Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd., itself property of The Walt Disney Company. I make no lucrative nor commercial use of my writings in relationship with the Star Wars license.

Unknown to the pilots, deeper in the bowels of the ship, was a chamber whose walls were white and spotless. Against these harsh colours, the lights were dim and warm, designed to allow damaged eye tissues to see without hurting. A variety of mechanical devices hung from the ceiling, waiting to be of use. The slumbering droid and the various supplies made the spherical room look more like a small sick bay than the space of rest and concentration it was.

In the black chair in the centre of the pod sat Darth Vader, immersed in deep thought with a datapad in his hand, impervious to the stifling sterility of the environment. The oxygen-enriched air brushing the scarred skin on his face provided a small comfort from the constant pain of his condition, and he enjoyed the cold colours the world bore without the red-tinted veil of his mask. As such, he always retreated here when he had something to ponder or to meditate upon.

He glanced down again at the report he had been reading. It was the file of his squadron's newest recruit, arrived aboard the ship, it seemed, barely a few days ago.

DV-61-5. Luke Lars. Birthday: 23-5, Year One. Born on the first day of the Empire, he hailed from Tatooine, and his guardians were modest moisture farmers. He had been accepted into the Imperial Naval Academy on Prefsbelt IV soon after turning fifteen, the lowest age for enrolment. Next to his personal information, the holo of a blond young man displayed a nervous yet bright smile, piercing blue eyes standing out against his tanned skin.

He stared at the picture, recalling the brief times he had seen the youthful features in the flesh.

At first glance, he was nothing out of the ordinary. It was pure chance he had been stationed on his flagship. The officer in charge of his posting had a history of sending cadets he didn't appreciate to Devastator, knowing how demanding and dangerous such a posting was to those without experience. More than once, Vader had needed to get rid of mere children whose overconfidence was rivalled only by their incompetence. Had the man not enjoyed the Emperor's favour, he would have made sure this odious practice came to a halt a long time ago.

But this boy was different. He had something special about him, something he couldn't place.

Vader skimmed through his profile again. His grades were honourable, he had obtained various commendations by his instructors. What really stood out, however, was his scores in battle simulations. The numbers of medals and awards he had won was well above average, proof of a skill and intuition usually found in much more seasoned people, and he had been the first of his class by far.

He scrolled to the next page and threw a glance at his recent simulation records. They were probably the only existing ones, given how recently he had started service, and yet they were illuminating. All of them showed a gifted pilot, perfectly in tune with his craft. He still needed to improve his coordination with others, but he moved with the ease and agility of someone who had been flying his whole life.

Such reflexes were abnormal. Almost as if he knew in advance what he would encounter.

Vader remembered the subtle undercurrents in the Force he had felt lately, which moved around the boy in a peculiar manner. There was something about him...

He came back to the beginning of the file, found his birth certificate and the result of his blood test. By decree of the Emperor, all children had to be subjected to it before they reached their second birthday. It was a clever way to track newborns, and detect any Force-sensitive children. But the boy's midichlorians count scored three thousand and two hundred per cell. It was slightly above average, but still nowhere near enough for him to be able to feel the Force, much less use it. The test was flawless, with all necessary details present and coinciding, every formality followed.

And yet he couldn't have imagined that resonance...

He closed his eyes and reached out. The whispering swirls of the dark side of the Force billowed around him in response to his questions. He tried to latch onto the boy's characteristic presence, but in vain. His brightness, shimmering and elusive, mingled in the flickering ocean of the thousand of lives present aboard the ship. Vader couldn't follow it.

He came from Tatooine. Fate was persistent, Vader mused, in throwing this accursed planet in his path. As a matter of fact, he could better than most locate the boy's farm on its surface with the meagre information of the document. It lay on the outskirts of Anchorhead, near the Jundland Wastes and the border of the Dune Sea. Images of the endless desert formed in his mind, ruthless and unyielding, yet familiar.

Mechanical hands tightened into fists as he remembered the last time he had visited his homeworld. Fours years ago, rumours and alleged sightings of a Jedi had led him to discover the hiding place of his former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The man had not aged well, his hair white and his skin withered both by the years and the unrelenting heat of the twin suns. They had not fought for long, so weakened had he been, as well as lacking part of his sanity. Vader had found but little satisfaction when he ran his blade through the man who had crippled him and left him for dead. The sight of his empty robes falling on the ground had only filled him with a hollow sense of loss.

