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.

Breathe in. Points of light swirled around him, illuminating the darkness of infinity. The universe pulsed, moved to make place for him, the gleaming orbits of virtual planets dancing around him.

Breathe out. Red bolts shot at his defenceless ship, fighters rushed towards him. His hands gripped the controls, his palms sweaty under his gloves. He jerked left, upwards, down. By reflex, his thumbs found his weapons' controls and he fired, but of course, nothing came out.

Breathe in. One of the enemies' projectiles flew by just a hair away from him, and he did a barrel roll in a desperate attempt to avoid it. He did his best to sink himself deeper in the Force as he felt his grasp on it weaken. But it was hard to keep his heart from accelerating, his jaw from tightening, his breath from quickening.

Another shot came at him from behind. He jerked upwards, tried to locate the ship and move away from its line of fire; but before he could go far, another blast bolt arrived and everything went black.

Luke let out a breath, fighting against the scream that begged to be set free from his throat. He rose from his seat, took a few agitated steps, all the while trying to calm his frantic heartbeat.

"Eighteen minutes and thirty-six seconds. You are getting better," said Vader.

Luke didn't answer, fearing to say something he'd regret. He knew being insolent again would only cause him trouble, like it always had, but it was growing more and more difficult to refrain from yelling at his teacher for giving him such an impossible exercise.

He'd tried his best. He had lost count of how many times he'd slipped into the sim and run the program, only to get blasted after a few minutes. It was maddening. He had the impression there must be a trick, something he should do to make the ships combust spontaneously or destroy each other, but he had always failed to find it. He wished Vader would just tell him the solution, instead of leaving him hanging like this...

But asking for it felt too easy. It was the first time he was assigned such a difficult thing to do, and he certainly wouldn't give up so quickly. Even if the temptation was great.

With another loud exhale, he let himself fall down on the bench and run a hand over his face.

"Do you want to stop already?" asked Vader.

"No," Luke said, despite how much he wanted to say the contrary. Yes. This is impossible. I can't do this. But Vader had already let him know what he thought of such complaining. "I just need a break."

He took a deep breath and tried to relax, refraining the powerful feeling of defeat that was threatening to rush over him. I'll never be able to figure it out.

"You are frustrated," said Vader. "The lack of results is making you angry."

Luke nodded, but didn't give him any details. Vader had taken that habit to try and guess what he was feeling and thinking, or perhaps he was sensing it through the Force, Luke wasn't sure. He didn't care a lot for it; it felt a little too much like reading his thoughts for his comfort, and Luke had reasons to want his commanding officer away from those.

At the same time, this felt like a different, more vulnerable side of Vader. These quiet guesses, at times, sounded like Vader was merely attempting to ask him what was on his mind, trying to – dare he think it? – connect in the only way he knew.

He would have answered the query, if he didn't know how badly Vader tended to react to him speaking his mind.

"Perhaps you need to do something else," suggested Vader.

He approached the settings panel, selected a few options Luke was too far to see. He banished the temptation to just take a step and look, cursing his curiosity.

Then Vader straightened, and to Luke's surprise, headed to the cockpit next to the one he had just occupied.

"In the simulator, Ensign."

"My lord...?" asked Luke, confused. What was he up to now?

"Some dual exercise would do you good. You are my wingman, after all. I need you to be able to keep up with me."

You bet I can, Luke thought, unable to repress a grin as he threw Vader a challenging glance. He didn't have to be told twice before slipping into place, excited anticipation building in his stomach.

Oh, he'd show him. He had no doubt he'd be able to follow Vader in whatever manoeuvre he decided to take him. He'd show him just how well he could fly.

The countdown started. Luke kept his gaze set on it, careful to keep his breathing regular. He reached for the Force, pulled it to him to calm himself.

Then the numbers reached zero. A background of stars opened in front of Luke, who dove among them, feeling the environment out. He remembered his assignment, and flew in circles, seeking Vader out.

Stay behind me.

