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.
Debriefing was a hassle.
It was held at the very start of the day-cycle in their usual meeting room, the one where they planned, reviewed, organised most of their operations, whether training or actual war movements. Luke had woken up early, and headed there as soon as he was ready, around thirty minutes before the scheduled time. The room was silent, and the quiet bore down on him. He was grateful for Mauler's order to prepare the electronics for the meeting. Maybe he should have taken another cup of caf.
He kept tinkering with the holodevice long after he had adjusted all the necessary settings. Machines were comfortable and familiar, soothing.
He had reviewed all the possible functions of the device and could probably install it in his sleep when the other pilots joined him for the debriefing. Forcing a smile, he greeted them and exchanged the usual morning pleasantries, but couldn't hold their gazes for very long. He wished for nothing more than for the meeting to start soon.
Once they all were present, Mauler entered the room and closed the door. Luke looked up, taking a second to search for the missing face before remembering why it wasn't there with a pang to his heart. He looked down again, angry against himself.
"Gentlemen, you know why we're here this morning," Mauler started. "This battle was unforeseen and unplanned, but it is in such conditions that we truly show what we're made of. It is an opportunity to learn. During the next hour, I want us to point out every mistake we've made, every move we could have performed better, every badly-weighed reaction we've had. Feedback is how we learn best, and I hope you can be as honest with me as I always try to be with you."
Each in turn, they chimed in, dissected the battle from their own point of view while Mauler was taking notes and completing with his own observations.
"I have a confession to make, I had no idea where the rest of the squad was most of the time," Silver said.
Vil and Qorl nodded.
"I had the same impression," thundered Boomer. "These Rebels were swirling around us like flies, I never had a moment to breathe or check out where my squadmates were."
"You're right," said Mauler, scribbling on his datapad. "It was difficult to keep track of each other's positions, mostly because of how the battle was so concentrated around the shield generators. We didn't have much time to organise our defence and it showed."
He raised his head and looked at them, the red light of his eye as intimidating as usual.
"I also think I was wrong to let you drink yesterday night. We didn't expect to take flight again, and that was a mistake."
A pang went through Luke's heart. Chaser had been one of the most enthusiastic pilots to toast to his new call sign.
He swallowed and breathed in. This wasn't going to help. He had to be better, stronger.
"I was surprised by the Rebels' tactics," he said. "We're used to coherent enemies who calculate risks roughly like we do. I was unbalanced by their recklessness. I guess there's a big space for improvement there."
"Very true," Mauler nodded, thoughtfully looking at him. "That's a pertinent remark. Dealing with erratic enemies is particularly challenging. Any idea how to better that?"
The whole squadron thought for a second.
"Reflexes," Luke said. "If we're not gonna be able to foresee what they plan, then our reaction time has to be shorter. We need to be fast."
"Absolutely," Mauler answered. "And constant attention. To surprise, but not be surprised. Anything else?"
They kept analysing the battle, recalling here and there a piece of theory or a useful squad formation; then Mauler checked his watch and closed the meeting.
"Okay, guys, this is where I leave you. Debrief's over. Let's all take it into account in our practice. Five minutes, then flight plan."
Luke was among the first to leave.
.
The hiss of the helmet depressurising, followed by the rush of oxygen-enriched air on his face, was an immense relief for Vader. He took a few feeble but deep breaths, enjoying the way his weakened lungs expanded on his command, as small as the movement was due to his condition. Backache was pounding into his spine, exhaustion spreading in all his muscles. Slowly the unpleasant feeling of disgust alleviated, but his fury didn't abate, potently simmering in the pit of his stomach.
The Rebels' interrogation had given him nothing, he fumed while wiping his slick gloves with a cloth. He had been unable to tear a single reliable piece of information out of the incoherent rambling, screams and pleas of the prisoners. No satisfying explanation of their plans, no hint to what they were hiding on-planet among all the ludicrous suggestions they had tried to feed him, and most importantly, no clue whatsoever to what they knew of the battle station being built systems away from here.
He would have to try again later, he darkly mused, pinching the bridge of his nose, but in his current anger he feared he might kill them before they gave him anything valuable. And considering what his next task involved, he needed to regain his composure.
