Chapter 10: Bespin
The voices came again. The screams and terrified cries for help. For him. At times, they even came from him. Not the real him, not always. From that impossible face in that impossible mask from the shadow that had not been Vader. They came again and again, a haunting, hunting chorus that bled into his waking hours, flickering, even now, before his open eyes as he lie awake under the gentle clouds of Dagobah's atmosphere.
With them came fear and doubt – the very things Yoda and Ben had cautioned him to avoid; had his friends been captured while he turned his back? Were they dead now, ghosts like Ben, hating his survival? Would they even be safe if he was there? Was he really doing the right thing here? Training while a war still violently boiled and burned throughout the star systems? Was he being greedy?
There had been a day, only a few years back, when being a pilot in the rebellion was all he ever dreamed of. When flying out in the stars and being amongst people doing good was enough. Was it not enough to be Luke Skywalker, destroyer of the Death Star and hero to the rebellion? Did he really, truly need to also be Luke Skywalker, Jedi?
The Jedi were dead after all. A fairy tale that were wiped away by the Emperor. The rebellion still lived. The choice was obvious…wasn't it? Han had said it, didn't he? Mumbo jumbo didn't beat a good blaster.
Still, a Jedi had done what no blaster could: Ben stood toe-to-toe against Vader and maybe even would have won if not for a foolish farm boy shouting out distractions.
Guilt was becoming a rather familiar friend.
"Too often in your head, are you."
Luke started, nearly giving a yelp as he realized Yoda stood less than an arm's length away.
"If awake you are, train you should. Get stronger, hmm?"
"I was wondering – "
"Yes, wandering,"
"No, wonder-"
"Wandering in the Force, yes, lost. Afraid. Distracted." Yoda hobbled a step closer and gazed deeply into Luke's eyes. There was nothing there he did not already expect, but what he expected did not bring him relief. The mirror of the past lay in Luke's soul echoing the steps of a path the boy could not afford to take. His fear, his tension wound so deeply…already Yoda knew their time was drawing to a close. He wanted to fight it, sidestep this fate, but the Force was set firm.
With a heavy sigh, the Jedi master turned. "Breakfast first. Yes, you are a growing boy, need good food, you do."
xxxx
Luke followed Yoda for a bit while the little Jedi scavenged for the roots and goop and nameless things that made up their meals, before slipping away on his own, mind whirring too much to stay put.
The thought had been growing steadily in his mind since the dreams started and without him paying attention, it had taken root: he had to leave. Go to the city in the clouds – Bespin the Force told him - and find out what exactly his mind was trying to tell him.
The thought had taken root but the concept of acting on it left his limbs feeling like rubber. He had begged, literally begged on his hands and knees, for this chance and now he was going to throw it away…for nothing? No, his friends' lives weren't nothing; they were everything. He wouldn't be who he was or where he was without them. He owed them his life. The life of the last Jedi.
Luke heaved a sigh, dropping to the forest floor. He was torn. Not between decisions, but who he was. Once upon a time that would have been simple to answer. He was Luke Skywalker: orphan; future moisture farmer and pod racer.
Now? He was rebel pilot Red Leader; destroyer of the Death Star. Friend to Han Solo, smuggler turned reluctant hero, and Leia Organa, one of the last surviving Alderannians in the whole galaxy.
He was also Luke Skywalker, orphan son of a Jedi of Clone Wars fame; last of a mystical race; savior of humanity; righter of wrongs; bearer of hope…He crumpled under the heft of the growing list.
He had had time to plan to be Red Leader. Years of wishing, planning and scheming that, in the end, had nothing to do with how he got here, but had been preparation nonetheless. The reality of it sat well on him because of that preparation. He knew, then, who he wanted to be because wasn't that what his father would have wanted, too? For his son to follow in his footsteps as someone who fought for good?
Only his father was more than just a pilot in the old republic. His father was a Jedi. Luke had had far less time to get used to that. Every day since learning it had been full of harrowing escapes, blinding space battles, and heated strategy meetings. In the back of all that, he remembered the old lightsaber and his minimal lessons and his quiet ghost friend…he hadn't had time to think about becoming a Jedi and now was certainly not the time to do so.
