Chapter 5

Vader had taken extra care to keep active during the rest of the day, unwilling to risk another descent into the madness that were his recent meditations. If his master found out about this, he would probably order him to have a medical examination. Or worse, he would take it as a sign that he wasn't coping with Luke, and insist he make other arrangements for the boy's care.

He had attended several meetings at ISB, and was now making preparations to leave for Mustafar, when he decided he could at least use a break, if not an actual meditation session. He found himself pausing as he walked past Luke's bedroom, on his way to his own private chambers. It was funny how you didn't notice things until they weren't there. Almost instinctively, he'd stretched out with the Force to ensure Luke was safe in bed.

Vader turned around, changing his mind about needing a break. He would go and start the pre-flight warm-up sequence on a shuttle, and try to put an end to this pathetic display. Luke had barely been gone a few hours. He wasn't missing him. That would be pure insanity. He had made his life a blackhole of stress while he'd been here, and now he was supposed to be enjoying the freedom of not having to worry about his reckless young offspring.

When he arrived in the hangar, he happened to walk past a tech room, and saw the pathetic sight of REQ-Less-1, still sitting in a powered-down state in the corner. The droid had been sadly neglected since its completion. A field test was long overdue.

Once it was powered up, it immediately started rolling forward.

"Greetings. I am REQ-Less-1, astromech-protocol hybrid—"

"I know who you are," Vader said. "Follow me. I require you to assist me with a maintenance check on a shuttle engine."

"I am capable of fixing many mechanical faults," REQ-Less-1 intoned.

"We shall see," Vader said, walking out of the tech room.

The droid rolled along behind. "It is my pleasure to be of service to you."

Too talkative, Vader thought. He would have to ask Luke to fix it tomorrow. He paused by the shuttle for a moment, deciding which engine to check first, and then it occurred to him that Luke wouldn't be around tomorrow. He wouldn't be here for another four weeks.

He heard a whirring noise, and looked down to see REQ-Less was already attempting to expose the ship's maintenance panel. The only problem was the droid was using a high-powered drill to do it.

"Stop," Vader said. "You will permanently damage it."

REQ-Less backed off, but it did not retract the drill. "May I translate something for you?"

"Translate this," Vader said. "Do not speak unless you have important information to relay."

"What language would you like it translated into, sir?" the droid asked.

Vader groaned in annoyance, and then turned back to the shuttle. The droid clearly had a few loose wires.

Behind him, he heard a beeping noise, and he looked over to find Artoo had emerged from the droid charging station. Clearly, the droid had heard the noise and decided to investigate. Due to the angle Artoo was approaching from, he didn't notice REQ-Less until he was right next to him. He swiveled his dome around to scan the new droid, and then let out a sudden high-pitched screech.

"It is only another droid," Vader said, wearily. "There is no need for panic."

Artoo didn't listen. He began beeping and whistling loudly, calling repeatedly for Threepio. Vader shook his head, turning back to the shuttle. He should make a recording of this for Luke. Threepio's voice soon drifted out of the droid storage room.

"Artoo? Whatever's the matter, Artoo? Stop making such a racket."

There was a whirring noise, and Vader turned to find REQ-Less had started up the drill again. This time, he was attempting to drill Artoo. Perhaps he thought the noise coming from Artoo was a defect that needed to be repaired, or perhaps he decided he didn't like Artoo much either. Vader didn't know. Whatever the reasoning, it was the last decision REQ-Less made. Artoo extended a charging fork, and released a burst of electricity. REQ-Less shot backwards, crackled blue with residual charge for a moment, and then promptly exploded. Pieces of him bounced off Vader's armor.

Threepio then came hurrying up, waving his arms around frantically. "Artoo! What happened?! I heard something explode!"

"Yes," Vader said, in a tone heavy with repressed anger. "A newly constructed droid Luke had been working on for weeks."

Artoo whistled something about it being a hideous monstrosity.

"That is no excuse for destroying it," Vader said. "You are supposed to fix things, not break them."

Artoo beeped sadly.

"An accident? How could electrocuting it be an accident?" Vader asked. "You are starting to sound like Luke!"

Artoo whistled something about self-defense, and then asked Threepio to back him up.

"I'm sorry, Artoo, you are on your own," Threepio said, backing away.

