Yakoska Pirate Base
Camden
30 minutes later
There was another earth shattering roar as another explosive went off. Max was rather proud of himself as he didn't even flinch this time around. Of course, he used explosives in his job, but he was never this close when they detonated.
They were currently huddled behind a surprisingly large rock which was 15 meters from one of the pirate's lairs exits, itself disguised as a dilapidated outside refresher. But they had the schematics of the base and this was indeed an exit.
Lars lifted a hand to his com and shouted, "What was that? I didn't copy!"
There was a pause, and then he said, "Keep low and get out of here quickly before anyone can pursue you. We've got another band of individuals on their way out. You need to get those people as far away as ..."
He paused, then continued a moment later, "Good, thanks!"
Lars glanced at Max and grinned a little, "The slaves and hostages are making excellent progress getting out of here!"
Max nodded, but couldn't smile; he was too nervous. A moment later, a small group of sentients came hurrying out, coughing and hacking from the smoke caused by the explosives.
Max watched them with uneasy eyes. On the one hand, he hated these individuals, hated what they did, hated them for the harm they had caused. It wasn't just his own suffering, but the suffering of the hostages and slaves he and Lars had met a mere 50 minutes ago. Nalla had quietly guided the two men to an underground section of the camp where males and females of more than one race were being held in rancid conditions, preparatory either to being released for ransom or sold into slavery.
Nalla, Lars had explained to him softly, had two children in the camp, a boy and girl in their late teens whom they had seen briefly as they fled with their mother. They were due to be sold into slavery at any time, and based on the beauty of the Twi'lek teenage girl, Max could guess her likely fate.
It made him sick. He had been fiercely glad to carry out his plan with Lars, to 'borrow' explosives from a small storage facility set apart from the main compound and to place them strategically. The first explosion had gone off 30 minutes ago and had separated the slave camp from the rest of the underground maze of tunnels where the vast majority of the pirates were ensconced.
Once the slave quarters were isolated, Lars had moved in, mowing down the guards and, with Max's help, releasing the slaves. There were speeder bikes in a nearby concealed hanger and many of the slaves had fled to them and sped off. Others had run into the undergrowth toward the river, where some hovercraft were stored.
After the slaves had been freed, Lars and Max had moved on to other sections of the rabbit warren of passageways. As the explosives had been placed and detonated, the pirates underneath had been forced toward the end of the compound away from the slave quarters. This should give the slaves and hostages more time to get away.
But now, as Max watched the pirates approaching, he felt nausea rising in his belly. He had never seen such violent death before. He was, he supposed, naïve – this was war, and these men were, to use an old fashioned word, evil. But Lars, in spite of his youthful appearance and surprisingly kind eyes, was his own brand of scary. Already, the young man had shown himself able and willing to wipe out so many men – and aliens – with his glowing green blade of death.
Lars suddenly leapt out from behind the rock, his sword lighting up. There were a few blaster shots, which apparently the Dark Ops agent deflected with ease, and then brief silence.
Max, huddled behind the rock, listened in astonishment as his companion called loudly, "This can go one of two ways! You can attack me and die, or you can throw your weapons down and flee into the woods. We've got Imperial reinforcements on the way and your only chance to live is to disappear! You have 10 seconds to decide."
There was a short, tense moment, and then Max heard the sounds of blasters hitting the ground. A moment later, he watched in surprise as the group of men, with at least one Barabel, ran into the nearby woods.
Lars was back at his side a moment later.
"They are just minions," he said absently, "so I decided to let them go. I need to move ... these last explosions have pushed the main leadership of the Yakoska pirates towards that entrance about 100 meters away. Once at least 10 have emerged, detonate everything else, all right? I don't want them creeping back in to hide."
"We don't really have reinforcements coming, do we?" Max asked, feeling a little foolish.
"Actually, we do, of a sort," Lars said. His voice sounded odd, even as his hand lifted up to point at the sky.
