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.

Luke spent the rest of his day constantly running around to help the techs. He was starting to understand their routine, and once or twice had taken it upon himself to fix a thing or two without their supervision. It wasn't much, but it was something, at least. Better than just standing around in their way.

By the time night-cycle was approaching, he was so exhausted even walking felt like a huge effort. He'd had to restrain himself not to show how much of a relief it was when the chief tech cleared him. He had but one thing in mind: crashing on his bunk and passing out until the next day.

Yet here he was, stifling yawn after yawn and dragging his feet, poking at his datapad.

He didn't feel like reporting to Vader. His commanding officer was strict and daunting, and never satisfied. While these were traits Luke respected, he didn't have enough energy left to endure another frightening lecture on responsibility and obedience.

And frightening it had been. He still remembered the deep sense of danger rising in him as Vader had turned towards him, the underlying threat in his words, of something far worse than a mere blame. For an awful moment Luke had started to wonder if he was going to leave these quarters at all.

But it was ridiculous. All the rumours he'd heard about the man were getting to his head. He was still alive, and Vader had punished him by the book, considering what he'd done. There was nothing to be afraid of. He wasn't a coward, and if he would just stop moping and get this over with, he could get some sleep at last and clear the fog in his head. With these thoughts in mind, he headed for Vader's room, forcing himself to walk quickly.

Vader's door opened before Luke could even ring the intercom. He invited him inside with the deep and rumbling voice that resonated through Luke's bones and made him shiver. Luke crossed the threshold and came forward in the room. He held out the datapad where the chief tech had written down his observations, then stood at attention once Vader had taken it.

As Vader read, Luke discreetly took a better look at the surroundings. He hadn't been in a state to be observant yesterday, but right now he found himself curious. The room was dark, and its black walls barely held any furniture: a desk, a chair, and that was it. The only interesting element was a spherical pod of some sort with a strange zigzagging pattern in the middle. Luke supposed it must be an opening. He had never seen anything like it.

All in all, it wasn't such a fascinating room, and Luke soon turned to watch Vader himself. He seemed completely absorbed in his reading, which encouraged Luke's boldness. Clad all in black, his mask covering his face, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Luke wondered if he ever took the mask and armour off... and what were the buttons on his chest for? His head was tilted down towards the screen, the left hand casually holding the datapad as the right scrolled down the text. Seeing him like this, looking so much like any other officer despite the intimidating gear, Luke was certain he was just as human as him.

"Are you unable to remain at proper attention, Ensign Lars?

Vader hadn't even looked up to berate him. Slightly spooked, Luke straightened and looked ahead of him again with an apology. Way to make a good impression, Luke.

Finally Vader turned the screen off and set the datapad down next to him. He directed all his attention on Luke, who did his best not to shrink on the spot from the weight of it. He didn't move an inch, keeping his back ramrod straight, eyes set forward. A cold shiver ran down his spine as Vader took a step towards him.

"It seems I must congratulate you on your good work," Vader said. "Your superior was satisfied with your performance, and described you as efficient and diligent."

Luke thanked him, hope surging in his heart at these words. Would Vader reinstate him sooner than he had planned to, then...?

"Maybe I should let you stay working as a flight technician rather than a pilot, as you obviously find it easier to obey orders in that function."

Luke's jaw tightened, and he had to swallow his protest, not sure whether Vader's words were serious.

"I assure you, my lord, I will no longer ignore an order like I did yesterday," he said just in case. He hoped Vader wasn't actually considering keeping him grounded indefinitely. The idea of not taking flight in years was unbearable.

Vader tilted his head, his hands on his belt.

"I am most interested in knowing why that happened in the first place."

Luke swallowed.

"I have no excuse, sir."

"Oh, I am not looking for excuses," Vader said. "I would like to hear an explanation."

Luke's mouth became dry. He couldn't tell Vader about the sudden and urgent feeling that had taken hold of him in the middle of the battle. At best, he wouldn't believe him; at worst, he'd think him crazy. Besides, how could he explain something he himself didn't understand?

