Chapter 8: Vicenious
Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, extending his mind in search for the one he called daughter, and prayed this time would be different. The Force ebbed beyond his awareness, parting calmly as his focus intensified on her presence flickering at the edge of a long tunnel. Obi-Wan raced toward it, reached out, and as had happened every other time he tried, heavy darkness rolled in. His way turned cloudy, path lost, and his pupil unreachable.
The Jedi drew back into himself and sighed heavily. He was not blind to what surrounded her, though he tried desperately to believe it was anything else. He couldn't have failed twice…
"You are only tormenting yourself, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan sighed again, the voice that spoke his name as welcome as it was ill-timed. He turned and gave Qui-Gon Jinn a respectful nod. "She is more than worth it."
Qui-Gon quirked a brow, hands clasped calmly behind his back. "You've forgotten your teachings in your old age."
"You're still older than me, master."
"Quite. And wiser." He added. "So, you would do well to listen to me."
Begrudgingly, Obi-Wan agreed in silence. No matter how many years older he looked compared to his master, Qui-Gon's wisdom was something he would forever admire and respect. It was he, after all, who aided Obi-Wan in achieving the very skill that now allowed them to speak.
Qui-Gon gestured to the area below them and sat – or rather crossed his legs and sunk below Obi-Wan's line of sight in what appeared to be sitting – and Obi-Wan followed.
"You doubt yourself," his master said at length. "You've become unsure."
Obi-Wan nodded. Though it had started the moment he sent her away, his self-doubt had grown into an untamable beast as over two years of silence spread since the Battle of Yavin and the last time he had been able to reach Ariala's mind. Over two years since she was lost to the shadows.
"You fear what you know to be true," Qui-Gon continued. "You deny what has already been proven."
"I cannot accept that she has…" he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"That she has turned."
The words sunk like a stone into Obi-Wan's gut. "I failed her," he whispered, distraught. "I failed them both."
"Oh?" Qui-Gon stroked his beard thoughtfully. "How so?"
"I should have taught them better, guided them better. Seen the darkness that would break them!"
"Achieving what so many other masters have failed?"
"Yes!"
"As even Yoda failed to do with his own apprentice?"
Obi-Wan's frustration faltered and he met Qui-Gon's eyes with a shadow of shame in his own.
"A turn to the dark side is not one that can be foreseen or prophesized," Qui-Gon continued, voice soft and measured. "It is a path of corruption, clouded by rampant emotion. To predict anything of the dark side, from beyond its power, is impossible, Obi-Wan." Suddenly Qui-Gon was beside his student, gentle hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "And so, it is impossible to have failed."
Still, Obi-Wan shook his head. "And yet it is evident that I have." When his master did not speak, Obi-Wan pressed on. "I was too young when I took on Anakin, too worried about living up to your image. And too old when I took on Ariala. Too scarred." He drew a shuddering breath, the weight of his inadequacies bearing down on him. "I can't lead Luke down their path."
"This is why you have slipped in his teachings."
It was not a question. Both masters knew it was the truth. Shortly after Obi-Wan noticed the first changes in Ariala, he had pulled back his time spent with Luke. Fortunately, his absence went unnoticed as Luke dove head-first into aiding the Alliance.
"He needs a teacher." Qui-Gon continued, voice heavy. "He's their only hope now."
Obi-Wan shook his head again. "It's too dangerous. He has the Skywalker blood. If we, if I, lose him too…"
"You must trust in the Force." His master fell silent, meditative in the power around them. Slowly, the Force melted to his requests, a path – one of many possible futures – unfurling before them.
Hope breathed life into Obi-Wan. "There is still one who can steer him."
"He will not take him."
"He must."
Despite the heavy, fur-lined, multiple layers he wore, the damp and ice-coated clothing did little to protect Luke from the raging blizzard. Head still spinning from the wompa's heavy blow, body trembling with shock and cold, Luke trekked awkwardly through the knee-high snow, relying on nothing but instinct to guide him. All around, the icy dunes of Hoth were obscured as wind whipped pellets of ice and snow into grey-skied frenzy.
He took another faltering step, knees buckling. Luke flopped face first into the powder, arms barely flinging out to catch him. The impact shook the breath from his lungs and for a terrifying moment, he gaped like a dying fish, for air. When it rushed back into him, the cold felt as knives to his insides sending him into a dizzying coughing fit. Beyond whatever wounds the snow creature had inflicted upon him in the surprise attack, the bitter wintry air was sapping him of strength and energy. Despite his subconscious warnings, he failed to find urgency in returning to his feet. The ground was soft and he was so very tired.
"Luke."
Go away, the boy thought, heavy lids drooping.
"Luke!" Ben's voice carried a stronger sense of urgency and Luke instinctively turned toward it. He squinted into the snow, white on white on grey blurring the translucent figure of a man.
"Ben?" I must be going crazy… Still, Luke reached out a hand.
The wizened Jedi took a moment to examine his pupil. He would have preferred to give these instructions under different circumstances, when there was more time to explain, but the Force was pushing things into action faster than he could plan. Ben sighed and pressed on, imbuing his words with the power of the Force. "Luke, you will go to the Dagobah system."