Luke immediately recognised the twirls of smoke that reached out for him, and he locked his own presence with Vader's. Following the man's dark curls of Force allowed him to find his ship without any difficulty. He positioned himself next to him, slightly behind. Vader was flying in long and slightly curved strides, easy to follow, for Luke to adapt to him.

Are you ready?

Luke bit his lip absent-mindedly and nodded, all but forgetting Vader couldn't see him. That didn't seem to disturb the man, however, who started taking sharper turns, increasing both speed and agility. Luke let a smirk form on his face as he effortlessly imitated him.

If that was how he hoped to lose him, he'd be in for a surprise.

Only a short time after, enemy ships started appearing into the distance. Luke stayed in place at Vader's side, preparing for the onslaught. The Force was still twisting around them both, surrounding them in a flickering bond of light and shadows.

Cover for me.

Yes, sir, answered Luke.

He was nearly thrown off when Vader jerked on the right, and only managed to follow his sharp turn by reflex. Further in front of them, two X-Wings were aiming for them. Luke had to pull up to avoid the first volley of fire.

He shot back, and was greatly relieved to find out his weapons worked this time. But, remembering Vader's orders, he didn't leave his side to try and pursue the enemy. Instead he remained sagely behind him, watching out for any ships aiming at his commanding officer.

Finally the enemy squadron arrived at their level, and any thought drifted to the back of Luke's mind, replaced by immediate reaction.

He dove, flew to the right, came back. In front of him, Vader was spinning and diving as well, letting escape bolts of deadly fire from time to time. Luke was far enough behind that he could see the other ships coming at his back. He made sure to keep them at bay, enjoying his weapons responding to him and scattering the ships to pieces.

But he didn't have much time to dwell on this satisfaction. Vader was fast, and Luke had to use all his concentration to keep up with him. He kept an eye at him at all time, all the while surveying his surroundings. In a corner of his mind, the mental connection they had always shared lay dormant. It flared from time to time, helped him keep track of Vader.

He plunged, shot, rose far from the remains of the ship he'd taken down. Vader was still dancing his deadly dance, and Luke accompanied him, more and more at ease with the steps. They would fly closer, farther, then closer again, fireworks of exploding aircraft on their path.

It was an incredible sensation, to know with such certainty where Vader would go next, what he would do, to predict the movements of his craft without mistake. Sometimes Luke even got the impression Vader would adapt to him, react to his own movements and intentions. He wasn't always sure who was initiating the movements; all that mattered was that they were always together, without fail.

Then Vader disappeared. Thrown aback, Luke did a loop, certain he must have vanished behind him, searching him in his scopes – which were unresponsive, he realised with some awe. All this time they had worked without instruments...

He jerked aside to avoid a bolt of fire, did a turnaround. A little further, Vader was grappling with two ships, holding them at bay with virtuosity. Luke darted to join him. He swept in, destabilised an enemy, fired at the second while Vader destroyed the first.

The simulation stopped. Numbers showed up on the dark screen, and Luke gaped when he saw how many enemies the two of them had been grappling with, as well as the time it had taken them to vanquish them all.

The exercise had taken less than fifteen minutes.

"Whew," Luke said under his breath.

He looked up to see Vader walking up next to him.

"For a first time, that was not bad," he said, but Luke could feel an undercurrent of pride in the bond still open between them. "I hope some of your frustrations have found an outlet."

"That was... wow," repeated Luke, unable to find the right word to express all his awe and admiration. "You really are a wicked pilot."

He couldn't see Vader's face, but from the posture of his body and the tilt of his helmet, he could have sworn his commanding officer was smiling.

"You are more than adequate, yourself," he answered, echoing a conversation Luke vaguely remembered having with him, long ago. "I do not regret taking you as my wingman."

"Yeah," Luke said, feeling his chest warm up with pride at the compliment. "You know, I used to think I was a pretty decent pilot, but seeing you fly sets a whole different goal."

"With time and practice, I have no doubt you will surpass me one day, young one."

