Chapter 7: Apprentice
Music rang through the stone temple, a melodious sign of a celebration that seemed to know no end. They had already honored the fallen, already medaled the heroes, and already healed the injured. Now was the time for the party. Rations were forgotten as every food store was opened and ancient barrels of liquor flowed, urging them all in to high spirits. Since the dawn of the Alliance, they had not gained such a powerful win and no one was ready, yet, to face the reality that a larger war still waited for them.
But even without entertaining that thought, Luke could not bring himself to linger in their excitement. Slipping silently away toward the darkened hangar, the young boy wandered around, feeling a pang of loss as he noted how empty it seemed now.
"You've done well, Luke."
He wasn't shocked this time. He had felt Ben's presence hovering for a while.
"That's what everyone keeps telling me." Luke turned to the direction the voice had emanated, but he was alone. He sighed and sat on one of the crates. "Doesn't much feel like it, though."
"Loss is an unfortunately common part of war."
He chuckled bitterly. "Two weeks ago, the biggest loss I could think of was someone jetting away to a different planet. Now…" his eyes raked the ships again and the medal around his neck felt heavy with his guilt. Most of the lost pilots he hadn't spoken to, but they were lives lost nonetheless. People, fighting for the right cause, incinerated and lost forever. There wasn't even a body to bury. Biggs' plea rang through his mind. He hadn't been fast enough.
"You mustn't blame yourself, Luke."
"You said that about Uncle Owen, too."
"And it was true then. The empire is the true culprit. Blaming yourself only weakens your resolve and strengthens their power."
The boy sighed, leaning back. He could imagine Ben's face, somehow always calm, watching him. At length, he spoke again. "How did it even come to this?"
Ben gave no answer, but Luke felt great sadness pulse around him.
"Will it even make a difference? Preliminary reports show that Vader's fighter managed to escape and several dozen shuttles entered hyperspace before the explosion. Did we really do anything?"
"Do you think you did nothing?"
Luke exhaled, exasperated. "I don't know! I want to think we did, but then I think of what I – we – lost…" he trailed off, swallowing the words he had refused to let surface.
"She is alive, Luke."
The boy's head shot up. "What?"
"Ariala. She is alive. Though, still in the hands of the empire I am afraid."
Luke's heart wavered in cautious optimism. "How can you tell?"
"The Force connects everything, and I am one with the Force. I feel her presence as easily as you feel mine."
"Then we have to save her!"
Ben's disapproval came cold. "It would be foolish to seek out Vader now. The fleet is diminished but he is not. And you, Luke, are not yet trained."
"What good is training?" He scoffed back, bitterness forming a scab over his raw sadness. "You were trained, Ari was trained. Look what that got you."
Ben said nothing and Luke lapsed into irate silence. The old Jedi watched, through eyes that no longer held a solid form, the aura swirling around Luke. A cloud of negativity swarmed the boy, his sadness and anger dark in the Force. But within it, the boy's light still shone, sparking away the full effect of the dark side. He had hope, even if he was struggling to access it. Ben took a deep breath. "I am old Luke, hardly a shining example of a Jedi. As for Ari, she is still fighting. We both know her stubbornness." He wisely omitted that she was weak and he was barely able to contact her or feel more than her mass of confusion against Vader's darkness. "She will be fine. But you cannot turn away. I can still train you in the ways of the Force. Help you hone your power."
The light in Luke's aura brightened but the boy remained silent.
"You can become a Jedi, Luke," Ben pressed. "You can stand against Darth Vader."
Low power, failing life support, damaged stabilizer, and a plethora of other lights and alarms flashed as Vader steered the nearly lifeless fighter toward his Dreadnaught-class Destroyer. TIE fighters, even his TIE advanced, were not designed to maneuver deep space, but the Sith had managed to force his enough to traverse toward the next nearest planet and meet his cruiser. Ironically, he owed his survival to the destruction of the Death Star, the resulting shockwave, had pushed his ship away from the explosion and the momentum had been key in righting his spinning fighter and extending the life of his engines.
Still, his anger seethed, at the turn of events. The destruction of the Death Star was inevitable, he had foreseen that, but his humiliating loss burned. Not elite skill nor meticulous planning nor even that glaring obvious fault built into the station had been the cause. No, it had been that boy with the Force, that trash-heap of a ship, and his imbecile of a wingman! A series of frustratingly unfortunate events had been his downfall yet he would still be forced to bear responsibility. The emperor would not be pleased.
His ire ticked higher with that thought, as the grey walls of the hangar folded around him and the fighter settled into place. Wisely, no one made a move toward the ship, allowing the Sith a moment to brood before facing his crew. He would need to quell the whispers of how they had been called to rescue their terrifying leader; reassert dominance in the wake of this failure. He refused to say his failure. The will of the Force was something not even he could deny. He had put on a good show, but in the end, the station was destined and to fall and he had to worry about his own matters. He was safe and - his anger ebbed a small notch - so was his trophy. The thought of being able to play with his new toy purred coolly in his mind.
Vader exhaled slowly, content with the small win, and lifted himself from the cockpit, leaping to the hangar floor with a resounding thud, as heavy metal limbs bent to support his weight. Rightly, the gathered commander and troopers quaked at his sudden appearance. He straightened slowly, drawing himself to his full height and enjoying the way his commander, despite being at the Sith's side for several years, still fidgeted as the dark lord rose.
"Lord Vader, I am glad to see you unharmed."
The dark lord sneered, strolling purposefully past the officer, his long stride carrying him swiftly toward his private residence. Immediately, they fell in line behind him.
"It is true, then, that the rebels have damaged the Death Star?" the commander pressed. Since Vader had been aboard the station, the Executor remained in frequent contact just in case the Sith demanded his flagship, and as such received some word of the attack and impending danger.
"Are rumor and conjecture part of your duties, Admiral?" Vader spat back, never turning to face the man. Had the man no decency? The mere mention of the Death Star was enough to stir up Vader's wrath.
"No, my lord. Of course not. I only ask to see if they may need assistance - "
Vader was far too happy to see his reserved lift come into view and withheld his brusque response until the doors were closing behind him. "They do not need any help."
xxxxx
Even for him, Vader knew his temper was beyond control. It boiled inside of him, red-hot steam clouding his mind. The equipment in his suit, designed to control his charred body, blared warnings across his helmet: heart rate elevated; core temperature rising; blood pressure mounting; neural activity spiking. The flashing text only burned him even more and he was struck with a sudden need to be rid of the life-sustaining armor.
