Laark blocked him, and it was like reliving those moments on Hoth. Alone, cold, numb, realizing that he was dying and nothing would prevent it.

On Hoth, Han had prevented it. Han had risked his own life to save him. But here, now, it was up to him. He had to save himself and he wasn't sure how. What had Laark said? I'll learn to be like my father.

That was one thing they had in common. For good and for bad, they were like their fathers, and Anakin Skywalker never gave up.

Luke spent the rest of the night thinking.

# # #

He stepped aside as a group of pilots passed by him on their way to the hangar bay. He didn't know why he was loitering here spying on people, only that he hadn't seen or felt Laark since last night– or Han or Chewie. He'd spent part of the morning with the Council outlining the plan, all the while aware that Leia refused to meet his eyes. It was evident that she believed Han and had begun to distrust him. He had almost delved into her mind to force her trust, but realized what he was about to do and stopped. All the powers his father had taught him– erasing and altering memories, invading the privacy of others, projecting his Force voice to make others obey his will– he'd sworn he'd never use them frivolously and now he'd been doing them without thought for the consequences.

But he couldn't blame Anakin Skywalker for the change in himself. He alone was responsible. He'd accepted what was offered and enjoyed using his powers. Even now he was going along willingly with his father's plan to overthrow Palpatine and rule the galaxy. He could hide behind pretty words like oligarchy, but didn't he, in the deepest recesses of his heart, long to hear himself addressed as Emperor Skywalker?

He could turn down the twin temptations of Power and Omnipotence when offered their shadows in a mystic treecave. In real life, he embraced them.

Luke shook his head as if that would jar loose all the defects he saw in himself. It crossed his mind, then: Laark with the hairbrush– get rid of the negative thoughts. If only it were that simple.

Or was it? Was that what Sith had tried to tell him? The simplest decision came from the strongest emotion. Even Anakin had told him to trust his heart.

Raised voices roused him. Wedge Antilles was arguing with a mechanic and gesturing toward a battered-looking R2 unit. Taking a deep breath of courage, Luke crossed the bay and joined them.

The mechanic shrugged. "If that's the way you want it."

"That's the way I want it," Wedge affirmed grimly. He waited until the mech, muttering dire predictions under her breath, headed for the R2, then turned to Luke. "Hi, stranger."

"Hi. What's going on?"

"You don't want to know." There was nothing rude in Wedge's tone, but Luke knew it was a well-deserved rebuff.

He acknowledged it with a nod. "Any of the old crew around?"

"They're all dead, Luke. Except me." There was no sorrow in the brown eyes, just weary acceptance as if all his sadness had been spent.

Luke squeezed Wedge's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, meaning it this time. He remembered all of them and could almost pretend that they were the ones in the orange uniforms who now wandered around the fighters. "Tomas?" he asked, needing confirmation that the bright, promising youngster who'd joined the squad shortly before he'd left was gone also.

Wedge nodded. "All of them." He snorted. "Half of the pilots we have now are former mechanics. There aren't enough volunteers signing up anymore. We're having to recruit from within."

"With inducements of high pay and seeing the galaxy?" Luke teased awkwardly.

"With the inducement that a quick death is preferable to captivity and torture by the Empire."

Luke inhaled sharply. "That's not going to happen. We're going to defeat Palpatine."

Wedge studied him. "I almost believe you, boss. I don't know what you did while you were gone, but you're different. If you told me you were going to take on old Palpatine singlehandedly, I'd trust you."

"I'm not that brave or that dumb!" Luke laughed, though he privately acknowledged Wedge's intuitiveness. Of course Wedge had a strong sense of the Force when he could survive so long as a Rebel pilot, a career that had a very short life expectancy. "So what's wrong with your R2 unit? Why don't we take a look at it and let your mech get back to flight training?"

Wedge laughed, tension draining from his shoulders. He slapped Luke on the back. "I missed you, boss. I hope you're staying for awhile."

"For as long as the Rebellion lasts," Luke vowed. Then he wondered exactly what he meant by that promise.