Luke frowned, but weakly repeated, "Dagobah system…"
"There you will learn from Yoda, the Jedi Master who instructed me."
"Yoda…"
Ben felt the words sink into Luke's mind, implanting there with a hungry need that would ensure the boy followed through. He only hoped he was doing the right thing.
The braying of a disgruntled tauntaun dragged him from his task and Ben slipped away as Luke's rescuer pulled up beside him.
Han leapt from the saddle even before his mount came to a complete stop, a dagger of fear in his heart as he took in the boy's prone and snow-covered form. "Don't do this, Luke. Come on, give me a sign here." Han's hands worked awkwardly, jostling the boy onto his back until Luke finally let out a weak groan, eyes fluttering. Han sighed, relief flooding through him, and turned his attention toward the growing storm. His footsteps were already buried, the path he made fully obscured, and – as though to pile on his stress – the tauntaun he had dragged into the cold, keeled over with a final grunt. So much for getting back tonight…
Luke moaned again, drawing the pirate's attention back to the boy still cradled in his arms. Luke was obviously delirious and sporting ugly welts across his face which glowed against the boy's paling skin. He had to get Luke out of the direct elements but it was clear Luke's condition was too perilous for him to wait while the shelter was erected. If only that stupid creature had held out a bit longer… Han cast a glance at the tauntaun's body, lightly steaming in the cold air, and cringed at the idea already blossoming in his mind. Looking back at Luke, weakly muttering gibberish, Han sighed and fumbled to unclip the lightsaber the boy always wore.
He held the blue sword inelegantly, larger hands choking the hilt, and sliced deeply into the tauntaun's blubbery carcass. Instantly, the stench of old fat coating musty fur assaulted his nose and Han pedaled back for fresh air. "And I thought they smelled bad on the outside…"
After a few deep breaths and a gathering of determination, the pilot launched into the opening, tearing out the creature's innards until a decent cavity remained, large enough into which he could stuff most of Luke's shivering, unconscious body.
"Did you know," Sidious crooned gently as he stroked the slumbering girl's head. "That she is a child of Anakin Skywalker?"
Vader felt the acid swirling just beneath the question and despite years of pushing that life aside, forgetting it as his own, it flashed through his mind like a personal attack. He had been able to fully bury nearly every aspect of his old life, seeing it as though watching through disconnected eyes, save for one: Amidala.
The love he turned toward darkness to protect would never truly leave his heart, and he could not see her face in his memories without old, raw, bleeding love erupting within him. It had been easier to simply not acknowledge that corner of his heart than to corrupt it, but now that choice seemed ready to strangle him. A child; a daughter; his daughter; her daughter.
His eyes flickered over her face and his heart struggled against crying out. The same gentle rounded cheeks, long nose, proud chin, narrow neck...the broken Jedi was a nearly perfect replicate and it wounded him to see. He could not question it, could not swear that Sidious lied to test his apprentice.
Vader forced his eyes away, lowering them to the floor, as he reigned his wild emotions under control. Just because his master told the truth did not make this a test. Such a visceral reaction would only further strengthen Sidious's concern that Vader could no longer be kept under thumb.
Fear of the punishment such failure would elicit cooled his mind quickly and Vader clung to it. From beyond his thoughts, he felt Sidious's pleasure.
Vader raised his face to meet his master once again, finally answering. "No, master."
Sidious weighed the sincerity of the answer, silent as he probed his student's mind. Vader's internal response had been expected, but more important was how quickly the passion fled. The dark master's face split in a toothy, crooked snarl that passed for a smile. For now, at least, Vader remained his. "She is not alone," he continued, tone softer as though speaking idly about the weather. "It seems that Skywalker also had a son."
Despite himself, the reigns on his heart slackened, briefly, and a new wave of conflicted pride shot through Vader. He quickly squashed it down but held no pretense that Sidious had not also felt it.
If he did, the old man made no sign. "You have already encountered him, it seems. Tell me, my friend, of the child who destroyed my Death Star?"
Two years had passed since that conversation, yet Vader could still recall every word as though Sidious were still whispering them now. A hunger spread in the dark lord, to find Skywalker's son – his son – and it almost consumed him. But it was not for Sidious that Vader felt such urgency to capture Luke Skywalker of Tatooine, but for himself. It took years to accept the truth for what it was, but Vader knew he needed to do this. Sidious's lies had lived too long, as had the man himself, and his master could not be allowed to take anything more from him.
Vader exhaled deeply, the silence of his hyperbolic chamber echoing the sound in his exposed ears. Slowly, he replayed the list that kept him focused; the list of all Sidious had snatched from the man once known as Anakin. Honor, pride, morality, friend, brother, wife, daughter, life. With each repetition he felt his anger spike then plummet into the chasm that was his broken heart, ingraining itself into every nerve.
The Sith had long ago come to accept the monster Sidious created; no matter what happened now, he could never return to the path of Jedi. He was Vader; he craved power too deeply; knew darkness too well to ever let it go. But the new realizations still burned with a fervor that kept his rage alive.
Carefully, as though laying them out neatly for display, he examined his anguish.