The hyperbaric chamber within his quarters, a black spherical compartment that filled most of the room, seemed to him call hungrily to him, and, throwing aside his cape, Vader stepped inside. In great contrast to its outside, the interior boasted sterile, bright, white walls which swallowed him whole and he welcomed the hiss as it was sealed and purified, pressurized oxygen flooding into the chamber. Almost instantly, the robotic arms of the mechanism sprang to life, carefully removing layer after layer of his covering. One lifted his helmet and he cringed as his natural eyes struggled to adjust, the air stinging his eternally raw skin. More arms removed his boots, gloves, plating, and belt until finally, after what felt like ages, he sat in the small chamber uncovered and unhindered. His metal limbs flexed and stretched, the sound of the working gears grating to his ears. He found he welcomed the pain of their free movement. The pain meant he was still a man under all the contraptions keeping him alive.
He exhaled, the metallic hiss of his respirator echoing in the room. He would never be rid of that. Grafted into his chest to replace the fragments of flesh that had once been his lungs, the device could not be removed unless he sought a very slow and painful death. Still, he resented the sound, and growled, the noise coming out more like a deep groan. He didn't have to look down to know that what remained of his organic skin, even though carefully healed over more years of agonizing treatments than he could count, was marred and rippled beyond repair. The old scars still blazed red trails, dips and rivets where too much mass had been eaten away by the flames.
Tapping a few buttons on the console, a bacta mist sprayed into the chamber, the heavy cloud creating a veil as it filled the area. As the first particles touched his skin, fire sprang to his nerves and he clenched the arm rest. As soothing as it would eventually become, the healing mist was torture in its first minutes, an irritant that delved deep.
He pulled his mind inward, breathing in the silence of his environment and forcing himself to let pain replace his anger. Pain he could always count on. Pain he wore more willingly than his armor, etched in his flesh, memory, heart and soul. In here, he could find peace, calm to arrange his swirling thoughts.
He felt as though everything stood upon cracking ice, and the silent world surrounding him only echoed the snaps and pops as tendrils leapt out underfoot. One wrong step, one wrong move, one wrong thought would send him plunging to his icy demise. A hunger for vengeance warred with a necessity for planning. He knew the rebel base still lie somewhere on the small moon, knew their weakened numbers would be no match for a full assault. And his skilled strike team, unspoiled by any recent battle, would wipe the vermin out in one go. But it was what he did not know that gave him pause. He did not know what other forces may lie on the base, he also did not know what sector they burrowed to, and he also dare not risk another dishonoring defeat.
His mind slipped into a more strategic gear, rolling over tactic and strategy he usually had little care for. The simplest solution was the one that evaded him most. He could blockade the moon, bottleneck their escape and shoot them from the stars even before the broke atmosphere. But he was one ship. One powerful ship, true, but one he could not afford to lose.
Like his TIE advanced, the Executor was first in its line of Super Star Destroyers with only him and the emperor privileged to have them. If he went back to Sidious having lost both the Death Star and the Executor there was little chance Vader would survive his wrath. As much as Sidious was Sith Master, he was still the conniving Palpatine who had single handedly manipulated the entire Republic into a fall. Every pawn moved carefully and a waste of his more powerful resources was something he did not tolerate.
Vader took another deep breath, the needle-like sensation the mist provided ebbing away to a tingle of phantom fingers along his scars. He would need patience again.
Tapping another button on his console, a one-way video screen popped up, Admiral Ozzel's face greeting him from the bridge. The man looked at the screen, a blank black square from his perspective, and snapped to attention as he recognized the source. "My Lord."
"Commander, order the nearest Destroyers to our position and prepare our fighters for an assault."
The holomap hovered before her, the hundreds of planets that made up their swirling galaxy, twinkling beside their stars, the vastness they represented dropping a pit in her stomach. Leia sighed, fingers gripping the projector table. She had barely had any sleep over the past four days, feeling stretched thin, as her attention was constantly demanded in ten directions at once. This rare moment of solitude came only as the fleet and officers bustled hurriedly in final preparations: Yavin 4 was being evacuated.
That Vader had not yet retaliated was a welcome miracle, but she, Willard, and Dodonna were not fool enough to think the cease-fire would last. In fact, it was widely believed the only reason for the reprieve came because of the violent debris and radiation cloud spreading from Death Star's last position making travel around Yavin difficult for even the most experienced pilots. As it stood, even they were being forced to plan an out-of-the-way route from the system to avoid it.
Her eyes scanned the looping line that outlined their chosen hyperspace road. It darted directly through the length of the Outer Rim, connecting the vast array of star systems oft forgotten by the empire's patrols. Small, underdeveloped planets with colonies formed mainly by accident, it had continued to prove the most effective hiding space for their continued resistance. Even better, the tiny dwarf planet that hugged the border between Outer Rim and Unknown Space was unnamed and unmapped, invisible to the empire and home to the off-the-grid rebel base Titan Outpost.
Even amongst the alliance, the location was little known, seen more on lists than brought up in conversation. The fleet there, night squadron, had a mysterious reputation but Willard had known enough about it, and them, to guarantee the base would be able to house the new additions.
"Your highness."
Leia pulled her attention away from the map, turning to face Wedge, the newly appointed Red Leader. "Yes, Antilles?"
"The freighters are nearly loaded and we've received the all clear from our scouts orbiting the moon. We'll be ready to depart in 20 minutes."
"Very good. Make sure they keep tight. We have no idea when this can all turn south."
Wedge nodded stiffly, the authority of his position still uncomfortable to him, and raced away, completing the final checks.
Leia took a solemn look at the nearly empty command center. The equipment that could be moved had been loaded away into crates and boarded to go with them, the rest powered down, wiped of pertinent information, and covered for the next inhabitants. Beyond this room, barracks and commissaries stood just as empty, personal belongings stripped from the old walls, doors pulled closed, darkness and silence encroaching once again on the old temple.
The finality of it all suddenly overwhelmed her. She had not known any other base and without realizing it, Yavin 4 had become something of a second home, the last place she had seen her father's image. She turned back to the holomap, envisioning him here, beside Mothma and other leaders she knew of by name, enduring the same stresses she now found herself facing. His shoes were far too big to fill. She shifted, unconsciously, to the side stepping out of the shadow he would always leave over her. She was an Organa. She was a Rebel. She was a leader. But she was not her father.
Leia drew in a deep breath. She was not her father but that did not mean she was ill-equipped to take on his duties. Her life had been a straight path to this goal. Drawing herself erect, shoulders back, chin high, she tapped the console board, wiping the memory unit then powering it down and flooding the room in darkness.
"Goodbye, Father."