Artoo remained still for another three seconds, then whistled something about needing to fix a squeaky door. As Vader watched him make a hasty escape, a realization dawned. You just lectured a droid. Was he really missing Luke that much? Another hour here, and who knew what he'd be doing.

It was time to leave for Mustafar.

After dinner, it was free time until lights out. Some cadets went off to watch the HoloNet in the common room, and Havy invited Luke to play beep ball with him and Crepes in the gym. But Luke was concerned about Zev. He politely declined, and then made his way back to the tent.

Zev wasn't inside. For a moment, he considered checking the common room, but then he realized that was unlikely. He'd only known Zev for a few hours, but it was clear he was introverted. There was nothing to do but sit and wait here.

Luke leaned over and unzipped his luggage. He'd been so angry this morning, he hadn't paid attention to what he'd put in his bag, and what he'd left behind. There had to be something of interest in here, if only a databook. His search was rewarded when he found himself looking at his flightsim game. This would keep him entertained for hours yet.

It was lying under a datapad of some sort. Luke pulled both objects out, and realized the datapad was in fact a collection of holoimages. It normally sat on his bedside table on Coruscant, and randomly displayed a holo from his collection. He switched it on, and it lit up with a holo of his parents on their wedding day.

He quickly pressed the forward button, not wanting to look at his father right now. Unfortunately, the next photo was a far more recent one, of him and his father taken by some media photographer at the last Empire Day celebration. He pressed the back button, deciding there were better ways to reveal his parentage to Zev, than letting him catch sight of that particular image.

The sound of the tent being opened caused him to drop the holoprojector. Zev had returned. He didn't look at Luke. Instead he went to his sleeping bag and flopped down face-first onto his pillow.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked. "I'm so sorry! What happened? What did he do to you?"

"Don't worry," Zev mumbled, in a tone that said he didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm sorry," Luke repeated. "This was all my fault. I should have just sat down and—"

Zev turned sideways slightly, so he could see Luke.

"Luke, who are your parents?"

"Um," Luke glanced at the holoimage, now lying beside his pillow. "Why do you ask?"

"Crepes was almost frightened of you ... my father outranks his, but he doesn't act that way around me. Torture let you address him without calling him sir. Then he gives me this big lecture about how if anything should happen to you again, he'll lock me in a closet with some pain droids. Obviously everyone else knows something that I don't. You must be the son of some regional governor."

"No," Luke said, distantly.

"The Emperor's nephew?"

"Stars, no!" Luke said, revolted at the idea.

Zev snapped his fingers. "Lord Vader. I know he has a son."

"That he pushed off to military camp," Luke said, sadly.

"Really? Lord Vader is your father? Oh ... sorry about that thing I said earlier. I didn't mean—"

"Don't worry about it," Luke said. "I know how people see my father. But they only see one side of him. There's more to him than what he tries to make out."

Zev shook his head. "Lord Vader is your father ... but you seem so ... normal."

"Thanks ... I think," Luke said.

"You must have met heaps of important people ... stars, you could be Emperor yourself someday!"

Luke burst out laughing. "My father won't let me sit in a pilot's seat, never mind the galactic throne."

Zev didn't appear to hear him. He was staring distantly into the tent wall.

"Luke," he said, finally, "about that thing you said earlier ... when I was giving you the tour. The thing about the team names ... when you suggested they should be called fear and oppression."

"Oh that," Luke said. "What about it?"

"Do you really believe that, or were you just joking?"

Luke considered it. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't really know a lot about politics. In social studies class it seems like the Empire has done so much good for the galaxy, but then I see things happening that don't seem right. For instance, I saw this thing on the news once, where an Imperial starfleet bombed a city until it was nothing more than a hole in the ground, just because there was a Rebel cell operating there. It seemed like a total waste. I asked my father about it, but he wouldn't give me a straight answer."

Luke paused for a moment, thinking.

"Maybe I don't understand the war and the fighting, but I do know I hate the Emperor."

"You hate the Emperor? But why?"

"I've met him. That about sums it up."

"Not so loud," Zev said, frowning. "If one of the officers heard you ... wait, what am I saying? They couldn't do anything! No wonder Torture let you get away with not calling him sir." Zev began to snigger. "He knows you could be his future boss one day."

"I doubt it," Luke said.

"Don't tell him that. Stars, I wish I could talk back to him and get away with it. There are so many things I'd like to say to him."

