Thank you again for your follows and reviews. Thank you for waiting this long - it only took 45,000 words for Luke and Vader to come face-to-face. P.S. in case you were wondering, I now have a handle on where this story is headed. Enjoy the ride and stay safe out there! -T.
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The first thing Leia noticed as she came to was the cold. Iron cold had numbed her nose and fingers. She could hardly feel her hands at all. A moment later, she realized why: Her hands were shackled awkwardly behind her back, numb, tingling.
The second was the splitting headache. The pain settled in belatedly, like a rock weighing down her skull. She forced her eyes open anyway, blinked quickly to focus in the gloom. She was sitting in a straight-backed chair, her head resting heavily on a splintered wooden table that smelled of woodstain. The smell made her want to retch.
Carefully she lifted her head, the movement twisting her arms painfully.
She was in a large, dimly-lit room. It was empty - duracrete floor, smoke-grimed windows - save for the table and chair where she was seated. Three other chairs were tucked neatly under the table. No one else was in the room.
Belatedly, she realized this was the room where she was supposed to meet Luke and Han, where she had planned to negotiate with Rieekan and Luke and convince her friend and the general that Luke should return, unharmed, to the Alliance.
Memory dawned on her, flashed images before her eyes: The smoke-filled corridor, Stormtroopers, Vader's heavy mechanical breathing.
Luke. Her stomach twisted in fear.
It was a trap. She had to warn him somehow.
She twisted to see the chair, wondering if she could somehow move it, but saw that heavy girders attached the chair to the rustic wooden table legs.
She heaved the chair against the girders anyway, wondering if she had the strength to move the table with it, the sound clattering too-loud in the cavernous silence.
The table didn't even budge.
She glanced wildly toward the nearest window. Through the grime, she could see the shadows of the outer stairway on the exterior of the building. The window was a mere two meters from her place in the chair. If she could somehow escape her bonds, she could smash the window, escape via the stairs.
She began to twist her hands in their shackles, working her wrist as far as possible through the metal cuffs until her hand was stuck fast.
Determinedly, she pulled her hand further on the shackles, ignoring the pain. She had to warn Luke about Vader.
Suddenly the entire room rumbled, the floor shuddering beneath her feet. Leia jumped in spite of herself, her hand losing the progress it had made through the metal shackles.
An explosion. It sounded like a mid-range thermal detonator, not very far distant.
Rieekan? She wondered to herself. Was he still free? Trying to get to her?
Leia took a deep breath, feeling a small ray of hope bubbling up. If Rieekan freed her, they would be able to warn Luke before Vader had a chance to capture him.
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The explosion had its desired effect.
The small building had been the perfect decoy. By the time it looked like it was on the verge of toppling over, black smoke pouring out of the shattered transparisteel windows, Han and Luke were on the roof on the building adjacent, where Leia had requested to meet them, flattened against an airshaft unit, surveying their handiwork, and noting with satisfaction that their plan was working so far.
A small platoon of stormtroopers poured out of the entrance below, any subterfuge over the fact that they were here apparently gone at this point. They surrounded the building, blasters drawn.
Luke and Han didn't stay to see any more.
Luke rose noiselessly to his feet, crossing half-crouched to the fire escape stair that began about eight feet below. He would belay Han down to the landing. It would be quieter than jumping, and safer, since the stairs didn't look that sturdy.
"Hurry," he hissed to Solo as the smuggler loped over to him. "While they're still distracted. Keep your head down and wait for my signal."
"Right, kid," Solo muttered. "Just watch out you don't get caught."
Luke laughed shortly, momentarily overconfident. It was starting to snow; small, pelting flakes driven forward by the erratic wind. They stung where they hit his face and hands. He turned against the wind.
Han sat down on the edge of the flat roof, holstered his blaster and dangled his legs over. Luke knew the smuggler didn't care for heights. "How lucky we are that all these stairs are here." He muttered, deadpan, unravelling a tow cable from his utility belt and tossing the other end to Luke.
"Quiet," Luke hissed, mooring the line to a metal bar jutting from the roof a few feet away. It seemed sturdy enough. As a precaution, he braced his weight against Han's as the smuggler set the line, stepped over the edge. The line held.
After a moment, the rope went slack, and Luke peered over the edge to see Solo crouched against the top landing of the stairs. The smuggler threw him a two-fingered salute, and Luke nodded before stepping back.
The fading daylight, such as it was, was beginning to cast everything in navy shadow - a feature that would hopefully keep Solo unnoticed by any passing stormtroopers down below.
