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 sims room, his hands clasped behind his back. There was nobody training there; he had always made sure it was that way, for when speaking of the Force and the mysteries of the universe, he preferred there be no witnesses. He looked at the machines, completely motionless.

It had been a week since he ordered Lars to take up training again. Seven days in which the boy had showed up perfectly on time, worked tirelessly, and never failed to demonstrate his strong desire to learn and will to prove himself. Vader knew the boy enjoyed Force training, as well as flying. That was something that never ceased to transpire from their sessions.

It was going as smoothly as he ever could hope. Lars was the perfect student: dedicated, hard-working, and motivated.

Yet Vader, for some reason, didn't feel as satisfied as he thought he would be by seeing him finally learn a thing about discipline.

He still remembered how easy-going Lars had been before he had so foolishly interrupted his training. Back then he had never thought twice before asking questions, candid as they sometimes were. He had been enthusiastic, open, and allowed Vader a fascinating look into his mind as he soaked up all the information he could on the Force.

The guarded and single-minded young man that came to their daily sessions couldn't have been more different. He hardly ever said a word, except to acknowledge Vader's instructions or ask for short and precise clarifications. There was a new hardness to his eyes, too, though Vader couldn't say if it had appeared recently, or if he only saw it now that he looked at him more closely.

It was everything Vader had wanted out of him. But, all things considered, he wasn't all that certain he appreciated the change.

Hard as it was to understand, he found himself missing the boy's quips and spirit. This new, closed behaviour didn't suit him at all.

Under his mask, Vader frowned. He had sought to make Lars trust him. And while the young pilot may have obeyed his every order, it was clear he was still extremely wary of him – if not downright afraid. This must have been why Vader was so bothered by his behaviour. Once again, his actions pertaining to the boy had backfired, and he found himself not knowing how to deal with him.

Had it been a mistake to order him into training like he had done? Had his rash and impatient action managed to burn whatever ruins of bridge remained between the boy and him? But there had been no other way. Vader couldn't obtain Lars' trust while he was trying to avoid him. And with his duties lying at the top of the fleet, while Lars' were still those of a mere pilot, he couldn't count on their regular schedules giving him the opportunity to prove himself to him...

A familiar bright presence interrupted his thoughts when Vader felt it seek out his own instinctively. He turned around and saw the boy standing in the doorway, straight as an I and his whole body tense.

"Come," Vader told him, waving for him to come closer.

Without a word, the young man complied and sat down on the ground in a fluid movement, practised many times. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes without needing Vader to tell him to.

"Good," Vader praised him. "Now breathe, open your mind, broaden your perceptions... yes."

Lars performed the exercise flawlessly, immersing himself in the Force like it was a second nature. Vader couldn't help but smile, still awed by the boy's talent after all this time – skill, really, at this point.

He opened himself to the Force in turn, and guided the boy in its folds, asking him to perform different exercises. Lars executed them all perfectly, but he had yet to say a word. Displeased, Vader realised this session was all set to happen like the previous times: Lars learning and practising, but quiet, his personality hidden behind a thick wall of suspicion. This wasn't how he would get an apprentice...

He complicated the exercise, pushed Lars to his limits in the hopes to finally break his shields. The boy didn't offer any reaction beside a frown and a pike of challenge through the Force. He threw his all in the effort, still remaining practically impassive. He didn't even complain when Vader asked him to stretch his perceptions to an extent even he had trouble attaining. When he failed, all he said to Vader was a quiet, subdued apology. Vader assured him he had done well, but was troubled to realise the boy's hands kept trembling, despite his pacifying words.

Deciding he would get nowhere like this, Vader sent the boy to the flight simulator. This was always what he took the most pleasure in; it was also the area in which he had the best instinctual responses. He truly was a natural, and practice was pushing his abilities to an extraordinary point. Vader had to admit he greatly enjoyed watching him.

Thankfully, this got the boy to relax the slightest bit, though he still had to say a word besides his laconic responses to Vader's instructions. As usual, his flying was unparalleled. He soared in the digital night sky, with all the freedom and the playfulness Vader no longer saw him exhibit any other way, but still conscious of his enemies' every movement.

"Very good," he said once Lars had atomised the time record for that particular simulation. "You are improving quickly. Now, I want you to try something different."

Lars' expression didn't change, though for a second his eyes flickered to Vader's fingers, skimming through the different programs.

"Yes, my lord?"

Vader adjusted the last settings, then looked back up at the boy.

"You are to destroy the enemy ships... without any weapons at your disposal."

