Chapter Seven:

"Daddy, look what I can do!"

Darth Vader looked up from a report to see his young son stride in with a huge grin on his face. The Emperor snorted softly to himself in amusement, but in the face of his child's exuberance, the man couldn't deny Luke.

As Luke reached him, Vader set aside his things and allowed Luke to climb into his lap. Luke promptly pulled something from his pocket, set it on the desk a ways away, and paused. Vader waited expectantly, thinking he knew what Luke would do, but not wishing to steal his child's moment.

Indeed, Luke now extended a small hand and the toy lifted several inches off the table. Luke surprised Vader by turning his head and grinning at his father... all while maintaining a steady, sure grip on the fruit in the Force.

"See Daddy?!" Luke beamed proudly.

"I do!" Vader praised evenly, impressed at the control Luke exhibited at such an age as this. "That is excellent work, my son."...

... "Dad, can we build my model tonight?" a slightly older Luke asked eagerly, hefting the box with the model intended for someone several years his senior.

Vader looked up from where he sat at the head of the long conference table. Padmé, catching sight of their son, smiled softly, knowingly, but let them be. Although, there seemed to be a little something new in his wife's gaze when looking at their son. Little Leia, the near-spitting image of her gorgeous mother, rolled her eyes at Luke's love of all things ships and mechanics.

Vader smiled at this display of female distaste, something Leia and his wife shared. Vader considered his son.

"I think I can make time after my final meeting." Vader allowed.

Luke's face instantly split into a wide grin, sowing his pearly whites. "Really?"

"Of course; I wouldn't say yes, if I didn't mean it, now would I?" Vader asked mildly, and the child became somewhat subdued. Vader lifted an impressed eyebrow, and gave himself a point for the current success of Luke's initial Force-training.

The boy was doing well so far, that was for certain, though Vader wasn't sure how far he would push his son just yet.

That evening found father and son bent over the half-constructed Naboo starfighter model, parts strewn over the table. To any outsiders it would seem a complete mess, but the pair knew exactly what they were doing.

Well, at least Vader did. Luke simply trusted that his father knew what was best. Currently Vader was watching with amusement as Luke, tongue stuck between his teeth, concentrated on attaching the latest piece.

When he succeeded, Luke tossed a happy look at Vader and reached for the successive part. To Vader's mild astonishment, Luke levitated the piece instead of picking it up by hand. He then tried to glue it on while holding said piece in place with the Force.

Vader chuckled when Luke succeeded in some regards, but still had to adjust the piece with his fingers. "An interesting way to hone your skills, Luke."

Luke snickered, throwing Vader a winning grin. "Yeah! I want to be a Jedi just like you, Dad!"

The remark was so unexpected and unwelcome that Vader recoiled both physically and in the Force.

"What?!" he all but roared, all levity forgotten.

Luke jumped a foot in the air and landed on his backside upon the floor as a result. "What's wrong Dad?"

Vader was on his feet and grabbing at Luke's arm, jerking the boy upright with frightening intensity. He ignored how Luke suddenly cowed, fear clear in every line of his face. Vader had never reacted to him in such a manner.

"What did you say?" Vader repeated, and the tone of his voice booked no arguments or jokes.

"I... I want to be like you, Dad... a Jedi!" Luke stammered.

"I am NOT a Jedi!" Vader hollered, making his son's eyes widen.

"B-but... but I thought only Jedi used the Force?" Luke managed fearfully, afraid of the swelling cold and anger in the room, and of the swirls of hatred thick in the air.

"NO!" Vader snapped, before it finally registered that Luke was shaking like a nexu's next meal as the predator approached. He realized how hard he was holding the boy, the pain of his grip radiating off the child along with his fear.

With an effort, Vader calmed himself, letting go of the child. Luke staggered from the sudden release, and he wrapped his arms about himself, the model forgotten momentarily.

"Where did you hear of the Jedi?" Vader asked in as calm a tone as he could muster.

"F-from Ms. Weyfel," Luke replied, frowning worriedly.

The childrens' babysitter? She was filling his childrens' heads with Jedi heresy?!

"She tells stories of them," Luke was going on, unaware that his caretaker's days had suddenly expired. Weyfel would be meeting her end within hours of this moment, "and of how they were good people who defended the people. Just like you, right Dad?"

Vader blew out a breath and turned away. "No, not like me at all. They used to be good people, but they turned out to be fakes. They weren't real: their compassion was only a mask for their ugly souls. They betrayed those who needed them and were never truly a help."