That Ozzel was hovering behind him, clawing at his throat, toes barely scraping the ground, was of little concern to the Sith lord. He stared at the two ships dwarfed by his glistening Dreadnaught and felt only rage. Two aged Destroyers – a republic model Venerator and the small battle scarred Procursator - stared back at him from beyond the window. Even if he had not been aboard the larger ship, they would still seem miniscule to anyone who looked. His Force grip tightened somewhat on Ozzel's throat and he thoroughly contemplated killing the man. This rabble the commander pulled together was hardly an assault team
"My Lord," the admiral choked out, surprisingly skilled at talking around his limited oxygen. "There are no others in the area. Most of the larger or newer ships have been recalled to the Core to celebrate the weapon's completion." The pressure on his throat tightened again, his next words coming at a strained whisper. "I can, of course, contact them for support." He was suddenly flung across the room, body skidding on the narrow walkway, hands scrambling for purchase to avoid sliding into the control pits. He glowered at the Sith's back, standing with as much decorum as he could. "Of course not, sir. Very well. Coordinates are set. We launch at your command."
"Go." Was Vader's only response. This would have to do. His patience was nearly gone after how long it took to divert the limited fleets in the area for his off-the-books task and now to realize he had the scraps of the empire's junkyard was a blow that felt almost deliberate. Word was already spreading around the ship of the true fate of the Death Star, as continued hails went unanswered. He noted the shift in his crew, heavy doubt and a thread of dissonance. He did not doubt that many would seek to join the rebellion if they were given the chance. But he would crush them as well.
In what seemed a few terse minutes, the trio of ships was in and out of hyperspace, dropping before the fourth moon with imposing purpose. Already two rebel freighters and a squadron of fighters hovered beyond the planet's orbit and more ships were launching from the surface to meet them. Vader scowled. They had come too close to losing his prey.
As soon as the rebel band came into sight, the imperial fighters launched, spraying a cover of laser fire as they zoomed from the hangar. Thirty zipping, small, black ships shot toward the unprepared rebels and Vader watched as several X-wings broke apart under the attack, too slow to escape.
"Maintain our fire on their freighters," he ordered as the Destroyer's more powerful canons joined the fray. The slower moving cargo ships were heavily shielded, the bolts fizzling out against the invisible barrier, but he knew they could not last long against such firepower. Around them, the fighters had regrouped, and while the rebels were outnumbered - three to one in some cases - they were doing well against his fleet.
"Leia!"
Leia paused on the ramp of the Falcon, the crate she was pushing hovering before her, and turned toward Luke's voice. He was one of few pilots that remained on the planet to guard her final ship as it took off. Judging by the tone of his anxious call, she gathered things had taken a sour turn.
"Three Destroyers have dropped out of hyperspace. The fleet is under attack!"
Leia swore, shoving the cargo unceremoniously onto the ship, Chewbacca growling from inside as it careened into a wall. "Get your team up there and help the fighters," she directed quickly to Luke. "The Falcon has enough firepower to keep us safe." When he didn't immediately move, she shooed him with an urgent "Go!"
With a hasty nod, her orders giving him the freedom he wanted, Luke darted off, 4 Y-wings leaping into the air not long after.
Leia hurried into the Falcon, punching the door closed and already half way to the gunner seat when Han's frustrated yell reached her. "I didn't sign up to be your personal fighter, princess! If they scratch my ship, it's coming out of your pocket!"
"Like you could see another scratch on this!" She screamed back through the headset as she settled into position. "Just get us out of here!"
As the engines roared to life, the Falcon twisting out of the hangar, she clicked on her com. "Willard! Dodonna! Get the freighters out of here."
"We won't leave you behind!" Came Willard's voice just over the soft explosions as fire pummeled his ship.
"I'm on my way. Just go! This isn't a fight we can win."
He was silent for a moment, contemplating her words. It was not his normal choice to run. But finally, he returned. "Very well. We will meet at the rendezvous point. Be safe!"
"I always am!" She clicked off the little device before he could respond. Midday was settling quickly over the planet, but the shape of the imperial ships eclipsed the sun, spreading long shadows over the surface. It felt morbidly appropriate to see the planet that had once been sanctuary now covered by the empire's long hand.
The rebels and imperials darted and flit around each other, blasts skewing passed as skilled pilots avoided being blown out the sky. Both fought with dedicated effort, though both knew the fighter on the other side of their attacks was not their primary concern. Both rebel and imperial alike had the shared goal to keep the fighter ships away from the more valuable carriers. Already, two of five transports had found clear space and jumped to lightspeed. One had succumbed to the Destroyer's barrage and the smoldering wreckage glowed like a small sun too far from orbit to be pulled to the surface below.
In his Y-wing, Luke cursed their odds, swinging around the ship, dragging three TIEs with him and bee-lined for the smaller Destroyer. He didn't have any delusions that he could last long in a dogfight with more agile imperial fighters, but the heavier armament of the bomber ships could distract the larger ship hopefully long enough to create another opening for their final carrier. He spotted, in his peripheral, that the Falcon had cleared the planet and was giving the unsuspecting TIEs a bit of a show. They – having not witnessed the Corellian cargo ship in battle at the Death Star – had not expected it to have any fire power. They were quickly reassessing the threat. As Leia had probably intended, four TIEs broke off from an excessive attack on a single X-wing and chased after the Falcon. It zipped out of Luke's sight and he sent a small prayer to the Force that they would be fine. Turning his full attention to his own task, he twisted and looped around his attacker's bolts, jerking as a few skimmed the hull of his fighter. R2 bleeped from his hold and immediately went to work repairing the damaged cables and controls.
"Focus on the firing controls, R2!" Luke shouted back realizing he had lost targeting in his right canons. Bolts splayed out randomly, despite his efforts to aim, a few nearly striking his allies.
"Transport Four away!" suddenly rang in his headset, one of the fighters confirming. Luke grinned. That left only one more. He pushed his bomber faster, dodging the smaller cruiser's blasts and skimmed the underside. Just behind him, five TIEs rushed to overtake him, his speed slipping as he neared a larger canon. "Come on…come on…"
R2 whistled positively. Luke locked his canon on the weapon he sped toward. The screaming of the TIE's behind him grated his ears. He fired, pulling away suddenly with as much speed as his thrusters held, just as the torpedoes met the tower. The explosion, as he had hoped, snagged three of the pursuing TIEs in its fiery hands, the others scrambling to move away. It had been a risky shot, banking solely on the shielding of the heavy ship, but a success nonetheless. R2 chittered angrily about close calls and scorching but Luke only laughed, pressing back toward the main fleet. The final transport leapt out of sight. "All transports away!" Wedge hollered victoriously over the headsets. "Fighters, pull back and get out of here!"
Even before the command had been given, X-wings and Y-wings were flicking into hyperspace behind the transport. Luke spotted the Falcon sweeping a protective spray behind him, TIEs peeling away to avoid being caught. "See you at our new home!" he called to the smuggler.
"Right behind you, kid!" Han shot back.
The final ships popped away and the silence of space fell heavily over the moon again.
Silence that seemed to leak immediately into the Executor. No one dared speak as the dark lord stared at the empty space spreading before him. The assault had taken out a handful of fighters and the one freighter but in all, the rebellion had escaped. Escaped! Anger he had not felt in ages seized every fiber of his being and it was all he could do to restrain the flood's ability to level the ship.