The slight tightening of Lars' jaw was all he showed of his surprise. Vader couldn't help remembering the loud protests he had emitted during their very first lesson, when he thought an assignment was impossible to complete.

"How, sir?"

"By predicting your enemies' movements through the Force, and using them against them. You have already shown excellent reflexes, due to your capacity to perceive the intentions of the pilots around you. Expand that ability. Use it to defeat your foes."

Lars slowly nodded, thinking.

"And no manipulating the ships through the program. Act as if they were real beings rather than algorithms."

The corner of the boy's lips jerked upwards when he remembered his previous little trick, but he repressed his smile at the last moment.

"Go."

Lars nodded, took a deep breath, clutched the controls tighter. Vader launched the program, and stood back to watch.

At first the boy did nothing but dodge the ships. Attacks were coming his way, and he avoided them, over and over again despite the odds. Vader couldn't help be impressed by his agility; but he knew he couldn't hold it for long. He had to find a way to reduce the number of his enemies.

A strained swear word escaped the cockpit after a particularly narrow escape. The boy was tiring, losing both his concentration and his control over himself. That was part of Vader's goal in assigning him such a difficult exercise, beyond the fact that it would make him progress a lot. Given the right pressure, the boy's shields would have to crack, his true emotions to shine through; then, perhaps, Vader could reach out to him.

There was a muffled groan, and the dot on the monitor flickered and died. The boy took a deep breath, made a conscious effort to relax his muscles. Then he opened his eyes, and asked Vader to start the program again.

It happened like this for another thirty minutes: Lars would dodge, and dodge again, until the moment he tired and one of the enemies got him. Like Vader thought, as he grew more and more weary, his composure began to slip, his emotions flowing more and more freely under the effects of adrenaline. After what had to have been his fifteenth run, he stopped for a moment and run a shaking hand through his hair, before casually addressing Vader.

"Are you sure I can't tweak the sim to destroy them?"

He then bit his lip and averted his gaze, looking so much like a deer caught in a speeder's headlights Vader couldn't hold back a short laugh.

"You would not only destroy your enemies, but also the purpose of the exercise."

The boy let the smile reach his lips this time, but couldn't help throwing him a wary glance. He sighed, run his hand on his face this time, then gripped the controls once more.

"I'm ready."

Vader let him run the program again, and again, before taking pity on him when each run started to be over after ten seconds.

"That is enough for today," he said.

Lars was reluctant to stand up, but he didn't protest. He took a deep breath, wavered a little when coming out of the cockpit.

"How am I supposed to do this?" he asked. "This is by far the most complicated exercise you've ever asked of me."

"I ask it of you because you can do it," Vader said. "Trust in the Force, and it will give you the answer."

Lars didn't seem overly convinced, but he nodded without a word, his lips pinched.

"Something is bothering you," Vader stated.

Lars hesitated, then shook his head.

"It's nothing, my lord."

Vader crossed his arms, ready to berate him for lying and to order him to answer, but he decided otherwise when he saw the boy flinch, no doubt feeling his intentions. He watched him better, probing him lightly with the Force to try and guess what was the matter.

"You think you are unable to do it."

Lars sighed as discreetly as he could, but Vader heard it all the same.

"I will try."

"Trying is useless, when one doesn't believe in their abilities."

Again the boy just nodded, his face so unreadable it was driving Vader mad.

"I understand. I will do my best."

"Good," Vader insisted, not certain the boy believed him. He had no idea where he was standing, and he was growing irritated by it. "I wouldn't ask you such a thing if I didn't think you were capable."

For a fraction of a second, a shadow passed on the boy's face, just as mysterious as all his expressions had been up until now; then he regained his blank mask as he slightly bowed to Vader.

"Thank you, my lord."

He shot him an expectant glance, then headed towards the exit.

"Stay," Vader ordered him. The boy sighed, but obeyed.

Vader took a step towards him, testing the waters. Like he had thought, the boy tensed and turned towards him warily. Still acting like a mouse trapped by a lothcat, then. What, by the Force, did he have to do to make him understand he didn't need to fear him?

"I couldn't help notice the change in your behaviour in the last week," he said, taking care to keep his voice low and non-threatening. "I assure you, once more, that your prudence is not needed."

"I don't see what you are talking about," the boy said, with a confidence that took Vader aback. "I'm just focusing on the training, nothing more."

"Do not lie to me," Vader snapped. "Do you take me for a fool? You have yet to utter an honest word, when before you had trouble holding your insolence in check."