He was a rebel first. He had to be. More lives were depending on him as Red Leader. Or at least, more tangible lives and that was all he could grasp onto. Being Luke Skywalker, last Jedi, was too nebulous, too grand for a simple farmer from the edge of the galaxy. He needed something – someone – to hold onto to keep him moving and right now those somethings were almost assuredly in mortal danger.
No matter what it meant to the Jedi, Luke had to go.
xxxx
Yoda knew panic; he'd lived too many years not to. He knew what it was to feel it in himself, in others, in the world. And right now, as the young Skywalker loaded his ship, the swamp was thick with it.
"You must complete the training!" Yoda tried again, emphatically stabbing at the ground with his walking stick. "There is much you do not know."
Luke shook his head again, the movement almost muscle memory. "I can't keep the visions out of my head." He caught Yoda's eye as he hefted another bag into the fighter's small storage area and sighed. "They're my friends. I've got to help them." Was that really too much to understand?
"You must not go!"
Apparently.
Luke shook his head and turned back to his work. "I have to, Master." He finally said, a note of desperate pleading in his voice. "Han and Leia will die if I don't."
"You don't know that."
Luke froze. Beside Yoda, a shimmering, barely translucent figure materialized from thin air. Ben watched him with the same steady gaze, in the same threadbare robe, with the same wise frown. He stood beside Yoda as comfortably as if he hadn't been cut down into air by Vader's blade. Luke's throat went thick with all the things he couldn't think to say in the old man's presence. It had been much easier to talk back to a voice.
"Even Yoda cannot see their fate."
Ben's words brought the boy back to the matter at hand and Luke felt the last thread of an amicable parting slipping through his fingers. If even Ben wasn't on his side, Luke wasn't sure what else he could do to convince Yoda that this was the right way. Still, he had to try.
"I know I can help them! I'm stronger now. I can feel the Force; use it!"
"But you cannot control it. This is a dangerous time for you, when you will be tempted by the dark side of the Force."
"I –"
"To Obi-Wan you listen," Yoda cut in. "The cave. Remember your failure at the cave!"
Luke felt ice on his skin at the mere memory of the strange cave. He wasn't sure how exactly his encounter was considered a failure when he had been the one to lop off fake Vader's head, but Yoda had been adamant; seeing his own reflection behind the Sith's mask was cause for concern and apparently, a failure.
"But I've learned so much since then," Luke pressed, speaking partly to himself and partly to his two masters. After a moment he added, "I promise to return and finish what I've begun. You have my word."
"By then it may be too late." Ben sighed. "It is you and your abilities the Emperor wants. That is why your friends are made to suffer."
"And that is why I have to go!"
"Luke, I don't want to lose you to the Emperor the way I lost Vader." Ben's soft, desperate voice turned the words thick and heavy, falling on Luke's shoulders like bricks. For a moment, just a moment, the boy considered bowing to their weight, giving in, and trusting that things would be better if he didn't go.
But it was only for a moment. "You won't," he said instead wishing he could give Ben a hug or comforting pat to make the pain in his eyes go away.
"Only a fully trained Jedi Knight with the Force as his ally will conquer Vader and his Emperor." Yoda replied. "Stopped they must be. On this all depends. But, if you end your training now, if you choose the quick and easy path, as Vader did, you will become an agent of evil."
"Have patience." Ben added.
"And sacrifice Han and Leia?"
"If honor what they fight for, you do…yes!"
Luke scoffed, disbelief. These were the words of the good guys? It could be years before Yoda considered him ready to face Vader and the Emperor and by then not only would Han, Leia, and Chewie be dead, but the rest of the alliance would be as well. No. This wasn't a time for patience and planning. He needed to act.
Ben sighed again, and Luke knew somehow the old man had realized his decision. "If you choose to face Vader, you will do it alone. I cannot interfere."
Luke nodded, and stepped onto the X-wing's ladder. "I understand." Scaling the few rungs, he plopped into the pilot's seat. "R2, fire up the converters."
The droid whistled and the engine hummed to life.
"Luke, don't give in to hate – that leads to the dark side."
"Strong is Vader," Yoda added, dejection lacing the edging of his words. "Mind what you have learned. Save you it can."