"Track them." he ground out, the hissed words barely intelligible over his respirator.
The fear in his crew jumped another notch and the silence spread thicker as they stared about, wondering who would be fool enough to tell him. Finally, Ozzel spoke up. "I'm afraid we cannot, my lord. We have not placed a tracker on - "
"Excuses!" The Sith whipped around, rage lashing to spark nearby consoles. "You lost me my prize and you will be the one to find them." He pressed closer to his commander, for once glad for the terrifying armor that added height to his thick frame. "Or you will suffer their fate."
"Then… Anakin – Darth Vader – is my father?" her voice echoed through a tunnel.
Stone walls molding with age pressed around her.
A thousand screams pierced the air as fire enveloped them.
Now she flipped and twisted in a star fighter. The scum was in her sights.
A massive wookie bellowed victoriously in her ears.
Ariala's mind spun a million miles per second, nonsensical images, sounds, emotions, and thoughts, launching through her unshielded mind. Worlds she had never heard of, people she had never seen, lives she had never known, all took brief residence in her body, a constant presence in the Force that flowed through her. She tried, vainly, to cling to just one image, one sound, but she was formless and without control. Even her own power seemed to have fled her, tauntingly just out of reach.
She would have hated it, if she could. She would have screamed at it, if she could. She would have cried, if she could. But she could not. Her feelings were not her own to command and so everything and nothingness swirled through her as though she simply did not exist.
Ben watched his pupil, anchored in the storm of the Force that surrounded her. A part of it, as he was, he could see her grip on reality slipping. Though her physical form remained secure by binders and cell to the Executor, her spiritual self was adrift. Somewhere, in the rhythm that was her life-force, he felt her loneliness, sadness, and fear which had been her final conscious thoughts. Without something to temper them, they swelled and surged within her over the passing days, growing as the Force pulled similar sensations into her mind. He could not bear to sit back and watch now that he knew. He reached out, his presence strong and steady, slowly clearing away the miasma around her mind. Piece after piece he pulled away, slow agonizing work, only to realize after a while, that for each bit he so gently removed two or three more simply tied deeper into her soul. He frowned. Whatever Vader was so cruelly administering was quite strong to so thoroughly manipulate her power.
Ben redoubled his resolve and dove head-first in the mess. Almost immediately he was thrashed by the storm of information swarming her, nearly thrown from his attempts but he was steady in the Force and allowed himself to ride the violent wave. He ebbed closer and farther from her being, the surf gradually inching him ever nearer, until finally it crashed him against her consciousness and he tied himself in to avoid being pulled away.
"Ariala, you must listen to my voice."
The twin sons baked her skin, so much hotter than she remembered. She felt bare in their intensity.
A soft voice called for her.
Then she was cold, so cold. Uncovered in the snowy peaks that stabbed the foreign sky.
There was that voice again.
She couldn't breathe! She couldn't move. Stars exploded all around her, speckled holes in the vast array of space. Fragments of crew and ship listed by her sight. She couldn't cry for them.
The voice screamed louder and with a painful thud she crashed from the soft bantha fur bed, flailing last minute. The cry from her own throat startled her even more. Her voice. How long had it been since she heard her own voice?! She cheered, and screamed and spoke her name and for a moment, clarity snapped into her breaking mind. She was back in the little hut, where time stood still.
Ariala wheeled around, the voice of her master nearly deafening as he called for her.
"I'm here master, where are you?"
His voice seemed to come from all directions at once but even in the world of her mind the hut was far too small for him to hide. She spun around again, and then there he was, in the same spot he had been before. She stopped and smiled widely and this time did not hesitate to take his hand.
"Master!"
Ben smiled, softly, though it did not reach his eyes. The effort to clear her mind, hold back the Force, and maintain himself was taxing.
"Master, I don't understand what's happening to me."
"Your will to survive is stronger than you can control, especially under Vader's poisons." He said matter-of-factly.
Vader. The name made her cold then hot with fear and anger. That's right. Vader. "He wants to turn me…or kill me." She locked eyes with the older man. "I'd rather die."
He pressed on as though he had not heard her. He had to help her in this matter first. "You are losing yourself to the Force, Ariala. You are unhinged – "
"Floating…lost." For a second her eyes clouded over and he felt the strings of the Force pull at her. Ben cut them viciously.
"Ari!"
The girl snapped back, looked around, momentarily confused. She spoke softly, still seeing beyond them. "I've seen so many things I don't understand…I've been so many things…lived so many lives." She swallowed. "Died…"
"As do any who become one with the Force. To join is to lose your individuality. For most, it happens after death."
"Then am I…?"
"No." He snapped harsher than he intended. The very thought crushed him and he could not bear to even let it be spoken.
"But you are…" she raised sad, confused eyes to him. "How are you…you?" Was this another twist of the Force, a memory that wasn't her own?
"I've done more over the past two decades than simply train you," Ben answered with a light chuckle. "But that is not important. You need only know, that yes, I am me and I am here. But I cannot stay for long. The Force still seeks to have you. You must find an anchor, return to yourself, as you feel now, or it will swallow you."
"I...I've been trying."
"You are afraid, angry. It still clouds you. You must let go of that!"
She shook her head. He didn't understand. If she let go then that meant letting go of him. Forgiving Vader. And truly losing everything. She had to hold on to it. "I can't…" she said slowly.
"Ari!
The world wavered sharply, a glistening city in twilight replaced it. She felt helpless, staring from a high veranda toward the Temple, the first whispers of a shadow she long feared echoing in the coming night. Smoke flittered through her nose from somewhere and the little lives in her belly stirred at the onslaught. Anakin…
"Ari!" Ben's voice snapped her back again, but it was only a second, the worry in his eyes terrifying. She had never seen him like that. And then she was flung again, fire and hatred and agony and betrayal and guilt and weakness. Too many lies, too many wasted years, too much untapped potential, too much hurt! She screamed, tears rolling her bidden down her cheeks and though in the whispers of the mind that was hers, she heard her master's call, heard him plead to release her negativity ,but she couldn't because she didn't know what was hers anymore. This anger was stronger than anything she felt. One that had simmered over too many years and it had finally boiled over.
The walls of her cell shuddered, the burst of power the most focused since her sedation. And on his bridge, fuming at their incompetence, Vader paused. His anger melted into the Force, into the power that emanated from her, then slammed back into his core, doubled. Old thoughts stirred in his new ire, subconsciously, but infuriating nonetheless.
"Perhaps there is a more direct path…" he mused suddenly, the navigation officers jumping at his voice. For the past several minutes, he had silently lorded over them while they vainly tried to find any way to trace the rebel fleet. They watched as he slipped away and as one, breathed a sigh of cautious relief.
