PART 2: WOULD-BE SENATOR

CHAPTER 8: Death

"It is you and your abilities the Emperor wants. That is why your friends are made to suffer." —Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Empire Strikes Back

****

Several days later, Luke wondered if maybe his name had always been Pain.

Pain had become his constant companion, if he had not indeed been replaced by it, and, during his lucid moments, he wondered if he had already been subjected to most of the known forms of torture.

He was constantly dizzy, his tongue was swollen due to dehydration, his throat was raw from screaming, and his stomach was constantly crying out for nourishment. He had been deprived of sleep with the use of chemical injectors, and he had been subjected to loud noises and bright lights and needles and electro-shocks and fire-knives. And that wasn't even the half of it.

His pressure points had been jabbed at time and time again, his head had been shaved, and his back had been given fresh whip wounds and had even been branded with the Imperial symbol. The flesh on his shins had been scorched with a low-power blaster, his arms had been sliced at with a primitive knife, he'd been kicked and punched several times, he'd had muscle spasms which sent pain soaring through his already hurt-wracked body courtesy of some special machine, and he'd been injected with a liquid that made his blood feel like it was boiling...

And now Setsner was slowly cutting off his right hand with a knife.

Oh, he'd crushed the bones first, starting with the fingers. He'd peeled the individual fingers back slowly, testing their limits, before finally snapping them backwards. He'd done what he could with physical strength before bringing out a hard object that he began smashing the limb with, until finally Luke's hand was nothing but slivers of bone and blood and bits of flesh.

Luke thought the interrogator had gotten permission to perform the dismemberment, but perhaps that conversation was just in his head, having been caused by the Bavo Six or one of the other liquids he'd been injected with. It was hard to tell anymore.

While researching common torturing methods, he'd read about Bavo Six. It was a truth serum that caused the distortion of shapes, the induction of fear, and the infliction of intense paranoia. He tried to tell himself that the monstrous outline in front of him was just a mute Imperial man, but his brain was getting different signals, and he flinched away every time the monster—no, the man—came near.

Sometimes, his aunt came and talked to him. "It's all right, Luke, just ignore the pain," she would tell him. "Use the Force to make it go away."

"I don't like the Force," he'd respond in his rasping voice.

And then, before she could talk to him again, she would die, killed by a pair of greedy bounty hunters who then came and laughed in his face.

His uncle came to visit a few times, too. "Be careful with that moisture vaporator, Luke," he'd say.

"But I'm good with machines," Luke would tell him.

"I know that." His uncle would smile and reach over to tousle his hair, only to stop when he realized there was no hair to tousle. "You don't look very good, Luke. Are you sick?"

But then, he would be killed by the bounty hunters, too. And they would come again and laugh at the young man. He wanted to punch the laughter out of them, but it hurt enough to breathe, much less move.

Maybe Luke did use the Force to resist the pain, like his aunt had suggested. He wasn't really sure. Mostly, he thought his hatred for Palpatine was what kept him going. He wouldn't let that monster win. He couldn't. That was what he kept telling himself.

After cutting off what remained of Luke's hand, the interrogator placed it on Luke's chest. Luke looked down at it coldly, like it were some distant object he had no use for. Funny, he'd never noticed that little scar on his thumb...

"Are you finally ready to tell us where Darth Vader is?" a voice asked.

Luke's head had started swimming, and his vision was blackening, so he couldn't see who the voice belonged to, though he thought maybe it was Palpatine's. "I don't know where he is," he managed, though he was barely able to make the words louder than a whisper. "But I hope he's dead." He paused and then added, "And I hope you die, too." A small, painful smile stretched across his face. What a pleasant thought that was.

Setsner slapped him, though the Emperor—yes, Luke was sure it was him—seemed amused. "I'm sure you do. But perhaps I know someone who can refresh your memory as to Lord Vader's location."

There was some noise, and then a familiar voice said, "Luke!"

