Title: Ghost of the Past
Author: Spirit White
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas, Lucasfilms Ltd. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: In his youth, Luke Skywalker was killed in a horrible accident. Now, thirteen years after the death of his wife and supposedly his child, Lord Darth Vader must deal with a ghost of the past.
Last Chapter:
"Obi-Wan!" Vader said. "Is he still there?"
"No, he left," Luke replied. "Same day I died. Just a couple hours later, he was gone." Vader stilled, and sank back down, having been about to surge to his feet.
"Where did he go?" Vader asked, trying to stay calm. Luke stared at him, eyes calm.
"I don't know," he said quietly. "I didn't follow him." Vader turned away in frustration. When he turned back, Luke had gone.
Chapter Six: Rebel
Three Years Later
Leia is seventeen years old
Luke hovered behind his sister, invisible to save his strength. Taller than him now, she stood straight in a pure white gown, her hair combed into shining chocolate buns on each side of her head. Luke thought it looked ridiculous, but Leia would give him that look if he dared mention it.
Sighing, he fidgeted impatiently and stared with blank boredom up at the ceiling. He wouldn't have thought it possible four years ago that a ghost's feet could hurt, but they were. All this political talk was boring him to death, as well. This Senator So-and-So had an awful, droning voice. How was one supposed to pay attention if the materiel they were supposed to be paying attention to was unpayattentionable? He blinked at that thought. He didn't think that was actually a word…
A soft snapping sound caught his attention. Giving a put upon sigh, he shimmered into view and stepped up beside his sister.
"Yes, Your Highness-ness?" He drawled lazily, watching her eyes. They were downcast, but a moment later they flicked up and to the right, and then up to the podium, as if some movement had caught her attention but she'd merely glanced over it. He followed her first gaze, and sighed again. "Motti again?" He grumbled. "I keep telling you, he's a stupid, too-ambitious-for-his-own-good Admiral who wouldn't recognize bantha fodder if it was flung in his face. I never hear anything when I watch him." He frowned at her. "Yeah, yeah, fine, I'll go. Don't expect anything of enormous proportions though. Nobody ever talks to that stuffy, stuck-up city-bunk, and I can understand why," he scowled as he made his way to the railing on the balcony they were in. He climbed up and jumped off and floated over to Motti's balcony, wishing he were flying in a speeder, or on a swoop instead.
"I tell you, it's almost complete," Motti was whispering. Abruptly, Luke forgot all of his complaints to his sister and listened raptly. This was different…perhaps Motti was good for something…occasionally. He'd been gathering information about this project thing for years, now. Not once had he heard the name of it, or it's function. Only that it was a fail-proof method to keep all planets in the galaxy in line, supposedly a space-worthy piece of technology of enormous proportions, its construction time going on eighteen years.
"You said that five years ago," the man beside Motti said skeptically. "How am I to know if it's true or not?"
"I have contacts!" Motti hissed. "I hear things…a lot of things! I tell you, this time it's right! The Death St – "
"Shhh!" The other man snarled, looking around frantically. "You idiot! Don't – mention – the – name!"
"Death what?" Luke breathed. "Death St – ar? Death Star? Death Station?"
"All right, all right!" Motti was saying, trying to calm the other man. "Don't worry so much, Carlonson, there are no security cameras on this balcony. My contacts made sure of that."
"Yeah, but you didn't count on those already dead, did you, my dear Motti?" Luke chuckled.
"There had better not be," Carlonson growled. "Or Tarkin'll…"
"Tarkin won't ever know!"
"Lord Vader might, you know what the rumors say, he can read minds, I think – "
"You don't believe that garbage, do you? Force powers? Right!" Motti sneered. "As I was saying, the project is nearing its final stage. They will be looking for a test subject soon, and I believe – "
"No," Luke hissed, as the Senate and people around him began to rise. The sounds covered the last of the words, and when Luke got close enough to the two men to hear, they were finished with the discussion and leaving as well.
No matter. He'd just heard a ton of stuff…of enormous proportions, indeed. He rushed back to his sister, also gathering her things, and settled beside her.