He had received a message this morning from one of his aides, informing him the Praadost II authorities had refused to grant them authorisation to further access their territory. Unwilling to let it stand, and irritated by their pointless resistance, he had managed to appoint a holo-conference with them that very morning to discuss the matter. He had never been fond of nor particularly gifted at diplomatic negotiations, but it didn't matter. All he had to do was remind them of their Emperor's will and the Empire's might. Refusal on their end was not an option.
He took some more time to meditate and breathe before he sufficiently felt master of himself. Then he let the mask descend on his face again, red plastic filtering his vision once more. Once, the sensation of the helmet enclosing his head had sent him into bouts of panicked claustrophobia. It had been long enough now that he was completely used to it, although he doubted the feeling would ever be pleasant.
When he arrived at the conference room, five minutes before the scheduled appointment, two technicians who were operating the holoconsole were already present, working on the transmission. The lights were dimmed so that the image would be easier to see. Vader positioned himself in front of the transmitter.
Soon after, a cone of blue light flickered and transformed into a three-dimensional picture of two human women wearing elaborate ceremony clothing. They slightly bowed to him when the image stabilised.
"Lord Darth Vader," one of them greeted him coldly. "What an honour to meet you."
"Let us dispense with the pleasantries, President Samu'ul," Vader snarled. "I am here to obtain the right to investigate Praadost II that you thought appropriate to deny me."
President Samu'ul's face didn't betray any of her emotions; neither did her presence in the Force, hidden behind potent shields. A true politician, Vader reflected in disdain.
"I deeply regret to say we cannot grant you that. I thought we made our position quite clear. Your invasion of our planet was illegal and led to grievous destruction of our biotope, as well as harm to several citizens. We will demand compensation from the Empire, and are not prepared to accept another such violation from you."
"I have no patience for your claims. I am here on behalf of the Emperor, for critical galactic matters. Armed Rebel activity has been discovered on-planet, a capital offence in the terms of Imperial Decree VI-856. You will grant us access to your soil for further investigation if you do not wish to be punished as the traitors you are."
The president didn't seem surprised in the least by his accusation, which Vader had expected.
"If Rebels have set up on our territory, it is without our knowledge and consent. Our involvement cannot be proven. We are innocent, and will not stand by while you disturb the peace of our citizens this way. The allegation will be investigated, and you are welcome to send a representative to help the search and control our results, but Imperial military presence within our borders is –"
"Whether or not proof is sufficient to incriminate you will be left to my own appreciation." Vader interrupted her, waving a threatening finger at the hologram. "By decree of the Emperor I have been given full power to deal with situations involving insurgency as I see fit. You will comply or be made to step aside."
A flash of annoyance surged in the eyes of the Praadosian representative. Some reaction at last.
"You are making a grave mistake, Lord Vader. This course of action violates several interstellar conventions the Old Republic ratified long ago, before the Clone Wars, and that have not been abolished since then."
"The word of the Emperor prevails over all other treaties," Vader replied.
Samu'ul's companion let out a gasp of outrage, but the president raised a hand to prevent her from intervening.
"We will not abide by this," she said, raising her chin and looking Vader straight in the eye. "These treaties you hold in such contempt grant us powerful allies. You will not get away with this."
"I look forward to this future encounter, then." Vader gave her a mocking bow, smirking behind his mask when the woman's irritation finally slipped through. "In the meantime, I would be grateful for you to lower your planetary protections. If this is not done within a standard week, assault shall be given."
Samu'ul threw him an icy glare.
"The message is duly received and will not be forgotten," she said, before the communication flickered and died.
Contact was cut, the lights returned to their normal intensity, but Vader didn't immediately move. He would have preferred to deal with this without involving any other planets, but if the Praadosians insisted on being difficult, he would do what he needed to. He had no doubt Praadost's allies would be no match for Imperial power. Nevertheless, the treaties would have to be researched, the threat analysed, so that they knew exactly what they were facing and could ask for reinforcements if need be.
"Send me the transcript of the transmission," he curtly ordered one of the technicians, leaving the room before he could even answer.
He walked out and took the direction of his quarters. This was infuriating. It seemed like everything concurred to prevent him from learning what the Rebels were hiding. For a moment, he wondered if the Praadosians were not directly involved and actively trying to protect them, but he quickly discarded the thought. It didn't matter whether or not they were complicit; for daring interfere with his goals, they would be punished.