Soundlessly, Luke stepped back to the air shaft ventilator, took a swift glance around, activated his lightsaber with a deafening hum and plunged the saber into the grating. He swiftly cut three sides of a square and deactivated the saber before its light might be spotted. Taking hold of the grating, he pulled, bending the metal just enough that he could slip underneath into the air shaft. The saber had illuminated the shaft enough that Luke could see the bottom, about four feet down. He dropped soundlessly.
Luke drew his small lumen, extended his arm to see into the dark. The shaft extended horizontally about twenty feet, tall enough that he could crawl through. He began to do so, breathing cautiously against the inches thick dust he was stirring up.
When he reached the end of the shaft, it turned sharply to the left. Keeping his shields carefully in place, Luke reached cautiously out with the Force. Vader's presence was near, but he couldn't pinpoint it if he was to stay shielded.
Below him was an empty room. Luke registered no life forms near him, so he drew his lightsaber and plunged it into the venting, through cables and - whoops - through a water pipe that promptly burst with a bang of released pressure, sending icy, rust-colored water exploding in Luke's face.
Luke jerked back, slashing quickly through the ceiling and jumping down to the duracrete floor below. His parka was drenched in the dirty water, still gushing now with less force from the ceiling. Luke shook the water from his hair, stripped off and discarded the wet parka, his lightsaber ready in his hand, deactivated. He could feel Vader's presence, pressing closer, almost suffocating now.
He tamped down his alarm, and stepped cautiously into the corridor.
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Rieekan was crouched in the dark of the stairwell, Danlin directly behind him. There was a window at the top of the stairs, but no exit. Two stories below them he again heard the repeated staccato of blaster fire.
They had gone up as far as they could. Now they either walked down to confront the unknown number of intruders...or they waited.
Rieekan chewed his lip. Every cell in his body screamed at him to get to the Princess and to do it quickly. But with their communications jammed, and no return of Derl or Lo'Dur, he had no way of knowing if they were dead or had walked into a trap.
He was no good to the Princess dead.
Suddenly, there was an ominous rumble, shaking the walls and sending a shower of dust from the duracrete ceiling down onto their heads.
"What was that?" Danlin hissed nervously. Rieekan shook his head and motioned for the other man to be quiet. He crept up the remaining stairs to the narrow window. It was roughly at shoulder level and crisscrossed with metal bars. Even if he did have a way of breaking the bars, he doubted he would be able to squeeze through the narrow opening, not to mention the problem of the sheer drop just past the ledge.
But he could see, seven stories below, smoke and flames erupting from the windows of a stout building near where the Princess was garrisoned. Rieekan swore softly.
Down below, he heard shouts. Then he saw white armour, blasters at the ready, stormtroopers filing from the princess's building.
Rieekan swore again.
How had the Empire known they were here?
The princess was clearly in danger. He thumbed his comlink again, to the sound of more static jamming, struck his fist against the rough brick wall. He had to get to her somehow.
A glance down below revealed several white-armoured troopers exiting their building, headed to the source of the explosion.
This was the distraction they needed, probably the best one they'd get.
Decision made, he turned to look down at Danlin. "Okay, he murmured quietly. "We're headed down and out. Look sharp."
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When the sound of the explosion rumbled through the floor, Darth Vader was standing alone in the corridor, his hand on the hilt of his deactivated lightsaber.
It was either Rebels or Skywalker setting off a thermal detonator, to what end, he had no idea. It hardly mattered, since it didn't interfere with his plans, here and now.
"Sir," a voice on his secure frequency clipped.
"What is it, commander?" Vader rumbled, turning to the window. There wasn't much to see from this vantage point.
"An explosion has destroyed the ice-packing building on the southwest quadrant. A team is going to investigate now."
The dark lord didn't reply as he shut off his comlink. He stayed focused on the matter at hand. His troops would investigate less important matters.
From behind the heavy door at his right, he heard another sound - a wooden chair scraping against the duracrete floor and a shout of frustration - indicating the princess was again conscious and in as good humor as ever.
There was a time when the headstrong young woman was at the top of the Empire's most-wanted list. Now, she was merely a tool to get him what he wanted, after which she was completely expendable; a thorn in his side.
Still, Leia Organa had been useful for something - a very valuable something. She had led him straight to Luke Skywalker.
The boy was shielding himself - well, in fact - but Vader could tell he was near, approaching. He could not resist the pull of his friends' presences, particularly if they were in danger. Vader smiled tightly. It was a weakness that would prove to be his undoing.