"I will. And I'll return. I promise." He met their eyes, and again, felt the heavy weight of their hopes dashing crash into him. Thank you died in his throat. It only seemed mocking to say it now.
R2, sensing perhaps that there was no more to say, launched into the final steps of take-off preparation and sealed the cockpit as the fighter took off in a roar.
The room hummed with anticipation.
Beyond the door, in the pale curving hallways, his prey drew ever closer.
Vader breathed in the scent of their unsuspecting calm, impressed that even Lando maintained an unaffected air as he led them to be ensnared. The administrator chattered easily about politics and equipment, his voice steady even as they rounded a final corner and the dining room door loomed at the end of the hall.
At his side, uninvited but present nonetheless, Vicenious watched him. She leaned forward against the decadently dressed dinner table, her chin resting in her palm and a smirk in her eyes. The golden orbs swirled with a dozen comments she wisely restrained, but Vader did not need to hear them to know what she thought, did not need to see her lips parted in amusement beneath her mask to know she was eager to pounce if he failed.
Except, this time, he would not fail. In one carefully orchestrated move he would erase the rebellion and capture Skywalker, removing both threats once and for all. And when that was done, when the boy was theirs and the Jedi back to ash, things would change.
Vicenious prickled as his thoughts turned, small thorns probing him. Not in anger or concern, just a warning, a reminder that she was there and loyal and would bite like a good dog if he turned on his master.
She chuckled as he prickled back but let his thoughts slip away, regardless. The voices were clearer now, just beyond the door.
xxxx
"Aren't you afraid the Empire's going to find out about this little operation and shut you down?"
It was a good thing Lando had such an impressive poker face because the words came like a white-hot dagger through his throat. At this point, he mused, such a trivial fear would have been welcomed. His eyes couldn't meet the door as it drew closer, and instead they inadvertently sought out the edges of Stormtrooper armor sidled away in an open access hall. A pair of skull-like eyes watched him pass.
"There's always a danger looming," he forced himself to answer. How long had been quiet? "Like a shadow over everything we've built here." He remembered the woman, the invisible grip. His footsteps shortened a fraction, but they were too close now. The door was just within reach, the access panel waiting for his touch.
"But things have developed that will ensure security." He could change his mind right now. Last chance. Go to another room, leave Vader sitting and waiting and deal with that problem when it arose.
A cold warning shot through him. Eyes like fire branded to in the inside of his lids and his hand was moving before he commanded it.
"I've just made a deal that will keep the Empire out of here forever." The words were rushed, forced beyond his lips before he had a chance to chew them away. And then the door was open, and he knew what awaited, though he couldn't bring himself to look.
Han shoved the princess behind him and drew his weapon. Vader was barely to his feet before the blaster screamed out three deadly shots. They careened wildly to the walls, batted away with a single gloved hand, before the other Forced the weapon across the room, out of its owner's hand. It was over in less than ten seconds, but Lando knew those brief moments had created waves that would extend out endlessly.
He forced himself to raise his eyes, scraped them over Han's frozen, shocked back, and into the room. Vader stood, a void in the white room, waiting. The bounty hunter hung just behind him, trigger finger itchy on his blaster and, at the table, lounging, almost undisturbed by it all, sat the lady Darth. Even without seeing them, he felt those bright eyes staring directly at him.
"We would be honored if you would join us." Vader's baritone cut through the silence, a suggestion without choice. Behind the small group, the Stormtroopers made themselves known, crowding the only exit.
Only now, as the reality sank heavily into them, did Han, Leia, and Chewbacca look to Lando. Hatred, betrayal, heartbreak pressed him further into the wall, cornered. He reached for his faltering pride.
"I'm sorry," Lando said stiffly, "I had no choice. They arrived right before you did."
All the wrong words. All the wrong sentiments. At that moment, he wasn't sure who Han wanted to kill more – him or Vader.
After a moment, Han tore his gaze away and stepped into the room, the door hissing shut behind them.
xxxx
It was staring at her.
The mask was faceless, with nothing but thin slits where eyes would be, and even this close – sitting directly across from it - she couldn't see its eyes, but somehow Leia knew, the other Darth was staring at her. Had been since they walked in.
It was staring only at her.