Luke looked down and smiled at the nickname. He remembered the terror hearing it had once inspired in him, knowing Vader had used it as a way to belittle and intimidate him. It was the first time he could hear such fondness in the two simple words.

"When did you fly for the first time?" he found himself asking before he could help it.

He bit his lip and averted his gaze. What had possessed him? Vader never volunteered information about himself. Such personal questions... that was just asking for trouble.

Vader remained silent. Holding his breath, Luke shot him anxious glances, the old fear of being killed in the next three seconds rising in him. He was about to apologise when Vader replied.

"I do not remember," he said. "It has always been part of my life, one way or another."

Luke nodded, surprised both by the answer, and the fact there was one at all.

"Same for me," he said, smiling in wonder at this small shared thing. His mind was full of fond and carefree memories. "I was always racing down the canyons on Tatooine."

Vader nodded.

"Dangerous, but stimulating."

Luke threw him an incredulous glance.

"You've been on Tatooine?"

Vader crossed his arms in front of him. Luke slightly recoiled, feeling the question, this time, was not well received.

"I... know of it," Vader brushed off, before continuing, if that was possible, in what sounded like a softer tone to Luke. "Tell me more about your life back then."

Luke shrugged. Alarm bells rang in his mind at the thought of giving Vader more information about himself than he ought to, but they were less acute than usual. Their exchange was so much more peaceful than he was used to, it felt nearly surreal. Luke didn't want to ruin the moment.

"There's not much to tell," he said. "It was always dry, always hot. Binary suns will do that to you... I liked to watch them set. It was my promise that one day I'd leave for good and travel through the stars."

"A dream you have fulfilled."

Luke tilted his head and looked down, wondering if he was imagining the undercurrent of bitterness in Vader's contemplative words.

"Yeah... but not really, either," he said. "I always thought I'd just leave that rock behind and never come back. But since I'm away from it, I realise it's a whole part of me. The sand on my face, the hot wind blowing, the endless desert... it'll never leave me."

"You wish to go back?" asked Vader, sounding like he couldn't believe that. Luke frowned.

"No," he answered. "One day, maybe. Not now."

He started when Vader took a step away, his cape swirling in the brusqueness of the movement. What had he said now?

"It is pointless to dwell in the past," Vader snarled, with a violence that surprised Luke. "It is gone. You will never find it back."

"I know that," Luke defended himself. "Doesn't mean I can't think about it. It's where I grew up, where my family is..."

"Delusions," Vader growled. "One day you will wake up. You will realise your family, your precious home, are nothing but ashes, and it will be too late. You can count on nothing but what you have in the present, what you built by yourself."

Luke paled.

"What do you mean? Do you know something about them? Are they in danger?"

Vader made an exasperated gesture of his hand, and Luke immediately fell quiet, his heart hammering in his ribs.

"No. That is not what I meant," he said, his voice a little softer. "Do not concern yourself."

Luke relaxed the tiniest bit, but Vader's words still puzzled him.

"Then what did you mean?"

The leather of Vader's gloves cracked, as his fists tightened.

"Nothing. You should forget about it."

He turned back towards Luke and looked him up and down for a long time, probing him through the Force. Luke didn't move an inch, confused and uncomfortable.

"There will be no more lessons needed until you have mastered the weaponless exercise," he said.

Then he left the room, leaving behind a dumbfounded Luke, who stared at the simulator's screen, still faintly glowing with their results, for a long time.

.

"Black Three, standing by."

"Black Five, standing by," Luke repeated after Boomer. He kept his ship in the formation, to the right and a little bit behind Vader, flying in a straight line to their target.

Luke had seen pictures of Rindia's green and grey surface, some patches of blue under the swirling clouds. The image he now had under the eyes lacked all these colours. Hidden from the brightness of its star, only small dots of artificial lights stood out amongst the shadows of the night.

They descended a few meters, let the lamps guide them in direction of the city. Without being small, it wasn't the biggest city Luke had ever seen, either; and he had grown up on Tatooine. The streets seemed sinuous and narrow, the lighting irregular over its surface.