# # #

One friendship mended. After the noon meal, Luke headed for the Falcon. This would be a more difficult bridge to cross– if he hadn't burned it completely. His senses told him Leia was there with Chewie and Han. Partly he dreaded facing the three of them at once, partly he welcomed it. The ramp to the Falcon was down, but he hesitated before mounting it. Someone was watching him.

He turned. Across the bay someone wearing a flightsuit lifted their head and stared at him, then removed their helmet and bent forward, shaking loose a long mane of red-brown hair. Luke caught his breath. A Sith woman. They stared at each other from a distance of a dozen meters. She made no acknowledgement and neither did he. But there was something familiar about her.

Luke ventured a small smile, uncertain if she could see it from this distance. But she must have because her answering smile dazzled him. He took a step toward her. She shook her head and pulled the helmet back on. He watched as she climbed the ladder into a snub and waited until her fighter took off. Who was she? Laark? he asked silently, but received no response. That was one bridge that was definitely burned halfway through, and he ruefully accepted that today would be spent reestablishing friendships and regaining trusts.

Only a Skywalker would think such difficulties could be repaired in one day. He could almost hear his father chastising him or warning him against groveling. He wished they could communicate, but it was too dangerous with Palpatine so near. It was not time to reveal his existence to the Emperor.

He put aside the images of his father and the young woman. Not for the first time he wished his black jumpsuit had pockets so he could shove his hands in them. Maybe it was time to alter his uniform to make it more practical. He ran his fingers down the hilt of his lightsaber, hoping that would give him confidence. If he was this frightened to face his friends, how would he ever confront Palpatine?

Taking a deep breath, he strode up the ramp without announcing himself. He found them in the rec area, sitting around the game table but not playing any game. Leia stopped talking when he entered.

"Hi."

Han looked over his shoulder at him, then turned back to the table. His hands clasped together on its top.

*Hello, Luke.* Chewie's voice was soft and disappointed.

Leia didn't speak. Han took her fingers.

Luke swallowed. "Mind if I join you?"

Han laughed shortly. "Could we stop you?"

The comment stung; he read into it the deeper implications that Han meant. "Yes. With your words," he replied evenly. "But I hope you'll hear me out. I owe you some explanations."

*Han thinks you invaded his mind and altered his thoughts,* Chewie said hesitantly.

Luke nodded. "I did."

Han released Leia's hand and stood. "You son of a bitch."

Truer than he knew. Luke bit his lip to prevent the nervous laughter that threatened to burst from him. "I also altered your memory, Chewie, and yours, Leia."

The curse Han uttered was colorful and extensive, full of words he'd never heard spoken aloud before. "I should kill you– but, shit, I suppose I can't do that, can I? Are you a god now? Or are you just acting like one?"

"Just acting like one," Luke said mildly. "I have certain powers but they are not unlimited."

"That's a relief," Han snapped.

"Han!" Luke spread his hands. He couldn't justify an act for which no justification could suffice. "I apologize for altering your memory without your permission. And I apologize to Leia and Chewie, too. I acquired so much power that I became careless with it. It was imperative to remove the memory that I did, but I should have explained and asked permission first. I promise you I won't do it again."

Han paced the small area. "What the hell are you doing, kid? You're up to your neck in something, aren't you?"

"Up to my neck and over my head," Luke agreed, pushing aside his qualms about the possible accuracy of his words.

"Luke?" For the first time Leia spoke. "Are you telling the Council the truth about what's going to happen?"

How did he answer that? He had told the truth about defeating the Emperor, lied about impending rule of the Skywalkers, told the truth about the new Death Star and how it could be defeated-

But now he was no longer certain that Skywalkers should rule. Did that mean he'd told the truth about everything? "Yes," he said slowly, fingering the Sith talisman he still wore at his throat, "although some of the things were lies at the time I said them. They're all true now, though."

*How did your lies become truths?* Chewie tilted his head.

"I altered my beliefs. I saw what I was doing and that it was wrong." He turned back to Leia. "Everything will go as I outlined– except that I can't be certain what will happen when I confront Palpatine. Whatever happens to me, you'll be able to destroy the Death Star."

