Chapter 3

It was not quite dawn, with rain lashing the windows of the Imperial Palace's upper floors in these early hours. Rain had always been a cause for anxiety upon Tatooine, at least for a man in the business of selling water. Even now, though Owen Lars was no longer a moisture farmer, the softer pitter patter of droplets hammering the outside of a building still induced a subconscious unease. Free water had always been a threat to his very existence, and it would be a long time before he would come to think otherwise.

When Owen reached the doors to Lord Vader's residence he was stopped by a trooper standing guard in the hall.

"Director Lars, Lord Vader is expecting you. However, I would advise you to wait out here for the time being." From behind the doors, Owen caught the sounds raised voices, one that of a young boy, and another thundering baritone of a vocoder.

"They're at it again, are they?" Owen asked, unable to hide his annoyance.

"Indeed, sir. Young Luke is very adamant this time."

Owen pulled back the sleeve of his uniform to check his wrist chrono. 05:00. His meeting was not until 08:00 but with how the day was going already, he'd be lucky to make it on time. He shoved his hands into his pockets and prepared to wait.

"I've been coming around here a couple of years now and I never asked for your name," Owen said to the trooper absently.

"It is quite alright sir. I don't have a name. I am a clone."

"Banthashit. All you clones have some sort of nickname."

"In that case, you may call me Sticks, sir."

"Sticks?" said Owen with a raised brow.

"I got into some trouble with some deathsticks once, sir. My batch mates never let me live it down," the trooper answered easily. Owen couldn't help but chuckle. They lapsed into silence and the background noise of the rain became obvious once again.

"Vader seems to have a helluva lot of clones in his personal staff," the former farmer remarked after some time.

"Oh yes, he collects us, for reasons no one knows. Steals us from outer rim hellholes or meaningless security posts and gives us real jobs," the trooper laughed. "Some of the older clones swear that they served alongside Lord Vader in the Clone Wars, but I don't see how that is possible. Nevertheless, he treats us very well. No one ever seems to believe me when I say that."

"Mmm. Can't imagine why..." Owen drawled. At that moment the doors slid open and the black-suited, masked figure that had once been Anakin Skywalker marched through them and down the hall. Luke followed somberly in his wake and Owen had no choice but to follow the both of them. Their path led them down into Vader's personal ship hanger within the Imperial Palace, along the way, guards at their posts straightened to rigid attention, as if they could feel the waves of displeasure coming off both father and son.

Luke had grown quite bit since arriving upon Coruscant, though considering he'd been a rather tiny kid, one might simply say that he was about where he should be now. These days Owen did not see him all that often, perhaps a bit more than once every standard month, but at twelve, the child's features were beginning to morph into those of an adolescent. Luke's assent into maturity was highlighted by his black, distinguished military cut jacket and his ever-present, over serious expression. It didn't suit him. When had Owen last seen the boy laugh?

There was a prepped shuttle awaiting Vader in the hanger, one that would ferry him to his star destroyer currently circling the planet. Presumably, Vader was being called away to put down yet another rebellious uprising on some fringe planet, but Owen never asked the details of Vader's missions. It wasn't his business, and he doubted he'd approve anyway. Truly awful things were done in the name of galactic peace, and Owen wasn't naive enough to think Vader wasn't a part of them.

Owen hung back but Luke followed his father all the way to the base of the ramp. Vader turned to exchange a few more words with his son, and from Luke's gesturing, Owen could guess that they were no less heated than the ones being spoken inside the apartments, though he could not hear them over the shrill whine of the engines.

Vader placed a hand on his son's shoulder and held it there for a while. Eventually, Luke's posture fell in defeat and he stepped away from the ramp to allow it to rise. A few minutes later, the shuttle was maneuvering out of the hanger and blasting into Coruscant's overcast skies.

"I just wish he'd take me with him for once. I'm old enough now," Luke said morosely to Owen when the older man came up behind him.

"Twelve standard ain't old enough for war, boy," Owen scoffed.

"It's old enough to not need a babysitter," Luke snapped back.

"Yeah, well, if you take your father's speeder out without permission and without a pilot's ID, you can expect to destroy his trust in you. Funny, I thought you might have already learned that lesson on the farm."

"Coruscant is boring. All I do is sit in the library with my tutors. Every hour of every day is scheduled. I can't even go outside without at least three bodyguards! I wish I was back on Tatooine," Luke replied darkly.

"You don't mean that."

"We were free on Tatooine," Luke said quietly. Owen closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself not to blindly agree and instead to consider reality over his overwhelming nostalgia.