The fact unnerved the princess more than she liked to admit, but the eye-less gaze felt penetrating and intrusive as though she lay bare under it. She wished at least one of their captors wasn't wearing a mask. She still shook off nightmares from time to time about Vader's looming over her in the cell.
Her heart jumped at the memory.
The faceless one seemed to lean forward microscopically.
Leia clamped down on the fear. Just breathe; think.
It had already been almost 15 minutes of this; of silence and tension that no blade or blaster could have penetrated. The beautiful spread laid out before them - fowl, bread, fruits, and herbs – lay untouched, save for the jug of wine to which Han had made himself quite familiar.
To her right, the smuggler tipped back the second half of his fourth cup, eyes barely leaving Lando who had the unfortunate position of being directly across from Han. Leia spared him a momentary glance, something between annoyance and concern flitting through her eyes, before once again turning her attention to the table. Chewbacca sat at the end, his back to the door, wide limbs creating a barricade, and Vader sat at the head, the bounty hunter still flanked at his back left.
Her mind had already run through a thousand possibilities of what could happen next – perhaps the food was poisoned to lull them into a trance just before droids to torment them burst from the walls – but so far nothing happened.
She was patient, diplomacy called for it, but even for her this was becoming unbearable.
"Is anybody gonna tell us what exactly this is supposed to be?"
Five glasses then, Leia thought with a sigh. It was five glasses before Han could no longer hold his tongue. His voice was sharp but quiet, all things considered.
"Yes, I was curious about that myself," Leia added after a moment. There was no purpose in letting this thing drag out any longer and it was clear no one else had any intention of speaking. Besides, it was better her than Han who tried to tip toe through this more the delicate situation.
She slid to the edge of her chair, back straight, and crossed her hands on the table. She leveled her eyes with Vader's mask and let the comfortable shawl of Senator cover her other concerns.
"I would think you, of all present, would recognize a negotiation table, Princess."
"A negotiation? What exactly for?"
"Information. Depending on the value of what you provide me, I can guarantee your survival, and the painless absorption of your fleet."
Despite herself, Leia scoffed. "That's not a negotiation, that's an ultimatum."
"A difference of opinion."
"I-"
"Leia, it's the best deal you're gonna get," Lando cut in, whispering across the table. "If you give them what they want, he agreed, we all get to walk out of here and see another day."
"Good to know a few more sunrises is all it takes to sell out the whole galaxy."
"Han, I had no choice."
The pirate scoffed and leaned forward, leveling Lando with an acidic glare. "You know, you keep saying that, but I think you had plenty of choices. You just chose you over us." If Lando had any response, Han did not wait to hear it. Turning to their captor he said, "Whatever it is you're after from us, you should know you're not gonna get it."
"If you choose not to cooperate here, I have other ways of being more persuasive."
"Do your worst, pal."
"Han!" There was a shrill in Leia's voice.
Vader stood, and the doors whooshed open to the flood of troopers beyond. "Very well. Take them."
"Wait!" Gloved hands and masked faces swarmed the trio. Chewbaccas's roars were silenced by stunners and Han and Leia twisted in their grasps.
"You promised you would not hurt them!"
"Oh yeah, buddy," Han answered as the troopers dragged them out. "The Empire's real good about not doing that."
"Vader!"
"I will ensure the proper conditions of our arrangement are met. Your part in this is over, Calrissian."
To call them memories would have given them too much credit. They were shadows, at best, dredged up from deep corners of the mind of whatever Vicenious used to be. But her decree of their insignificance didn't make them any easier to ignore. Like a photobook flipped by too quickly for the mind to recognize what they eye has seen, she was plagued by things too vague to understand. If that had been all, she would be fine.
But it was the residue of those memories - not memories - that posed a problem.
Whatever this was, it was leaving her with feelings.
A swirling mess of indescribable feelings settled in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't heartless. She had had feelings before. Anger, disappointment, amusement, desire; even happiness.
But this ball was uncontrollable and inconsolable. Tendrils of it snapped at her at random times and her already tenuous grasp on self-control suffered under the onslaught. She wanted answers, a solution to make them go away. Out of habit, her feet carried her toward the communications center. As she entered, the two troopers there, handling the day-to-day transmissions, quickly rose and slipped from the room.