"But you might be on it."

Possibly. "Han, will you do me a favor?"

"You've got to be kidding!" The Corellian glared at him, but the expression wasn't as fierce as it had been earlier. "What?"

"When I go to face Palpatine, I'll leave Laark here. Will you take care of him? And if I don't come back, see that the Alliance doesn't confiscate my cruiser. Laark needs it to get Home." He hesitated. "There are other Siths here. They'll need to go Home too."

"More Siths?" Han looked around suspiciously, though only the four of them were on the ship.

"Yes. If we don't defeat Palpatine, they must go Home. They'll die out here."

"Yeah, okay." Han shrugged. "Anything else?"

"I think that's quite enough, don't you?" Luke attempted a smile. They hadn't fully forgiven them, but there was the beginning of understanding in their auras. "Thank you for listening to me. I'm sorry I disappointed you. I disappointed myself, too."

He made a quick exit, knowing it would be easier for everyone than if he delayed. And now he had to face the one bridge that would be the most difficult– or the easiest– to repair. Laark? he called again in his mind as he descended the Falcon's ramp.

There was only emptiness where a response should have been. Luke stopped for a moment and bowed his head. This was too much like old times, full of emptiness. He wondered if this was how Laark had felt all those years without a Skywalker, knowing what he was missing.

Luke looked around the bay. Some of the fighters were back in, but the one the woman had taken was not. Who was she? Laark could tell him, if he would. He wanted to demand a response, but knew that would be even more destructive to their relationship. Stifling a sigh he headed for the officers' quarters, hoping Laark had moved to their new room.

He probed gently, searching for Laark's presence without invading his consciousness. He felt nothing and knew Laark was still blocking him. He was beginning to realize that his Lightshiner had some unique powers, and he didn't like it. It was threatening to have an entire planet believe you were omnipotent– except for one person. And possibly his father.

Unfamiliar presences were behind the first several doors, then he sensed the faintest hint of Laark. He opened the door. His Lightshiner was folding shirts and stacking them neatly in one of the two large chests in the room. Luke closed the door and leaned against it.

"Laark?"

"Yes, master." The movements didn't cease; if anything, they became faster.

"Thank you for what you said to me last night."

Laark couldn't control a jolt of surprise, but he didn't speak.

Luke cleared his throat. "I don't want you to live that way, and I certainly don't want to be the cause of it. I don't want to be like that. Thank you for reminding me what I was doing and for pointing out what I was becoming. I'm very sorry for the way I treated you." How many apologies did that make so far today? Surely he was setting a new galactic record. "Will you be able to trust me again?"

Laark clutched a black tunic against his chest for a moment, then finished folding it and tucked it into the drawer. He stared at Luke for what seemed like a long time and finally smiled. Luke felt the flood of Laark's presence fill his mind. It was such an enormous relief that he crossed the room in two steps and flung his arms around his Lightshiner.

"I'm sorry to have been mean to you, lord."

He leaned his forehead against Laark's shoulder. "Not mean, exactly. I think it's called discipline."

"Mean discipline, then. But it worked."

"Yes, it did." With a shaky laugh, Luke lifted his head and met the gray eyes. There were so full of understanding and love that Luke felt a flare of sorrow and need. He pulled away, dismayed by his emotions.

"It's all right, Luke."

"No, it's not." He turned and studied the room. "This is a big improvement. Thanks for finding it. I won't ask how you did it."

"Better you don't," Laark answered quietly. He touched Luke's arm. "However you feel is all right, lord. As close as we're becoming, it's to be expected that we both feel regret for what we are and aren't."

"Laark " He gestured helplessly. "I'm confused about so many things."

"You're an entirely different person now. Of course, you're confused! It will pass. I'll help you."

"If I live long enough," he answered thoughtlessly. Laark's pain hit him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Laark shook his head. "You'll live. There's never been a Skywalker who died before twenty. And tradition says you'll make it at least to thirty."

He stared at his Lightshiner blankly. "I'm twenty-one."