Vader stormed with purpose toward the detention level, toward his only prisoner, inhaling the anger she ignited in him. Each step became stronger, each thought more murderous so that by the time he reached her door, his cracked lips were peeled in a terrifyingly dark grin. His eyes lolled to the machine at her side and with a flick of his fingers its steady beeping fell silent, the drip of anesthetic halting. He chuckled. "Yes…for what I need you for…you must be absolutely awake."
It took a full two days for the heavy drugs to leave her system enough and for Ariala to gain some sense of reality. As before, every inch of her mind and body hurt, but she was too preoccupied to notice. The moment lucidity returned to her, almost to the second, Vader was there, black form staring at her from the cell door. She didn't need to see the Force snake to know his power seeped about the room. She pressed back as much as she could and felt his bemusement at the struggle.
"Hold your strength, little Jedi," he growled. "I doubt you'll be willing to just give me the information I need, and I'd hate it if you broke too quickly."
She could hear the smirk and despite herself, a spike of fear ran up her spine. She swallowed stiffly and forced herself to meet his eyes. "You will kill me before you break me."
He laughed a sharp bark that scratched his charred throat. "I already broke you once." He said as he stepped aside and four troopers rushed into grab her. "This way will just be more effective."
Spurred by the unspoken cue, the stormtroopers dragged her from the cell and toward a wide red door at the end of the detention level hall. Even before they reached it she knew it for what it was. The echoes of agony and sadness pounded at her heart for attention. She leveled a glare on the Sith. Just how many souls had he tormented in here?
Vader did not turn to meet her.
The door slid open with a hiss, a matching circular crimson room lying beyond. The troopers dragged her in and the sensations seemed to double as they crossed the threshold.
Ariala looked about herself, finding the sterility of the room disgusting in the contrast of what happened here. The space was laid out much a like a laboratory with tables, shelves and walls lined or hanging with neat rows of tools and potions. In the center of the room, stood a steel platform, barbs and prods spread from it like broken wings. It was in to this the troopers forced her, chest, legs, hands and head fastened into place. She could barely wriggle. She tried not to show her fear as Vader stepped forward. "You will tell me where the rebels have gone." It wasn't a question, Ariala noticed, and he did not await any response from her. It was a decision; he was simply telling her what he already believed. She swallowed again and took hold of the only thought that mattered now: Leia and the rebellion had gotten safely away.
There was a reason this planet didn't have an official name, Luke thought as he finally took a moment to examine the new location. The planet was a bleak, barren, rock-strewn thing that seemed more asteroid than planet. A mossy green sand gave an illusion of grasslands though the land was pocked with gaseous pits that belched a foul odor into the air, clouding the upper atmosphere. Between that and the sun, an orange dwarf star which hung just too close, the surface was practically uninhabitable.
Underground, however, the planet was rife with life. Imported vines and flora spread over the sprawling caverns, green and red and yellow blooms burst in spirals along the otherwise grey walls. Bright lights of a similar hue to the natural orange sun illuminated the base, while the smaller offshoots that served as rooms used a dimmer, more bluish light, creating a subtle difference between the "inside" and "outside" of the cavern.
The base consisted of fifteen subterranean caverns outfitted much the same, running deep into the planet's core. The upper most level, where they entered the base, held the hangar, scanners, long-range communication hubs and navigational computers that needed quick access to the sky above. Barracks, mess halls, commissaries took up sublevels seven through nine, and just below them training rooms, commander quarters, conference centers on ten and eleven. Leia, Luke knew, was somewhere down there with the Yavin commanders, debriefing Titan Base leaders on their successes.
Luke paused his wandering and sighed. He hadn't really seen much of the princess once the celebrations were over, but her influence came down the grapevine quickly and he couldn't help but be worried about how much she was pushing herself.
Without realizing it, he turned and started toward the large spiral steps that connected the many levels. He had no idea what he'd do once he got down there but his feet continued to carry him nonetheless. The truth was, he realized as he walked, he had no idea what to do about anything. He had no assignment, no mission, no orders and now that he thought about it, since his abrupt leave from Tatooine, the boy had been going nearly non-stop. Straight from the planet to the space station to rescue Leia. Straight from the rescue to the battle above Yavin. Straight from the battle to full evacuation. His last two weeks were a whirlwind of life or death scenarios that he felt almost empty to be without anything to do.
As though summoned by his thoughts, Wedge popped before him, the two nearly colliding on the stairs.
"Luke!" The boy's face broke into a wide grin and he shifted the small crate in his arms to wave. "Where are you headed?"
Luke smiled back and shrugged. "Honestly, I have no idea."
Wedge's grin spread wider. "Perfect! You can come with me then!" He stepped around Luke and started back up the steps, not waiting to see if the other was following him. "I have to drop this off at the hangar for repairs, but then I'm free. Grab a bite with me and my, uh, friends!"
The way he stressed the final word made Luke cringe and he shook his head. "I don't think -"
"Luke, you're the hero of the rebellion. If you don't take advantage of that while you can, you're just not living big enough!"
"Getting to know new friends isn't exactly why I did it, you know."
Wedge shrugged, laughing. "Consider it a benefit then for all your hard work! These people haven't heard the story yet and I'm sure they'd just die to know what you pulled off out there."
"I don't know…"
"Well, what else are you gonna do? Wander around here waiting for the Princess with that sad look on your face?"
Luke flushed pink, then pale, his eyes shooting up to Wedge a few steps ahead of him. "I mean – I –not like that - "
The pilot laughed again, nearly doubled over as Luke stammered over himself. "Hey! Don't think we all haven't tried once or twice. She's cute and let's be honest, Yavin wasn't exactly filled with many choices."
Luke's allowed himself a small chuckle.
"But, none of us saved her from the empire and avenged her entire planet." A devilish smirk spread across Wedge's lips and Luke hopped the stairs parting them to smack the boy.
"Don't be stupid!"
"Well if you're not going to try for her..." Wedge trailed off with a laugh, his hands open, earlier offer floating in the air.
"Fine, fine!" Luke rolled his eyes. "If it will get you to shut up, I'll come with you!"
Leia sat in the silence of her quarters, scrolling through an inventory list on the small datapad in her hands, though she had long ago stopped paying attention. The small digital words and numbers blurred as her unfocused eyes stared beyond them, mind still stuck in the echoing hangar.
"I need to know what you're planning to do."
"Well right now, I think I'm going to find this soft bed I've been promised." He said, stepping from underneath his precious ship, grease and filth staining his once white shirt.
"Han, I'm serious!"
"Well, so am I."
Leia sighed, exasperated. Didn't he understand she didn't want to be the one doing this? "I mean, what are you planning to do about us?"
Han quirked a brow and moved a half-step closer toward Leia. She glowered and clarified, "Us, the Alliance?"
He deflated a fraction, drawing back as though the word we fire. "Jeez. You really have a one-track mind, don't you?"