"Do not think of lying to me," Vader warned, so attuned to Luke's thoughts the young man nearly started. "I will know if you do."

Luke licked his lips, feeling very awkward.

"I – I can't explain it," he said. "For a moment, I had this strong impression that I shouldn't fire, that something terrible would happen if I did. I tried to ignore it, but..."

He trailed off. Vader kept silent, watching him intently. Once more, Luke felt the dark tendrils of cold wrap themselves around his limbs, probing him, searching him. The most ridiculous thought sprang to his mind, and he discarded it. He'd grown to associate the sensation with Vader's presence, but it couldn't be intentional on his commanding officer's part, that was impossible.

"You have powerful instincts, young one."

Luke didn't answer, unnerved by what he could hear in Vader's quiet voice. He'd never felt this out of his depth in his life. Kriff, what was it about Vader that unsettled him so much?

Vader leant back and crossed his arms on his chest.

"Tell me about your life on Tatooine," he said.

Luke was taken aback by the change of subject. What did that have to do with anything?

"It was... uneventful, my lord," he reluctantly answered. "I lived with my aunt and uncle, on a farm near Anchorhead."

He wanted to slap himself for his thoughtless reply. As if Vader knew anything about Anchorhead.

"Not your parents?" Vader asked. Luke had the impression this was no surprise to him.

"They died when I was born, my lord."

"Do you know anything about them?"

Luke's heart missed a beat. He couldn't know... could he? No, there was no way he knew.

"Very little, sir," he answered, keeping his voice as light as he could. Vader's previous warning came to his ears: no lies. "I never knew them."

A pang of sorrow and longing seized him. He hoped Vader wouldn't press further. Regardless of the peril lying in discussing his Jedi father with Vader, something he'd hoped he'd never have to do, this was personal and he didn't want to talk about it.

"Tell me," Vader asked regardless.

Luke forced himself to breathe. Vader's unwavering gaze made him uncomfortable.

It was only an innocent question, he tried to tell himself. Something you asked people to know more about them... although why Vader was interested, he had no clue. This felt like navigating quicksand: not knowing where to set foot but aware the slightest misstep would swallow him whole.

"My father was a pilot," he ended up saying: a truth, if not in its entirety. "And I don't know anything about my mother."

He didn't offer anything else. Not his insatiable curiosity about them, especially his father; not his loneliness when other kids were being picked up by their parents after school; not the endless yearning and melancholy that had permeated his childhood, the way he never stopped looking at the sky for some trace of his father. Vader had no business prying there.

Yet he wondered how much of it was really private. Vader's gaze made him feel as if he could see in the deepest layers of his mind. Luke hated that sensation with a passion.

"Did you experience these... feelings when you were younger as well?"

Luke frowned, thought.

"I had... hunches, sometimes, of when a sandstorm would be coming, or where we'd left an object we couldn't find," he said. "But nothing more. Never like during that battle."

Vader didn't move, his arms still crossed, looking straight at Luke.

"Did you know a man called Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"No, sir," Luke said. Then he remembered something. "There was Old Ben, though. Ben Kenobi. He was an old hermit living past the Dune sea when I was younger. I saw him afar sometimes when I was hanging out in Anchorhead. But he disappeared a few years ago, I have no idea what's become of him."

Vader tilted his head. Luke wondered what he was trying to learn, what was so important about his past. He hoped Vader had finished questioning him. He feared if he kept him any longer, he was going to just fall unconscious on the ground without a warning.

"Very well," Vader said with a wave of his hand. "You may go."

Luke nodded crisply before turning back and exiting the room. The door opened on its own, without Luke needing to touch any control.

He couldn't help the wave of relief when it closed back on him again, separating him from Vader. What a creep. At least it was over for today, but Luke really wasn't looking forward to repeating the experience every evening. Trying not to think about that, and keeping his mind on the promise of a good night's sleep instead, he hurried towards his squadron quarters.