Laark looked back at him with the same incomprehension. "No, you're exactly the same age as me. We're nineteen."

He fumbled behind him for a chair and sank onto it. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. You think I don't know how old I am?"

"Well, one of us doesn't! Unless we're not the same age."

"Of course we are. We have to be. That's Sith's way."

He stared ahead unseeingly. Owen had always been vague about his age and birth date, as well as when and how he'd gotten custody of Luke. But could Luke have been two years off in his own estimation of his age? If he was two years younger, would that help his father determine the identity of his mother? It felt important, suddenly, that Anakin Skywalker didn't look at him like a motherless bastard, the result of some anonymous coupling. Maybe his father had loved the woman who had borne him.

Laark was staring at him with a very odd expression on his face.

"What is it?" Luke asked.

"I'm not certain." Laark shook his head. "Nothing for right now. But… does your father think you're twenty-one?"

"Of course. That's what I told him." Luke didn't press further; there was enough for him to think about without adding more ingredients to this already-rich soup. Besides, there was a question he had to ask. "I met a girl– well, I didn't really meet her, but I saw her, and she's Sith. She's a pilot."

Laark nodded. "Red hair?"

"Yes." He stared at his companion. "Who is she?"

"Devlin… uh, Starsinger."

"Starsinger?"

"Dev's daughter. The youngest."

Once again he saw the tumbled auburn curls and the bright smile. Were her eyes black like her father's? "Did you know she was here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well …."

"Did my father?"

"Well …."

"Did her father?"

"Well …."

"Was our meeting preordained?"

"Don't ask me, ask Sith!" Laark blinked innocently.

"Hah." Luke leaned back in the chair. Was the entire parade of inappropriate mates just a ploy to distract him until he could meet Devlin? He frowned. "She's the one everybody thinks I should bond with, right?"

"How would I know? " Laark twisted a shirt in his hand– one of Luke's, of course, not his own. "Okay, maybe. Probably. Maybe you'll get bonded and live happily ever after. And have lots of babies. Maybe you'll name the first one Laark. Laark Skywalker. It has a certain simplicity and elegance about it, don't you think? Then they'll be the next leader of Sith– well, after your father and you, of course– and everyone will say, there's Laark Skywalker, named after one of the greatest Lightshiners ever! The Lightshiner who allowed the Great Lord and Junior Lord to save the galaxy and destroy the Evil Emperor, the Lightshiner who made it possible for all Sith to live in harmony and peace with Outsiders, the Lightshiner-"

"-with the biggest mouth on Sith," Luke finished. "I'll bet your father never talked to my father this much."

"Not if he knew what was good for him!"

They burst into childish giggles. "Tonight," Luke gasped, giddy with relief that he had his Lightshiner back, "will you introduce me to Devlin?" Because if he didn't survive his confrontation with Palpatine, he wanted to know what his future might have been.

Laark's laughter stopped. "You'll come back, Luke. You have to."

He brushed the back of Laark's hand, reluctant to take hold of it. "If I don't, I've made plans for you. Take our cruiser and go back to Sith. Take any Siths who will go. Han will care for you in the meantime."

His Lightshiner pouted. "Very well. But if you don't come back– " He hesitated, his cheeks paling. "If you don't come back, everything will end after your father. If Skywalkers are gone, maybe even Sith itself will end."

He stared, unable to think of a reply.

# # #

She was already in the rec area when they arrived, sitting at a table with five other pilots– including Wedge, Luke noted with a frown, hoping his friend wasn't interested in her.

He and Laark approached the group. "Hi, Wedge."

"Luke. Laark. Please join us."

He remained standing for the introductions, committing the names to memory. Then he gave in to the temptation to lightly probe Wedge's mind. There were no romantic inclinations toward Devlin– a touch of lust, but that was not unexpected. He smiled at her.

"It's a beautiful starlit night." He ignored Laark's mental, We're in space, lord-there's no other kind! and continued, "Would you care to go for a walk, Devlin?"

She returned his smile. "Thank you," she said and rose gracefully.

Fast worker. Can I come along?