His son had become quite strong in the Force in a very short period of time. The dark lord was impressed in spite of himself. Luke was truly his father's son, and Vader looked forward to claiming him as his own. Very, very soon.
He had only to wait patiently.
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Daesz watched unmoving as the billow of thick black smoke bloomed into the gray sky, mixing with the low clouds. The snow was coming down in small flurries, pelting his exposed skin and filling the creases in his battle fatigues.
Daesz had seen the stormtroopers, but had detected no sign of Skywalker. He squinted in the late-day gloom, raised his macrobinocs slowly to his face. Was that movement on the roof of the building?
He brought the binocs into focus. Yes - two shadowy figures scurried to the far side of the roof. After a moment, one disappeared. The remaining one - was it Skywalker? - walked partway across the roof again.
There was a brilliant blue flash - a lightsaber. Definitely him.
Daesz untucked the sniper rifle from the cover of his flack jacket, adjusted the eyepiece, took aim.
Skywalker moved quickly. It was difficult for Daesz to get a fix on his target.
Then, without warning, the blue light of the lightsaber disappeared and so did its wielder.
With a controlled sigh, Daesz sat back, dropping his rifle to rest in his lap again. He would get another chance. He just had to be patient.
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Han made his way slowly down the fire escape steps, blaster in hand, moving carefully to avoid the creaking of metal that might give away his position to any passing stormtrooper.
All they would have to do was look up. He was a sitting pittin.
The building had eight floors - if he had counted right as they'd passed in the speeder earlier - and the room they were to meet Leia in was on the fifth.
Luke had been certain that she was still there, in that room, that she was now being held captive. Not knowing exactly where Vader was in relation to her, the kid hadn't wanted to rush in just yet. He felt that splitting up and drawing Vader's attention away from Leia was the best approach.
Fair enough. Except for the fact that Solo had a rotten feeling about this whole thing. Purposefully using oneself as Vader-bait didn't bode well for life expectancy.
Han reached the floor above Leia's. He paused, not moving any further. The transparisteel windows were coated with enough grime that the window itself was opaque. No lights shone from the room. Darkness was falling rapidly, but it was still possible that he might cast a shadow into the room and make himself an easy target for a trigger-happy stormtrooper.
So he crouched against the wall, to wait until the signal came from Luke that it was time to move.
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Luke stepped through the destroyed remains of the durasteel door on the fifth floor, cringing at the sight of Rebel and Imperial bodies littering the floor. This was the scene of the vision that had haunted him the last few days. Automatically, though he knew she was still alive, he scanned for Leia among the fallen.
She wasn't there.
He took a steadying breath, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous corridor. The door to the meeting room was in the corridor up ahead. Leia was there, he felt sure of it. He was nearly to the adjoining corridor He would get her free if it was the last thing he did.
Stretching out with the Force, he felt -
-Him-
Vader. In spite of himself, Luke froze for a moment, locked into place, an icy cold gripping his heart. There was no going around this. He hadn't wanted to face Vader, but he was not afraid to do so. He would rescue Leia at any cost, even if that included facing his -
His father.
Grimly, he stepped forward, lightsaber resting lightly, ready, in his right hand.
"The Force is with you, young Skywalker," a deep bass voice rumbled. In the distance, nearly at the end of the long corridor, an enormous shadowy figure stepped into view. Luke's heart crawled into his throat, pounding loud in his ears. "But you are not a Jedi yet."
Luke stepped forward, swallowed. "Let her go, Vader. It's me you want."
Darth Vader advanced to his son. "She is a wanted criminal. That carries the death sentence. Her fate is out of your hands."
Luke kept walking forward, resolutely, destiny marching him onward. He had reached the join in the corridors, mere feet from the door where Leia was imprisoned. "I don't want to fight you."
There was a strange hissing sound from the mask, like mocking laughter. Vader's lightsaber hummed to life with a snap-hiss. He moved it swiftly side to side, still stalking toward Luke. "It is strange," his voice sounded angry. "I never considered my son would turn out to be a coward."
Luke set his teeth, closing the gap. He would not be goaded into battle. "It is strange," he retorted, jaw tight. "I never considered my father would turn out to be the henchman to the galaxy's most evil despot."