Amidala. His beloved Padme' for whom his heart yearned always. For over twenty years, his love came with the cold snap of betrayal in the lie that he killed his wife. But dead people don't birth children. No matter what his memory replayed – her tear stained face, gasping for breath on the shores of Mustafar – somehow, somehow she had survived. At least for a while. A quick investigation into her life proved that Amidala was truly dead, not long after those events. The royal court of Naboo built a memorial garden in her honor, her resting place a flowering tomb in the shadow of the palace. He refused to visit it. He had no right. He would only taint her final, beautiful memory. Just as he'd done with the little Jedi.
A twisting wave of guilt and hatred roiled in his gut. He had never even learned her name, but that did not diminish how intimately the Sith had torn her apart. Her screams, once a symphony, now haunted his rest. Her eyes – piercing blue as Anakin's had once been – pleaded 'why'. You're breaking my heart. He could never undo it, never take back what had been done, because now (and this is where his hatred kicked in) she was Sidious's.
His precious daughter, jewel of Anakin and Padme's love, was a shattered, perverse pet of the cruelest thing the universe ever created. What Vader had torn apart, Sidious rebuilt, tying himself in the girl's desperately lonesome heart. Fear did not keep her at his side; a one-sided love made her unflappably loyal. And such manipulative devotion kept her spoiled. There was little of the young girl left in Darth Vicenious.
She was ruthlessly violent and bloodthirsty, the reports of her undertakings littered with purposeless causalities for which she had been honored to credit. As a leader Vicenious paraded her position and power without grace or class, well aware she was the emperor's favorite. Again, Vader felt the sizzle of hatred set his flesh aflame. It was his work that made her so malleable. His wisdom which saw her potential. And she should have been his apprentice; his tool to overthrow the old man and take his proper place in the ancient Rule of Two. Sidious had not only stolen his child, but his chance for freedom.
He could not allow it to happen again.
Determined, Vader forced his attention outward, to the mission which dragged his Death Squadron to the far reaches of space. The hunt for Skywalker – and in turn the Rebellion - was not an easy task.
Since the search began, he had been conductor of an increasingly irritating game of cat and mouse and he was tired of chasing their tail. Countless times, rebel bands had escaped his grasp or captured prisoners broke without giving solid leads. The few cells and missions his Squadron had intercepted and destroyed were miniscule in comparison with the fact that most of the Alliance went untouched.
His most recent method was proving just as fruitless. Countless probes had been dropped in over a dozen systems, yet again and again they returned with no useful information. He would not and could not take much longer. Sidious was patient, if only because he could read the future, but he would not wait forever to bring Luke Skywalker to heel.
The dark lord scowled, fingers curling into tight fists on the arm of his chair. That pressure was great enough, yet to add kindling to his rage, he also had to play chaperone to his failed protégé. Simply having her in the same system of space, let alone as commander to the Devastator within his fleet, was every bit the slap in the face Sidious clearly intended. Yet, his determination to be rid of her fueled the search for the rebellion. In mere weeks, the majority of the sector between the hyperspace lanes judged as most likely to house to Alliance had been cleared; though the lack of results did not aide his mood.
Vader begrudgingly returned to the reports at hand, eyes crossing over the information, before once again disregarding it all. He knew, even without completing the work, they were not here. The Force was too calm, too passive for him to have found what he so desperately wanted.
He flicked his wrist again, a com-channel opening to the bridge. "Admiral."
Ozzel's voice crackled back from the other side, "Yes, Lord Vader."
"They are not here. Withdraw the droids and move to the next sector."
"Of course, my lord."
Leia sighed yet again, re-crossing her arms tightly across her chest. The small medical bay felt even tighter as she continued to watch Luke slowly recover in the bacta tank.
The stone of fear that had weighed down her chest all night still refused to dissipate despite the scene before her. The doctors and medical droids had all assured her Luke would recover, had all praised Han for his quick thinking that saved the boy's life, and had all guaranteed that Luke would suffer no lasting effects from either the cold or the attack. But despite the comforting words, Leia still found herself glued to this spot, watching every second as Luke twitched and bobbed in the healing liquid.
His time with the Rebellion had strengthened her feelings for him into something she could not find words to describe. But she knew, whatever it was, that she cared deeply for him, more than she did for any other rebel, yet different than the warring feelings she had for Han.
The thought of the smuggler made her sigh again, eyes flickering to where he stood leaning against the tank. She would never forget that it was thanks to Luke that Han stuck around after Yavin and as she predicted, he had been a great help. His unorthodox flying tactics were vital in teaching new pilots quickly and his numerous underground contacts had helped them secure many a delivery. It was for these highly logical and very valid reasons, the young woman told herself, that she was so ecstatic about his presence and why it felt like Alderaan was exploding again whenever he threatened to leave.
A flicker of motion in the corner of her eye dragged Leia's attention back to the tank; back to Luke. Han had been about to leave just before this, too. The conversation still rang in her ears adding to her stresses. Why was it so hard to talk to him? She had tried to be diplomatic, addressing his importance to the rebellion and calmly pointing out that he had made a commitment but the fool of a man just side-railed the entire conversation for yet another misguided, self-serving, tirade about something that existed only in his imagination!