"Ignorant boy, we were no such thing. We were in hiding. Aye, we may have been freer in some senses. Freer to starve or dehydrate. Freer to be kidnapped and flayed alive by the Tuskens maybe. Now stop moping and come with me." Owen was almost surprised when the boy seemed to have nothing more to say. They wordlessly continued on back to the main hanger, where Owen's personal pilot stood waiting for them near his custom speeder. Owen took in the sight with some pride. He had helped to design and manufacture the model himself, one of the many perks of his job with Sienar Fleet Systems.

"Gunner!" Luke called suddenly as he raced forward and jumped an unnatural distance into the front passenger seat.

"It ain't proper for you to be up front. Get in the back like a proper noble," Owen said, albeit half-heartedly.

"Lieutenant Pine doesn't mind if I sit here, though," Luke replied, blinking innocently at the pilot.

"Of course not, sir."

Owen found himself mumbling some Huttese under his breath as he climbed into the rear seats. The canopy lowered over their heads and they joined the queue to leave the hanger. By the time they finally broke out into open air and merged into the morning traffic, Luke was brooding again. No doubt the boy was thinking about the coming day that he would be spending locked in the Lars' townhome. It had been quite some time since Owen had seen the boy last and he recalled again just how little he knew of Luke's new life. Did the boy have friends in Imperial city? Did he ever have any fun? Somehow Owen doubted it.

Let it not be said that Owen Lars had ever been an advocate for 'fun.' However, he did think back to his own childhood where he and the other Anchorhead boys would spend the late afternoons kicking empty cans through the sand. That counted as 'fun,' didn't it?

"Drop us at the shopping center, Lieutenant," Owen ordered. He was getting used to ordering people around. It was sinfully satisfying.

"Right away, sir." Through the passenger side mirror, Owen saw Luke's face light up considerably.

They arrived at the decadent mall some minutes later, landing on one of the platforms that floated just above.

"Shall I call an escort for you, sir?" Pine asked, looking worriedly over the crowds already amassing below, even at his early hour.

"No need. We can handle ourselves. You're free to go. We'll find our own way back."

"Sir, I must protest-"

"No one knows who we are out here. We'll be fine," Owen said firmly as he exited the speeder behind Luke. Uncle and nephew stepped onto the small hover vehicle that would ferry them down to the shopping center. The metal was wet from the deluge that had only just stopped, but they climbed on all the same.

"You ever been here?" Owen asked.

"No," Luke breathed, eyes wide with wonder, "Father doesn't let me leave the palace block unless I am with him. And usually we only travel to the senate building."

Owen had never been to the mall either. He had people to shop for him now. He would never willingly subject himself to a stuffy shopping center crowded with strangers.

So what was he doing here again?

"Oh Force!" Luke exclaimed as his excitement finally got the better of his trained stoicism. He leaned over the rail, "They have a Neeley's! One of my professors told me they have the best sweets. And that looks like a laser arena! And a hologames store!" Owen had a headache already. He checked his chrono. 06:00. They could burn an hour here, but that was all.

They burned more than an hour. Very easily. Breakfast alone took an hour. Owen did not even check his chrono again until after he was placing his signature upon datapad, verifying his purchase of a new gaming and entertainment system that was to be installed in his townhome later that day. No price was too high to keep Luke occupied. Having money made things so much easier. Back on Tatooine this sort of kid rearing took the form of adding moonshine to Luke's blue milk so that he would fall asleep.

Beru never found out about that.

"I thought you said you had to be at your job at 08:00," Luke commented as they left the store.

"I do," Owen growled. He looked up at the traffic in the skylanes overhead, his heart sinking after noticing the rush hour gridlock. At this point it would be faster to take public transit, as distasteful as that sounded, and Luke would have to come with him.

"C'mon boy, you're coming with me to work," Owen told the child as he began to lead the way toward the sign that displayed the neon signal for the Hyper Rail.

"You're taking me to where they build TIE fighters?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

The two of them rode a lift down a few levels, and it was rather shocking for Owen to see how quickly Coruscant got seedy. There was graffiti on the walls and trash adorning the walkways. The residents, mostly non humans, were dressed like spacers and thugs. Owen reeled Luke in a tad closer, grateful that he and Luke were looking rather plain at the moment, having stuffed their tailored jackets into Owen's briefcase earlier. Hopefully no one would take an interest in the quality of their boots.

"Now this is much more like Tatooine!" Luke said excitedly, "But the gang symbols are in Aurebesh!"

"Not so loud," Owen advised. He managed to locate the Hyper Rail platform as well as the machines that would dispense tickets for it. Upon the platform there was an Ithorian playing a strange-looking instrument with a cap full of loose credits sitting near his feet.