Entering the familiar rooms felt like coming home after ages away. He was of half a mind to just head straight to his bunk, but his rumbling stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten anything that day yet. He headed for the living room, intent on grabbing a quick snack and a glass of water before finally crashing down.

When he arrived, Dark Curse, Vil and Chaser were sitting on the benches talking, and didn't notice him immediately.

"Hi guys," Luke casually greeted them, heading towards the cooling unit.

There wasn't a lot left to eat or drink, he noticed. As he took a ration, he reminded himself to resupply the unit whenever he could. As the youngest member of the squad, it was one of his unofficial but no less important duties. It had its perks, as he could choose what he brought back from the stock, but it also meant he was given the cold shoulder when he was late doing so.

"FNG?" an incredulous voice sounded behind him.

Luke turned around, his hunger all but forgotten. Three astonished gazes were staring at him as if an unknown beast had just stepped into their space. Chaser's square jaw was hanging open.

"Yeah, nice to see you too," he answered tentatively, not sure what was going on. "What happened? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Damn if we haven't," Chaser retorted. "Where the kriff have you been?!"

"I – I've just been grounded," Luke said, unsettled. "No big deal."

His wingmate snorted.

"Right, no big deal," he scoffed, eyebrows low on his eyes.

"Come sit with us," invited Vil, seeing how confused Luke was. "We thought you were a goner. We haven't seen you since you left with Lord Vader after the battle..."

"Oh," Luke said, suddenly understanding. He sat down next to them. "You thought he'd killed me."

He shivered, thinking how close that had been from happening. He wasn't too sure how he was alive, either.

"That was the logical conclusion when you didn't come back yesterday night," Dark Curse explained. "Nobody quite felt like sleeping, so we had a drink together in memory of Backstabber, and we thought we'd wait for you to return. After a couple of hours, we had to face reality."

"I see," Luke whispered. "So... Backstabber... he's really –"

A shadow crossed their faces.

"Yeah," Vil said.

Dark Curse sighed, and Chaser looked down. Luke's guts felt heavier. He hadn't known the red-haired Corellian very well, hadn't even learnt his name, but he'd taken a liking to his dry humour and deadpan speech. It sent a pang to his heart to realise he'd never see him again.

"So, tell us," Chaser said, apparently eager to change the subject, "since Lord Vader obviously didn't break your neck, what happened?"

"He just dressed me down," Luke explained. "Told me what I did was irresponsible and I'd better watch out. Then he sent me to the brig for the night and grounded me. I've been following flight techs all day, tomorrow I think I'm on watch, and I've got to report to him every evening."

"What did you do?" Vil frowned.

Luke looked down and smirked, the stupidity of it hitting him in the face, now that everything was said and done.

"He ordered me to fire, I asked for confirmation, then I didn't do it before he told me again."

Vil's eyes widened.

"You should be dead," Chaser mumbled. "You've got no idea how lucky you are."

Luke nodded.

"I know," he muttered, recalling the threat in Vader's voice the night before, his mechanical breath so close to his ear and the silvery gleam of the weapon at his side. "He's terrifying."

"Any commander would've lodged you a bolt in the back of the neck in his place," Chaser snapped. "Were you out of your mind? You can't just ignore orders like that! It could have put the whole mission in jeopardy!"

"Why don't you take your blaster and do it yourself, then?" Luke said, annoyed. After the day he'd had and the two nerve-wracking meetings with Vader, he had no patience left.

"Maybe I should!" Chaser retorted, sitting up and waving his hand for emphasis. "At least you could no longer try and blow yourself up with the operation!"

Luke rolled his eyes, exasperated. He was so sick of his squadmate constantly belittling him, trying to give him advice when he didn't ask for anything.

"Stop telling me what to do! Who do you think you are, my father?"

"Clearly he didn't do his job and educate you," Chaser shot back.