"Black Squadron, get in position," Vader ordered.

They separated in two groups, still going forward on their path, on the watch for potential defenders. Luke stayed close behind his commanding officer, a knot of anxiety building up in his stomach.

"Gamma Squadron, prepare to go in."

"Roger, Black Leader," Gamma leader answered.

Taking care not to wander too far, Luke started making circles in the air, feeling the tension of expectation rise around him. So far, the journey had been calm, but it was only a question of time before that change. By now, the Rindians must have been alerted to their presence...

As if on cue, his scopes started to emit a warning beep.

"All fighters, here is Black Six, I have incoming," he heard Dark Curse say, his craft a couple hundred meters in front of Luke.

"Black Squadron, defensive formation," Vader replied. "Gamma Squadron, deliver first strike."

They placed themselves all around the bombers, waiting for the enemy. Luke and Vader had taken place above them.

Then the first ships arrived, and they plunged into combat. Luke sank into the Force, connected with Vader, and launched in pursuit. They engaged a couple Rindians rushing towards them, easily took them down.

The flames of the explosion illuminated their surroundings. A coil of satisfaction that wasn't Luke's brushed against his mind, and he smiled before eagerly following Vader towards the next enemies.

They blocked three fighters who flew towards the bombers. Two of the enemy ships engaged them while the third tried to get round. Vader and Luke grappled with their assailants, and made sure to stop the other from reaching the bombers: Luke manoeuvred to send it to Vader, who in turn did the same.

It was hard, and more than once Luke was sure he'd let the free fighter escape; but he felt Vader's wordless instructions in his mind. He knew where he was, what he wanted, his body reacting instinctively, so that he wasn't sure whether his own decisions or Vader's presence through their bond guided his movements more.

At last Vader managed to shoot down his opponents, and engaged in proper dogfight with the last one, leaving Luke much space to breathe. In less than twenty seconds, Luke's own enemy was space dust.

Luke circled in the air, watching out for other fighters while doing his best not to let his attention get diverted by the sight under him. The darkness of night had subsided, chased away by the numerous flames and explosions of the bombs falling on the city. The silence accompanying the flashes of light felt out of place to Luke; if he let his mind wander, he could all too well picture the deafening noises, the cries of terror of the people trapped in the destruction. Smoke would be rising from the ruins, but they were too far above to be affected by it.

He took a breath, sought out Vader through the Force as a way to distract himself from the frantic lives running beneath him. His commanding officer's dark presence acted as a cloud, shielding him from the carnage below to help him focus on the battle he was swept in.

A bit further, a TIE fighter was grappling with two Rindian fighters, struggling to avoid getting shot down. Without a thought, Luke rushed towards it. A couple well-placed blasts forced one of the enemies to move farther, and it turned towards Luke instead.

Luke led it away from his squad mate, only to bite back a curse when he realised two more enemies were coming their way. Before he had a chance to avoid them, they were on him, three on one.

Luke twisted, and turned, did barrel rolls after loops, but his breathing increased nonetheless. His control was slipping, he was sinking into more and more defensive moves, relying nearly only on instinct.

A blast bolt missed him by a hair, and he cursed, his hands shaking. His opponents were holding him tight: he couldn't afford the slightest mistake, and yet he was bound to make one sooner or later. He couldn't hold on like this forever.

Another shot had him jerk brusquely on the left, losing his balance and tumbling just in front of an enemy; his heart missed a beat, this was it, he braced himself for the light and the pain –

The ship exploded. Luke pulled up, and saw Vader's advanced craft fly above his head. He swooped on another enemy before he could fire on Luke and destroyed it with great prejudice. Struggling to get back on track, Luke barely managed to shoot down the third of his enemies, before taking his place back at Vader's side.

Thank you, he said, relief and gratitude overwhelming him when he realised Vader must have gone out of his way to save him. They were farther away from the bombers than he had thought.

Focus, he dryly replied. The battle is not over.

Luke took a deep breath, feeling slightly chastised.