Luke leaned back, staring at the tent ceiling. The idea of being able to talk back to the officers should have made him happy, but there was only one adult he took pleasure in talking back to. Someone who was far away.

"Do they ever let us use the comlink?" he asked.

"Only on weekends. You get two minutes."

Maybe he'd have to swallow his pride, and take Lev's advice about groveling. He could contact his father after being here a few days, and beg him to let him come home.

"You can take my timeslot as well, if you like," Zev said. "I never use it."

"You never call your parents?"

"I have to live with my father for three weeks every year. That's more than enough."

"I can understand that," Luke sighed.

Vaneé was waiting to greet him when he walked down the shuttle ramp in the hangar bay on Mustafar. The man looked behind him in anticipation, and then a shadow of disappointment passed across his face.

"Welcome, my lord. Young Luke is not with you?"

"You should be grateful," Vader said, pointing at Vaneé. He didn't elaborate further.

Vaneé simply nodded. "Do you need anything, my lord?"

"Clear my schedule for the next two weeks," Vader said. "The only interruption I will accept is from Boba Fett. He is currently attempting to locate a traitor."

It then occurred to Vader that, if the bounty hunter was successful, he could have the ex-Captain Flenn brought directly here. The detention cells had seen a deplorable lack of use since Luke had arrived in his life. Interrogating someone in the cells while Luke was upstairs playing holovid games would not have won him any fatherhood awards. He wouldn't have put it past his son to attempt to free a prisoner, given his compassionate heart.

"You can also turn off the safety barriers," Vader said, as they walked out onto the bridge in the main entrance hall. "I have no use for them in the immediate future."

If he should receive an undesirable interruption, it would not be ideal if he had to enter all the override codes before the visitor was able to accidentally slip over the edge.

"It will be done, my lord."

By the time Vader reached the elevators, he was feeling his mood improve. Dueling practice. Meditating in the basement temple. The prospect of interrogating a traitorous navy captain. Sleeping in the bacta tank for as long as he should care to, without having to worry about Luke giving into the temptation to put his hands all over his prized Naboo N1 starfighter. Luke's summer vacation was quickly becoming his own little vacation from parenthood. He intended to appreciate every moment.

By the following morning, word had spread quickly around the camp that Luke was Vader's son. By the second day, there was a collection of younger cadets outside Luke's tent, asking if he'd mind autographing their camp guides. It had felt incredibly vain to do so, but Luke had decided obliging would be the quickest way to get them out of his hair. However, when one cadet insisted he sign it 'Luke Vader' instead of 'Luke Skywalker' he ended up telling them all to go away.

Their presence had made him late for their team's allocated use of the showers, and he hurried across the grass in his bare feet, carrying his uniform in the camp duffel bag. Fortunately, he was used to taking a quick shower, from all his years on Tatooine, and he found he still retained the skill, despite his more recent experience of taking as long as he wanted at the Imperial Palace.

When he came out of the stall, pulling on his uniform tunic, he found Havy was shaving in the mirror while Crepes waited for his uniform to finish the drying cycle in the laundry unit. They were supposed to leave laundry bags for the service droid to process overnight, but clearly Crepes had forgotten.

"How much time do we have left?" He thumped the machine. "Come on, hurry up."

"Just wear it damp," Havy said. "It will dry on your body."

"What if Torture has a uniform inspection?"

"We've got Lieutenant Robyson this morning," Havy said. "Tracking."

Crepes sighed with relief, and then snatched Zev's towel off his shower door and used it to dry off his face and hair.

"Hey!" Zev shouted, his voice muffled by the running water within.

"It's still good!" Crepes insisted, putting it back

"Gross!" Zev insisted he get him a fresh one, but Crepes was distracted by the laundry unit finishing its cycle, and he went to unload it. In retaliation, Zev soaked the towel under the water, and then stepped out of the stall and tossed it across the refresher at Crepes, causing a wet splash across his newly dried uniform tunic. Crepes quickly grabbed the rest of his uniform and took off, before Zev did anything worse.

Luke was beginning to see why Lamber and Bo had come early and cleared out quickly. He went to get a fresh towel for Zev from the stack by the door, and shook it out as he passed it over.

"Thanks, Luke."