"Luck hit, dear sister of mine," he drawled with a smile. "Motti – the stupid thug – was discussing a secret project…with one of his colleagues. The Death Station, or something, I didn't catch it all. Apparently it's nearing it final stage in construction and will be looking for a test subject soon, but I didn't catch all of that part, either." Luke smiled at his sister, who nodded her head subtly. "Heard something about stupid rumors that aren't true about Vader reading minds," here Luke grinned. "And something about Tarkin, of course. Oh, and Motti apparently has contacts…he's a stoopa, and he thinks that having contacts means he can't be overheard." They emerged from the Senate building and into Imperial Center's gray outdoors. "So you getting voted, you think?" He asked, moving right through a parked speeder. He looked over at the controls in interest.
"I hope," Leia replied. "So far, so good."
"Youngest Senator ever, Leia Organa, eighteen standard years old!" Luke laughed. Leia didn't answer, but Luke saw a little smile curling her lips. He snickered, waved, and faded away.
The Star Destroyer Devastator, The Bridge.
"Get the troops to their fighters, I want this battle won," Vader rumbled. The Captain looked nervous.
"Yes, Lord Vader," he said quickly. "At once. Ensign," the man turned to a lower-ranked officer. "Contact the hangar personnel. The pilots are to be in their suits and fighters as soon as possible."
"Yes sir, Captain," the Ensign replied smartly, and he hurried away. Vader turned back to the viewport. He had Mothma now.
The Devastator was in hyperspace, launching herself towards the far-off planet of Clak'dor VII, where the Rebels had settled their base. Vader felt a fluttering of anticipation for the up-coming battle, muscles tensed in waiting for the great ship to leave hyperspace.
The shudder indicated it had just happened. Vader braced his legs to absorb the rapid decline in speed. A shiver in the Force indicated the Devastator's sister ships, eleven of them, hummed out of hyperspace on her flanks.
On the surface of the planet, the Rebel Base was lit with alarms, but it was too late. Already, fighters were sweeping out of the Devastator's hangar bay, squads from the other Star Destroyers following. Within a minute, A-Wings, B-Wings, and Y-Wings were winging up from the planet's surface, interspaced with a few versatile, speedy X-Wings. Vader headed for the hangar bay to his waiting shuttle. When the battle was over, he would go to the surface.
A shimmer of blue beside him caught his attention, and even before he turned his head he knew what he would see. Sure enough, at around mid-waist level, the spirit form of his son, dead for four years, smiled up at him, his signature hopping gate keeping him apace with Vader. Vader slowed for him and reached out with the Force. No one was around, only his son's brilliant Force presence.
"Luke," he greeted, slowing more.
"Hi," Luke replied, eyes twinkling. "Are you going to fly?"
"Yes, but in a shuttle, not my fighter," Vader replied.
"I'm coming," Luke decided. "I've always wanted to see a Rebel base,"
"Why would you want to do that?" Vader asked. Luke looked up at him.
"Well, why not?" He said matter-of-factly. "Nothing else to do."
"I see," Vader said distantly.
There were small viewports in the hangar bay, and Luke floated up to stare outside. Rebel pilots and Imperial troops winged past silently, and flashes of green and red lasers lit up the darkness. The often-exploded fighter would transform into a huge mushroom of yellow-red flame, splashing light against the hulls of the sinister, looming Star Destroyers before abruptly snuffing out in the airless vacuum of deep space. Luke, wide-eyed, simply stared, torn between loyalties. He watched an X-Wing spit blazing lasers towards a TIE, slicing into the wings and hull. The TIE blazed apart in a rush of yellow and red. Three TIE fighters spun around and spat lasers back. The X-Wing tried to swerve out of the way, but three direct hits pierced through the shields and sent the fighter spinning away to burst into a brilliant yellow flower of flame.
"Stang!" Luke breathed softly. He felt a familiar, aching longing. Four years, he thought. Four years since that fateful day. His last day in a cockpit…his last day alive…
Movement beside him made him turn his head. His father stood there, looming darkly against the harsh light of the hangar bay, his black-gloved hands clasping his wide belt. Luke had the feeling that the man was fighting to find words to say something. He waited patiently, but the moment passed, and in the end, Vader turned away again. Outside, the remaining X-Wings abruptly turned tail and fled down to the surface. There were only two left.
