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"Black Five and Six, we're ready to receive you. Proceed to launch bay."

"Copy that, Control, thanks. Five out," Luke said. He heard Chaser acknowledge the order as well, in a worn yet still professional voice.

Both pilots manoeuvred their craft to the bay, paying attention to their speed. This was the most delicate part of any mission: for a successful landing, one had to lodge the fighter into a pair of big claws hanging from the rails. Those would then be driven back behind the atmospheric shield to the hangar, where the pilot could disembark at last. To make the operation a little less delicate, there were three levels on the claw where the ship could hang safely. Pilots were supposed to aim at the second one: getting the first meant you were too high and risked a collision with the rail, and the third amounted to nearly missing the landing altogether. To get the perfect speed and position demanded a great amount of skill and dexterity.

Luke engaged the front thrusters, noticing he was coming in a bit too fast. After two hours of dull flight spent watching out for nonexistent enemy ships, he felt exhausted. However, the mission wasn't over, and he needed to be completely alert for this last part of the flight.

A soft beeping and a signal on his screen forced him into razor-edged focus. It was detecting another ship a few meters away from him, a little under his level. For a moment he was tempted to turn around and check on it, but he refrained his urge. He was tired, his shift was over, the landing procedure was engaged. He was supposed to get his ship back home and let the next ones deal with the threat, if it even was one at all. From where he stood, the craft didn't seem to be exerting any aggressive behaviour.

He let Chaser take the lead and get towards the landing rail first. The bay was wide enough that two dozen fighters could land at the same time, so Luke could have just come in with Chaser. But at this time of early morning, Luke didn't feel comfortable risking it.

He followed as soon as his wingmate was in. As usual, he could see his aim with great precision, nearly feel the metal it was made of, and sense every meter between him and it. The sensation was a little overwhelming, but gave him a welcome sense of control.

A cold tingling through his spite distracted him, and he started. It was the same sensation he'd experienced when he went to sleep a few hours ago... It could have been the cold of space and the tiredness of his late patrol, but something told him that wasn't the case. He tried to latch on the feeling and pinpoint it, but it was gone before he could do so.

So was his concentration, and he realised a bit late that he was completely deviating from his course.

"Control, this is Five, I'm rectifying that now, thanks," he reassured the man who was trying to call his attention through the radio.

Scolding himself for his mistake, he did his best to get back on track. He approached the landing rail in a less than ideal angle and barely managed to cram into the third level.

As soon as he was back behind the atmospheric shield, Luke took off his helmet and sighed. They were supposed to wait after disembarking to do that, but tonight he didn't care. He was too irritated by his missed landing for that, and he didn't understand how he could have messed it up. Besides, he had always hated the pressure of the helmet on his skull and face.

He waited a little longer, then gave the command to open the hatch and climbed up out of the cockpit. He then walked away, unwilling to talk to Chaser. It was childish, maybe, but this was the first time he hadn't managed to get the right spot. His pride had taken a blow, and he really wasn't in the mood for his wingmate's teasing.

"Hey, aren't you forgetting something?" Chaser called him when he saw him leave. "I'm not gonna check up your TIE for you."

"Coming back in a minute," Luke answered.

Chaser shrugged, going back to his ship.

"Don't expect me to wait for you. I'm going to sleep as soon as I'm finished."

That was what Luke had been hoping for. Without answering, he walked on and left the hangar.

He wandered in the corridors until he found a hallway with viewports. He stopped there and leant against the thick transparisteel, letting the view wash over him. He had always enjoyed gazing at the steady calmness of space, but had quickly realised how much better the view was on an actual spaceship. Even scarcely-lit Tatooine couldn't compare with a vessel drifting in the middle of the void. Without the veil of atmosphere to separate him from them, the lights of the stars stood out sharply against inky blackness. The only disturbance to his contemplation was the reflection of the ship's artificial lamps on the pane, but at this time of the night-cycle, they were subdued enough for him to get a wonderful view of the cosmos anyway.

He let his gaze wander between the constellations, letting the quiet of the immensity wash on him and still his frustration. He only recognised a couple with certainty, but he tried to guess what the others were. The cold shiver that had distracted him seemed to have all but disappeared now. However, when he paid attention to it, he could still feel its shadow run through his bones, dormant.

He sighed and let his forehead rest against the cool material. What was wrong with him? It wasn't uncommon for him to have strange and unexplainable feelings, but they rarely were so persistent; insistent, even. This dark coldness seemed constantly hovering around him. It varied in strength, but it was always present, griping in a stifling way. He didn't remember when it had begun, but he was sure it had never happened before he set foot on Devastator.

A shape moving beyond the viewport interrupted his musings. It was hard to distinguish what it was from this far, but he was pretty sure he recognised the light markings of a TIE fighter. But it didn't seem to be one of the pilots on patrol. For one thing, it was alone, and it wasn't behaving like someone on watch. It soared gracefully through space, then swooped down in a nosedive, taking abrupt twirls before rising again.

He didn't look away from it, mesmerised: he didn't think he'd ever seen anybody fly like that. It was incredible. A little part of him wished he could be there, accompanying him in his crazy movements. His eyes were glued to the ship's movements in awe.