A new thought took hold of his mind, overcoming the frustration that came with the memories. Could this boy have been Obi-Wan's apprentice? The old man would have been devious enough to falsify his test results without any trouble. And the both of them had lived close to each other...

For a moment, he let himself entertain the idea. How fitting a revenge, to take the boy for himself and turn him against his previous teacher, the way Obi-Wan had made sure his own wife betrayed him. It would be all too easy, stationed under his command as he was, at his mercy, to break his will and rip all he held dear from him, just like he had lost everything, so long ago...

Parched lips painfully pursed as unwelcome memories washed over him. Vengeance was useless. Striking down Kenobi had achieved nothing. Images of her soft features still pursued him, her shining eyes, her little nose, her playful smile and rich dark brown curls he had, in spite of his best efforts, never truly forgotten.

He had killed her. If only he had been stronger, she would still be there, laughing and happy, raising their child in peace. He had been so delighted back then to learn he was going to be a father, before it all turned into ashes, before joy faded into grief and immeasurable loss.

For a moment, among the ever similar days running past without taste or flavour, he stopped to wonder what their lives would have been, had the man who had called himself his friend not taken her from him, had his anger not overwhelmed him at the worst moment. Their little one would already be eighteen now, growing out of adolescence and discovering adult life...

No, he thought in anger, berating himself for his moment of abandon. No. Remorse and regrets were pointless, as was longing for an existence that would never come to pass. Such things belonged to the past, back in the life of a weaker, foolish man.

A flare of resentment struck him as his eyes fell down on the young and smiling picture of the file. It didn't make sense. The boy lacked the distinctive strength a trainee usually possessed in the Force. Beside that, there was no reason for an apprentice to grow up a few miles away from Obi-Wan's house instead of with him. Had it been the case, he was certain he would have found the two together, fighting alongside each other. And why would he want to serve the Empire that had slain his mentor? No, that couldn't be.

There was no telling what had attracted his attention to the boy, he concluded while turning off the datapad. He would keep an eye on him and see if more arose from it. Time would reveal the answers he sought.

He waited for the mask and helmet to close down on his face again before rising up and exiting the pod.

.

The stars, countless burning points puncturing the cold blackness of space, endlessly spinning around him. G-forces twisted and pulled on him, his breath catching in the effort, his hands clutched on the controls. He grit his teeth as a laser beam missed him by a hair, thanks to a last-second recovery.

Trust your instincts.

He jerked into a loop to try and avoid the Rebel X-Wing pursuing him. Meanwhile, he still kept his mind open to signs of the other four he knew were somewhere out there.

"Got him, Five," he heard his partner say with great relief.

A few seconds later, his assailant blew up in a thousand fiery shards. Luke released the breath he'd been holding. He bit back a thanks in order not to cloud the transmissions, and focused on the other fighters around them.

Keep your attention on your surroundings at all times. The enemy can come from anywhere.

He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, needing the relaxation and insight it brought him. He knew this was a dangerous habit, and he should rid himself of it as soon as he could. But up until now, he had been unable to, despite all his attempts. It seemed to give him a presence he had never managed to achieve any other way.

Aware of the movements of Vil and Dark Curse around him, he turned to go after one of the remaining enemy fighters. He paid extra attention to stay in a good position in relation to them. It was a delicate balance, to keep your freedom of movement while staying in formation. He hadn't completely managed it yet, and still had a tendency to think too much on his own.

One of the fighters came back in his line of vision, heading for one of his partners. Immediately, Luke was on its tail, determined not to lose this opportunity.

"Six, there's one after you, I'm on it," he said.

He barely heard the other's acknowledgement. His entire attention was focused at the small cross-shaped fighter in front of him. It was good, Luke thought through clenched teeth. The ship kept moving in front of him, evading all his manoeuvres, and Luke couldn't get a lock on it. He pushed on the throttle, tried different angles. His efforts became more and more daring as the enemy kept escaping him.