Her sigh came out more exasperated this time, and when she caught his eyes watching her, her brow shifted from worry to frustration. There were better things to occupy her mind than some flaky, conceited, chiseled jaw pirate. With a huff, Leia turned on her heel, poised to storm from the room. Only the sound of the medical equipment behind her, monitoring Luke's progress held her still.
Her heart thudded heavily at the increasing beeps, the sound that had only moments ago been slow and steady in conjunction with Luke's sedated heart rate. Cautiously, she peered back over her shoulder and her knees nearly gave out under her. Bright, if not somewhat confused, blue eyes peered back at her from within the tank as the bacta fluid drained. Luke…Luke was awake. The relief that rocketed through her system crushed the stone in her chest with a solid blast and Leia breathed a sigh that for the first time days wasn't loaded.
He – everything – really was going to be okay.
"I think we've got something, sir." Ozzel turned to the young captain, a tired frown permanently etched on the Admiral's face. Being the commander of Vader's ship was more headache than glory and he was at his wits end.
"What is it, Piett?"
Piett swallowed stiffly at the bite in his superior's voice. "The report is only a fragment from a probe droid in the Hoth system, but it's the best lead we've had."
"We have thousands of probe droids searching the galaxy," Ozzel snapped back. "I want proof, not leads!"
"The visuals indicate life readings…" Piett pressed on.
"So have over two dozen other planets! If we followed every lead - "
"But, sir, the Hoth system is supposed to be devoid of human forms."
Ozzel's jaw clenched, eyes darkening at the smaller man before him. Piett was fairly new to the ship, not long from the Academy and while he clearly had potential, it took more than that to be a surviving crew member on this particular ship. He opened his mouth to set the younger man straight, when the familiar cold shadow of his own superior loomed over.
"You have found something?" Vader's voice boomed in his ear.
Ozzel swallowed stiffly, his mouth dry and tongue thick, preventing him from forming words. He snapped his jaw shut, refusing to seem bumbling idiot, and Piett took the silence as his opportunity.
"Yes, my lord," the captain piped, stepping to the side and giving the dark lord a clear view of the screen. "I believe we have located their base."
Even before Vader fully took in the shape of the sloping metal structure on the screen, he knew they had finally found them. The Force screamed at him, a siren-like wail that wound deeply into his mind. "That's it. The Rebels are there."
"M-my Lord," Ozzel stammered, having found his voice in disbelief. "There are so many uncharted settlements. It could be smugglers - "
"That is the system." Vader interrupted, impatience making his voice sharp. "Set your course for the Hoth system. General," he turned to Veers who had been silently watching the display. "Prepare your men."
The Sith did not wait for their acknowledgement of his orders, sweeping from the bridge. More important than having found the Rebel base, was his certainty that Skywalker was with them. The thought was enough to ignite something akin to jubilation within his heart. With one swift stroke he would erase two great threats from the Empire.
Skywalker, which at their first encounter had been merely Force-sensitive, had grown in power and potential enough for the Sith to take notice. Though their interactions had been short and indirect, Vader could sense the change clearly. The Force clung to Skywalker like a web, ever expanding as he perfected his abilities. In truth, the boy was still very far from reigning in and controlling the Force, but Vader was all too aware what could happen if he did.
His lips contorted into a sneer, joy giving way to displeasure, as the Force flashed images of that particular future. It would not come to pass. With Kenobi dead and his apprentice corrupted, Skywalker was truly the last obstacle that could pose any threat. Capturing him – or killing as Vader greatly preferred – was paramount. The boy could not escape again.
His mind raged, fleeting happiness forgotten as cold determination and boiling vengeance returned to the forefront of his thoughts. Dealing with Skywalker was also the key to resolving his current predicament with the emperor and that weight was a crushing force. Until this moment, it had been only red hunger that drove him, but now, with victory so tightly in his grasp, Vader felt deeply all he had to lose as well as all he had to gain. Again, the Force flashed possible images before his eyes and the dark lord waved them away violently.
The door to his chambers greeted him, finally, and he stepped into his hyperbolic chamber, metal arms going to work to free him of his armor. Tactic and plan raced beneath a sheer desire to win and the Sith felt unbalanced by the surging emotions. He could not risk being blinded by desire when so much hung on this moment.
With a shaky exhale, the Sith forced himself to sit, and once again buried himself in the pain that made him who he was.
Captain Piett and General Veers exchanged knowing glances as they hovered just beyond the older admiral. Ozzel stared silently at the blipping console before him, willing the warning to go away. Shield detected. Maximum power. Time to disable at current weapon's strength: unknown.
Beyond the window, the diamond-like Hoth – namesake of the system - glittered in the sun's rays, mockingly serene against his internal panic. How they had acquired a shield of this power and size, he could hardly imagine, but it was the least of his concerns. Maintaining such protection constantly would have easily drained their power cells, which meant, somehow, the rebels had been alerted to their presence and raised the shield only recently. His trembling hands curled into fists. It was too late to contemplate that now. If the shield was active, it meant the rebels were still on the surface. An attack still had to be made.
"General." Ozzel spun around, a mask of calm authority falling over his features. Veers snapped to attention. "Inform Lord Vader of our current situation, then, prepare for an assault. You are still in charge of this mission, after all." The last bit he added with a hint of a grin and Veers felt ice snake into his veins. Nevertheless, the man nodded stiffly as he accepted the order and took the path that surely led to his death.
