Where Am I Going To?
Part Two
Chapter Eleven
The banquet room was very…..bright. Too bright. Vader made a ridiculous contrast to the sunny white tones of the room. Still, it didn't really matter. He only had one reason for being here, and it was not for lunch. He could hear a small click as the bounty hunter, Boba Fett, adjusted his stance behind him. Fett didn't blend in exactly either. But, like the Dark Lord of the Sith, his purpose for being on Bespin was singular, and he would stop at nothing to get it.
Even clash horribly with some stupid room.
They had different purposes, but they could prove mutually beneficial to the other. Vader would have Solo in order to bring in his son. Fett needed Solo to bring to Jabba the Hutt. The symbiosis remained most promising.
If only that stuffy Calrissian would hurry up and deliver his part of the bargain.
There was a sound of voices outside the door, and Vader could hear Fett stiffen. The bounty hunter was too much like a panther for Vader to really trust him – quiet, dangerous, and always ready for the strike. But as panthers were respected in the wilds, so was Fett in his chosen profession. Bounty Hunting. A useful practice, if, in Vader's eyes, an unpleasant one.
The doors opened, and the look of stunned surprise on the faces of Solo and the princess were frozen only for a moment. Solo began firing, and Vader quickly rose, blocking the shots with his hand.
Child's play.
No mere smuggler could hope to take on the Dark Lord, nor Boba Fett, who was looming menacingly in the corner. There were to be no questions about it; their fate – their doom – was utterly sealed.
No one to help you now. Or do you think Skywalker will come to save his friends?
That's what Vader was counting on. He'd made a gamble, arranging this little party, and he'd be damned if he'd lose the bet.
"We'd be honored if you'd join us."
Solo and Calrissian shared a look, an all too unpleasant one, and Vader speculated his saw the later flinch under the heavy stare. "I had no choice. They arrived right before you did." Their timing couldn't have been more perfect. "I'm sorry." Well, what did Solo expect? Calrissian was of the same type of blood – scoundrel blood. He had his own aims to meet, and Solo was simply a way to achieve the end. The means became unimportant to people such as Solo and Calrissian. And even Vader.
But the end can never justify the means. No matter how glorious the end is, the means must be achieved in a manner which agrees with justice. Otherwise, tyranny reins.
Which, of course, it did.
Solo seemed to relax, slipping his hand into that of the nervous Organa. "I'm sorry, too." There was something to be said about the scum of the galaxy – they didn't complain when fate came knocking on their door. It was an admirable trait.
Vader watched them as they swallowed their pride and fear, walking in to sit with an expression that clearly read, "Give 'em hell."
…
Not so proud and rebellious now, are we?
Questioning Solo was needless. He knew everything he wanted; he would soon have everything he wanted.
For a brief instant, the father wanted desperately to know every detail about what had happened to his son – his baby boy, even at the age of twenty – in the two years he'd been separated from him. Solo knew, he'd been with him. But he wasn't about to give either the smuggler the satisfaction of seeing the Dark Lord of the Sith in desperate straights, or even satisfy that inner part of a lighter self.
That self had died long ago. No, Luke did not bring it back. That was just his mind playing tricks on him.
Of this, he had to be sure.
It was the vision he wanted, not his son. His son could complete the vision, that was all.
Sure. That was it.
The realization of the limitless, terrible pain that was coming had all too clearly dawned on the prisoner, and his eyes rolled with fear not even he could disguise from the machine to the black creature about to switch it on. He motioned for Solo to be lowered down – let the torture begin.
Seeing it would be unnecessary, and bring no real satisfaction. It wasn't, he determined, Solo's fault that his son had turned Jedi. That was Obi-Wan's fault, and he'd met his justice already. As much vengeance as Vader craved, there was really no one he could turn it on and be met with equal satisfaction.
The satisfaction would come when Luke bowed prostrate before the emperor once more, his heart in allegiance to his father – his son would be a Dark Lord of the Sith.