A warning on his scopes and a shot of fire he narrowly to avoided made him utter a curse. He'd been so taken in his chase he'd failed to notice the two other X-Wings that had taken him as quarry. He pulled up out of their line of fire, abandoning his own pursuit to evade them. They followed suit, far too close for comfort, keeping him on a tight defensive. He tried various figures to get away, but one of them was always there, forcing him to move yet again away from them.

He let out another Huttese expletive under his breath, his heartbeat quickening. Nothing he did managed to shake them. They were too well tuned together, working in pair to bring him to a place where he would no longer be able to escape. And it was efficient. He knew he couldn't keep up that rhythm for long. He could feel his control slip away, more and more close calls brushing at his defence.

His head was spinning, sweat trickling down his back. He hardly even saw what he was doing. The world was moving too fast. He could only rely on his reflexes, firing every chance he had to get out of the impossible situation. If only I could take down one of them... just one of them...

A red beam made him jerk on his right, propelling him just in front of the other fighter, a perfect target. No –

He felt the shot coming before he even saw it, before he could do anything to dodge it. A scream rose from his throat as his surroundings lit up in a blinding light, then everything went black.

Luke took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He unclasped his shaking hands from the controls and forced himself to relax, staring blankly at the score on the screen. That had been one of his most intense sessions yet. He usually had better control, but his opponents had been particularly vicious this time. He allowed himself another minute to get a grasp on his composure, then exited the small cockpit.

Mauler was standing a bit further, looking at an overview of what Vil and Dark Curse were doing, still in their own sims. Luke joined him without a word, looking at the small blue and red dots on the hologram. Soon enough they destroyed another one, before being taken down one after the other.

Mauler waited for both pilots to scramble out of their respective sims, looking as dismayed as Luke felt, before he addressed them all.

"Congratulations, boys," he told them. "You managed to bring down a good amount of enemy fighters despite being vastly outnumbered."

"Thanks, Mauler, that makes us feel a little bit better about getting trashed by the bots," Vil replied. "What was even that program?!"

"Template based on records of the battle of Kuat, with enemy ships fitting the profile we established of the new Incom starfighters stolen from us by the Rebels," Mauler answered.

Vil raised his eyebrows and emitted a low whistle.

"Now how about getting down to business?" Mauler went on, cutting off Vil before he could utter the comment he visibly longed to make.

"We were doing well at the beginning, then one of the enemy ships made a movement we were not expecting and broke our formation," Dark Curse's deep voice provided. "We struggled to regain it, which they exploited."

Mauler nodded, pointing a remote at the hologram to play out that sequence of the simulation again.

"Yes. See how from about that point your formation weakened? Immediately two of them seized the chance and dove into the flaw."

"We tried to regain some coordination afterwards, but it was too late," Vil said. The three-dimensional image illustrated his words. The three blue dots tried to converge again, but they were kept separated by the red points moving between them.

"Maybe we could have managed it there, look," Luke said, pointing out a particular area on the holo. Mauler paused the recording. "We had a window of something like two seconds we could have used to rally. They were still outnumbering us but at least we could have watched each other's backs to get through to them."

"We would have needed to be perfectly in tune with one another to spot that opportunity," Dark Curse said. "I doubt it would have been possible, but that is something we can concentrate on more in the future, anyway."

Luke nodded, absently watching the moving points. One of the blue dots was getting closer and closer to a red one, and in doing so let itself be carried away from the others.

"That was me," he realised. "I was so focused on that ship I forgot to pay attention to anything else."

Indeed, in no time at all two other enemy ships had taken the blue dot in chase. They separated it from the other and turned it instantly from hunter to prey, liberating their ally in the movement. Luke's ship evaded them for another few seconds, then flickered and vanished.

"You held on for a pretty long time against them," Vil noticed.

Luke shrugged.

"It was already over anyway. You were both taken in your own fight, and I was completely cornered. There was no way we'd have gotten out of that one."

Mauler nodded and turned off the hologram, before setting the light back to their usual level.

"That's all for now," he said.

The others were moving to leave the room when Mauler addressed Luke.

"That wasn't your most brilliant performance, Lars, but you're making a lot of progress. I'm confident by the time we head into battle all together, you will fit in perfectly with the rest of the squadron."