"I was under the impression you wanted me to hold my insolence in check... sir," the boy answered, sounding confused.

Vader was struck speechless for an instant. He certainly couldn't fault the boy for thinking so... so why did he miss his attitude now that it was finally gone?

"That never stopped you before," he countered. "Nevertheless, while I commend you for your efforts, I must stress how important good communication is for you to learn."

Lars scoffed, clearly about to say something, but he held himself back once more.

"I understand, sir."

"Do you?" Vader asked. It took all of his self-control not to take another step forward in intimidation. He wanted the boy to stop being afraid of him, he reminded himself. "Then what were you just about to say, before you restrained yourself?"

A flash of irritation lit up in the boy's eyes, and Vader knew he'd won this round...

"With all due respect, my lord, since you want to know so badly, I thought this was rich of you to say, considering your own communication skills," Lars said. "It sometimes seems like all I manage to achieve is giving you murderous moods."

"You would not have to worry about that if you stopped trying my patience so much," Vader retorted, waving a finger in his direction.

"That's exactly what's I'm trying to do!" Lars retorted. "But it's still not good enough, apparently!"

Once more, Vader didn't quite know what to answer. The boy was right. He had wanted him to stop talking back to him, only to regret it once he had.

"I just... wish you weren't so afraid of me," he finally said. "I have told you time and again. I wish you no harm."

Lars seemed about to say something else, then he stopped himself and sighed.

"Well, could have fooled me," he muttered. "Sometimes it's like you want me to be afraid..."

Vader didn't miss the slight jerk upwards of his hand, before he stopped it from reaching his throat and brought it down again.

"I am aware of the wrongs I have caused you," he replied. "Is it so difficult to believe I do not wish to repeat them?"

Lars looked at him, then averted his gaze.

"I will try, sir."

He had closed himself off again, Vader noticed with growing frustration. This boy was impossible!

But he knew there was nothing more to be said. He waved for the boy to go, not trusting himself to speak without betraying his annoyance.

Still, he supposed they had made progress, he told himself as Lars was gone, and he forced himself to calm down. He hadn't managed to extract half as many sincere words of him since the beginning of the week. Certainly, the boy still didn't trust him, but it didn't mean it was hopeless.

If only he could find a faster way to resolve things between them... Lars' current mistrust was all too similar to the behaviour he'd exhibited before they had started training together, and this reminded Vader that he still had a thousand questions about his background. It had felt, at times, as if he had a secret to keep, something he didn't want Vader to know... for example, who had falsified the midichlorians counts on his birth certificate, and why.

Yes, the boy was still full of mysteries, which Vader had ignored for too long. Furthermore, he knew his master was keeping his own tabs on the boy, now that he had taken an interest in him. It was in Vader's own interest to make sure he disposed of the same information...

And, if there was any secret to be discovered, having it out in the open would give the boy one less reason to hide things from him.

Vader left the sims room, reviewing his best agents in his head and trying to decide who would be the most qualified for this.

.

Luke stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel, feeling much more relaxed. Sim sessions were often intense, especially when they were Force-related, but today had been particularly nerve-racking.

He dried his short hair, quickly donned his clothes, then hung his towel on the rack before leaving the 'fresher, still thinking about Vader and his impossible assignment. No, he had to stop thinking about it as impossible, wasn't it? Otherwise he would never manage to get it done.

But no matter how much he thought about it, he still couldn't think of any way to achieve it. Not only was he alone against many enemies, but his lack of weapons was such a disadvantage... avoiding them was already a tall order. To actually vanquish them, he'd need something close to superpowers...

He scoffed. Well, the Force was similar enough to one, he supposed. He just had to figure out how the hell to use it to his advantage, since he couldn't go the easy way and just take control of the fighters via the operating system... He guessed he'd have to figure that out the next time he had a session with Vader, if he thought of nothing before then. Maybe the man would give him a hint.

With a start, he realised he wasn't feeling as apprehensive at the idea as he had at the start of the week. For all his faults, the man was not such a bad teacher, and the familiarity of the setting as well as curiosity had lulled Luke into a sense of safety. He was still wary of Vader, of course: after everything he'd pulled on Luke, the young man flatly refused to let himself completely drop his guard again. But he was feeling more comfortable, in any case. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

He also had no idea what to do with the man's constant assertions that he would no longer hurt him. Sure, he seemed sincere enough, but how long would it last before he changed his mind again? Perhaps the most unpleasant thing about it all was how little Luke knew where he stood with Vader. What did he want with him? Why did he seem so eager to teach him one moment, only to reject him and threaten him the next? It made no sense at all, and Luke knew he wouldn't be able to trust Vader until he understood what was happening in his head.