With a few quick taps on the console, the transmission request was sent and Vicenious fell into a kneel awaiting a response.
The sweep of Sidious' power was as a warm blanket. Vicenious sank into the familiar sensation, letting it center her. She borrowed the lifeline of his strength and stuffed a three-layer steel door over the feelings.
Sidious felt the grab, felt the way his apprentice clung to his invisible hand like buoy in the storm of her own making. He watched her, for a moment, silent, then, without warning, dove headfirst into the storm. The feelings roiled against him, flinging into all parts of her. Her eyes watered, hands curled into fists, she felt her legs ache to run...
The feelings whipped at her mind and the not-memories flashed and whispered and screamed for the first time in daylight.
And then they were quiet, and Sidious had withdrawn and Vicenious shuddered in a ball on the floor.
"Oh, my child…" His voice was grave and paternal, strangled even, as though he too struggled with the feelings he sampled in Vicenious mind. Slowly, Sidious sank into a chair behind him and removed his hood, leveling her with a tired and worried gaze.
Vicenious wanted to crumble at the look. Shame and fear and disappointment melding with the other nameless feelings bowed her head in a deep, rare expression of disgrace and apology.
Sidious sighed. "I had hoped your past would not haunt you so…"
She glanced up, cautiously, drawing thin hope from the worry in his voice. Not blame, not anger… Her brow furrowed and she waited for her master to continue.
"There are things I thought it better you forget. Things that could threaten the strength you now possess…but it seems I underestimated the impact they had on you." He sighed again as though the words were deep mud, each one sucking him down and attempting to hold him in place.
Silence stretched between them as Sidious' mind worked around the new quandary his apprentice presented him. As always, he had not lied when he spoke of worry over her past resurfacing. The power he used to break her, empty her, mold her, and rebuild her was strong – stronger than most any other power in in the universe – but it was not infallible, and he wasn't entirely sure where the weak points lie. He could pull her back now, pull her away from the trigger and patch the cracks, but if she was broken, she would not be worth keeping.
His thin, cracked lips curved into a small grin.
"Now is not the time to think on such things," he finally said. "Complete your mission on Bespin and bring the rebels under heel. When you return, I will tell all you need to know."
Vicenious could not help but frown in slight confusion. It was not like Sidious to so easily disregard weakness, and the turbulent, traitorous roiling in her chest certainly felt like weakness.
If Sidious knew of her confusion, he did not show it. He pressed on, voice firm. "It is time Cloud City come under Imperial control. Leave Vader to capture Skywalker; you will take control of the city. With such freedoms as we have so generously allowed, I do not doubt Administrator Calrission has taken more than miners under his wing. Kill any who resist and let us be done with this rebellion."
If Vicenious had anything to add, she wasn't given the chance. The transmission snapped off leaving her once again with her own riotous feelings.
But already, given some thread of understanding, she found them slipping bit by bit behind her purpose. She pulled herself to her feet, each movement bringing with it her own twisted sense of calm. By the time she reached the lift, half a garrison of troopers trailing behind her, all echoes of the feelings were tightly clamped under the promise of blood.
The blisters that marred his right cheek, neck, collarbone, and shoulder still sizzled and bubbled even as the little medical droid worked yet again to repair the damaged cells. Over and over the little bot sprayed its burning medicine onto the wounds then layered over them a healing salve and skin-stitches that erased the marks of Vader's torment.
But not the pain. God, why not the pain?
Han trembled as much as the straps restraining him prone on the rack would allow and swallowed inconsistent, large gaping breaths, biting back the tears welling in his eyes.
Eight times…eight times he'd been lowered onto and healed from the red-hot pins, each time worsened as the shock from the previous encounter still scraped his nerves raw. He had tried, on the third time, to at least turn his face the other way, but the stormtrooper torturer just burned his entire face that time. Feeling his eyes on the edge of boiling as needles jabbed into the translucent eyelid flesh had been enough to keep him still for all the others.
"J-just tell m-me what y-you wanna know…" He stuttered, glancing sidelong at the dark lord. From the corner, like a statue, Vader only watched the proceedings. He did not speak, did not interfere, just watched and waited.
Han bit back the please that wrestled for release on his tongue. He still had enough pride not to beg but it was minimal and close to failing.