Vader spun back around, grabbing Luke's shoulders in his grasp. "Luke, the Jedi were evil beings! Don't ever speak of them again, and do not believe those stories of the Jedi being marvelous beings. The only thing they were good for was lying, understand?"

Luke's eyes were huge, but he nodded, frightened anew but now for different reasons.

"I especially don't want you fantasizing of ever being a Jedi, do I make myself clear?" Vader warned.

"Y-yes, Dad." Luke swallowed hard.

Vader nodded once, sharply, and straightened in a swish of dark robes. He left in a huff, not hearing Luke's plaintive question of 'what about the model?' as he did so.

But one thing was for certain: Luke needed studious training. He needed to be shown the true path of the Force, the one he'd been born into... his birthright.

And Luke would be a formidable Force user... and in time, a Sith.

Vader smiled suddenly: 'just like his father.'...

00000

Luke's wet eyes opened silently, and in the first waking moments he was lost to pondering the memories he'd just dreamt of. The first had been a rare gift of one of the few good, innocent memories Luke had of him with his father.

The second... that one had marked the true start of the decline the pair's relationship had steadily taken from that moment. Vader hadn't ever been the same after that, and Luke had been thrust into the suddenly intensely-focused and strict regime of a Force-based education.

The intent of his father to keep Luke from ever becoming a Jedi had turned into training to become a Shadow: one of Vader's elite assassins. Shadows were trained to an even higher degree than the Inquisitors, and as far as Luke knew, he and Leia were the only two. And though Leia also had been thrown into it, for Luke it had been something more. And now that he could look back, he understood it much more clearly at present than he had as a child.

This had also led Vader to view Luke as less and less a son and more and more a tool, a mere underling with powerful Force abilities.

And what was worse, his mother had caught on and together, the power-drunken Vaders had moved away from their children and closer to their own selfish ends. The fact saddened Luke immensely, and he wished briefly for a chance to return to simpler times... to before he had been old enough to understand what was really going on.

A shudder around Luke drew his awareness away from the reverie and back to the present situation. And with the hours that had passed, Luke's reality sank in further still.

He had run away. And as far as Vader would be concerned, he was now a traitor to be dealt with... and when Luke didn't return, his father would be furious. That notion still frightened Luke, but something held him fast to his decision to rebel.

He wasn't entirely certain what that something was— perhaps it had to do with that voice he'd heard during his mission, the one that had convinced him to drop the lightsaber— but Luke really, really wanted to find out.

And he couldn't do that from Imperial Center.

With a deep breath— and the scent of something admittedly delicious wafting on the air— Luke dragged himself from the bed and ambled out of the cabin

00000

Han had gone into the galley to make something to eat when their new shipmate finally re-emerged from the cabin he'd holed up in. Han had chosen to give the young man some space as he was undoubtedly coming to grips with leaving the Empire.

It was probably the only life the poor kid had ever known, and Han could understand the hardship of leaving such a thing and venturing blindly into the unknown.

Chewbacca was seated at the dejarik table in the lounge while Han cooked and tinkering with some piece of machinery. With a slightly amused air, Han watched the teenager as he gingerly settled into a seat opposite the Wookiee.

Something that struck Han— an anomaly the smuggler had missed during their fight for obvious reasons— was the deep bruising on the kid's face. The most notable ones were finger-marks on his chin and jawbone. There were also a split lip and small contusion above one eye that was healing.

Han tried to puzzle the kid out, with only minimal success: dedicated definitely, conflicted of course, but... there was something about the youth in front of Han that drew the smuggler to him. But what, exactly that was, Han didn't know, only that it was akin to what he might have felt for a younger brother.

As the young man simply sat in awkward silence, Han took pity on him. Deciding the stew would be fine simmering for a few minutes Han stepped out of the galley, gaining the youth's attention instantly. Definitely sharp, this one, Han mused.

"So I don't believe we caught your name?" Han asked leadingly.

The other hesitated, looking away as he considered his answer. Finally the other responded. "Call me Velius."

Han lifted a brow. "Interesting name. Where do you come from, aside from the Empire?"

"That's not important." The black-haired youth deflected. "What I would like to know is why you're carrying so much spice."

Han's lips twitched toward a smile. "It's business, that's all, Kid."

A flash of annoyance crossed Velius' face at the nickname, but Han ignored it. Standing, Han went back to the stove. "You hungry?"

"Yeah," Velius called after him.

"Good. Come and get some, and while you're at it, take a bowl to Chewie," Han told the youth.