He'd settle for nothing less.
Without so much as a backward glance, he strode out the door, headless of the howling screams of pain he left behind him. Calrissian, standing awkwardly next to Fett, seemed to wince. The stupid man had a conscience after all. How extraordinary. However, as soon as Vader appeared in the doorway, Calrissian pounced on him. Trying to make amends with said conscience? The man had no staying power.
"Lord Vader."
Ignored. Instead, he told Fett what he wanted to know: "You may take Captain Solo to Jabba the Hutt after I have my son." No, stop saying that! Skywalker, just say Skywalker. Don't say son!
Another scream pierced the air, and Calrissian winced again, as if he, too, were in pain.
"He's no good to me dead," reminded Fett obstinately.
"He will not be permanently damaged," assured Vader, striding down the hall. Discussion over. But not for the stubborn Calrissian.
"Lord Vader, what about Leia and the Wookie?" So he called her Leia, now, did he? That chalked up to three people in adoration of the princess. Vader simply could not comprehend how one girl got so much attention.
Should have gone with Luke. The others aren't good enough for her.
Of course, in Vader's opinion, Luke was actually too good for Leia. But whatever made his son happy.
Skywalker. Not his son. He had to get out of that habit until he finally had Luke back.
Until he called him, "father." That was what Vader didn't realize he secretly longed for – that one word hinged his happiness.
"They must never again leave this city," he brushed it off. He didn't care about some two meter fur ball, nor really about Luke's kinda sorta fiancé.
"That was never a condition of our agreement, nor was giving Han to this bounty hunter!" Calrissian obviously was feeling the sting of his betrayal – even now he called the victims by their first names.
"Perhaps you think you're being treated unfairly?"
Oh, he obviously did. Frankly, Vader didn't really care.
Calrissian gave, and muttered, "No…."
"Good. It would be unfortunate if I had to leave a garrison here."
…
"What if he doesn't survive? He's worth a lot to me."
It seemed extraordinary that so many people could really want that scum Solo alive. Vader was uninterested in Fett's nervous complaint. "The Empire will compensate you if he dies."
He could feel a small wave of horror and derision wave off of Calrissian, Organa, Solo, and the Wookie. Solo wouldn't be feeling any emotions for a while, very, very soon.
The Wookie, however, had erupted into a crazy furry of passion, knocking Vader's Storm Troopers and Calrissian's Ugnaughts all over the place. Fett raised his weapon, and Vader quickly knocked it down again.
Idiot.
He did not want them damaged.
Solo, however, despite the desperate fix he was in, was quickly calming the Wookie down, shouting at him in what seemed between the two to be affection. Odd.
"Save your strength. They'll be another time." Brave words for someone who wasn't even really a part of the Rebellion. "The princess – you have to take care of her. You hear me?" The girl was circled perpetually by men. It was incomprehensible.
For a long moment, the smuggler and the princess merely stared at each other. And then they leaned in, clearly not caring if they were being watched.
And started eating each other's face.
There is no way I'm watching this.
He waved his hand and Storm Troopers quickly pulled them off each other, dragging Solo to the carbon freezing chamber.
"I love you!"
Well, so much for her being Luke's fiancé. It never would have worked out anyway.
"I know."
Jeeze, at least my boy would have said, "I love you," back.
How could that silly girl be stuck on the rogue smuggler? Another unintelligible thing.
The rest went far too slow. Solo was finally lowered in, the Wookie was screaming again, and the acrid smell of liquid carbonite filled the air. Several minutes passed, the air was tense. Calrissian, the Wookie, and the princess, hoped it worked so that Solo would come out alive. Vader really didn't care about that. The out of pocket to Boba Fett would be minor. He wanted it to work so that he didn't inadvertently kill his son. That would be messy.
With a clang, the body, frozen in its last moments of horror, lay dormant on the floor, Calrissian anxiously checking the status.
