, dismissively. "I do not care about the damage to the ship."
"Oh," Luke said, truly confused. "Then why—"
His father reached up, holding him by the shoulders. "A ship can be replaced. A son cannot."
Luke stared at his father, suddenly wishing he could hug him. His father would likely think that he was attacking him, however.
As if sensing his intentions, his father patted him once, and then let his arms fall back.
"Goodnight, young one."