Vader's quarters took up most of the aft section of this same level, successfully isolating their domineering leader while also providing him quick access to his bridge, though the walk seemed much longer considering the purpose. Since his assignment to this ship four years ago, Veers had kept his head down and worked solidly, floating low enough on the radar to avoid Vader's direct attention, yet high enough as to be recognized when he did well. This whole incident, however, threatened to disrupt that perfect balance.
Despite his concern, Veers did not drag his feet or hang his head, posture solid as befitting his position. Vader was terrifying and his temper as unreadable as a road in fog, but there was little Veers had done worthy of inciting his wrath. He clung to that thought, and the bare facts of their current situation, as he stepped within Vader's room.
The general paused for a moment at the threshold, blinking to adjust his eyes to the darkened room. The great globed chamber that took up the majority of the room was sealed, the bright light within blocked and throwing the room into bleak grayness. Only dim lighting outside the hyperbolic chamber allowed Veers enough light to cross the room just as the chamber slid open, Vader stationed within.
"What is it, General?"
Veers swallowed thickly and answered with as much authority as he could muster. "My lord, the fleet has moved out light-speed. However," Veers hesitated a moment and felt a swell of pressure fill the room as Vader clung to the word. "Com-Scan has detected an energy field protecting an area around the sixth planet of the Hoth system. The field is strong enough to deflect any bombardment."
"The rebels are alerted to our presence," Vader ground out, his recently tamed anger spiking. "Admiral Ozzel came out of light-speed too close to the system."
Veers let out a short sigh. At least he wasn't being blamed. Still, he should seem at least a little respectful of his superior. "He felt surprise was wiser…" The words trailed off, leaving his feelings on the matter vague.
"He is as clumsy as he is stupid. Prepare your troops for a surface attack."
"Yes, my lord."
As soon as the man was clear of the room, Vader whipped his chair around summoning the viewscreen of the bridge. Ozzel and Piett came into view, their backs to him, deep in discussion of their next move. As Ozzel turned to face him, mouth opening to give some excuse, Vader wiped away the words with his own acid-dipped response. "You have failed me for the last time, Admiral."
Ozzel again opened his mouth to speak, again only silence coming from his gaping lips.
Vader turned his attention to the young captain. "Piett."
The boy stepped forward, eyes darting to the side as Ozzel continued to gape, eyes now wide and hands flying toward his throat. It was a testament to the boy's focus that he did not react further, keeping his eyes trained on the screen.
"Make ready to land our troops beyond the energy field," Vader continued. "And deploy the fleet so that nothing gets off that system."
Just behind Piett, Ozzel let out a final ragged breath, collapsing beneath the screen.
"You are in command now, Admiral Piett."
Once again, the boy's eyes flickered to the now ex-admiral, his promotion coming with the obvious threat 'you're next should you also fail'. "Thank you, Lord Vader."
The screen flickered into darkness, and for one swift minute, the Sith was left alone with his burning fury. Then, as though summoned to further fuel his ire, the projector at his console illuminated once more, a darkened, solitary room surrounding a single figure sprawled in a wide chair.
The figure said nothing, almost ignoring that the call had originated from that side. But he did not need to hear a voice to know who would make such a move.
From beneath an oversized hood, golden-specked eyes rose slowly to meet his face. Even in the darkness Vader saw her painted lips curve into a smirk. Nonchalantly, a gloved hand pushed away the hood and Vader's temper flared another level as his eyes stared plainly into hers.
Vicenious savored the moment silently, before slowly cocking her head to the side with a loud sigh. "I suppose I am cleaning up yet another one of your messes."
He did not bother to address her; there existed no pretense of friendship or respect between them. She would get to her point soon enough.
"Tell whichever soldier you put in charge that I will be leading the ground assault and - "
"You will stay on the Devastator until told otherwise. Veers is more than capable of handling-"
"Veers?" She leaned forward with a scoff of disbelief. "You put him in charge? Veers is an unbending, half-brained fool. I thought you wanted to succeed this time? Perhaps if you stopped letting your pets do the hard work, you'd actually be the threat the -"
Vader snapped back with clap of power in the Force, successfully halting the other's rant. The smirk on her lips grew wider and Vader felt a similar blow in return, perfectly matching his in strength and intensity. She watched him, silently, through the screen. Do you really want to do this now? Her eyes asked, power dancing eagerly for his response.
For a moment, Vader considered following through, ridding himself of this thorn once and for all. But a snippet of sense tugged at the rage her presence caused and held him back. There would be better times to deal with her. For now, he had larger concerns and she could not be a distraction. "You may lead an advance team with Blizzard Squadron." He conceded. "You will stay out of Veers' way. You will obey his orders. And you will leave Skywalker for me."
Vicenious smiled, weighing the compromise against her pride. She could press for more, but it was enough, for now, that Vader consented. Like him, she knew there would plenty of future opportunities to have her way. "Good enough."
The screen flickered out of existence, darkness once again flooding both rooms.
