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.

Darth Vader stood in the simulators' room, his arms crossed, his head tilted forward. Everything was silent but for the quiet sizzling of electricity feeding the machines. He kept his eyes on the moving dots on the 3D screen, absent-mindedly monitoring the exercise. This attack was of tremendous importance, for Vader hoped to wipe out Rebel activity in the sector with it, and to finally find out whether they knew about the Empire's secret project. In the middle of logistics and tactical planning, he had decided to take some time to oversee the squadron's training.

He dove in the Force, feeling the different presences around him. In space, they were all but immobile, yet he could perceive the movement of their minds, their connections to one another, which completed the image given by the hologram.

One of those minds was much stronger than the rest, burning brighter and more intensely than all the others together. The more time passed, the more Vader wondered how he had missed such a distinctive presence. Untrained Force-sensitive were naturally less detectable than experienced users like the Jedi he had hunted: their connection to the Force was still dampened, temporary, mostly instinctual, and as such much less remarkable. But the boy was so clear Vader was certain he should have noticed him anyway.

Once he was trained, what a powerhouse he would be...

Yet he was voluntarily smothering his presence, keeping his distance from the Force, afraid of his own gift. Vader recalled the last encounter he'd had with him a dozen days ago and found himself still confused. He had not expected him to refuse his proposition... He had offered him the whole universe, an unimaginable well of strength and knowledge, and the boy had declined? Why would he turned away from what the universe must be screaming at him was his rightful place?

It had taken him by surprise. The more time passed, the clearer it became how exceptional Lars's ability to unsettle him was. It was even offending, in a way. Why should he care whether one small, insignificant pilot felt appropriate to deny the gift and legacy he was offering him? If he held out his hand to the boy and he didn't take it, it was his loss.

He did care, though. He hadn't realised it before that night, but he wanted to train him. To see him so strong and so ignorant was maddening. He wanted to explore the depths of his potential, to show him everything that was possible. He ached to free this searing star and unleash it on the world, to mould it and have it for himself, at his side...

And he would. With him on the squadron, under his command, he would still have many occasions to win him over. He had all the time in the world... he could wait some more before making his offer again, give him some time to breathe, introduce him to the idea little by little, not unlike his own Master had acquainted him with the dark side of the Force.

He supposed it would be easiest to order him into his teachings, but that would only offer him a reluctant apprentice, bound to drag his feet in everything. Vader didn't want to antagonise him and make an enemy out of him. Better to let him taste his dormant power and trap him within it, wishing for more.

He would have him, no matter how long it took.

The bright presence in the Force attracted his attention once more. It flared irregularly, as though restrained. It should be overwhelming, send out shining and burning waves through the very fabric of the universe...

Vader turned to his wingman, who was also focusing on the exercise. Bran Mithel, known by his squad as Mauler, had served for mor ethan ten years as his second-in-command, and in all that time Vader had never found his professionalism or competency wanting. He knew he could rely on him to give him objective and insightful information.

And if he wanted to gain the boy's trust, he had to learn more about him.

"Commander Mithel," he quietly said. "What do you think of young Lars?"

Mithel frowned, thinking about his answer.

"He is a good element, my lord. He still experiences coordination problems, but not consequent enough to impede the squadron's working. Discipline is still an issue too, but he is hard-working and determined. In time, he could become an outstanding pilot."

Vader remained motionless. It was in accordance with what he had already noticed. But it wasn't enough. He wanted to know his desires and ambitions, something he could use.

"He hasn't expressed any particular interest or wish for himself?"

He felt his wingmate's surprise in the Force, but Mauler remained impassive.

"Not to me. He was overjoyed to be back on the squad, though. He is as crazy about flying as any of us."

Vader could certainly relate to that. How many times had he been in a craft himself, whether a TIE, podracer or Jedi starfighter?

"If I may ask, sir," Mauler said, "why do you have such an interest in him?"

Vader slightly smiled under his mask. Few of his men dared question him so directly, if at all; they feared him too much for that. Mauler's bold but respectful honesty, while at times annoying, was one of the qualities Vader respected most in him.

"He has exceptional skills," he replied. "I have... plans involving him. He could be much more than just a pilot."

As he said it, he was surprised how much he meant it. That boy had something special that could lead him to greatness. Vader couldn't wait to see what he was capable of.

Mauler huffed with a smile.

"It will be hard to convince him of that. It's all he seems to have in mind."

Vader crossed his arms, still following the subdued presence that kept teasing him with its latent power. An idea started to sprout in his mind. So Lars' one passion was flying... then surely giving him tools to better that should seduce him.