The train pulled up, following in the wake of an over-loud bell. All of the seats were taken, of course, and so was most of the aisle. He and Luke found a spot toward the front of the car, pressed between the window and the four, sweaty armpits of a Besalisk. Luke did not seem to be put off, much to Owen's relief. He had been worrying that Luke would find this whole situation disgusting and beneath him, but it seemed Owen had judged him unfairly. The Luke he'd raised on Tatooine wasn't entirely gone.

Luke stared patiently out the dark window while the Hyper Rail car lurched forward and gradually began to pick up speed. Coruscant's railways were old, Owen knew. Many of the buildings had been built around them over time, making it appear as if the rail was underground. Occasionally, they broke free of the many tunnels and Coruscant was visible for miles both above and below.

Luke was entranced, and it was not hard to see why. The speeder traffic within the city moved at less than half this speed.

"Is it this your first time on Coruscant, dear?" a kindly, Nautolan woman asked when she noticed Luke's open-mouthed expression. The boy was sure to say something stupid, so Owen answered for him.

"We're from the outer rim," Owen explained, "Ain't no large cities on our home planet."

"It is certainly a wonder to behold. I am very fortunate to be able to call this city home. Coruscant is the one of the only places in the galaxy that accepts people of all different species. I do hope you enjoy your time here."

"Thank you, ma'am," Owen replied. She went back to her reading but he continued to study her, taking note of her dirty face, her shabby clothing, and the way her fingers were dyed purple, perhaps from many years of working in a textile factory. How could someone like her, who surely lived on one of the lowest rungs of society, somehow find it in her heart to love this city when Owen Lars, with his new found riches and success, could not?

He became so entrenched in his thoughts that he almost missed his stop.

"This is the east industrial district. Please exit through the doors on the left. We thank you for riding the Coruscant Hyper Rail," came an automated voice from the speakers. Owen was jolted from his introspection and he grabbed Luke roughly by the arm. They managed to squeeze through the throng of people and exit the train before the doors shut again.

"Wow! That was amazing! Can we take the rail home too?" Luke asked dreamily.

"No," said Owen, already coming to the realization of how unhappy Vader would be should he ever find out about this. His decision became final when he noticed that the platform they'd gotten off on was just as disgusting as the one where they'd boarded, except instead of the Ithorian musician, there was a homeless veteran holding up a sign that read 'Order 66 was slaughter'. The industrial district was not exactly a haven for the wealthy, though Owen had never much paid attention until now. There'd never been any need to think about it when his chauffeur dropped him at the entrance every morning.

It was a short few blocks and a ride up a public lift before uncle and nephew arrived at the building they sought. Owen was almost relieved when he entered back into the world he'd known for two years now, a world where everyone knew who he was and catered to his every need. When had that become the new normal? When had that become comfortable? He ought to be ashamed of himself.

"Listen, boy. This damn meeting wont take longer than an hour. Go up ten floors and walk to the end of the hall. My office is the big one on the right. Lock yourself in there and play with that handheld game thing I just got you. Think you can handle that?" Luke did not take to the suggestion.

"Can't I go look at the fighters?" the boy argued.

"I will show you them later," Owen replied firmly, "Now go." He shooed the boy away, his mind now focused on the hastily arranged meeting already taking place. He spotted his secretary, a sharp, bookish woman named Meara, and an engineer named Saurel hurrying his way. They hesitantly fell into step beside him. Even after the time he'd spent here and demonstrated that he wasn't in the habit of meting out summary executions to those who failed him, people still seemed to fear him for his assumed relation to Darth Vader.

"So what's this all about?" Owen grunted as he walked.

"Orson Krennic is here, sir. He's the director of the military's advanced weapons research division," his secretary said in a low voice.

"What does he want?"

"To put in an order. Seven thousand TIEs, sir," Meara answered primly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "And twenty five hundred ion cannons."

"Force hell!" Owen swore, "Where does he plan to put them!? Is he arming a planet!?" There was no way this information was correct. The Empire never ordered TIE's in batches larger that few hundred or so and when they did, Owen was normally the first to know about it, him being the unofficial Imperial representative here at Sienar Fleet Systems.

"He also wants to poach about fifty of my engineers and assembly techs for a classified project," Saurel supplied, frowning in discontent. "Sir, I am begging you to do something about this. Rehiring and training that many new workers will put us behind in production."

"Who the hell does this Krennic fellow think he is?!" Owen spat. Something dicey was going on.

He banged his fist down upon the release to the conference room doors.

.o.o.o.o.