"We're trying to plan for something here and someone who's unreliable - "
"Unreliable?! I think I was pretty damn reliable when I saved you from that station and the kid from those fighters."
She scoffed. "Showing up when you feel like it or being in the right place to get some credits isn't what reliable means."
Han rolled his eyes. "What do you have against credits? I got my own problems and credits just happen to be the way to solve them."
"Except once you solve those problems, then what?" Leia crossed her arms, dark eyes blazing as she stared him down. "You fly off in your rust bucket for whatever cheap trick you can find?"
"Yeah, maybe!"
"And who does that help?!"
"Me!"
"Well maybe you should start thinking more about helping someone besides yourself."
"There it is! You and this damn rebellion. You're all a bunch of idealistic idiots, you know that?!" he leaned forward, hiss in his voice sharp. "You were just a baby when the empire took over, but I saw it. I saw what kind of power he grabbed overnight and the way everything good fell. You wanna go up against that kind of power with hope and some old fighters, be my guest, but I learned real quick that no one is looking out for anyone anymore."
The datapad slipped from her hands, sharp corner jabbing into her thigh and snapping her from her thoughts. Leia sighed, tossing the device to the side. Han had stormed off after that and she hadn't the energy to follow him. She was too angry and too disheartened. She hadn't really had time to think of him outside of his chosen profession. About the life he lived before roaming the galaxy with that unbearable swagger. It didn't excuse his actions, in fact she questioned them even more, but she did see the glimmer of a human behind the façade. Sparks of someone, who like the rest of them, just wanted to survive.
She wasn't ready to give up on him. The Alliance needed all the help they could get and she had to admit, he was good help when he was there. She just needed to get him to stay there.
With another sigh, she closed her eyes. That, however, was a problem for tomorrow.
"One, two, three, four," Ben counted. "Good, faster. One, two, three, four. Good. You've got your father's skills."
Luke smiled, chest heaving as he swept, thrust, and slashed with the humming blue lightsaber to Ben's counts. A sheen of sweat caked his face, dust giving him smudges across his cheeks, but he paid it no mind. The Force sung within him as he wielded the blade, a sense, both familiar and foreign, filling him. He stepped back, slicing downward, deflecting an invisible blow and exhaled slowly.
"This would be a lot easier if you were here."
"I am here," Ben answered, disembodied voice filling the small chamber.
"I mean if I could see you."
"Yes, I imagine so. Even still, you are doing impressively well on description and instinct alone."
"I guess." The lightsaber zipped as Luke withdrew the blade, flopping against the cushioned benches that lined the training room. As much as the boy cherished learning more about what it meant to be a Jedi, he couldn't help feeling a lonesome burden came with the lessons. They trained in secret, in a closed and windowless room, and Ben forbade Luke from discussing his lessons with anyone. The boy understood, to an extent, but when Wedge hounded him on where the boy would vanish to, he just wished he had someone else to share the experience with. But he also didn't want to complain to Ben, to seem in anyway ungrateful for the time the old Jedi was taking to teach him. Luke sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair and stood, running through the forms again.
Ben took in his new apprentice, silently watching the boy's careful movements. He could feel Luke's conflict and his own doubt raged to match the boy's. Two decades ago, this all seemed like such a good idea. Now, as he observed the sheltered youth, surrounded by a war he could never fully understand, preparing for a battle that would change his life, Ben doubted he was properly equipped to handle it all. He sighed, drawing in the Force to center himself. But he had to. With Ariala…out of his reach… (he couldn't form the idea of anything worse) Luke was hope incarnate for so many years of planning. There was no choice anymore. He took another steadying breath and pulled on the wisdom others had passed down to him.
"Luke, that's enough of that."
The boy paused mid-swing, blade poised above his head and frowned, confused, to the air. "Did I do something wrong?"
Ben chuckled. "No, no. I think we should try something else today. Sword work was your father's favorite part of training, I thought you might enjoy it more as well, but you have a calmer heart than he did. Sit, there, and relax."
Still confused, Luke did as he was asked, retracting the glowing blade and sitting in the middle of the room, legs folded beneath him. He felt a slight tickle to his consciousness as, he assumed, Ben's presence moved closer to him.
"Close your eyes, breathe."
Again, Luke did as he was told drawing in slow, steady breaths.
"Good. Do you still feel the Force?"
Luke nodded, the feeling still vibrating silently in the back of his mind.
"Open yourself to it. Let it in."
"How?" Luke asked, a wall seeming to exist between himself and the feeling.
"Let go."
His face screwed up, confused by the vague instructions, but he tried as best he could to release whatever Ben meant. He exhaled long breaths, pushed away thought and focused only on the feeling, tugging at it like a stubborn dewback. Then, almost all at once, the wall slipped away and he was bowled over by the full mass of the feeling, a sense of being outside of himself washing over him.
Luke's eyes snapped open, colors and lights dancing before his eyes, his mind reeling with the sudden awareness.
"Luke."
"Ben." Out of habit, he turned to the voice, eyes wide as the prismatic orbs melded and flowed into a shape similar to Ben's face. "I…I can see you?"
The light-face smiled, then fell apart, the Jedi's voice as encompassing as before. "I've not yet mastered full separation from the Force, but I am here, as I told you."
Luke stared at the spot for a few moments more, the world slowly slipped back into normal focus. "That's…the Force?"
"At its core, yes. The power that binds the universe."
Luke exhaled slowly, the sensation of the Force still strong against his mind. "How am I supposed to control it?"
"Through practice and meditation," Ben answered with a bit of a chuckle. "Now, close your eyes again, and try to concentrate on just one part of it. Find your center in the storm."
Rather eagerly, the boy obeyed, shutting his eyes tightly and diving back into the colorful world. Strands of life fluttered around him and though he was curious about all of them, Luke forced himself to focus inward - or rather to the thing that was him- seeing the somehow unique and similar strand of his presence. He took hold of it, and it seemed again that he was outside of himself, his own memories playing in perfect detail as through a holo-cording.
Then the emotions came.
Flashes of Beru, Owen, Biggs and a dozen other Tatooine faces whipped across the Force and with each he remembered himself as he was in that moment. Anger, sadness, happiness, loneliness, calm.
He snatched on to the calm, desperate to get his mind under control.
"You can't win everything, Skywalker."
A wiry, thirteen-year-old Luke rolled his eyes and kicked the sand, not yet ready to let go of the bitter taste of loss. His new-to-him T-16 had been his main hope of finally getting some recognition in the races at Beggar's Canyon, but the ship's engine had overheated in the final lap and his assured second place victory now sat in the hands of Carmie Marstrap. And she had not been nice about stealing his win.
"At least it wasn't cuz you're bad at it, right?"
"That's what makes it even worse, Ari!" he threw up his hands, eyes catching the matching blue of his friend. "I would have won if it weren't for the stupid engine!"