He ordered Mauler to check some meaningless detail then took the comm linked to the simulators, designed to let the trainers coach the trainees in the sims. He brought it up, staring at the monitor and concentrating on Lars's Force presence. The boy was currently grappling with two X-Wings, trying to escape one of them long enough to destroy the second.

"Good, Five," Vader praised him as he narrowly evaded his opponents. "Now relax. Open your mind, let your feelings guide you."

Lars started, surprise flaring. Vader felt his reluctance to obey, to surrender to the power he had so much trouble tuning out in the first place. Slightly annoyed, he considered repeating it and clarifying it was an order, but he refrained himself. Blunt force wouldn't help him gain his trust. The boy was afraid and startled, hadn't expected him to address him in the middle of the exercise.

"You have no reason to fear. Stop ignoring your instincts," he said instead. "They will help you, not hinder you. Let yourself be guided by the Force seeking to lead you."

Slowly, Lars's resistance disappeared, melted into acceptance as he finally put his advice into practice. His mark in the Force expanded, finally freed from the leash he kept on it. It pulsed brilliantly, swarming with strength and life, blinding.

"Yes..." Vader whispered, triumphant joy filling him at the sight of the small craft's movements on the digital map growing swifter and more precise. Whether it was his or the boy's emotions, he couldn't tell. "Feel it. Broaden your consciousness, let these sensations flow in you unimpeded."

Guided by his voice, Lars's presence grew again, sending out rays to try and detect what was happening around him. His fighter twirled with ease, no longer a mere vessel but a part of him. He avoided his enemies as easily as he breathed now, playful.

"You are in command. Your foes are no match for you, you can feel them, know what they will do. Take aim and trust it to reach its target."

In a perfectly controlled loop, Lars sent two shots at the X-Wings and destroyed both of them. His connection with the Force grew deeper as he was becoming more familiar with it, experimenting with it, trying to see what he could do. Exhilarated, Vader admired him for a moment, in awe at how natural it seemed for him to use his power and explore it to fly. His abilities seemed endless...

"Now return in formation. Feel the pattern made out by your allies, anticipate their movements and their needs. You are weaving a web together, to trap your enemies and destroy them."

Again the boy obeyed, instinctively knowing where he had to be, taking his place and helping out where he could. The others, trained for a very long time at this, welcomed him in their midst, and he adapted as well as he could. Together they destroyed a honourable amount of enemy crafts before the exercise finally stopped. It hadn't lasted longer than ten minutes.

As always, there was a moment of silence as the pilots dealt with the disorientation that the end of the simulation caused; then, one by one, they came out of the devices.

Lars was the last one to exit his cockpit. As he came back to reality, his presence gradually returned to its normal size; but a part of his connection remained, burning like a pillar of flames in his core. His movements although clumsy and disoriented looked more graceful than usual, and his gaze seemed sharper and clearer, taking in his environment as though he had never really seen it before.

While he took his place among the others around the holo console, Lars' eyes briefly crossed Vader's. Fleeting awe, excitement and uncertainty flickered on his features, overcoming his fear of his commanding officer for the shortest moment. As only answer, the Sith Lord tilted his head to acknowledge his success and express his own satisfaction, unable to subdue the trepidation roaring in his chest.

At my side you will be the greatest.

Shoving away the bothersome thought, he turned the hologram on, and began the debriefing.

.

Luke blinked, tried to concentrate. He could catch a word or another, a sentence at a time, but the general substance of the meeting escaped him.

He threw a quick look at Vader, hoping against all hope he couldn't see his distraction. Luke could feel the burning of two intent eyes boring inside him as he nodded at him.

He took a deep breath. He had never experienced anything like this before. In the high stress of the fighting, he'd had no choice but to obey Vader's voice as it came out of nowhere to give him instructions. The first few seconds had been familiar, old instincts overcoming him. But then, pushed by Vader's voice, he had sunk even deeper into that strange state and relinquished even more control over his craft, even as he seemed to gain more power over it.

It had been like entering a completely new world, like looking at a second universe that laid itself upon the real one in transparency. The cosmic humming of life had exploded to a fully-blown song, making his whole body vibrate in harmony, a foreign and unusual sensation he didn't know what to make of. He had felt the other fighters as if they'd been here for him to touch, despite them being only virtual enemies.

But for all that the impression had been unsettling, it hadn't been unpleasant at all. It had felt... natural. As if it had been buried deep inside him, and had only now found the chance to get out.

His thoughts turned to Vader again, but this time he didn't dare look at him. What had he done? Was this how he flew, did he feel all these things too? Was this the mysterious Force he'd been talking about?