The young man eyed the alien as he grumbled something, and Han let them be, knowing Chewie wouldn't do anything to the newcomer.

"I'm... I'm sorry for whatever it was the Empire did to you, Chewbacca," Velius said softly.

Shocked, Han spun about, spilling stew from the bowl in his grasp. Han ignored it to stare incredulously at the young man, who noticed the scrutiny and shifted under it. Chewbacca was also dumbfounded that an agent of said Empire would be brave— or good enough— to actually apologize.

Velius rose with an uncomfortable rub of both hands on his pants. "I may have grown up in the Empire, but that doesn't mean I agree with everything it does."

With that, the kid retrieved Chewie's food, took some for himself and sat alone in a corner to eat in silence. All the while the two smugglers stared at the kid until Chewbacca shook himself out of it and ate the offering of food.

Han took a moment or two longer to come around, but when he did, it was with a deeper respect for Velius. But it also got Han to wondering just who their new companion was. Because he didn't act like any Imperial Han had ever met, and he'd met quite a few.

After serving himself and sitting down in a chair to eat, Han studied the youth from where he was. Dark hair... brown eyes... slight build that belied a surprising amount of strength. Who was Velius, and what was his back-story?

"Your accent marks you as a Coruscanti," Han remarked conversationally, casually digging for information.

The other's eyes met his, though their owner didn't speak right away. The kid played with his leftovers a moment, no doubt contemplating.

"I spent most of my life there." Velius finally allowed, though he volunteered nothing more.

"How old were you when the Emperor started to train you?" Han asked curiously.

The other's food was set aside, appetite gone. "Too young."

"Too young to know in reality what you were being molded in to?" Han pressed gently.

Brown eyes met hazel. "It's not like I knew there was any other way. I..." Abruptly Velius stopped as he realized he was giving away too much information and he promptly snapped his mouth shut.

"You trusted him, naturally," Han supplied knowingly.

When the kid turned a glare on Han, the smuggler spread a free hand in a gesture of peace. "I don't have a pleasant past either. I know what it's like to be used for one's innocence and youth. I've been a criminal since I was three."

Velius's brow lifted in surprise. "Three?"

Han nodded, looking away at last. "Yeah."

A quiet moment, then, "I'm sorry."

Han waved the words away. "Don't be. Those experiences helped shape who I am today."

Velius' lips quirked some. "So, what, you became an older criminal?"

Han snorted, shaking his head and setting his own bowl aside while Chewie chortled. "Very funny, Kid."

The teenager looked to Han, scrutinizing him in turn. "You don't seem fully fleshed out yourself, how old are you?"

Taken aback at the subject change, Han blinked, and then figured there was no harm in admitting it. "I'm twenty standard years old, soon to be a year older and wiser."

While this caused Chewbacca to guffaw loudly and slap his leg in humor, it was Velius' turn to blink.

"Oh." He tilted his head as if that could give him a better view of the smuggler. "And how did someone like you get his own ship and smuggling job so early on in life?"

Han shrugged. "I know people. Some of them I wish I didn't, but that's life, Kid."

The other lifted his head. "Wait, you said you were part of the Empire... how old were you that you could get a position to be near prisoners?"

Han wasn't used to anyone trying to pick apart his past like this, and he didn't like it. "Listen, Kid, that's enough with the background info, alright? It happened, that's all that matters. And no, you don't need to be worried, the Empire is done with me in that regards."

But the other wasn't about to let it go. "It's not true, is it?" he asked knowingly, causing Han to redden. "Rescuing the Wookiees is, but you were never employed in the Navy. You were far too young..."

"Not to start training for piloting," Han snapped. "Now shut up!"

Velius recoiled some, but realized his error and looked away. "I'm... I'm sorry; I shouldn't have put my nose where it doesn't belong."

Han sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. "It's not your fault I have a less than stellar past, Kid. But when someone tells you to drop something, there's usually a reason behind it."

The other nodded. "Yeah."

Their young comrade eyed the dishes and stood, collecting the empty bowls and utensils. "I'll clean up."

Han lifted a brow. "I can do it."

"No, I need to do something to earn my keep, don't I?" Velius retorted, not allowing room for argument.

Han snorted, amused, but let the kid go.

00000

"I believe that concludes this session," Senator Mon Mothma declared, rising. The rest of those gathered about the oval table stood also, and with a nod of respect to each other, the assortment of Senators in the meeting began to file out.