The icy base was in an uproar. Only recently unpacked equipment was hurriedly re-stuffed back into their containers while smaller ships and speeders docked on one of the three larger transport ships. Leia watched as, once again, they were forced to evacuate under fear of the empire. After recuperating at Titan Base for a few months, the unofficially titled Yavin Cell, had bounced from temporary base to temporary base expanding their fleet in ships and personnel, but never long off the empire's scopes. Hoth had been the longest they went unnoticed, yet here they were again, after only a handful of months, running with their tails between their legs.
Leia sighed angrily as she watched the radar over the controller's shoulder. Their shield would hold strong against any aerial attack but a ground force had been noticed a few clicks out. In response, the rebels prepared to launch their small fighters to act as support while the transports flew for freedom. It was a plan well executed several times before and yet, the crownless princess still found herself tense with worry.
"Keep me updated on every move they make."
"Of course, Princess."
Veers stood confidently in the control center of his lead AT-AT, the hulking, marching weapon moving determinedly across the landscape, four identical walkers trailing not too far behind. He loved these technological marvels. Thick, armored hulls impenetrable to all forms of blaster fire, armed with dual high-powered long-distance lasers, and capable of maneuvering any terrain with ease, the walkers were ideal weapons in his eyes. Even if one considered the walker's slow tread a flaw, the mobile weapons were still more advanced and more powerful than any speedy ship.
And yet, he thought with a slight grimace, Vader had still insisted on sending her.
The roar of a personnel carrier ship passing just above came as though cued by his thoughts, and the general watched through the AT-AT's eyes as two carrier shuttles landed in the distance, just before the ridge that marked rebel territory. From this distance, his naked eye could make out only one figure, a deep black dot exiting the ship, but he knew she came with over forty skilled troopers. For a moment, he almost pitied the rebellion ground forces; they had no idea what was coming. But as quickly as it came, the feeling slipped away. They deserved every bit of whatever she would do.
xxxxx
The Snowspeeders screamed as they raced from the hangar, over the deep dugout in which Garik Rodan, trench and ground commander, hunkered deep. The rhythmic rumble of the still far-off walkers was momentarily interrupted as the base reverberated in the wake of their fighters. He hesitated to feel relieved as the team raced toward the threat. Imperial walkers, even so few, were nearly impossible to defeat. Best case scenario, the commander thought darkly: the speeders would provide a long enough distraction for the rest of the base to make their escape.
Forcing his attention back to his own team, Garik pulled his mind to the matter at hand. "All right!" his voice boomed over wind and space, three dozen faces of vastly differing ages swung to look at him. "We are the last line between those forces and the base! I want every canon we have armed and - "
"Sir!"
Garik turned to the interrupting soldier darkly, quite ready to give a verbal lashing, when he followed the man's outstretched hand to the horizon. Between the walkers and the trench, two Imperial carrier transports had just landed and from them a slew of troopers spilled onto the snow. Their winter wear camouflaged their full numbers, but it wasn't them he found worrisome; a black figure, cloak whipping wildly in the wind, lead the charge. He felt the blood drain from his face and quickly raised the viewers around his neck for a better look.
Magnified so it seemed they stood face-to-face, he could clearly see the figure turn to watch him. A mask without eyes, nose, or mouth, as black as night, and splattered in red tendrils, obscured the face. Just as matching armor - an elongated, layered chest piece that ended at the hips, shin and forearm guards all worn over a trooper-standard body suit – hid all but the basic shape of the figure's slim body. For as little as he could discern from a look, something about the soldier horrified him.
xxxxx
Across the snow, Darth Vicenious stood, bathing in the bitter terror coursing through the Force from the rebel ditch. They had seen her, she knew that, but that show was only just beginning. In a single swift move, she drew and ignited her saber, the signature red blade of the Sith humming in her hands. The terror spiked and she drew a shuddering breath as her excitement rose to match it. Eyes wild beneath the mask, she forced herself to remember the troopers behind her and turned only to issue her order. "Kill them all."
All at once, the troopers sprang to life, racing across the snow, firing into the trench as soon as their targets came into view. Just behind them Vicenious followed, blade practically dragging as the troopers moved forward. From the other side of the field, the rebel squad's attack sprung to meet them, smaller canons and hand-held blasters refocusing on the troopers.
Vicenious turned her attention to the canons behind the trench. One hand raised, she Forced the two most bothersome canons to move, rotating each toward its neighbor, mechanism still firing. The explosion as they blasted each other rocked the trench, burning debris raining into the slim path.
Ahead, a few braver troopers took advantage of the ceasefire and closed the gap. Succinct, precise shots cleared two manned canons of their controllers. The rebels broke formation, scattering. Some clambered up the walls in either direction, while most flung themselves to the sides, fleeing for the far easterly and westerly sections not yet under direct attack.
Around them, the louder blasts of the walker's lasers still rained against the ground.
Garik watched the mayhem from his position east of the attack. They would not last long against this bombardment. Between the walkers and the Sith, he knew they were outmatched. Still, he would not give up. "Fall back and regroup at mark two-three-five! Two-three–five!" he shouted, rallying anyone within range. Almost eagerly, the browbeaten rebels retreated, firing vainly at the imperial soldiers.