Luke turned and hurried after his father, jumping onto the shuttle. His father shut the hatch and started the engines. As Luke sat down in the co-pilot's seat, the engines whined and the shuttle smoothly lifted up and soared from the hangar bay, bursting out among a score of waiting TIE fighters in the shadows of the looming Star Destroyers that hung motionless in space.
The shuttle flew down towards the planet among an escort of TIE fighters, and within moments, they landed smoothly upon an empty, silent docking bay. The hatch lowered, and Luke followed his father's tall, stalking form down the ramp. Around them, Stormtroopers spilled from a second shuttle, blasters raised.
"Find the Rebels, especially Mon Mothma," Vader ordered loudly. "I want her unharmed." The Stormtroopers fled towards the docking bay entrance, and there was the sound of many blasters firing, shouts, screams, and heavy running footsteps.
Vader stepped in when the sounds ceased, and nudged a fallen rebel with his foot. The man didn't move. Luke felt sick.
"A squad has scouted ahead, Lord Vader," a trooper said smartly, snapping a quick salute. "They will find your Rebel prisoners."
"Good," Vader rumbled, and strode through a second set of doors. Luke hurried after him, nearly getting whacked in the face by his father's rippling cape. He dodged to the side.
A moment later, there was a loud scream ahead and the sound of rapid blaster fire, and then the heavy sound of an explosion. Vader stopped still, listening, before moving off at an even faster pace. They turned the corner to see half the scouting squad in pieces around a bloodied hallway, and the other half standing back away from a lone, young rebel sitting slumped in the middle.
He was holding a thermal detonator.
Instantly, Vader reached out a hand and yanked the switch on the detonator down, deactivating it with the Force. The young Rebel looked down in surprise, and that was when Luke realized his legs ended mid-thigh. The rest was a mass of blood and bits of bone and flesh. He backed up a step in shock and horror.
The young man tried to reactivate the detonator, but it was too late, and Vader yanked it away. The Rebel sat in stunned disbelief, staring at his empty hand for several seconds. Then his eyes hardened and his jaw tensed, and his hand darted to the side. A split second later he was firing madly at the troopers and at Vader, who blocked the bolts with an empty hand. The troopers fell within seconds. Vader reached out as if to snatch the blaster from the man's hand as he had the detonator, but the man's eyes flashed towards him and a sneering, angry smile stretched his lips as he turned the blaster around and pulled the trigger. His blazing brown eyes then closed as he slumped backwards, a smoking hole in his temple. Luke took two steps to the side and stood directly behind his father, out of view of the corpse, and Vader reached for a comlink and pressed a button. A moment later the rest of the Stormtroopers trotted around the corner.
"Mothma is still in the base. Have the docking bays watched and have the rest of the base searched. She is here. Find her."
Luke grimaced as Vader turned around to look for him, but gave him a quick smile when their eyes met.
"It's almost time for me to go," Luke said slowly. "I don't get a lot of visible time anymore. I seem to tire myself out more." He frowned in confusion, feeling the weight that signified it was time to let his visibility fade. Vader stared at him for a moment and then nodded his head.
"Very well," he said. "I will see you another time."
"Of course," Luke said, grinning cheerfully. "Bye, then." He waved and let his surroundings fade. They reappeared to the spirit-rooms that Qui-Gon had led him to so many years ago, and he rushed to the refresher and was promptly sick.
Back at the Rebel Base Vader felt Mothma's weak Force-signature disappear, blasting for open space in a blockade-runner. Furious, he called the dozen Star Destroyers with orders to capture them. Minutes later, as he himself soared for empty space in the shuttle, he saw his Star Destroyers milling around like headless scurriers. There was no sign of Mothma's runner.
Throats closed that day.
He had a fleeting thought that he was glad his son wasn't there to witness it, but he banished it forcefully and didn't think of it again.