Leia lingered as Bail and Mon Mothma met at the head of the enormous desk and spoke in low tones. She didn't need the Force to guess what they were discussing— Leia had had her suspicions about Mon Mothma's true loyalties for a while now, she just didn't have proof— and approached gingerly.

Both pairs of eyes glanced her way and they stopped talking. Then Mon smiled softly. "Princess, do you need anything?"

Leia realized she had a hand extended as if to ask permission to join the discussion. She closed her fist tentatively, drawing the arm back towards her middle, and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt."

Mon and Bail shared one more look before Bail touched the woman's elbow and murmured something. Mon inclined her head and left while Leia stared after her. Once the door was shut and they were alone, Leia turned towards Bail.

"You were talking about the Rebellion, weren't you?" Leia whispered.

The man didn't speak immediately, studying the young woman before him, but eventually gave a small nod. "Yes. She is... one of the founders along with me, and we were talking movements of ships."

Leia swallowed, thinking back— as she had the last two days— on Luke's behavior. His now-outspoken desire to stop being their father's Shadow had touched her deeper than she'd realized. But deep enough to help the Rebellion?

Well, not yet, but she didn't have to be a snitch either.

"I won't sell you out, Bail." Leia promised.

"I know you won't Leia, and I thank you." Bail gestured for her to walk with him, and they left together. "How have you been doing?"

Leia tweaked her mouth in a not-so-mature manner. "Stellar, if an overbearing mother is factored in."

Bail blinked at her, surprised. Never before had Leia openly spoken of the Empress in such a manner, even though the man knew Leia was chaffing under Padmé's constant attentions. For the princess to do so now gave Bail an unexpected surge of hope that Leia might finally be coming into her own.

"I... am certain she means well," Bail answered diplomatically, though he let the Force-sensitive Leia feel he agreed with her privately.

Leia glanced his way and smiled minutely, something the Senator from Alderaan returned.

"Perhaps she did at first," Leia murmured after a time of silence. "But somewhere along the way it became less about teaching me and more about conditioning me and all but forcing me into situations. Father is doing the exact same to Luke; only, he's much harder on my brother."

Leia took a shuddering breath. "Especially of late," she said so quietly the man almost didn't hear.

Bail frowned in concern and pulled the young woman to the side and into a relatively private alcove. "Leia, are they hurting you and Prince Luke?"

"...no," Leia answered guardedly, recognizing the dangerous waters the two were treading now.

"Princess..." Bail began but Leia shook her head in a manner not so unlike her mother that Bail recognized instantly as a signal to stop talking and listen. He obeyed.

"They aren't abusing us... though..." Leia swallowed, and then her eyes went slightly unfocused. Bail had spent enough time around Jedi to recognize she was doing something with the Force. Probably she was checking to see if there were any eavesdroppers.

"Father threatened to punish Luke if he ever fails again... by sending him twelve levels below." Leia finished, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "How could he?"

Bail had to take a moment to realize what she was saying, and as the notion slowly began to dawn, Bail straightened. This wasn't something he'd ever heard of before.

"Leia, what is twelve levels below?" he asked intently.

"Father and Mother's secret... interrogation and punishment chambers." Leia shivered in horror. "You only come back out if you're meant to live, but you're never the same even if you do."

Bail's eyebrows lifted. This could be something useful in the fight against the tyrants ruling the Empire... "Leia, is there any way to get proof of what goes on down there?"

Leia's head instantly lifted, her eyes wide with absolute terror. "I am never going down there!" She nearly shrieked, back-stepping. "NEVER!"

Bail stepped forward hastily, hands up and fanning gently in a calming gesture as he noted a few concerned stares pass them by. Bail drew Leia deeper into the shadows, behind a large pillar. "Princess, calm down! I didn't mean you had to go down!"

Leia took several long seconds to stop shaking, and Bail broke protocol to draw her into a gentle embrace. To his surprise, she returned it eagerly, needful.

"I will never go down there, Bail! Please don't ask that of me!" She breathed.

"I only wanted to know if there was way to get proof it exists and what happens there," Bail reassured her. "But we will need to find a way."

Leia considered. "I... if you come up with something, I will consider. Until then, don't ever talk of it."

"I understand." Bail stepped back to let Leia straighten her senatorial gown.

"Thank you, Bail." Leia was once more the picture of elegance, all evidence of her previous emotion gone. Padmé would have been proud, Bail reflected. "I will see you at the next meeting, Senator."

He bowed. "I look forward to it, Princes Leia. Have a good evening."

She inclined her head and walked away, leaving Bail to his thoughts on this new information.