He breathed out, still overwhelmed by the experience. His hand rose to the base of his throat and rubbed the skin above his collarbone. He had tried his best to lay low during the last few days, but it hadn't seemed to deflate Vader's strange interest in him. Luke had never expected him to go out of his way to give him flying advice... He shivered. He felt like a mouse taken in a trap, still alive and unaware of its fate but knowing it wouldn't escape the predator that had captured it.

Finally, Vader called for the end of the meeting and walked out of the room without addressing him again, to Luke's great relief. He looked around and came closer to his squadmates as they all left, and fell into step with Chaser, Boomer and Cosmo. He slowly felt more like himself, although he still was particularly aware of his surroundings.

They all came into another briefing room and took a seat around the table, soon joined by Mauler, who was assisted by Lt. Tanbris. Vader was absent, to Luke's relief. He probably had returned to his duties as commander of the ship.

Mauler pushed a button on the command console. The device at the centre of the table activated with a bleeping sound, and a round hologram depicting a planet appeared in front of them.

"This is Praadost II, the site of the Rebel base that supported Carosi during our attack and surprised us with the results we know," Mauler started. "Jungle planet, covered mostly in trees and rainforest plants. Not the ideal site for an air strike. The base is hidden deep in the woods and thought to be sensibly more important and well defended than the Carosi outpost we flew against the last time."

He pressed another button. The map grew bigger, closing in on a particular part of the planet. Among the trees, a red square was traced to indicate the placement of the base.

"In view of the circumstances, space forces will only be used as support, while the main strike team will give the assault from the ground. Our role will be to protect them and aid them, as well as prevent the Rebels from escaping. They are believed to have at their command a force ranging between ten and fifteen transports, as well as snub fighters, among which an undetermined amount of the new Incom T-65 starfighters."

There was an impressed silence. Luke had never gone up against a X-Wing except in simulations, but he knew they were swift and efficient ships with capable shields, which put their own TIEs at a disadvantage. Their numbers usually were far smaller than the Empire's ships, which was fortunate. For all the times he had faced them in mock battles, Luke knew they weren't to be taken lightly.

"The difficulty will be to engage the fighters while taking care to shoot as little as possible in the direction of the ground, in order not to damage our own forces' efforts. You will need to lead the enemy as high as possible in the atmosphere, or even in space. Devastator will be standing by with tractors beams to receive captured ships."

Luke nodded, along with all the others. This could prove more difficult than the standard "shoot to kill" approach, and would demand a lot of coordination. A list of suitable formations popped in his head, how to best lead the enemy fighters where they wanted them.

Mauler surveyed them all with his contrasting eyes, then spoke again.

"The highest priority will be to make sure none of them escape. However, we are to take as many prisoners as possible."

Luke's stomach tightened. He looked around, but the others didn't seem to react, only registering the information.

He took a deep breath, annoyed with himself. They were Rebels. They were the enemy. He had chosen a side in this war. It was shoot or being shot, and he should have no qualms about it. It would only make him unreliable. It was a weakness he needed rid of.

He shoved his concerns aside and focused on the meeting again. They studied the characteristics of the planet, the different tactics they could use, how to organise each other to be as efficient as possible. He listened and participated, concentrating on the practical details.

It lasted for three hours before they finally finished. There still was a lot of planning, researching and training to be done, but that wouldn't be finished in a day. For the moment, they had done all that they could with the data they possessed.

Luke walked in silence during the short time it took to reach their quarters. A good part of the squadron had left to attend to their business, and he was walking with Vil, Qorl, Hammer, Silver and Torpedo, but for once he didn't really feel like mingling with the others. The conversation was orbiting the upcoming assault, and he wasn't in the mood to talk about that.

He was too busy fighting the thoughts of Biggs or Hobbie captured by the Empire. His mind, unhelpful as ever, was recalling the propaganda films he'd seen during the meetings Biggs never stopped attending, the bodies racked with pain and screaming themselves hoarse while officers shouted at them. That footage was staged. It was filmed and edited to be as horrifying as possible, designed to shock.

But when his brain mixed it up with his friends' smiling faces and the dreadful understatement he had found in his paperwork, it still became nauseating.

He took a deep breath, increasingly angry with himself. He was loyal to the Empire. He wasn't making this choice again. The Rebels were lying and he was just being stupid. Why did it have to keep unbalancing him?

The Empire had freed the slaves in Mos Espa. They had brought education on barren Tatooine. Without the Empire, he probably wouldn't even be able to read. They were fighting crime and putting infrastructures in place on so many worlds. What had the Rebels brought, besides chaos, uprisings and lies? Nothing.

He had to stop these infuriating doubts that were only dragging him down.

"Hello? Devastator to FNG, do you copy?"

Luke blinked, startled by Vil's Corellian accent.

"Sorry, I – I hadn't realised you were talking to me," he smiled. "What were you saying?"