"Mother," Luke rasped. He felt both relief and horror fill him—she was alive, but surely it was not for long. Why was she here? Why was he here? His head was so cloudy...

"Luke," Arelis repeated. She sounded like she was crying. "I can't believe what they've done to you. My poor boy."

"It's all right, Mother." He wanted to say, We knew this would happen, but he didn't. The haze in his head was starting to clear a little, and he was pulling his thoughts together with great effort.

"Luke, I can't let them do this to you..."

"We don't know anything, Mother, so we can't tell them anything." He said the words calmly, but his heart was thumping in his chest. He'd been hit by a rare period of clarity, and he was remembering what they were fighting for.

He knew Palpatine was standing by, quietly watching this private moment between mother and son. He hated that monster. He wanted to tear the wrinkles off his face and gouge out his eyes with the fingers on his remaining hand—

"Luke," Arelis Antilles said softly, "they told me about you...and—and the Force. Is it true?"

He wanted to close his eyes and go back to that place where he could be hidden from the pain, hidden from the present, hidden from the past, hidden from himself...But he didn't. Instead, he clung to the clarity he'd been provided with, knowing he couldn't simply leave his mother alone with these monsters, and whispered, though it hurt to admit it out loud, "Yes. I didn't know before, but now—now, I do." How she must hate him now. His eyes burned, but no moisture came out.

"I had a daughter who was trained as a Jedi," she said quietly, "till she was killed by the Sith. I hated the Jedi for taking her away from me, and I hated the Sith for killing her. But I never hated her—and I don't hate you, Luke. Know that. I love you, just as I still love that baby the Jedi took from me. I think I understand now why the Jedi took away Force sensitive children—they didn't want them to end up in the hands of the Sith...Like you have now. Oh, Luke...This changes everything..."

He wanted to tell her that he was still the same—that nothing had changed—not really—but it hurt too much to talk. All he could manage was the whisper: "Mother..."

"They don't plan on killing you, or they would have done it by now," Arelis Antilles said. She had a firmly contemplative note in her voice that Luke didn't like. "But they will keep torturing you until they have Vader's location."

"Mother," he pleaded desperately. The plan—she must stick with the plan! Though the slightest move sent pain streaking through his body, he tried to struggle against his restraints. He was filled with horror and despair—no! No!

"But you won't last forever without going mad, Luke."

"It doesn't matter, Mother," he croaked out, ignoring the physical hurt the words caused. "We don't matter, Mother. Remember—"

"I refuse to let the Sith kill another child of mine...Not when I might be able to stop it."

"But Alderaan—" he protested, trying to get her to remember the plan.

"I love my home more than almost anything, Luke. But I don't love it more than you... I know I should do the smart thing, like we planned...But I can't. I'm sorry."

"Mother, no!" he managed to shout, the words ripping into his throat like daggers. He began bucking against his restraints, ignoring the pain that tore into his body. "Mother!" he yelled, his voice high and loud and piercing, like the cry of a dying animal. "No!"

"I'm sorry, Luke," Arelis said, her voice trembling as she turned away from him. To Palpatine, she said, "I know where Darth Vader is."

"Mother!" Luke screamed. But he knew it was already too late, and he welcomed the darkness that came to claim him.

****

Later, Luke lay down on the cot in his cell, numb to the outside world. There was food and water in his cell, but he would not eat or drink. There were new clothes laid out for him to put on, but he would not wear them. There was intense pain shooting through his body, but he would not feel it. He wouldn't let himself experience anything but tingling numbness.

His mother was dead.

Oh, he did not know if she were dead at this very moment, but he knew she was as good as dead. She would show them where Darth Vader was—they would keep her with them in case she was lying—and then, when they had found him, they would bring her back and give her a public execution, sentencing her with high treason and blowing her head off on the holovision.

They might offer him a holo of the event as a token of what he had lost, but he would refuse to watch it, for he would know that as she died, something else had died, too.