The droid whistled and whirred as the final marks were neatly healed, hiding the truth of his torment. Han's heart leapt into his throat and the trembling turned into full-blown shudders as panic swept over him. Not again…he wasn't ready…
Suddenly, Vader jerked forward, as though he had only just come to life and turned his face toward the wall. The room paused, waiting for what drew his attention, and for a few heart-clenching moments, only the sound of his breathing filled the air. Then, all at once, having made up his mind about something, he turned and swept toward the exit. "That is sufficient," he said, directing the order to no particular trooper. "Return him to the cell and prepare for transport."
The doors 'whooshed' closed behind him but for a beat or two, no one in the room moved. The troopers glanced at each other, questioning looks strong enough to pierce their stoic masks, and on the rack, Han held his breath that this was some new form of torment. That hope dashed would be the final straw to undo him. But the seconds ticked by as the troopers eventually released his limbs and body, actually catching him as he slumped from the tray. And still Vader, did not return.
They half dragged, half carried him down the halls, a buzzing of imperial soldiers replacing the city's citizens, but no black mask waited around the corner. Around any corner. And before he realized it, they were in the cellblock, and he could have cried with relief. Instead, gathering the dregs of his pride, he gave the trooper to his right his signature lop-sided grin and said, "Maybe you take a turn next time, huh?"
The heavy cell door slid upward, beyond, a circular grey room, windowless and seatless, with only a hazy pale light barricaded behind a crisscross of bars sending splashing streaks of illuminance over the floor. It was a familiar set up – did all jailors use the same designer or something? - and the growl of a wookiee in the shadows sent dejavu chills down his spine.
Shoved, unceremoniously, into the room, door crashing shut even before he hit the floor, Han was grateful for the furry arms that stabilized him. "Glad you're on my side buddy…" he muttered, patting the wookiee as Chewbacca fussed over him like an overprotective mother. His growls and barks formed clipped, hurried sentences and Han, happy for the positive attention, could only shake his head as his brain struggled to keep up with fractured shyriiwook.
"I feel terrible…" he said, partly as a response, and partly as gentle plea to please shut up. Everything hurt, his mind was a fog, and he still felt the traces of panic-induced adrenaline coursing through his veins. He didn't even bother to resist as Chewie lay him on an all too similar metal platform that emerged from the wall.
Barely a second later, the door slid open again and he cursed his own weakness that his entire body tensed in response. But Chewie only mewled a concerned welcome and then Leia's face appeared above him, eyes round with pain and sadness. She sank to the floor beside him, one hand, gently brushing back his sweat-soaked hair.
"Why are they doing this…?" She asked softly, a question more for the universe to answer than anyone in the room.
Still, Han shook his head as much as he could and shrugged with a wince. "They never even asked me any questions…"
The door slid open again and this time the tension was quickly flooded by firey anger as Leia briskly whispered 'Lando'. Despite every nerve in his body protesting, the pirate sat up, a glare that could raze a man to the ground pinned on the caped figure.
"Get out of here, Lando-"
"Shut up and listen!"
The audacity of the order, more than the words, caught the rebels' tongues allowing Lando to plow forward.
"Vader has agreed to turn Leia and Chewie over to me-"
"To you?"
"They'll have to stay here, but at least they'll be safe."
"What about Han?" Leia asked.
Lando paused, grimaced, and let the words rush out all in one breath. "Vader's giving him to the bounty hunter."
Leia scoffed. There it was. The thunder as the other shoe fell. "Vader wants us all dead."
"He doesn't care about you! He's after someone named Skywalker."
"Luke?!"
Lando cringed at the recognition in their eyes. He had held some thin hope that they didn't directly know the name. That maybe this Skywalker was a high ranking official, faceless, but important. The familiarity with which Han named him, dashed that ideal. It made Lando's next words feel like cement in his mouth. "Vader has set a trap for him…and he's on his way."
"Perfect," Han growled out, pushing himself from Leia's hold and hauling himself to his feet. "You fixed us all pretty good, didn't you? My friend!" In one sudden move, with all the strength literally left in his frame, Han swung his right arm in a vicious hook, knocking Lando to the ground and stumbling down with him as his body gave out.