That being said, regardless of how dissatisfied Vader claimed to be with his new behaviour and lack of communication, Luke found their new dynamic to be quite comfortable. Sure, he'd never had to watch his words as closely as he did now, but it made their interactions much more peaceful. That was certainly a welcome change, even though Luke didn't know how long he would still be able to hold it out.

It did require quite a lot of self-control on his end, and was part of the reason why he always left these sessions so exhausted.

He walked to his locker, opened the door to take his datapad and check his messages. He still had quite a few flight-related duties, especially now that they were preparing a battle, but right now he didn't feel up to anything but reading his holomail.

He typed in his code, opened the door, and frowned. His locker was in more disarray than he remembered leaving it... A folder was left open against the wall, pieces of flimsi scattered around. His datapad was lying plainly visible on top of all the rest.

Luke closed the folder, vaguely put the flimsi pieces in a little pile, then seized the datapad and closed his locker before sitting on his bunk, lying against the metal headpiece and bringing his feet up on the mattress.

He must have left it in that state and forgotten about it... there was no other reasonable explanation. He was the only one knowing the code, after all... and why would people go looking around in his stuff? He'd checked, and nothing had been stolen. Everything was there, it was just a mess.

He tried to distract himself from the uneasy twisting of his guts by scrolling through his mails. It was probably nothing, anyway; he had been in a hurry this morning... His eyes moved down the screen. A few tactical notes, automatic agenda reminders, a message from a superior about Empire Day coming up in a few weeks – joy.

Luke rather enjoyed the parades and the shows of the day, especially the aerial displays, but the pompous atmosphere of the celebrations he'd always found stifling. He supposed it was a reminder of his childhood, during most of which he'd been rather upset about having to share his birthday with the Empire. It hadn't helped matters that Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru seemed to hold the official holiday in contempt.

Nowadays Luke had learned to tolerate it better, even appreciate it somewhat – not like he'd had a choice, with the career he'd picked. However, the constant reminder of how glorious the Empire was, and how grateful all and every citizen were for their service, still made him a little uncomfortable. Especially knowing lots of people didn't feel that way... it was a time of the year when they had to be particularly alert, for many Rebel or civil protests took place on the occasion.

Luke was sorting his mails from "not important" to "urgent" when the sound of footsteps made him look up. To Luke's great displeasure, it was Qorl who appeared on the doorstep.

"Shooting Star," he greeted him with a cold nod. "It doesn't really surprise me to see you lazing around."

"Mind your own business," Luke mumbled. "You're probably there to do the same anyway."

Qorl only shrugged, and indeed walked to his own locker. An absurd thought crossed Luke's mind.

"Hey, did you by any chance happen to get into my things earlier? I found them all messy..."

Qorl snorted.

"Knowing you, they're probably always messy," he retorted. Luke had to concede the point, though much more grudgingly than he otherwise would have. What would have sounded like light-hearted banter from any of his other squadmates only came out of Qorl's mouth as condescending. "That, or someone's watching you. I'm not in the habit of picking locks."

Luke frowned.

"Why would someone be watching me?"

"Oh, I don't know – because you're unreliable, you could be a traitor, and you can't be trusted?"

Luke rolled his eyes.

"Whatever."

He returned to his datapad and ignored the other pilot's actions as much as he could, hoping he would leave him alone.

Finally, after what seemed like ages to Luke, his wish was granted, and Qorl closed his locker's door before heading towards the exit, a stack of laundry in his arms.

"Well, I need to get going," he said. "Have fun wasting your time doing whatever idle thing you're doing."

"I'm working," Luke grumbled as Qorl left without waiting for an answer. He still didn't understand the other pilot's animosity. Was it so hard to leave him alone?

With an exasperated sigh, he put his datapad on his bed, fed up and unable to focus on his mail anymore. He covered the device with his pillow, hoping nobody would pay attention to it and notice it wasn't at the right place. He didn't want to put it with the rest of his stuff right now, not if there was a thief going through the pilots' things.

He put on his boots and headed to the main room, deciding he needed a break. Maybe he could get himself a cup of caf, too. Nothing to do with guilt at Qorl's words pushing him to leave his bed.

He didn't care about that prick, he was in a soaring mood, and there was no way in hell he was letting him get to him.