He was taken out of his thoughts when a short figure nearly walked into him. The officer stopped himself just in time with a look of terror on his face, then took a step back and put himself at attention. Vader nearly lashed out in irritation, then stopped himself when he recognised the young features.
"My lord – I'm sorry."
Vader took his time watching him, taking some vicious pleasure to prolong his apprehension. Clearly the boy was still afraid of him, but it seemed to have diminished. He mostly seemed busy, his mind still focused on his work after being interrupted, two flimsibooks under his arm.
"Has nobody taught you to look in front of you when you walk, Ensign?" he asked, letting his displeasure filter through his vocoder.
"I was distracted, sir. I apologise."
He didn't move, his gaze elusive. Vader let him stew for a few more seconds then waved him away.
"Apology accepted. You may go."
The boy relaxed, but surprisingly enough he didn't hurry away as soon as he could. Instead he looked up tentatively at Vader.
"My lord? I was wondering if, uh, if your offer of yesterday still held..."
Ah. Yes. Vader immediately remembered the night before, the boy's grief, his acceptance of his offer to guide him in the ways of the Force.
"Join me at 1500 in the simulators' room," he said.
A flash of surprise and anticipation burst in the Force, despite Lars' efforts to keep a straight face. Vader smiled: his efforts – at last – to learn some restraint were honourable, but he still had a lot to learn.
"Thank you, sir. I'll be there," Lars said.
Vader nodded, and the boy walked away.
This would certainly prove interesting. The boy was a creature of deep instinct and emotion, boiling right under the surface, ready to spring at the slightest provocation, as he had already showed numerous times. Vader was curious to see how he would react to the dark side, how the passions he hid in the deepest corner of his heart would manifest into the Force.
He was looking forward to it.
.
Luke was already feeling more upbeat when he came back to the squad's meeting room, where the rest of the pilots were waiting for him for weather and safety briefing. He set his burden on the table.
"There it is, sir. Complete description of Praadosian weather, with charts of aerial currents and of the main winds as updated by our sensors. Oh, and here's the digital version," he added, taking a datachip from his pocket and handing it to Mauler.
"Thank you."
Mauler plugged the chip in the holoprojector and turned it on. The shape of the planet they were orbiting, now familiar, appeared in front of them.
"Keep this quick, we've already flown in this airspace, so we already know the basics. What are the previsions for the next week, what do we need to watch out for?"
Luke answered, using the diagram to illustrate at times, and the charts when questions came up. A mere twenty minutes later, the briefing was over.
The young man sighed and took a moment to stretch. He understood weather meetings and planning sessions were important, but they'd been busy at it since the morning and Luke was antsy for some actual action.
Speaking of action... He stifled a yawn and looked at his watch. It was 1450: in ten minutes he had his appointment with Vader.
His stomach turned uneasily and he wondered, like he had done several times before, if this was such a good idea after all. The last times he had found himself with his commanding officer hadn't exactly happened the best of ways... He shivered.
But surely this was stupid. If Vader hadn't killed him before – when he talked back at every opportunity, when he had nearly disobeyed his orders – he wouldn't do it now. And here was at last the opportunity to learn about that strange sixth sense of his, what Vader called the Force. He had grown to realise this was more than excellent reflexes, this was an actual ability of his, something special, and apparently Vader knew about it.
He had promised himself to do better, to learn to be as best a pilot as he could. This was the first step. Luke rose up and left for the simulators' room.
The lights were off when he entered. Good, he thought, that meant he was on time. Vader certainly appreciated punctuality. He went to the switch to turn them on, but before he even touched it the lighting flared to life.
"Welcome, young one."
Luke whirled on himself to see Vader standing next to the simulators, baffled at the humour he thought he heard in his voice. Had he done that on purpose?
"Lord Vader, I – uh – hi."
He winced, trying to calm his beating heart. That had to be the most lame greeting of all existence. Vader didn't remark on it, though. He went right at the heart of the matter.
"Before we start, I need you to answer a question I already asked you."
That wouldn't be the first time, Luke thought, his stomach roiling uncomfortably at the memories of the long sessions in Vader's quarters.
"What do you know of the Force?"