She shrugged, nonplused by his frustration. "Yeah, but you can fix that. Whenever I fail at something, Ben usually tells me to just practice harder, but that sometimes things are just out of our control."
"It's just not fair."
"Not today, that's for sure. But tomorrow, or the next day, it might be. There's a will out there that we just don't know about. Sometimes it's good to wait and let it do what it's going to do."
As always, he had no idea what she was talking about, but she said it such conviction he couldn't help but be swayed. He sighed and shrugged, as much acquiesce as he would allow her to see, and she flashed him a brief smile in return.
"Ari…"
Ben felt the boy's focus sharpen and his own heart run cold. No. "Luke!"
But Luke didn't hear him, the Force dragging the boy to the one he spoke of. His calm was replaced with pain, his own memories with snapshots of her life that whirled by too fast to make sense of.
Ben felt the Force rumble, the boy's power spiraling out of his conscious control. He pushed out with his own mind, grabbing hold of Luke's presence and violently snatching him back to the quiet room.
Abruptly, she was snatched away from him again. "Ari!" he whipped around, eyes wild before he realized where he was. "I saw her…I think…" He glanced up to where he had last seen the old Jedi. "Ben, I think she's in real trouble. We have to help her!"
The old man clamped down his own dark thoughts, answering with an indifference he did not feel. "The Force shows many things, not all are true or current. You will learn to control it better, in time."
Luke shook his head, disbelieving. "It felt so real…"
Ben pushed harder. He had to make Luke forget. "As did your own memories?"
"Yeah…"
"The Force has no beginning or end. All time passes through it at once. It takes a skilled mind to decipher what one is shown. Even my old masters struggled to see clearly."
Luke sighed, heart still hammering. He wanted to believe it, so he did, because the alternative was too dark to bear.
"I think we've done quite enough today," Ben continued when Luke's silence stretched on. "Go, rest your mind. We can return to all of this later."
xxxxx
It took Luke nearly a fortnight to fully put the meditation session behind him, and in that time Ben focused any training solely on his swordsmanship and Jedi history despite Luke's insistence he was ready for more. It was in one of these sessions that Leia found Luke, watching from the doorway as he danced with the glowing blue sword. When he finally came to a stop, wiping sweat from his brow, she called to him, stepping in with a wave.
"Leia!" Now that he thought about it, he had barely seen her over the past weeks, her duties and his training calling them in different directions.
She pointed at the still ignited saber and smiled. "Looks like you're getting pretty good at that."
He shrugged, smiling abashed. "I guess. It's harder than it looks. Be-" he cut himself short, suddenly realizing the old man's presence was gone, the void reminding him of his secrecy. Hurriedly, he retracted the blade, and grabbed a towel, words tumbling out. "Been working it out, though. What brings you down here?"
If Leia noticed his awkward shift, she said nothing, sliding instead to a bench and crossing her fingers under her chin. "Han, actually."
"What'd he do, now?"
Leia shook her head. "Nothing. That's the problem. His ship is loaded, fueled and ready, and he barely has any belongings in the quarters assigned to him, but he's still here?" She frowned. "I can't tell if he plans to stay or not and the generals are hounding me for an answer. They want him to join the pilots but -" She sighed exasperated, shaking her head.
Luke plopped in a seat across from her, quiet.
"I tried talking to him…" she continued with a scoff. "That didn't go well."
"Sorry…"
"I was hoping, maybe you could talk to him."
"Me?"
"He likes you. Maybe you'll have better luck convincing him to stay and help."
Luke laughed. "I don't quite know if I'd say he likes me."
"More than me, that's for sure." She leaned back, resting her head on the wall. It was something she had debated for a while, asking someone else to do her work, but this was really the only choice if she wanted Han's answer to be yes. Sighing again, she spoke softly, staring at the ceiling. "I think he wants to help, somewhere under all that selfishness. I just think, he's been on his own for so long he doesn't know how to be a part of something." She brought her eyes back to meet Luke's. "If he had someone give him a reason…a choice…maybe he would be willing to give it a try."
To be honest, Luke had already made up his mind – it was Leia asking after all - though he had no idea how he'd go about it. Han was more than abrasive and, while he and Luke had found some common ground being the heroes that saved Yavin, the boy had no illusions that he and Han were friends. Still, Leia was right – Han was needed here – and he would do his best.
She must have read his thoughts, because Leia was smiling even as he nodded and accepted the challenge. "Thank you! I'm certain you can persuade him."
The boy shrugged. "Should be a breeze."
He held up a single gloved hand and the whirring, buzzing, zipping, and crackling that filled the little red room, fell to an abrupt halt. In the void, her ragged, dry sobs echoed all the clearer and the dark lord took a moment to appreciate the sound. His young, broken, Jedi prisoner hung limply against the slab, heart racing, breath shallow, blood staining the floor beneath her. The wires and needles protruding from her arms seemed to be the only thing holding her erect.
Darth Vader's treatment upon the young girl held no mercy, her face, her very existence, a consistent, maddening reminder of his losses. His torment upon her was thorough, every device and technique at his disposal thrown at her at once. He stepped closer, lifting her face, prodding her arms, examining the effect of his many apparatuses.
Ariala tried to pull away, tried to gather the strength to even stop her head from flopping when he dropped it, but there was little left in her. Her throat was bloody from screaming, her face raw from tears, her skin ashen from malnourishment. Her scarred and bruised body trembled uncontrollably. She had forgotten words, forgotten even why she was enduring this and Vader had not asked again. At some point, he realized she did not know, but that had not stopped him.
Vader now yearned for her pain to feed his own. Her unconscious mind delving unfettered into the Force memory unlocked parts of him, parts he often fought to keep buried, but through her eyes he found them addictive. His responsibilities fell to the wayside. Once the emperor had been informed about the Alliance's success, it fell to him to end the threat, but even that he held little attention for.
The hunt for the rebellion fell to his officers and though he knew they whispered about how often he spent in the "red room", the Sith could not care. He left only when he had to, when pulled away, or when she was too close to death. Yet, even in those times, he was not lenient. In the rare downtimes, he kept her drugged under heavy sedatives mixed with serum from the mind probe. She had no reprieve. If she ate, it was forced; if she slept it was because she was unconscious.
In this way, drowned in nothing but a mass of agony, days turned to months, as Ariala struggled with the last corner of her power to resist breaking entirely. But her tie to sanity, to control, was but a thread fraying quickly under the endless barrage.
The door buzzed suddenly, dragging both minds from their musing, Vader only waving a hand and allowing it to open. Ozzel stood in the threshold, eyes clearly avoiding landing on any single aspect of the room.
"What is it, Admiral?"
"Lord Vader, the emperor demands to speak with you."
"Very well. I will contact him shortly."