After a while, he remembered he still had a job to finish: his TIE fighter was waiting for its post-flight checks. If he wanted to catch some shut-eye, he needed to hurry to do it before the start of the day-cycle. Tiredness and flight didn't go well together; it was time for him to get back at it.

Throwing decorum to the wind, he jogged more than he walked in the corridors on the way back to the hangar. Only the bare minimum of men were working at this hour, and his steps resonated in the large empty space. Chaser was gone like he had said, certainly sound asleep already. Luke realised he had no idea how long he'd been staring at the flying ship.

He was finishing to recharge the battery and to check the last outer systems when he heard another fighter coming in the hangar. Was it already so late that the next patrol was already back? No, other people would have taken off to relieve them. He looked up, then hurried to focus on his work again when he caught a glance of the pilot exiting the ship.

The craft, which must have been the same he had seen joyflying – there was no other word for it – with such virtuosity, was Darth Vader's.

Luke replaced the cover on this TIE's charging level with deliberate slowness. Further, he could hear Vader seeing to his own fighter.

In all the stories he'd heard of him, none of them had ever mentioned how skilled he was at flying. Luke was gaping in wonder. He wanted to rise up and tell Vader how impressed he had been, perhaps ask him a few tricks. But his commanding officer seemed to think the hangar deserted, and Luke wasn't certain alerting him to the opposite was wise. Finally, he remained there crouching by his craft, pretending to be absorbed by checking out its hull. In reality, his mind was full of images of flight, wishing he could one day do the same.

He had hoped Lord Vader would walk past him without acknowledging him, but he didn't have such luck. Heavy boots clunked in the silence then stopped not far from him, and the thunder of a respirator made the air tremble.

"Ensign Lars. I did not expect to find you here so late."

The bone-deep cold had returned, stronger than Luke had ever felt it. It wrapped itself around him, his legs, his arms, his feet. Trying in vain to block it out, he threw a quick look at his shirt to make sure it was closed, then realised he was still wearing his flight suit. He stood up to face Vader and put himself at attention, helmet under his arm.

"Good night, Lord Vader," he greeted him. "I was just finishing my last post-flight checks after coming back from patrol."

"Alone?"

The cold wasn't abating at all, if anything it became more pressing. Luke couldn't help the shudder that ran through his spine.

"No, my lord," he warily answered. "My wingmate already went back to our quarters."

Vader's mask was tilted forward, his hands resting on his belt. Covered from head to toe as he was, his cape covering most of his shape, it was very difficult to read his mood, and it made Luke anxious not to know what he wanted. I did nothing wrong, he tried to tell himself, but the nervousness wouldn't go away.

"You didn't follow him."

No, I was too frustrated I didn't manage a perfect landing and needed to blow off steam, Luke's mind unhelpfully provided, but he wasn't about to tell the Dark Lord that.

"I was distracted for a little while," he admitted. "I took a short walk to clear my mind..."

He bit his lower lip, not sure what he wanted to say next would be well received, but needing to say it all the same.

"... that was one hell of a flight out there, sir."

Vader remained immobile. Luke winced when he realised how informal, how boyishly amazed his words had sounded.

"Forgive me," he hastened to say, feeling his cheeks warm up. "I – I didn't mean to..."

"It is nothing," the Dark Lord dismissed his rambling with a brisk gesture of the hand. "I understand you have shown quite a gift for flying, yourself."

There was something loaded in the words, some kind of probe that made Luke frown with uneasiness, despite his pride at the compliment.

"Thanks, sir. I'm trying my best," he shrugged, a bit embarrassed. "I... uh, I've flown for most of my life. I can't imagine not doing it."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and he had the impression Vader was watching him.

"I see."

The young man looked down with a shiver, feeling cold and strained again. He wondered if fatigue could have that effect on someone. Or maybe it was his mind running off again, his hyperactive imagination giving meaning to things that had none.

Then it subsided, if only a little.

"If you have nothing left to do, I suggest you retire for the night," Vader said, as if he had read his thoughts.

"Yes, my lord," Luke answered, relieved to have an excuse to leave his overwhelming presence. "Good night."

Vader inclined his head as only response. Luke walked away without showing his haste, feeling the disturbing weight of his gaze on his back.

.

The awakening was tough, and much too early for Luke's taste. He groaned in his pillow, calling on all his courage to get up. His bed felt far softer than a hard-edged standard Imperial bunk had any business to be.

With a supreme effort of will, he managed to get up and change into his uniform, before heading to the living room and making a beeline for the caf machine. The whole squadron was there; for once, nobody was otherwise occupied.

"Hello," joyfully said Chaser, a smirk on his lips that Luke didn't like. "I see the night was short, how long did you stay brooding over your missed landing before checking in?"

Kriff. He'd noticed the bad landing. With his wingmate's competitiveness, Luke had been foolish to hope otherwise. He bit back a groan: it was far too early for this.

"Can't see what you're talking about," he replied, making Chaser snort at his blatant bad faith. "Don't tell me you've gathered the whole squadron to tell them I actually am able to kark a landing?"