As he turned back to enter the shower stall, wrapping the towel around his waist, Luke caught a momentary glimpse of some faded red burn marks, standing out starkly against the pale skin of his lower body. He quickly averted his eyes, trying to ignore the thought that they looked just like a mark he once had on his arm, after he and Windy had been messing around with an electro-shock pole they'd found in the dunes out the back of Windy's farm. They were sometimes used for herding dewbacks on Tatooine.

Zev was changed into his uniform a moment later, and he left the refresher, running his hands through his hair on the way. Luke remained in front of the mirrors, carefully combing his own. He glanced up at Havy, who was busy putting gel in his black curls, carefully placing them so they sat just right.

"Havy," he started, hesitantly. He paused, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer, but then decided to push on. "What goes on in Torture's office that everyone is so wary of him?"

Havy met his gaze for a moment, and then bent down to wash his hands. "You saw the marks on Zev?"

Luke nodded.

"It's called a punishment stick." Havy indicated the length with his hands. "About a meter long … carries an electro-charge, but it's set way lower than the type of weapons the royal guards have. It's just meant to sting. There's no way it should ever leave marks. But there's rumours Torture has one with the power cranked way up. Not sure if it's true, and Zev doesn't want to talk about it."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Is this even allowed? Hitting cadets as punishment?"

Havy smiled in a knowing way. "It's not like private school on Coruscant, Luke. But Commander Hayge is a fair guy. It's only supposed to be used for the most serious things. Like willfully disobeying orders. Last weekend, Crepes and I got sent to his office because we tried to sneak over to the girl's camp."

"There's a girl's camp?"

Havy nodded. "It's about a 2 kilometer hike away. Nearly made it too." He sighed in a wistful way, and then seemed to remember his point. "Anyway, he gave us a choice. Three days of mess hall duty or the punishment stick. I don't actually know how to do dishes, so I chose the stick."

"Really? Did it hurt?"

"No. Because you just shove some speeder brake insulation in your underwear and you don't feel a thing."

Luke laughed. "That's great."

"Thank General Upworth for that little piece of advice."

"But haven't you told Zev?"

"Yes. But apparently it doesn't do him any good. Maybe Torture is wise to it. Who knows. I've told him he should talk to Commander Hayge about it too. He's always singling him out."

"Yeah," Luke agreed, looking down. "I still feel bad about what happened on my first night."

"That was Crepes fault, not yours," Havy said, picking up his bag. "Come on. Time's nearly up."

A busy day of outdoor activities awaited, and by lunchtime, Luke almost felt like being here might not be half-bad. The weather was fine, and most of the cadets were good company. Lieutenant Robyson was a young, friendly guy in his twenties, and Luke caught him watching him a few times. Probably looking for signs he was about to lose his temper and attempt to choke someone with the Force, if he knew anything. During a break in the afternoon's archery lesson, the man finally sat down to talk to him.

"You're really good at this," he noted. "You've done it before?"

"Sort of," Luke said. "But not with proper equipment like this. We used to build bows and arrows out of junk on Tatooine and try and hit womp rats." He shrugged. "I always had good aim."

"Tatooine? Desert world?"

Luke nodded. "I grew up there with my aunt and uncle."

"I'm from a desert world too. Signi. Couldn't wait to enrol in the army and get off that dry rock."

Luke smirked. "You didn't live on a moisture farm, did you?"

"My folks own a trading outpost. They've never lived anywhere else and don't want to." He gestured towards Bo, who was currently trying to hit the target board, but aiming too low. "I was watching you help the others. You're a patient teacher. Did you have lots of cousins on Tatooine?"

"No, always been an only child," Luke said, looking down.

"That must get lonely," he said. Luke didn't reply, so he gestured towards Team Loyalty. "Now you can experience what it's like to have brothers."

Just as he said this, Crepes came along and knocked Havy's elbow just as he was releasing the bow, causing his energy bolt to fly off into a nearby tree. Luke thought back to the morning's craziness in the refresher, and wondered if Lieutenant Robyson would think he was rude if he said he wasn't sure that was an experience he really needed.

"I think I might prefer a sister," he said, causing the lieutenant to smile.

"I've taken the girl cadets for orienteering before. Believe me, it's no better."

He stood up to go and sort out the scuffle about to break out between Havy and Crepes, and Luke decided it was time to continue helping the rest of his team. They were going to have a contest once the practice session was over, and they were hoping to not come last for once.