"Well, Calrissian, did he survive?"
"Yes, he's alive. And in perfect hibernation."
That was good. Very good. To lose Luke to a poor job of carbon freezing….Not that he cared. Luke was not his son. Not yet.
Inwardly, Vader was smirking, tugging at painful scar tissue. Turning to the restless Fett, he finally said, "He's yours, bounty hunter." To the Ugnaughts: "Reset the chamber for my son." Again! He really needed to stop doing that. Before he could give the horrified princess a look, an officer had bounded up to him, bringing the best news he'd heard in a long time. "Skywalker has just landed, my Lord." Vader was going to savor this moment with relish.
No escape, Luke.
Of course, soon, Luke would see the truth. And once he knew the truth, then why would he ever want to escape?
"Good. See to it that he finds his way in here. Calrissian, take the princess and the Wookie to my ship." Organa was valuable in Rebel secrets. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.
Calrissian was quickly protesting. "You said they'd be left in the city under my supervision!"
He never gives up, does he? Vader was growing increasingly tired of the obstinate man.
"I am altering the deal; pray I don't alter it any further." And with that, he turned his back on the scene behind him. It was unimportant. What awaited him was a far more important and interesting event.
It is time to come home, Luke. Your destiny awaits.
To Be Continued….
Well, guys, you must forgive me. I've been trying to catch up with summer reading, been reading Shadows of the Empire and spending time with family. Last week my aunt took me out to get a pedicure. Thus, I bring you this very important note (not in italics, as it's easier to type without them in word):
CONTEST!
That's right, ladies and gents. Now, from being randomly messaged or e-mailed, and according to my stats on ff dot net I am given to understand that the fan base for this fic is pretty large. (The question would be why, but I like getting a big head) So, I came up with this idea: Last week, I almost considered having my toe nails painted black and having W A I G T painted in white on the nails. It translates to Where Am I Going To, but I figure you already know that.
So, the contest. You have to write these letters somewhere on your body, and the most original or artistic one wins! The rules being 1. Women cannot do breasts. 2. Men cannot to groins. 3. No one can do arses. 4. Doctored images are not allowed. 5. Only one entry per person. 6. No stealing other people's entries.
All entries must be in by August 25. The winner will receive a custom made script format scene with the characters from the story thanking them for playing. And my autograph. With such crappy prizes, no one is going to enter, but I just think this is a fun idea. Maybe it isn't. Maybe I'm way too full of myself (oh, that's so likely.) Entries will be posted on my website, which is under construction, once it's completed. Until then, they will be posted on my deviant account, and the link for that is on my user page here.
So, send in all entries to the e-mail address that is also on my user page here, and I look foreword to hearing from you! (Why do I have the feeling this will never work?)
Now, for reviews!
Denique: Thank you!
cookiemunster : -snork- I love you. I got something like that in a chain e-mail. It's really funny, and if you give me your address, I could send it to you. I think you might like it. Good job with your own story, by the way. I agree on the country western band. As for the monkeys…..restraining orders are my friend…..
Healing Hands: Oh, thank you so much! And a God bless to you, too!
Insane Pineapple from Naboo: Well, I tried to make him seem like enough of a jackass so that you don't feel too sorry for him.
East Coast Ryder: That gets explained right after Bespin. When I wrote it, it made perfect sense to me, and everyone was like, "Wait, the hell?" So, I'm going to put out the extra effort to make it more understandable.
Dianasis: Oh, thank you very much! I feel the same way about the characters, but I'm glad you like it.
Schnickledooger: Jeeze…if you can sum it up that quickly…why do I bother to write all this crap? Forgiven, of course.
TorontoBatFan: Well, it is mentioned in the previous chapter that Luke has had many failed suicide attempts. I'm going to write two sidelines about them eventually, but I'm lazy. So, dead on about the secret death wish. And I must say, I loved that family business line. It made me crack up. As to whether the battle follows the same plot of the movie, I can't say.