Lando scrambled away and to his feet. The guards brandished clubs and at least one landed a solid thwack against Han's back.
"Enough!"
The guards froze, eyes not leaving the smuggler. "I've done all I can," Lando said, the barest tinge of remorse in his tone. "I'm sorry I couldn't do better, but I have my own problems."
Chewie snarled and Han just scoffed. "Yeah, you're a real hero."
Up here, in the 'city' portion of Cloud City, beneath the open sky, the sea of pristine white troopers lined up behind Vicenious looked like a plush cloud dropped to the surface, or more accurately, a mist ready to swallow them whole.
At their head, flanked by the individual platoon commanders, Vicenious stood in full armor, cloak whipping in the wind. Already, there was panic in the air and several people had not-so-discreetly turned tail on their arrival. Rumors of the takeover below were made true by the Imperial presence.
Vicenious turned to the captain at her left. "Bring it."
Almost instantly a small pad appeared and was handed to the captain who knelt and placed it on the ground before the Sith. With a few taps, it spread wide into a circle just large enough for Vicenious to stand in the center. Activated by her step, the circle came to life and a series of lights scanned over her frame. Then, from somewhere behind her, a handful of small droids launched into the air and spread over the city. They turned, faced each other, and in unison their cameras flicked on creating a towering image of Vicenious from the waist up that looked down on the city.
A ripple of gasps ran through the streets and those who had pretended not to know, notice, or care about the enemy on their doorstep were forced to look up at the masked figure above them.
"Citizens of Cloud City," Vicenious' voice echoed through the projection, booming so that even those indoors could hear her clearly. "By order of the Emperor and the Imperial Court, Cloud City and all independent operations are hereby under Imperial control."
Another ripple of anger, fear, and disbelief; Vicenious soaked in the wave with a small smile.
"While we are happy to welcome such an industrious people into the peace and safety the Empire provides," she purred with her best approximation of benevolence, "there are some… troublesome …matters to take care of first."
She waved her hand forward and the troopers marched, spilling into the street and alleyways like ghosts. Over the startled shrieks of the populace, Vicenious continued. "Hidden amongst you honest workers and joyful patrons are members of the terrorist rebellion! Several of their leaders have already been apprehended in the levels below, but make no mistake, even one rebel rat can spread danger and lies and rot a city from the inside out." She spread her arms wide, voice dripping with hunger. "We will find them, I promise you this, but you, my dear citizens, can now prove your loyalty, your honesty, by helping. If you know, come forth! If you don't…" and here her voice dropped to a lethal whisper, "if you don't…stay out of our way." She stepped from the platform and the holograph flickered off as, already, blaster fire and smoke rang clear in its absence.
"Oh, they're fighting back." Her saber hummed to life and her eyes glittered. "Good."
The overlay of white walls, white floors, white ceilings, and white stormtroopers would have been enough to disorient a person, had that person not grown up surrounded by the blinding endless monotony of a desert. Luke had an evolutionary knack at finding the small differences in an otherwise uniform landscape – even in an unfamiliar environment – such that even as he crept his way silently about the lower levels of the Cloud City interior, he did not find himself turned around or lost.
Which was good because his heart hammered as the Force screamed around him – a warning and loss all wrapped up in a single, steady blood-curdling wail – and his confidence waned as he recognized that he had not really been prepared for what he could be walking into.
Were Leia, Han and Chewie still alive? He could not help the gruesome images that flashed in his mind.
Behind him, R2 whistled a barely audible whimper, rocking as close to the boy as possible.
"It's alright." Luke reached back distractedly and tapped the droids dome head. "We'll find them…"
He peeked around the corner he hid against, verifying the clear coast and quickly darted across the narrow hallway and into the mechanics' lift.
R2 slipped in beside him and at a quick gesture from Luke, hooked into the console. The little beeps and whirs as R2 processed the information he received seemed like sirens in the otherwise silent bowels of the city and Luke flinched at each one, eyes nervously darting around.
Finally, the doors slipped closed, and the lift started moving.
"Great job, buddy. Where are we headed?"
In response, the number "8" illuminated on the console, a few dozen floors higher than they started, followed by "residential level".
"Seems a good place to start…"
To Be Continued….