"Not a lot, sir," Luke answered. "I gathered from what you told me that it was the thing that helped my reflexes in flight, but otherwise, I don't know."
Vader tilted his helmet down towards him.
"It is that, and much more," the rumbling bass replied. "The Force is what binds the universe together. It surrounds and penetrates all of us, it is part of every living being in existence. Life creates it and cannot exist without it. It is an entity of great power, a power that can be harnessed by those strong enough."
"Strong?" said Luke. With his slender frame and his short size, he certainly couldn't be considered strong in the common sense of the term, although his training hopefully allowed him to hold his own against most civilians.
"Not in the physical sense," Vader said, confirming his thoughts. "The Force is present in all life, but some are more sensitive to its currents than others. You, young Lars, are very strong with the Force."
Luke nodded, already overwhelmed.
"So, because I'm, uh, strong with the Force, that what's gives me so good reflexes?"
"Yes. You have only started to tap into that power. The well of possibility at your fingertips is endless; with time and practice... But enough talk. Get into the cockpit. I will show you."
Luke hurried to obey and wrapped his hands around the controls. Outside the simulator, Vader was tinkering with the interface, choosing a training programme.
"Close your eyes," he ordered. Luke complied. "Take deep breths. Be conscious of your body... your feet, lungs, fingertips. Let your feelings wash over you."
Luke took the time to complete the strange exercise. There was a vibration in all of his limbs that he had never noticed. He felt relaxed, but poised for action.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," Luke said, opening his eyes.
Vader launched the countdown, and Luke grasped the controls tighter, adrenaline rushing in his guts. Three, two, one – and it began.
He was in space around some kind of planet, but he didn't have time to watch the scenery. An enemy fighter came at him, then a second. Luke's heart missed a beat. He rolled aside but the enemy followed him easily. Luke bit his lip, looped, fired at them without success. A third one appeared on his scopes, close on his tail. Luke barrel-rolled, turned left and right, but nothing hit the opponents. He was dead a breath later.
The screen went dark. Luke fought to regain his breath, his heart pounding, his hands trembling.
"What – what was that thing?"
"Your goal and assignment for today. Destroy all the enemies," Vader replied.
"But there are so many of them! This is impossible!" protested Luke. How was he even supposed to last a minute in this absolute hell of a simulation?
On his left, Vader stared him down with his arms crossed in front of him. Luke balled his fists.
"So quick to give up, then?"
"I'm not giving up!" retorted Luke. "It just would help if you gave me an exercise that is possible!"
Vader didn't answer him. Luke suddenly realised what tone he'd just used with his commanding officer. He looked down, rubbed his throat.
"I'm sorry."
"No matter," Vader said. "Are you ready to try again?"
Luke pinched his lips and nodded, despite the fact he was very much not ready for that.
Once again the countdown started, once again it was over before Luke could react. He did it over one, three, five times without noticing any improvement. After the eighteenth time, he sighed and left the cockpit, simmering in frustration and anger.
"I'm sorry, sir. I can't do it. I just can't," he said.
He sat down on the bench at the side of the room, ragingly wiping his brow. He didn't understand what Vader was doing, why he was putting him through this. All his teachers had always started slow with the basics before increasing the difficulty, building skills up. Of course it had always been quick, because training was supposed to be demanding, but nothing had even given him this impression of utter helplessness. He felt incapable, terrible at what he was doing, which was incredibly discouraging. If he couldn't fly, what could he do?
"You have barely been at it for fifteen minutes," remarked Vader. "Already you expect results?"
Luke looked up at him, frowning. He hadn't thought of it that way. Of course, put like that, it seemed ridiculous.
"No, sir," he begrudgingly said, even though it wasn't completely true. He had always obtained results quicker than the norm. "But I don't know how to improve."
"Do it again, and again, and again. There is no other way. Not once have you tried to open yourself to the Force."
He was right, Luke realised. So taken had he been in his panic, he hadn't thought of using his sixth sense at all, despite it being the very thing he had come to learn. Luke wanted to slap himself in the face.
"How do I do that?" he asked. "I don't have enough time to concentrate."
"Time is unnecessary. Your emotions will make it possible, high as they are running. Your senses will betray you; the Force is the only thing you can rely on."
Luke nodded, his courage coming back. He rose up and returned in the sim's chair, decided to put Vader's advice into practice and to succeed this time. He took a deep breath in, then let it out.