Luke thanked him with a smile, then hurried to catch up the others.

"Man, I can't believe how crushed we've been," Vil said when they arrived at the squadron's quarters, collapsing on the bench and running a hand through his short black hair. "Can't say I'm eager to face these X-Wings again. I wish Incom was still on our side."

"Yes, they were one of the best," Dark Curse answered. He carefully sat down with a sigh. Luke went and took a drink from the tap. "It was a hard blow for us, one that will take time to recover from. The Rebels are getting bolder... A glass of water would be welcome, lad, thanks," he added, answering to Luke's offer.

"I heard there was a lot of unrest throughout the Outer Rim lately," Vil said, sitting carelessly with an ankle on his knee, but frowning.

"They're regrouping. Their recent successes must have booosted their confidence."

Luke held out his glass to Dark Curse, and wrinkles appeared around the older man's slanting eyes when he thanked him with a smile. Luke settled next to them, taking a sip from his own glass. Biggs had told him about Incom's, one of the biggest ships and weapons factories of the galaxy, defection to the Rebels. It had been an eventful moment, even in the middle of their finals and the last few weeks of training.

"We'll get the upper hand again, I'm sure of that," Luke said. "We still have many more resources than they do."

"Sure hope you're right," Vil replied. "But it's worrying all the same. As long as they kept acting separately, they weren't much of a threat. But if the leaders are trying to bring them together, they could become very dangerous."

Luke nodded.

"By the way, we've dropped out of hyperspace by now, right?" he asked.

"Shortly before the end of my shift, I gathered," Vil said. "No idea where we are. We weren't given any details yet."

Dark Curse smirked at Vil, eyes sparkling over his hawk nose.

"So you don't know your stars, Vil," he teased. "A short look outside would have been enough to give you at least an idea."

"I haven't had the chance to look outside, Dark Curse," Vil answered. "Besides, you are the only one who can recognise the constellations at a glance wherever you are in the galaxy. We can't all be astronomy professors at the university."

Luke's eyes widened.

"You were an astronomy teacher?"

Dark Curse's smile turned somewhat wistful.

"Yes, I did a doctorate at the University of Ussa, on Bellassa, then I became a professor. I loved teaching, and many of my students went on to have bright academic careers... But then the war broke out, and I figured there were more important things I could do to help protect the Republic, and then the Empire."

"So you proceeded to become an ace pilot, of all things," Vil teased, rolling his eyes.

Dark Curse shrugged.

"I always had an interest in flying. I wasn't as well-behaved as most people thought. I did a lot of property damage in my twenties, speeding on the airways. And I tell you, in my capacity of former university professor, that we have arrived somewhere in the north-east of the galaxy. My guess is around the Nembus or the Kwymar Sector."

Luke frowned.

"I can see where it is, roughly, but I don't know much more."

"There's not much to know," Dark Curse said. "It's hardly a busy place."

Luke nodded, a faint smile on his face.

"That would make it a good hideout for Rebel cells, wouldn't it?"

Dark Curse took a sip of water.

"So would I think, too."

"Guessing is useless. We'll get orders soon," Vil said. "We'll get all the information we need at that moment."

"Certainly, but we can be allowed some wondering, can't we?" Dark Cuse answered. He set his empty glass down and glanced at his chrono. "Anyway, I'll have to leave, I need to pick up my laundry before night cycle kicks in."

Luke imitated him, and groaned upon seeing the time.

"Yeah, and I should get a few hours of sleep. My patrol's at 0230 tonight."

Vil threw him a sympathetic glance.

"I hate nightly patrols," he said. "Good night then. I'll finish the few reports I have to hand in and turn in as well."

Luke headed towards the dorm, not feeling all that tired. The weariness only set in once he finished readying himself for sleep. He settled in bed with a yawn, a cold chill travelling down his spine as he brought the cover on him. He frowned. He'd thought he had gotten used to the temperatures of space, but he still felt that single icy shiver from time to time. It didn't really seem like regular cold, either. It felt pulsing and moving, nearly like a living thing.

He shook his head, smiling at his own silly thought. Time for sleep, then. Dismissing both the feeling and the ludicrous idea, he lied down and closed his eyes, then quickly fell asleep.