All the outdoor activity wore him out, and he slept well that night, only waking when Zev's alarm went off. But nothing had dimmed his desire to return home. Knowing he hadn't even said a proper goodbye to his father was eating at him. He'd been in a foul mood that day, granted, but he still should have said goodbye.

So, when the weekend rolled around, and after another day of hiking and adding to his orienteering skills, Luke rushed to get a good place in the comlink queue. Havy joined him, scrolling through comlink frequencies on a datapad.

"Decisions, decisions," he mumbled.

"Deciding who to call?" Luke asked.

"Yes. Jacqui or Jalyn. Or maybe Besa ... if her father's not around. If he answers the call, that would be a total waste."

Luke shook his head. Havy, with his golden-brown skin, square jaw, and curly black hair, was rumoured to have been the cause of a few fights at school.

Crepes appeared behind them and tried to reach over Havy's shoulder to grab his datapad. Havy pushed him away.

"Please," Crepes said. "Just one number."

"I already said no."

Crepes sulked for a moment, then he noticed Luke.

"Hey, you've got two chips. How did you get two?"

"Zev gave me his," Luke explained.

Crepes snorted with laughter. "How pathetic. Imagine having no one to call."

"He does have someone to call, he just doesn't want to speak to him," Havy explained.

"Do you know why?" Luke asked, curious.

"I've found it's better not to ask about his father," Havy said. "But you have to wonder about it. He leaves Zev in military school for all but three weeks every year. No wonder he resents him."

"What happened to his mother?" Luke asked.

"She died."

"Oh," Luke said. The words instantly made him think about his own mother.

"So who are you calling, Luke?" Crepes asked.

"My father, of course."

"They would let you talk to him anytime," Havy said. "Here, take one of my numbers. Mulu is drop-dead gorgeous. Her father is the president of Nylar."

"Not fair! You wouldn't give me one!" Crepes complained.

"I trust Luke to treat the lady properly. I have a reputation to uphold, Crepes."

"What am I supposed to do with a stranger's number?" Luke asked. "Hello, you don't know me, but how's the weather?"

"Exactly," Havy said. "Say that Havy Upworth gave you her number, and as soon as you heard her name, you had a feeling you were meant to call her. Then tell her you are Lord Vader's son, and before you know it, you'll have a date for when you get back to Coruscant."

Luke stopped short of admitting he wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do on a date with some president's daughter. He was still trying to figure out how to talk to the girls in his class at school. "She would probably cut the call if I mentioned my father."

"Not true," Havy said. "If I say my name is Havy, I'm just a sixteen year old kid to these girls. If I say Havy, son of General Upworth ... well, that's how I got this list of numbers."

"I don't think I'd want to date anyone who only liked me because of my father," Luke said.

"You're next," Crepes said, pointing Luke towards a vacant comm booth.

Luke walked forward, and shut the door behind him. He pushed the chip into the slot, and the display lit up in front of him. The first number he tried was his father's private comlink frequency. It tried to connect for a few seconds, and then disconnected with an 'out of range' signal.

"Blast it, where are you?!"

Luke quickly entered an alternative number, hoping it was only a matter of a damaged relay circuit. After a good minute of listening to it beep, he cut it off, and decided to try the palace assistant office. At least they would be able to tell him where his father was. It took another thirty seconds for that to be answered, and when it was, Luke recognised Ensign Kirk, an assistant who reported to Lev.

"Hi, Luke," she said, smiling. "How's camp?"

"It's … camp," he said, looking down. "Is Lev around? Or is it nighttime there?" He wasn't sure of the time difference with Imperial City.

"As soon as your father left the palace, Lieutenant Hicks and Commander Julius showed up and flew him to the spaceport. They basically forced him to take a vacation. He sent us a picture from the beach yesterday."

"Seriously?" So much for being available to come and pick him up. But he had to admit, Lev did need a vacation. "So where's my father?"

"On Mustafar." She adjusted the holo field so Luke could see the screen in their office. Unknown to all but a small number of trusted people, it showed the number of days his father had been on Coruscant, which was often a good indication of his mood. It was currently showing a happy zero.

Luke sighed. "Okay. Uh … can you transfer me? My call to his personal comlink showed out of range, so I don't think it can route directly."

"Sure thing. Yeah, that often happens when there's a storm there." She pressed a few buttons, and then said, "Take care."

The image changed to a rotating Imperial Logo. After a minute, during which Luke anxiously watched the time tick away on his quota, Vaneé finally answered. He smiled when he recognised his caller.