The took a bottle of ale out of the cooling unit to hand it to Hammer, then another for himself.

"I was asking if you were up for a game of sabacc. Hammer here claimed he can trash us all and I don't buy that for a second."

Hammer, a man with a thick neck and dirty blonde hair not unlike Luke's, smirked and nonchalantly uncapped his bottle before taking a swig.

"C'mon, you're terrible at sabacc, of course you'll get trashed." Luke forced himself to smile.

Vil rolled his eyes.

"Nice. Care to prove that?"

Luke thought for a moment, hesitating before joining the others at the table. Silver had already gotten the cards out.

"Alright," he gave in, hoping it would alleviate his mind.

He took himself a drink then came to sit with them, and Silver began giving out the cards. They all looked at their hands: Luke's was okay, but he didn't think he'd get very far anyway. Next to him, Vil groaned.

"Kriff."

Hammer laughed.

"With such a talent for bluff, you'll be space dust quicker than a Rebel ship!"

Luke's stomach contorted again, but he brushed it off. He really needed to get a hang of himself. He wouldn't fail in this battle like he did in the previous one.

"Hey," Hammer repeated, looking at Luke intently. "It's your turn."

"Sorry," Luke mumbled before playing his card.

"What's the matter with you tonight?" Vil asked. "You're acting off."

Luke shrugged and smiled.

"No, I'm fine."

"He's scared to go up in battle," Qorl spoke up, before playing in turn.

Luke's heart missed a beat as he crossed Qorl's glassy gaze. The toad-faced pilot had a perfect sabacc expression, and Luke couldn't read anything on it.

"What? 'Course not," he scoffed, trying to sound natural. "Whatever gave you that idea."

"You were brooding the last time too, before the fight," Qorl explained. Luke didn't much care for the scrutiny with which he looked at him. "But now it's no longer your first battle, so you're just being a coward."

"What?" Luke repeated, growing angry. "Listen – where did that even come from? I'm not afraid!"

"Then you're being a traitor, which is worse."

There was a deafening silence. Luke's heart was drumming in his chest, but he was gaping, unable to know how to answer. His voice had left him, too outraged to say a word.

"Woah, let's calm down a minute," Silver said, raising his hands. He looked as stunned and shaken as all the others. "Qorl, that's a very serious thing to say, you can't just –"

"No, let him speak," Luke growled, gritting his teeth. "Why are you accusing me of being a traitor?"

Qorl threw him a glare.

"I'm just saying you don't seem very committed," he retorted. "As if your heart weren't completely in it. It's the same every time we talk about gunning down Rebels."

"That's ridiculous," Luke answered despite the pound of lead that had settled in his chest. He leant forward on the table, holding Qorl's gaze, barely holding his anger in check. "Who are you to decide who's committed or not?"

"Someone who's got eyes rather than a bratty mouth," Qorl shot back. "You never told us what you're fighting for."

The other pilots shifted on their seats. Luke didn't pay them any attention.

"Same as everybody here. I want to win the war and put an end to the Rebellion."

Qorl let out a short and cold laugh, so shrill Luke jumped.

"Oh no, that's not it," he said. "Nobody really cares about this bloody war. That's just the tip of the iceberg!"

Luke frowned, taken aback. What was he getting at? He hadn't even really spoken to him before...

He glared at him, fed up with the whole thing. There was a strange glint in Qorl's eyes, harsh and passionate. He seemed more alive than Luke had ever seen him.

"You want to know what I'm fighting for? I want these assholes to stop harassing innocent citizens and killing the fathers of our children. I'm fighting because they're slaughtering our countries, our works, our families. They're standing for a child's tantrum, a delusion dead and gone, and as long as I live I won't let anyone bring anarchy and ruin to the galaxy I love!"

Luke gaped at him, this time out of surprise at the unexpected outburst. There was an anger running deep there, a bitterness that shocked him. He understood now what Qorl meant about not being committed: Luke certainly didn't have the same kind of rage at the Rebels in him. It made him ill at ease, but he couldn't tell if it was the violence of the speech itself or his own guilt, gnawing at his stomach.

There was a muffled cough, someone clearing his throat. Torpedo was looking at Luke sheepishly, rubbing the side of his crooked nose.

"I, uh, I think it's your turn, FNG," he said, pointing his chin towards Luke's hand.

His comment was lost in the thickness of the atmosphere. Luke took a card and set it on the deck, keeping his gaze straight on Qorl.

"You don't have to worry about me," he slowly said, his voice low and quiet. "I won't fail."

Qorl nodded once, more a warning than an acknowledgement.

"I'll hold you to it."

He set down his own card in the most complete silence.