Luke's blood rushed from his face. He opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again, rage taking his voice from him.

"Because he's dead!" he finally managed to retort, barely controlling himself.

He balled his hands into fists, glaring at Chaser. He wanted to hit him, to break the flat edges of his nose or give him a black eye. There was a persistent ringing in his head, over which he barely heard Vil and Dark Curse trying to temperate things between them, telling them to stop, to calm down.

"Maybe it's better he doesn't see the indisciplined runt his son has become," Chaser spat.

That was the last straw. Luke rose up, intent on beating Chaser bloody to the ground. Vil and Dark Curse stood as well and held him back.

"Lars! Stop!"

"You huttuk stoopa kung –"

He struggled a moment against his squadmates' grasp before the blood stopped rushing to his head. Vil and Dark Curse released him, but didn't step back. Luke glared at Chaser, slightly out of breath. Chaser hadn't moved at all, was still sitting casually, disdain written on his face.

"I don't know what you think you're doing," he said, "but this is not a school yard for you to make merry with your toy ships. This is war, this is real, and you'd better stop dreaming and get down to work like everybody else!"

Luke glared at him, lips tightly pursed together, rage still boiling in him. He looked down with a slow nod.

"Sure," he said, staring unflinchingly at him again. "Keep insulting my family and telling yourself I'm the child."

He took a step back and headed to the bunk room in a carefully controlled pace, only stopping to throw the rest of his ration bar in the bin. He changed in his sleepwear and went to bed, but was unable to find sleep, too fuming to reach any kind of slumber.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard other steps come in. He didn't move, didn't give any sign he was awake as the person stopped in what had to be the middle of the room, in front of his bunk.

"Lars?" Chaser's voice whispered.

The words hung in the silence for a second. When Luke didn't answer, he sighed deeply, then headed to his own bed.

Luke brought the cover higher on his shoulders and closed his eyes, slowly breathing out.

.

The following morning, Luke skipped breakfast and headed directly to his station. He felt like he'd been run over by a speeder, and dreaded the boringness of the day, but he was determined for it to happen without a hitch. He was on watch duty in the flight hangars, which meant he'd spend his day keeping record who took off and who landed and tracking the ships as they left, came back, or went to maintenance. Again, he had the eerie impression Lord Vader had made it his purpose to tailor the most tedious tasks to him.

Luke shot a longing glance at the snubs he'd attributed to the pilots that had just reported to him, staring as they started moving towards the launching area. It hadn't even been two days, yet he was already yearning to take flight again, and missing the delicious sensation of searing into the void. He'd always felt trapped, stuck on the ground. Taking off had been his only way to escape a dull existence of moisture farming on Tatooine. While life in the Imperial Navy could never be described as such, flying remained something soothing and calming for him.

Right now, he would have taken the distraction in a heartbeat. He couldn't take his mind off the argument of the night before. Chaser had been right when he'd said Luke was a liability. In truth, Luke himself was very anxious at the idea that it could happen again. What would he do if that feeling came back and he found himself unable to resist it? No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't understand what had happened. He felt like a freak and a time bomb, not knowing where these hunches came from or why they kept surging randomly in his mind.

A small black shape came across the hangar towards the ships, and he smiled, recognising the little droid he'd helped the day before. Apparently Weefour remembered him too, for he changed course with an excited bleep and bumped into his chins.

"Hi, buddy," said Luke. "Everything okay?"

Weefour whistled happily then rolled further, heading to his work, Luke supposed. He wondered if Weefour was doing repair work, or if he was luckier than him and was scheduled to head out in a shuttle or other transport ship. Unlike many other fighters, TIEs didn't have place for astromechs in them.

Luke turned back to look in front of him, grinning. His smile fell down when he saw who was approaching.

"Black Four and Ten coming to take the shift," Chaser said, looking just as unhappy to interact with Luke as Luke felt. Next to him, Qorl was holding himself straight, apparently oblivious to the discomfort between them.