Vicenious whipped her head in their direction and frowned. Escaping was not part of the plan. Swiftly, she slipped through the wall her troopers created and leapt into the pit. Her blade danced as she bounced blaster fire back toward its shooter, clearing a path with rapid strokes and driving the sword into the nearest rebel's chest. His scream died in his throat, only a gurgle of agony as his heart burned and body fell. Without even a moment's pause she leapt from the corpse, launching feral-like toward her next victim, slicing, stabbing, and cleaving her way through desperately fleeing the Alliance ranks.
For a moment, sense was lost in the bloody massacre, with even blizzard squadron freezing as they watched in awe, still stationed above the trench. A thud of canon fire shook them loose and they switched tactics to support, providing cover fire for bloodthirsty Sith. There was little they could do without getting in her way and it was clear to them all, she would kill anything in her path.
The rear of his fighter spewed dark, hot smoke, wires and console sparking in the wake of the blast. Luke shook off the momentary stun at being hit. "Dax, you okay?"
Silence.
He glanced over his shoulder, shielded eyes stinging as he took in the limp form of his co-pilot. The young, fresh-faced rebel was unmoving and unresponsive, bloodied. The walker's blast had hit too squarely.
Silently, Luke turned back to the controls, pushing guilt aside. He had grown uncomfortably accepting of death but it still left a small sting whenever it happened. The boy sent up a little prayer for Dax before refocusing on the mission at hand. The walkers were still moving in, and the space between them and the base was getting ever smaller. If he couldn't take the run himself…
"Rogue Three."
"Copy Rogue Leader," Wedge's voice rang back over the comlink.
"Wedge, I've lost my gunner," Luke explained quickly. "You'll have to make this shot. I'll cover you. Set your harpoon and follow me on the next pass."
He could almost hear Wedge grin as the other pilot confirmed the orders. Wedge's snowspeeder pulled a tight loop and fell in behind Luke, the two ships skimming the ground, weaving between blaster fire. Luke banked right, firing toward the lead walker as Wedge hugged tight to the machine's legs. "Activate harpoon."
Wedge's gunner, a pilot of quick learning and experience, complied, firing the tow cable. Magnetic clamps attached to the walker's rear left leg with a soft clunk. Wedge barely had time to compliment the shot as he tilted his fighter in a tight circle around the legs, spacing himself to avoid getting tangled or trapped in the monstrosity's gears. One, two, three passes, the thin cable barely visible even as it looped together, but it would have to do. There was no more cable to give.
"Cable out! Let her go!" The gunner called. Wedge moved to pull away.
"Detach cable."
In perfect sync, the line snapped free of the fighter just as Wedge sped the ship away from the slowly toppling walker. The long, slow legs, moved to make another step and the line tightened around them, bringing it to its knees.
On the ground, a cheer went up as it fell, ground forces racing forward to deal the final blow. Canon and blaster fire showered upon the weapon. Hull damaged, the attacks succeeded in bursting the walker to flames.
Wedge let out a victorious whoop as he lapped the burning hulk of metal. "That got him!"
"Good work, Wedge," came Luke's measured reply. They weren't out of the woods yet. More walkers were on the way and he had only just made out a skirmish in the trench that told him Imps were on the ground as well. They had to continue to hold out just a bit more. The final transports weren't off the ground yet – which meant neither was Leia. His heart clenched at the thought but he forced the anxiety away. She was well protected in the base. He just had to focus on keeping it that way.
Evenly, he completed his lap and sought out his next target: the next nearest walker, lasers tearing a hole in the trench's defenses. Instantly, he sped toward it, calling out to the closest pilot. "Rogue Two, on me. Let's get rid of that thing before it collapses the whole base."
"Copy, Rogue Leader. Coming around."
Luke noted that the ship fell in formation at his right flank and darted toward the walker. Much as he did with Wedge, Luke lined them up for the harpoon shot, spraying a clearing rain of lasers against the hull…and then veered wildly off course as blaster fire blocked his path. Rogue Leader and Rogue Two split, regaining control of their crafts before reforming the attack pattern. "Watch that crossfire boys. This will be a tricky."
The path to the walker was nothing but wide, unprotected landscape. The rebel canons had already been destroyed and ground forces were little help. Luke swore silently. The other walkers, the ones that had nearly shot him from the sky, were out of his range so long as he stuck to Rogue Two. But they were close enough for their own lasers to provide serious trouble. His options limited, Luke broke off, veering toward the distant weapons. "Stay on that one Rogue Two!" he ordered. "I'll draw the other's fire. You focus on bringing that walker down!"
"Roger. Setting for position three." Rogue Two realigned himself for the cable-run as Luke raced into the horizon.
Large lasers continued to litter the air, Luke sweeping around them trying to create a tantalizing target. One walker's head swung lazily in his direction, tusk-like canons lining up to shoot him down. Luke swerved as they fired, skimming just below the blazing red bolts. Well, he had gotten that one's attention. The second one however…he risked a glance outside the window to confirm that the other walker still maintained cover fire on Rogue Two's target.
As though waiting for him to see it, the walker let loose a volley, the bolts speeding for a direct hit. Rogue Two erupted in flames, the pilot's shriek echoing in Luke's ears. The wreckage careened into the powder, exploding a second time, the flames igniting the powerful internal heater.