Vader suddenly lunged forward, just as Luke's own lightsaber snapped to life. Luke hadn't planned to parry, however. As the crimson blade came down where Luke's head had been, he opened himself up to the Force, felt time slow. He dropped to one knee, rolled clear of the oncoming saber in the same moment he flung his own weapon through the door. He saw it, in his mind's eye, slice vertically through the durasteel door, sail through the air to the opposite end of the room, and slash a gaping hole through the window, the sound of shards of transparisteel exploding outward.
Leia shouted his name, but Luke was already calling the saber back to him in the corridor, launching into a parkour-style backflip to avoid another slashing thrust of the crimson saber. His weapon landed in his hands just as the red saber swung back in another attempt to decapitate him. Luke used his forward momentum to parry the blow, glaring white hot daggers at Vader, even as the dark lord strong-armed him into a faltering backstep.
"Get her out of here!" he screamed in Han's direction, not taking his eyes off Vader, chest heaving with the effort of his exertion. They both stood there, sabers crackling. Luke knew he didn't possess the brute strength to match Vader's physical power, which meant he was going to have to get clear of the corridor if he was going to survive this duel. A small fighting space could prove to be deadly.
He had no desire to involve Leia and Han in any way in this fight. He would not give the dark lord any more ammo to leverage against him. He had to lead Vader away and up towards the roof, so Han could get Leia down toward the speeder and escape to the Falcon.
"Her life is forfeit," Vader cut into Luke's thoughts, the force of his strength pushing Luke steadily back toward the wall. "You'd best worry about yourself."
"Stay out of my head!" Luke snapped, parrying the next backhanded strike from the hulking figure. He silently thanked Yoda for his daily morning lessons on footwork as he deftly stepped out of the way of the next blow.
The ceiling was not too low for a backflip, which is what Luke pulled next, putting a good ten feet between him and Vader's glowing saber.
With a roar of anger, Vader launched forward. Luke was nearly at the stairs now, metal slatted steps bolted to the wall, much the way the fire escape was fixed to the outside of the building.
In other words, they would not hold up long after a few deft slashes from a lightsaber, which meant Luke had about fifteen seconds to get as far up as he could and draw Vader away from Leia's escape.
Gritting his teeth, he leapt the steps by threes, made it to the next landing before the hum of the crimson saber, thrown from the landing below, grazed past his ear, slicing through a support strut to his left.
The stairs jerked with a mighty shriek under Luke's weight, but he powered forward anyway, catching his balance against the sudden shift of gravity.
Sixth floor. He was almost there. The corridor was in sight, just a few steps ahead.
The threatening hum of the lightsaber whipping past him again was overpowered by the screech of strained metal, and suddenly he was falling back.
Gritting his teeth, Luke reached out through the Force and somehow located the wall in his free-fall, bracing his feet against it and launching up.
It was a tremendous drain on his energy, and he could feel Vader pulling back on him. But fighting gravity and the dark lord's magnetic pull, suddenly he found himself scrabbling for purchase against the crumbling brick ledge of the sixth floor corridor floor, swinging his legs up to the edge.
The roar of frustration from the dark lord echoed cavernously in the stairwell, followed by the deafening boom of the heavy metal stairs screeching to a mangled heap below him.
Luke didn't stay to hear more. He scrambled to his feet on the dusty floor, ran to the nearest window. This side of the building looked out on the building he and Han had detonated, which was still pouring light gray smoke into the sky. Snow pelted the glass.
Luke knew he didn't have much time before Vader was on him again. He hoped Han and Leia were out and making their way as far as possible from here. His only plan was to play for time, and then escape… somehow.
Past the grime, Luke could make out the rooftop of another building, perhaps thirty feet distant. Its roof was lower than this one. With the Force, he could jump. He could make it to the other roof, he knew he could.
Behind him, the sound of a chime made him jump. The turbolift car. Luke glanced behind him just long enough to see the door start to open, the red glowing shaft of the lightsaber flooding the space. Vader had simply ridden the lift up.
Luke turned, slashed at the window, bursting shards of crystal transparisteel in a rough triangular hole. The hiss of Vader's breathing was suddenly overpowered by the sudden gust of wind and snow that rushed into the room.
Luke felt the dark lord rush at him, but he didn't have time to look back. He stepped up to the ledge, didn't look down.
He jumped, his feet pedalling wildly in the air, the bitter cold wind knifing through his still-damp tunic and hair. Then his feet hit the roof of the adjacent building, skidding slickly in the dusting of snow.
He barely had time to regain his feet, switch his saber from his left hand to his right and swing with all his might at the oncoming crimson blade, wielded by a very angry dark lord.
Because, of course, if Luke could jump thirty feet across a chasm, Vader could too.