"Close your eyes," said Vader.
Luke frowned, but obeyed. The countdown started and he opened his eyes again, startled. He gripped his controls tighter, watched as the numbers came down.
"Keep them closed."
He wanted to protest the ludicrous idea – how was he supposed to pilot without seeing? – but his fighter was about to be launched and there was no time. Eyes squeezed shut, he fired blindly at the other ships, and was shot down even faster than before, without surprise. He watched the screen again and prepare for the next attempt.
Luke frowned when the simulation didn't start over. A look at his commanding officer made his stomach freeze. Vader was standing with his arms crossed, looking down at him. Luke didn't utter a word.
"Have you come to learn, Ensign Lars, or merely to play in the simulators?"
The words were like a blow in Luke's stomach. He swallowed.
"I –"
"You are not listening to a word you say. You keep doubting and questioning my advice. If you cannot trust me to teach you anything, you are welcome to leave and stop wasting my time."
Luke looked down. Vader's orders seemed ludicrous, and he had no idea how it was supposed to help him most of the time, but he was right. If Luke wanted to learn from him, he actually had to follow his advice.
Out of the blue, he remembered his first battle. He had been so sure back then that the course of action Vader ordered him would only lead to disaster, but it had allowed them to destroy the Rebel base. Perhaps this was the same: odd advice for unexpected results.
"I apologise. I really want to learn from you," Luke said. "I will make an effort."
"Good," Vader answered, and Luke thought he seemed placated. "The craft of the Force is one of instinct. In order to learn it, one must set aside all preconceptions. You must not only do what I tell you; your mind and heart, too, must be at it."
Luke nodded. He understood, he would do better.
"Again," Vader said.
Without a word, Luke turned back to the simulator's screen, his stomach jittering.
"Now close your eyes. Breathe in, and out. Connect to your environment; feel the machines, feel the electricity running through them, feel me."
Luke complied, guided by Vader's voice. It was a nebulous image, and he didn't know if he really felt his surroundings or just imagined them, but it was a start.
The simulation started again, but this time Luke didn't open his eyes.
As soon as his ship was launched, he turned on his right, then did a barrel roll before hearing fire coming just next to his craft. He took speed, pulled up, fired; one enemy ship was destroyed. But it wasn't over, he knew another was coming at him. He plunged again, turned left, right, rose once more, the ship still following him. He gritted his teeth, jerked aside, cursed as he felt the heat of the blast come too close, fired a bit too late, one second before turning into space dust again.
"Better," Vader said, and he dared open his eyes once more. "Much better."
Luke nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.
"I think I get it now. But I still didn't manage to destroy more than one."
"Then you must start again," Vader said, and Luke was in for one more round.
The next try lasted closer to three minutes, so did the one after, but Luke never managed to take down more than one enemy, sometimes still getting killed before scoring any hit. It was starting to wear on him, strain and stress and frustration slowly building up.
Once more he was starting to wonder if the task truly was possible.
"Use your anger," Vader told him. "Take it, connect to it, fuel your power with it."
Luke gritted his teeth and obeyed. He was one with his craft, the simulation was all around him, and he reacted before his brain had time to register what was happening. The buzzing of the machine's electricity filled his ears, prevented him from thinking. There was no past, no future, only the present in which annoying opponents were trying to take him down.
But he wouldn't let them. He owed it to Chaser to survive.
Finally, after what felt like hundreds attempts, Luke managed to destroy all enemy ships. He stared at the screen in disbelief for a few seconds, his heart thundering in his chest, his hands clammy with sweat, but euphoric.
He rose up and grimaced when his legs unfolded. His surroundings were spinning. Everything looked much more intense than it was before, as if the world had gained in reality while he flew.
"Very good," Vader praised him. "Go back to your quarters, get some food and rest. You have earned it."
Luke thanked him, utterly exhausted. He barely managed a nod before leaving the room, his balance slowly coming back. He distractedly looked at his watch, and gaped when he saw the time: Vader had kept him for eight hours.
No wonder he was so tired, he thought. It was the most intense training session he had ever received. But he was happy. His flying had improved so much, he had never imagined there were so many things he could do with just a ship.
He fell asleep as soon as his head touched his pillow.