Ozell fidgeted, swallowing hard before pressing on. "Shall I tell him to wait then?"
The skull-like face of Vader's mask turned slowly to face the officer and Ozell was almost certain he could see a wide-eyed glare pierce him through the black lenses. He forced himself to continue. "He is here, my lord."
Abruptly, the massive surge of Sidious's power slammed into the dark lord. He nearly crumpled to his knees, his master's might blocking out all thought, a command to go to him ringing in his head.
Vader cast a single glance toward his prisoner, then, swept from the room.
xxxxx
The Sith master sat in the open hyperbaric chamber, the blinding white walls clashing against the shadows of his darkness. His hands gently caressed the Jedi lightsaber, feeling her constant pressure rumbling through the Force. For some time, he had felt the presence that cropped up beside his apprentice, and carefully he monitored it for any sign that should concern him.
The Jedi were a race on the edge of extinction, so it did not bother him too much, at first, that Vader had captured one to play with. But the younger Sith was blind to too much and Sidious refused to let it go on any longer.
The door to Vader's quarters slid opened, the rightful owner striding in with two long steps, the latter bracing him as he stooped to a respectful kneel. "I was not aware you had left Imperial Center."
In other words, what are you doing here? Sidious smirked. "Indeed. You have been distracted from a great many things, Lord Vader."
Wisely, the apprentice did not speak.
"You have put an end to this rebellion?" Sidious crooned.
"No."
"Ah." A pause. "Then you have dealt with the cell that destroyed my weapon?" A bit more bite in his words.
Again, "No."
"Well," the emperor continued, a dry cackle bubbling from his throat "You have at least located their base?"
Vader did not answer. He did not need to.
"No!" Sidious suddenly barked. "You have achieved nothing since your overwhelming failure but to play with a Jedi whelp!" He flung the saber across the room, deftly striking the curved side Vader's helmet. Again, the apprentice did not speak.
"Tell me why you have allowed her to live."
"She may be of use to us in locating and extinguishing - "
"Do not try to fool me, Vader. I can see your mind. You have long known she holds no useful information." Sidious took a deep breath, hissing out as he spoke. "Again. Tell me why you have allowed her to live."
A long, tense silence ran between them, the master's presence bearing down on his apprentice. Finally, at length, Vader answered. "I have enjoyed watching her break."
Sidious's lips curled into a sneer and he laughed. "Yes, yes. Good." His laughter trailed off. "And what did you plan to do about her unstable power?" He felt Vader's confusion. It boiled his ire. With a flick of his wrist, the Sith lord crashed unceremoniously into the far wall, limbs splayed as Sidious held him there. Vader's own anger flared but it was quickly flattened under Sidious's omnipresence.
"You have been ignorant, apprentice. With each move you make to break her, you tear her restraint." The Sith master stood, hobbling across the room. The pressure on Vader's form increased; the heavy armor bowing. "She is strong with the Force and it feeds on her fear. You may have broken her body, but her strength has grown." Another push, sparks cracking from the control panel on Vader's suit. "Grown beyond your control." Suddenly he was free, dropping to the ground with a resounding thud, tangled in the folds of his cape.
"But not mine." The Force unfolded before Sidious's sight, and his anger melted away into conniving calm. "Take me to her.
Vader did not move, rage bubbling. His fingers twitched for his blade and he contemplated if he would be fast enough. Yellow eyes leveled on him from beneath the heavy, old robe. He would not. Pulling himself up, the Sith gave a stiff bow.
Sidious watched Vader's back as they walked through the halls of the Executor, nervous soldiers and officers flinging themselves out of their path. One day, Darth Vader may be a threat, he thought. But the boy was still too much the fool he turned so many years ago. He grinned again before turning his attention back to the grey aura that was the Jedi's uncultured power. He could still sense the freckles of the light side, like dying stars, but they were few and far between, much of her strength hovering on an edge.
As the door to the little room slid open, his grin widened. "Such raw power."
Vader stepped to the side, Sidious moving directly toward the prisoner. "Yes…yes." Fear, lonesomeness, pain, he felt them snaked around her. Oh yes, he could do wonders with her.
"Perhaps, my young friend," he started, purring old platitudes to Vader, "you have done something useful after all. You have broken her; I will rebuild her. Move her to my shuttle," he said, the last part an order to the troopers that flanked the room.
"Master…" the question died in his throat even before Vader could speak it. What about the rule of two?
"You do not need to be so concerned. She will not replace you," Sidious said with a raspy chuckle. "Yet."
It was everything she had imagined, the glittering Galactic City. Twilight streaked a mauve haze across the sky and a million lights from a million buildings blinked into existence. Twenty levels of speeders zipped through the air in neat, crisscrossing lanes. A beautiful, bustling paradise more populated that Tatooine could ever dream to be, more modern than Alderaan would have ever reached. It was everything she had imagined, but she was too broken to appreciate it.
Five days had passed since Sidious brought her to the palace on Imperial Center and while her physical wounds were well on the mend, her mind and spirit were still too shattered. The young girl barely remembered anything about how she had come to be here, flashes of Force memory still burned in her brain and echoes of friendly voices with Vader's torture blurred so she truly questioned just who had hurt her. Too many times on that block she had seen a friendly face lead the torment, soft smiles with cruel hands, peaceful words and unbearable pain. So many times, that the faces lost meaning, 'kindness' become a foreign word, 'friend' a fantasy.
She pulled herself into a smaller ball, pressed tightly against the walls of the medical facility she now found herself in. She wore no restraints, had no guards, and she was pretty certain the door was not locked, but the young girl would not dare move. The Force roared around her, ever present, suffocating. She stuffed her ears and closed her eyes, desperate to shut it out. A niggling in the back of her heart told her she could have comfort if she just reached out, called for…someone – she couldn't remember who – but she couldn't bear it. Her training was forgotten, control broken. For all she'd spent her life learning, the young girl on the floor was little more now than a child.
From just beyond the room, Sidious's signature sneer widened, her swirling presence fodder for his plans. Sliding the door opened, the old man stepped in, his own power molded and manipulating, a calm in the Force. He felt her subconscious latch to it as a babe to the teat. Still, she pulled physically further away, saucer-wide eyes watching him.
And he in turn watched her. Each of his pawns had taken specific pruning to be of absolute loyalty to him. With Maul it had been purpose, Dooku needed only truth, and Vader craved power. This one, he saw, needed belonging. He stepped forward, slowly removing the over-sized hood that covered his scarred face, twisting it into a mask of warm concern. Blue eyes stared into yellow. He stepped forward again, closing the gap. She pressed herself further against the wall.
"There, there, my child," Sidious purred, weathered hands gently reaching for hers. She twitched and flinched away from him but his hold was firm. "You don't have to be haunted by the past anymore. I'm here for you, young one. And I'll never abandon you."
To be continued….