"You'd need that to get your ego deflated," the other quipped.

"The reason we're all in here together is that we have a tactical meeting in half an hour with Lord Vader, so Lars, you better move your ass right now," Mauler chimed in. He then turned back to the datapad he'd been reading, also holding a cup of the bitter beverage. He sounded exasperated by their antics, his electronic eye flashing yellow-red colours.

The others snickered. Luke acknowledged him with a discrete "yessir" before grabbing a ration bar and sitting down on a bench, quietly sipping his caf. The conversation had gotten more subdued after Mauler's sharp remark. Luke felt the caffeine starting to kick in, a relief he sorely needed.

"I'm glad to get back to real work," Backstabber told Chaser. "I was getting crazy with all these surveillance missions. It's high time we put 'em Rebels back in their place."

Chaser agreed with the sentiment.

"Yeah, can't wait to get some action either."

Luke almost threw in a barb, eager to get back at him, but then decided to keep his mouth shut for once. This kind of thing could wait for him to reach full consciousness.

When they arrived at the command centre, it was Lt. Tanbris who stood behind the console in silence. Lord Vader was a little further back in the room, facing them from a distance, his hands behind his back. Luke wondered what he was doing here. He didn't seem to be going to speak; Lt. Tanbris was, like often. But then why had he come?

They waited for them all to come in and gather around to holotable. Then Lt. Tanbris pushed a button, and the lights diminished, letting the round shape of what looked like a planetary map appear before their eyes.

"We are currently orbiting Carosi XII, the seventh planet of the Carosi system," Lt. Tanbris said. "Before you make a remark, there is no mistake. The fact that it bears the sign for twelve and not seven has historical reasons that I will not get into. The locals have long been suspected of harbouring Rebels, but proof of it has only been recently discovered. They have hidden an outpost in the mountains under the guise of a medcentre. We believe them to use it to coordinate different operations in the sector."

"Are we completely certain that is a base and not a real medcentre?" Vil asked. "A mistake on that front could cause a lot of trouble on many plans."

"We are," Lt. Tanbris confirmed. "I have neither the time nor the clearance to go into details, but rest assured the matter has been thoroughly investigated."

He paused, and the holograph zoomed in on a specific place on the planet.

Luke threw a quick glance at Vader, still intrigued by his presence. The man was intimidating even when he did nothing.

Lt. Tanbris's voice brought his attention back on the meeting.

"The ground assault led until now demonstrated limited efficiency. As such, an air strike has been considered more fruitful."

The map zoomed in again, now showing a very detailed image of the area. Their target was a bright red square in the middle of the translucent blue schematics.

Then Lt. Tanbris stepped back, leaving the place to Lord Vader.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said as he took place in front of them.

He made a brief gesture of his hand, and the map zoomed in again, showing a detailed image of the area. Their target was a bright red square in the middle of the translucent blue schematics.

Luke watched around, intrigued by the way Vader had done that without touching any button. Nobody else seemed to wonder at it, though, so he reported his attention on the meeting.

"The attack is scheduled tomorrow in the early morning, at 0100," Vader said. Luke inwardly grimaced, but it made sense: they needed to strike at the best time for the light and weather condition on-planet.

"At 0045, the ground troops will be ordered to retire from the strike site. A squadron of Bombers will then descend in atmosphere to aim at the target. Your primary goal will be to locate and destroy the outpost's shields generators, and deal with potential reinforcements from the Carosites."

He then started explaining the mission in more detail, describing the operation step by step and illustrating the movements on the map. Luke listened as attentively as he could. Vader's words were clear and precise, and summoned limpid images in his mind of what was expected of them. This he was familiar with: war games were a common occurrence at the Academy, even in pilot training. He had once or twice even been in Vader's position, exposing strategic goals to fellow cadets.

But this was no longer an elaborate game where he would be facing his comrades in a simulator. It was real, and he tried to deny the way his stomach twisted at the thought.

It made things easier to know there shouldn't be any Rebels pilots stationed on the outpost. Luke was thankful for that, even though he couldn't help the twinge of guilt.

"Any questions?" Lord Vader finally asked.

Luke shook his head, reviewing the meeting in his mind and finding everything clear. Around him, the other pilots exhibited similar reactions. Backstabber was frowning, Vil looking down and stroking his chin. Qorl was looking at Vader with an intent look.

"Very well." Vader waved again, and the map disappeared as the lighting came back to a normal level. "I will see you tonight."

He then addressed a few words Luke didn't hear to Lt. Tanbris and exited the control room, cape flowing behind him. The lean officer took the datatapes with him, then followed suit. Already the squadron was gathering in smaller groups, discussing the preparation of the assault and what still needed to be done. Luke followed their discussion from a distance, still distracted by the meeting.

A medcentre. Of all the disguises the Rebels could have chosen, they had used this one. It was clever, for sure; but he couldn't help but think it was a little cowardly, too.

A hand on his shoulder tore him from his musings.

"Afraid yet, FNG?" Chaser teased.

"You wish," Luke answered.

"Then come." His wingmate pulled him away with him towards the others. "We have a lot of work."