Yes, she was doing it out of love for him. He knew that. He had always known she loved him, and he had always loved her, but ever since those days at Jabba's Palace, he had viewed himself unworthy of love. Worthless, just like Darsst had always told him.

That had been part of the reason he'd been so willing to go with their plan. Not a good plan, but all they'd had. His life was worthless, so he was willing to give it up. He hadn't counted on his mother's not seeing him the same way. He hadn't counted on her love for him.

If he had really allowed himself to see how much she loved him, he would have fashioned the plan without her, so that he could save both her and others. If only he hadn't told her where he'd put Vader—

But what was done was done. And now she was to be killed. She was the walking dead. She was forever lost to him, sacrificing herself so that he might have a brief peace.

Perhaps their plan was doomed to failure from the start. But after Arelis had told him what she'd learned about the Death Star—she had eyes and ears everywhere—they had known they would need to do something about it. They could not let the pair of Force users simply go about demolishing planets. They both knew that Bail Organa was a high-ranking figure in the Alliance to Restore the Republic; he didn't know they knew, of course, but they were certain of his importance to the ragtag group of insurgents. With a little anonymous help from Arelis and Luke, the Rebellion was able to procure a copy of the Death Star technical readouts earlier than they might otherwise have done. There had been an unexpected problem, however. Many of the important figures in the Rebellion were loath to launch an assault on the behemoth space station, even though they knew of its location. They feared too much that the Rebel's already small forces would simply be decimated.

But Arelis and Luke had known that the space station would need to be taken out soon, before it could destroy any planets—it would be the Rebellion's first true step toward attaining peace. And so, they had devised Luke's political bid. By stirring up Alderaanians, Luke would call the Empire's attention to Alderaan, and Bail Organa would start to worry for his planet's safety. If Bail were suitably motivated, they knew he could spur the Rebels into action—he was, after all, a very skilled orator. But they had been provided a hoped-for safeguard to ensure that the Empire wouldn't simply destroy Alderaan—they had kidnapped Darth Vader.

Only, now, that safeguard was gone. Now, once Vader was removed from the planet, the Empire could destroy Alderaan.

Luke looked emotionlessly at the stump on his right arm. Before he'd left for Alderaan, Palpatine had told him that in a few hours a medic would come to give him a mechanical replacement hand and tend to his wounds. It was a reward, the Emperor had said, for telling him the location of Vader, though of course Luke had done no such thing. But the comment had stung, just like Palpatine had known it would.

He didn't care if he got the replacement hand or not; it didn't matter whether he lived or died now. His mother would soon be dead, and Alderaan would soon be destroyed. If he were lucky, the Death Star would also be obliterated regardless of how things had went for him and his mother, but there was nothing more he could do on that front.

As he breathed in and out deeply, he could feel that the cot beneath him was soaked in his blood. He didn't know what he looked like, but he could imagine he didn't even look like a shade of his former self. Bald, bloody, bruised, and branded—he was just one of the Emperor's toys now.

He wished for that poison capsule more than ever. He hadn't even been given any eating utensils. There would be no way to kill himself.

All he could do now was wait...But for what—he didn't know.

****

Arelis Antilles guided Emperor Palpatine and his entourage down to the depths of Crevasse City. The journey was made mostly in silence, and all too soon they were stepping out of their transport and navigating the beautiful caves beneath Crevasse City. Before long, they were in the room where Opakwa—who would probably soon be no more than scrap metal—was watching over the restrained Darth Vader. "Oh!" the droid said when he saw them, though he didn't say anything else, perhaps realizing that it was best to stay quiet, or perhaps knowing that there was really nothing to say.

"Darth Vader," Palpatine said, stepping forward. Half of his guards—and that mysterious woman with the red hair—still flanked Arelis. "You are safe, I presume?"

"Yes, my master," the black-armored man answered, sounding meeker than normal. He was safe. It was only his pride that was hurt.

****

Arelis stared down at Darth Vader, hearing with detachment the conversation between him and his master. She was still trying desperately to erase the note of betrayal still ringing in her ears. Her head was still filled with her son's face and his voice as he cried out for her not to deviate from their plan.