Luke grimaced. Another cold stone of guilt settled in his chest and another silent prayer sent to the ether before whipping his speeder around. Rogue team was nearly decimated, nothing but a few wounded fliers flitting like gnats around the larger beasts. There was nothing more they could do out here and Luke wasn't going to let anyone else die today. "Rogue Team, return to base."
A few voices called back the affirmative and Luke saw three speeders change direction toward the nearly buried hangar. He could only hope they had done enough.
Scorched bodies – either by blaster fire or saber swipe – formed a carpet at the base of the trench guiding the Imperial forces to the unguarded base entrance. Those rebels that had not fallen, fled, and now Vicenious took a moment to admire her success. Blizzard squadron continued to press forward, breaking apart the armored door and storming the base, but she lingered behind reveling in the battle-scented air. This was an imperial victory through and through. Exactly as she had predicted.
"Darth Vicenious, report your status." Veers' voice crackled through the com-link in her ear and the Sith grimaced, pulling away from the sound.
"I have claimed and am clearing the base."
"Very good. Darth Vader will arrive momentarily to apprehend the survivors."
She chuckled, turning her eyes skyward. "Just like a good dog."
The base rumbled viciously again, chunks of ice raining on the path. Han instinctively threw his arms over Leia's head, shielding her from the debris. The base was falling apart under the barrage from outside and the twisting maze of tunnels that had made up their home were becoming more and more treacherous. Already an avalanche of rock and snow blocked from the main transport bay, forcing the group – C3PO and R2D2 tottered along with them – to make their way to the farther hangar where the Falcon stood undergoing repair.
The pilot tried not to let his worry show as he pulled the princess along behind him. The Falcon had taken a serious beating on their last trek and for the past two weeks he had been damn near rebuilding every internal component just to get the hunk to fly again. Just what it would be capable of against a group of star destroyers while fleeing from a collapsing mine was something he refused to contemplate. The cargo ship was the only way off the planet now so it had to work.
"Come on, this way!"
Leia followed quickly behind him, wrenching her arm free as much for balance as it was for pride. She still had not found a place in her heart to accept him for not leaving at the first opening. Too many times she thought she could count on him only to have everything thrown back in her face. Childish as it may have been to fuss over that right now, Leia could not allow herself to be dragged around like a broken damsel. Han threw her a quick look of indignant confusion that quickly shifted into alarm.
Slipping into the nearly collapsed entryway of the passage, Han could just make out the stormtroopers hooded-white masks. His eyes met with the leader and a shout went up as the soldiers scrambled hurriedly, single file through the opening.
"Damnit." He whipped his head forward, glad to the see the hangar coming into view and raced forward. "Let's go! Let's go!"
As the door slid open, Chewbacca roared his greeting, obvious frustrated worry in his voice as he paced before the ship.
"It's not my fault!" Han shot back as Leia raced on board, the droids tottering behind at their best speed. "We had to take the long way!" He breathed a brief sigh as the door to the hangar slid close behind 3PO, but did not pause to savor the moment. "Is she working?"
The wookie let out a few barks, head tilted to the side as he gestured to a few areas of the ship.
Han deftly waved off the concerns, already sealing the docking ramp. "Fine, fine, but she'll fly, right?" Chewie gave a noncommittal nod-shrug. "Then let's get outta here." Han sped to his seat, cranking the engines to life. They wound and ground weakly before whirring to silence. Angrily, the pilot slammed his fist to the console and leapt to his feet, zooming about the ship flipping switches and manually rerouting power.
Squeezed out of the way, Leia watched, lips contorted into a bitter frown. On one hand, she didn't want to die just yet, but on the other watching him flail over his prized ship was just the right kind of karma. "Would it help if I got out and pushed?" she said smugly with only a small note of sincerity.
"It might." Han bit back, sparing only a glance in her direction before once again racing off to retry the engines. This time they roared to life, ship's interior glowing as the multi-lighted consoles illuminated with power.
Leia shook her head, speaking loudly over 3PO's incessant worried chatter. "This bucket of bolts is never going to get us past that blockade."
Chewbacca grunted gruffly and Han shot them both a look. "This baby's got a few surprises left in her." The pilot plopped into his seat, Chewbacca more gracefully joining at his side, and pressed the engines for more power just as the hangar rocked violently with an explosion. Leia sprung forward, watching as the smoldering hole that had been the door of the hangar spilled stormtroopers into the room. Some fired vainly on the hull but most focused immediately on setting up their canon. Worry spiked at the sight and she pedaled back into her seat, "Han…"
"I got 'em." He tapped a few more buttons and the Falcon fired a few shots into the white mass. Troopers yelped and screamed as they were flung away from the ship and Han shot Leia a smile. "See?"
Despite herself, the princess flashed a brief, relieved smile of her own. "Someday you're going to be wrong and I hope I'm there to see it."
Han scoffed. "So much for a thank you, right Chewie?"
The wookie only grunted in response, poised for take-off.
"Punch it!"
All at once the ship shot from the hangar, useless blaster and canon fire coloring their wake. Stars raced toward them as they climbed, the crumbling, smoking base quickly shrinking behind them.
To Be Continued….