"Luke! Hello, young man. I've been wondering where you were."

"My father didn't tell you?"

"He's been somewhat … quiet on the subject, shall we say."

"He enrolled me in military camp."

"Ah. Did you pull one stunt too many?"

"I don't pull any 'stunts'. I don't know why everyone always talks like I'm an out-of-control delinquent teen from Corellia. I just … happened to have an accident where I was on board Boba Fett's ship when he left Coruscant. He brought me back, no harm done. But the way my father told it, I might as well have reduced the Imperial Palace to rubble."

"Well, you know to mind your father's temper, young man."

"I do," Luke sighed. "Is he available? I need to talk to him."

"Unfortunately he's in the bacta tank at the moment."

"Then could you pass on a message at least? Just tell him I'd rather be on Mustafar. And say that the thing with the bounty hunter's ship was an accident. Wait, maybe scratch that last part. Just say that ..." Luke paused. Just say that he missed him? His father hated it when he got 'sentimental', as he called it.

The timer began to flash red, indicating he had less than a minute left.

"Just tell him I called," he finished.

"I'll make sure to pass it on. Hopefully we'll see you back here soon."

"Thanks Vaneé," Luke said.

Luke sighed as he released the call, unable to withhold his disappointment any longer. He'd been looking forward to this call all day, and now it seemed it could be days before he heard from his father.

He stared at his unused comlink chip, wondering what to do with it. He could try lining up again and calling Ben ...

Loud banging on the door put an end to that train of thought. Crepes was outside, looking impatient.

"It's all yours," Luke said, walking away.

Luke sat outside the tent for a long while, staring up at the stars. It was a much brighter view than you could get from Coruscant. One of the brightest stars was probably Coruscant's sun. His father would be able to tell him which. He held on to the thought, and closed his eyes.

Father ...

There was nothing to indicate whether his mental call had been heard. Perhaps it didn't work over long distances. His father had never explained the technicalities of their exclusive communication line.

Eventually, he crawled back into the tent, feeling melancholy.

"You're quiet," Zev said, finally.

"So are you."

"I'm always quiet," Zev said. "You're usually playing that flightsim game. What happened? Did you get to speak to your father?"

Luke shook his head. "He's not available right now."

"Bad luck."

Luke lay back on his sleeping bag, and stared at the tent roof.

"It's nice that you miss him," Zev said, distantly. "Most people here think getting away from the parents is the best thing about this place. I know I do. Actually, that's the only good thing about this place."

"It's not so much that I miss him," Luke explained. "When we parted, my father and I were arguing. I didn't even say goodbye to him. Normally when we argue, it's all over the next day. Because we haven't had a chance to talk, it feels like we're still arguing. I just wanted to let him know that I don't hate him. I mean, what if something happened to him?" Luke considered it for a moment. "I've only been living with him for two years," he added. "Before that I thought he was dead. Sometimes I have this feeling like he could be taken away again, just like that."

Zev was quiet for a long while, and then he said, "I'm sure he knows you don't hate him."

Luke shook his head. "You don't know my father—sometimes he talks like he wants me to hate him, and can't understand why I don't. He gets annoyed when I call him 'Dad'."

"There is only one thing I'm allowed to call my father," Zev said. "And that is 'sir'."

Luke smiled. "He should meet my father sometime. They'd probably get on really well."

"Oh, they have met," Zev said. "My father is a great admirer of his frontline command style."

Zev put his databook aside for a moment, and joined Luke in contemplating the tent ceiling. "I remember missing my father, once," he said. "That was a long time ago."

"What happened?"

"I suppose it all started after my mother died. He didn't cope with it well ... sent me off to boarding school and buried himself in his career. I saw less and less of him as the years went by. As I got older, I started questioning a lot of what I was learning about ... certain things in history class. I wrote essays that the teachers didn't like. The school told my father that I was going astray due to a lack of parental attention."

"Then he sent you to military school?"

"Yes. He wants me to be an officer, just like him. I can't think of anything I want less." Zev sighed. "Only three more years and then he is no longer my legal guardian. That's the only thing that keeps me going."

"Does he know how you feel?" Luke asked.

"Oh yes, he knows." Zev paused for a moment. "He told Lieutenant Tancher to keep a close eye on me."

Luke cringed with understanding.