She knew she was dooming Alderaan; she knew it with her heart and her soul. But she just couldn't stand seeing her son treated like that. A mother was not meant to kill her son—but to save him.

And so she'd traded an entire planet full of people for her son's sanity. The Sith would try to twist him, she knew, and would probably succeed. But at least she would die knowing that she had done what she thought was best for her son...Even if it meant the rest of the galaxy had to suffer.

She didn't know how she had ever thought she would be able to choose the galaxy over her son—she cared for the galaxy, yes, but she loved her son.

Perhaps doom was all that was left to her—she certainly wouldn't survive long. She knew that. But she was determined to at least attempt to ease what her son would soon go through—and maybe the galaxy would be helped a little as well.

Arelis was quick for an older woman, and she and her son hadn't been utter fools when they'd set up Vader's 'cell.' At her feet, hidden beneath a rock, was a blaster. And as, on Palpatine's signal, a few of the guards standing near her moved forward to help release Vader from his restraints, she dropped to the floor, grabbed the blaster, and shot Palpatine in the head.

In that moment, a multitude of feelings passed through her head. But mostly what she saw in her mind's eye was an image of her son's suffering face. Truly, she was not doing this for the galaxy. Her sacrifice was to be made out of love for her son.

****

Blaster bolts from a dozen weapons hit the woman almost instantaneously, and she was dead shortly after Palpatine's body crumpled to the ground. But her one last act of love had accomplished what it had been intended to, and the galaxy was suddenly without an Emperor.

"No," a young woman with red-gold hair whispered, rushing forward to her dead master's side. She knelt beside him and grabbed a piece of his cloak, which she clenched in her hand so tightly her fingers turned white. A bolt from her own blaster had been the first to hit Arelis Antilles, but despite its speed it had been too late.

She cursed the presence of the ysalamiri. In normal circumstances, a blaster bolt would have had no effect on Palpatine. But that was because of his Force powers, and in the cave full of ysalamiri there were no Force powers to be had...Which meant that her master was dead—gone forever. She had failed him.

After the Emperor's sober and now-frightened guards released Vader from his bonds and removed his blindfold, the Sith Lord got to his feet. Due to the mechanical nature of his legs, he felt no stiffness in walking around.

He gazed briefly at his surroundings—in all his time in this cavern, he hadn't been able to look around, and he was surprised to discover he'd been held in such a pleasant place—before he finally gazed down at Palpatine's body. A few seconds later, he addressed the grieving Emperor's Hand. "Come, Jade. He is dead." Vader turned his helmet to address the guardsmen. "Destroy the lizards. Then bring Palpatine's body and the droid," he commanded.

The guards quickly set to work, glad that they weren't going to be immediately killed for their failure to protect the Emperor, though they feared they would be dead soon enough.

After the ysalamiri were dead, Vader faced Mara Jade and said firmly, "Jade, you lead the way."

The young woman's face was blank; she was numb inside like she'd never been before. Her life was falling apart around her. But it hadn't been the Emperor's right hand man who had killed the Emperor, as she had feared would happen all these years. Instead, it had been a desperate woman. Mara had been foolish not to watch her more closely, but she'd known her not to be armed, and the Emperor's Royal Guards were well-trained—surely, they were at fault—not her. Still—she felt like she should have known—should have been more careful.

Now that the Emperor was gone, she could leave the Empire, forsake it...But there was nothing for her outside the Empire; within the Empire, as long as Vader was living, she would still hold a kind of power. She was reluctant, but she knew the best thing for her to do was to shift her loyalties from the Emperor to Vader. He was the Empire's future now, and, without the Empire, she really had nothing...

They left Arelis Antilles' body behind. They would announce her dead as a traitor, but they would leave her body behind for cave creatures to eat. They would not give her the honor of a burial.

They did not realize how precious the event they had just witnessed truly was.