Happy to have an excuse not to look at him, Luke glanced at his datapad with the day's schedule to see which ship his wingmate was assigned too.

"You've got A61-SB-8 and 9," he said, keeping his tone businesslike and his face neutral as he met Chaser's gaze again. "No special conditions reported."

Chaser seemed to hesitate for a second. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to talk, then stopped himself, pinching his lips.

"All right, thanks," he said with a nod, before walking away with Qorl in his wake.

Luke slowly breathed out. This was going to be a very long day... He let his gaze run across the hangar, noticing the small mouse droid who was hurrying on the ground, running around the soldiers' feet. The droid ran straight into Weefour, leading to some interaction between them he couldn't make out.

A shiver ran through him without any apparent reason. He looked around; a bit further stood Darth Vader, coming out of an elevator with an officer Luke didn't recognise.

Vader stopped walking, his mask turning towards him. Even from this distance, Luke shifted on his feet, uneasy with the scrutiny. The cold intensified, moving across his body and trapping him in its probing embrace. He held Vader's gaze, wishing for nothing more than to be left alone, but determined not to be the first to look away.

An electronic noise tore him from the strange interaction. Weefour was rolling past him with a beep that sounded just like a sigh.

"What's up?" Luke asked him.

As only explanation, the little droid began playing a holographic recording of the mouse droid he'd just met, tweeting something Luke had no trouble understanding despite the lack of translator. A grin slowly appeared on his face.

"Really?" he asked. "What are you gonna do about it?"

He wasn't sure his small friend had head it, though, as he continued whistling and twittering enthusiastically. Luke let him gush on and on, but stopped pretending to take interest in the one-sided conversation after a while.

He glanced up, still feeling the weight of a gaze on him. Vader hadn't moved, watching him with unnatural stillness that unnerved Luke deeply. Go away, he thought very hard at the cold tendrils shimmering around him.

Incredibly, it worked. The sensation receded, and Vader turned back to the officer, the both of them walking away in the corridors.

Absently watching Weefour, Luke wondered once more with dread in his stomach what it was exactly the Dark Lord wanted with him.

.

"My apologies, Commander Piett." Dismissing the disturbing feelings the sight of the boy had awakened in him, Vader addressed the man next to him. Despite his perfect bearing, the commander didn't manage to conceal a questioning gaze, and Vader knew he had let himself be distracted for too long a time. "You were saying?"

Immediately Piett was back to business, an attitude that pleased the Dark Lord immensely.

"The probe droids have been sent out, my lord," he said. "We are expecting to receive analysable data within the next days."

"Good," Vader praised. "The Rebels must have another base hidden in the sector. I want it found as quickly as possible."

There was no other way they could have sent reinforcements at Carosi XII as soon as they had, he had reasoned. Furthermore, he knew the X-Wings that had attacked the transport his squadron was escorting a few weeks ago had been traced as coming from this part of the galaxy. It was too suspicious to be a coincidence.

For a moment, Vader wondered if the Rebels had known the significance of the cargo of the ship they had attacked, or if it had been a blind assault, launched to weaken them without precisely knowing its consequences. That was another of the reasons for his zeal in locating this base. If it turned out the Rebels had knowledge of the Empire's secret project, swift action would have to be taken, before the information could make its way back to the head of the organisation Vader knew was steadily growing in size and efficiency.

"Yes, my lord," Piett answered, before bowing and going back to his duties, leaving the Dark Lord alone.

As he watched the commander walk away, Vader found his thoughts irresistibly drawn to the boy again, in spite of himself. The young man, with his small build, blonde hair and insolent bearing was both annoying and deeply troubling. He recalled the snatched glimpses he had just had of him, distinctly talking and laughing with the small astromech as if he was a friend, with a carelessness Vader had long forgotten. Ancient memories of another boy and another droid rose to his mind, and he crushed them mercilessly.

That time was gone. Dwelling on it was useless.

Vader strode down the corridor with growing irritation.