The next minutes happened in much the same way. He and Vader were incredibly in tune, their shared knowledge of the Force making them all but unstoppable. More than one bomber was saved by their intervention before the end of the mission.

Finally, Vader ordered for them to retreat. The city was alight with fire, much brighter than it once was. Luke looked straight ahead as they pulled up and ahead, back towards Devastator.

Even after successfully manoeuvring his TIE into its rack, he didn't get out of it immediately, staring ahead and seeing nothing. His breathing was steady, but his heart was drumming against his ribs. He needed air.

He took off his helmet with great relief, then opened his cockpit. The hiss of the hatch opening was distant in his ears. Belatedly, it occurred to him that climbing a ladder one-handed wasn't the most practical thing to do, but he did it anyway. He really didn't want to put his helmet back on.

Impaired by his burden, he stumbled lightly upon reaching the ground. His trembling hand settled against the hull of his ship for support. There was ash on the metal, he noticed, as if from afar.

All of a sudden a torrent of images pounded upon him, and he closed his eyes, leaning on his ship again. A mother hugging her child close, huddled in the corner of a street. A girl running, stopping as a flaming beam fell in front of her. Siblings shivering against each other in a basement, silent tears on their faces. An old man tumbling on his cane before he could reach the stairs, taken in the floor's explosions. Civilians, who hadn't asked for anything.

I did what I needed to, Luke thought with gritted teeth, fighting against the images. It's war. People die. Never had he cursed his gift in the Force so much.

But another part of him couldn't help remember Biggs' accusations, so long ago. About civilians, prisoners, unnecessary cruelty.

What had this attack achieved?

Revenge, his mind provided, and he latched onto it. For Chaser, Mauler, all of them. Rindia had helped Rebels. They deserved to suffer for it, like they had. Punishment, a warning not to do it again.

He knew these things. But they seemed empty anyway, in the face of the violence his mind showed him in sparks.

One day it would end. One day they'd defeat the Rebels, and peace would come back. All of this... it would be over.

Luke held on to that thought, repeated it like a mantra. Anger and devastation ravaged his chest, resentment for these so-called freedom fighters, who brought nothing but death on the galaxy they claimed to want to save.

This had to stop. He would make sure it would.

He opened his eyes and straightened, swallowing the lump in his throat. The time of crying was over. Now he needed to fight.

He turned around to head towards their quarters, when his step faltered. Just a little farther, Qorl seemed to be walking towards him. Luke had no patience to deal with him at the moment.

But the more he approached, the more Luke realised this didn't seem to be the same Qorl he'd dealt with before. There was no aggression on his face, no mocking smile on his lips. Instead he looked at him with hesitation, unsure of himself. He opened his eyes as if to say something, then held out his hand instead.

"Thank you. For saving my life."

Luke huffed, gave him a cold smile, though this hardness wasn't directed towards him.

"We're a squad," he just said.

Qorl nodded, and Luke realised, a bit late, he hadn't taken his hand. He hoped the other wouldn't take it the wrong way; but at the same time, he found he didn't really care. Qorl pursed his lips, then smirked in that expression Luke hated so much.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect it from you," he said, a trace of admiration in his voice that wasn't enough to entirely pacify Luke.

"I'm full of surprises," he deadpanned. Qorl's face fell, and he looked about to say something else, but Luke wasn't interested in hearing any of it right now. He walked past him, dreaming of a hot shower and his bunk.

He hadn't made ten steps when he saw Vader step out of his ship. Luke remembered Vader had saved his own life, too; he changed directions, intent on thanking him.

Before he could open his mouth, Vader turned his head towards him, and they exchanged a gaze. Then he looked away and just strolled out of the hangar without a word, without even acknowledging Luke. The young man couldn't feel anything from him in the Force.

He gritted his teeth and curled his hands into fists, squeezing them so tight his nails got into his palms. The pain kept him grounded, helped him manage the sudden and potent anger descending on him.

Not again. He was done with Vader's little act, done letting him discard him whenever he felt moody.

He followed the man's long strides out of the hangar.