You can't even eavesdrop, he told his Lightshiner as he offered Devlin his arm. Her small hand wrapped around it.

She was very tiny for a pilot, he noticed, wondering if the controls had to be adjusted to accommodate her shortness. She was even littler than Leia, barely topping his shoulder.

Their children would be midgets. He had a sudden vision: one each, boy and girl, beautiful and Force-strong.

There was no romance in strolling through the corridors of the big ship. Luke steered them to the observation lounge, using his Force powers– surely it wasn't Darkside to use them this way!- to convince the people currently occupying it that they wanted to be elsewhere.

They sat on a small bench in front of the huge window. He looked at her hair. The color was rich and deep like a sunset, the opposite of his own tousled sunshine. "Thank you for coming with me."

"You're welcome, lord. I'm honored to meet you."

"Please call me Luke," he replied, flustered. Did she see him just as a lord of Sith?

"Very well." She lowered her gaze. "Have you recently returned from Home? Did you see my family?"

"Yes. They're all well. Had I known you were here, I would have brought messages."

She looked up. Yes, her eyes were like Dev's, black as night. "No one mentioned me at all?"

"No." He hoped he hadn't hurt her feelings. "But I didn't have a chance to visit them very often."

She shook her head. "If they didn't talk of me, it was deliberate. Perhaps they didn't wish to prejudice you."

"What do you mean?"

Devlin smiled. "Since you were not raised on Sith, maybe they worried you would resist an arranged bonding. Isn't that silly?"

He stared at the stars. The bonding was already set? It would have been nice to fall in love like a normal person. Can you read my mind? he asked silently. There was no reply, which both disappointed and relieved him.

"So you knew?"

"Of course. The Skywalker always bonds with a Starsinger."

He was getting tired of being called The Skywalker. "My father didn't."

She turned away. "No. He was the exception."

"It seems like the line would get very inbred," he continued spitefully, "so I suppose it's good he didn't." Immediately, he was embarrassed by his petty words.

Her chin lifted. "He wanted to bond with my aunt, but she died. He took her away, and she died Outside." Was that an accusation in her voice?

"I'm sorry," Luke replied automatically because it was his day to apologize, but he was thinking about Anakin. Had his father fallen in love with someone else and defied the Sith arrangement? He liked that idea better than the picture he'd had in his head for the last year.

"It bothers you," Devlin noted softly.

"Yes, but not because of you. I wanted…." To fall in love. "I had hoped for something in my life that wasn't planned by Sith."

"Oh." She tilted her head and looked up at him. "Only the bonding is planned by Sith. Other things are entirely up to us. We may even love each other."

Of course they would. Everyone on Sith loved one another. But having a cold-blooded discussion about it first…. Where was the magic he'd dreamed about?

"You're disappointed."

"No," he lied with a smile. "Just taken aback. Can we pretend we don't know our future and just get to know each other?"

"As you wish, Luke."

She would obey him because he was the future Great Lord. Luke kept his smile steady. With persistence, maybe she would relax. "Then tell me about yourself. What caused you to disobey Sith traditions and join the Rebellion?"

She looked at him with surprise. "You did, of course. My father sent me here after you arrived on Sith."

He held onto his temper; she wasn't the one who angered him. "It would have been simpler to meet there."

She lowered her eyes again. "My father said your father said you weren't ready to bond, so they didn't want to pressure you by introducing us."

So she knew the truth despite her evasions of perhaps and maybe. He wanted to snarl with frustration. Did his father and Sith do anything but manipulate him? What would happen if he didn't bond with Devlin? Sith hadn't stopped his father; it couldn't stop him.

Or maybe it could.

All right. Why wouldn't he want to bond with her? She was beautiful. Clever and brave, too, if she was an Alliance pilot. He hadn't met anyone else on Sith with whom he wished to bond, and he couldn't bring a non-Sith to live there.

"Have you been flying long?" he asked, opening an avenue of mutual interest as he took Devlin's hand. There was no point in behaving like a spoiled brat by denying his destiny. He would accept it like a Sith, just like she did.

Maybe.