"Look up there."
Max did. Descending toward the two men were at least 15 Imperial shuttles.
"Ok, Max, time to finish this!" Lars said, and pushed off the rock.
/-
Darth Vader stood eagerly in the main area of his own shuttle, staring intently at the holoscreen which showed the base below him. The rising smoke and periodic explosions were hallmarks of Skywalker madness; furthermore, he sensed the boy's presence nearby. But until he actually saw him ...
"My lord!" Admiral Piett said, gesturing suddenly, "to the west!"
The image shifted and yes, there was a small figure with a green lightsaber flashing and dancing, destroying a host of belligerents who were taking aim at his form.
Vader found himself full of both pride and fear; pride because Luke was a force unleashed, fear that he would be overwhelmed and killed just as his father arrived to take him into custody.
"Containment Plan 4," he ordered his men. "Remember, your highest priority is that Skywalker be taken alive and unharmed!"
/-
Max detonated the last of the explosives even as the first of the Imperial shuttles landed. He heaved a sigh of relief; Lars was obviously very competent, but he felt so much better now that backup had arrived.
The ramps dropped with impressive speed and stormtroopers came pouring out and began circling around Lars and his opponents.
And then, Max froze in disbelief. The troopers – they were targeting Lars! His rescuer blocked a couple of stun shots before diving behind a tree. A moment later, he leaped in the air, landed, rolled, sliced three more of the Yakoska pirates in half, twirled to block another stun shot, then staggered as another stun shot finally hit him.
For a moment, Lars stood still, struggling, then fell. But as he fell, a shot from a pirate hit him in the left arm.
"Lars!" Max murmured in horror, but stayed still. He was semi-hidden behind a tree and given the insanity of what was going on out there, he felt it best to stay low. Were these really Imperials? Or were they more pirates, dressed in stolen armor?
Wild speculation ended as a final shuttle landed near Lars's now prone body. The ramp lowered and the terrifying and regal figure of Lord Darth Vader marched rapidly down the ramp and toward Lars.
A moment later ...
"Uncle Firmus?" Max muttered in bewilderment. Never in a million parsecs would he have guessed his uncle would actually come looking for him. He was a busy man.
Max took a deep breath, gathered his flagging courage, and stepped out into the open.
2.5 seconds later, he heard a harsh, filtered voice.
"Halt!"
/-
Darth Vader strode over to the form of his son, who was lying unconscious on the dirt, his left arm seeping blood.
Fury warred with concern, "I gave orders that Skywalker was not to be harmed!"
The officer standing next to his son straightened slightly even as his face tightened, "My apologies, my Lord. The prisoner was hit by a blaster bolt from the antagonists after being struck by a stun blast from one of our troopers."
A medic, who was kneeling next to Luke, working on his arm, glanced up briefly, "The injury is serious but not life threatening, my Lord."
"See to it that every necessary treatment is given," the Sith ordered, then turned in time to see a young man, his Force presence generating wild confusion and dismay, being hauled in binders into the small clearing where Luke Skywalker lay.
"Uncle Firmus!" the youth stammered, his eyes on Vader's admiral.
Admiral Piett's face was a mask of indifference, but underneath the Dark Lord could sense the man's terror and, yes, bewilderment. Unusual for his surprisingly unflappable officer, but this was an unusual day.
Maximus Piett now looked at Vader, his eyes wide with disbelief and concern, before he looked down at Luke.
"Is Lars all right?"
"Lars? His name is Commander Luke Skywalker of the Rebel Alliance," one of Vader's captains snarled impatiently. "He's the most wanted man in the galaxy."
Maximus Piett looked, if possible, even more pale. For a long moment he swayed slightly, and then he muttered, almost too quietly to hear, "Luke Who?"
/-
Imperial Throne Room
Imperial Palace
Imperial City
Imperial Center
Emperor Sheev Palpatine read the brief communication and smiled with wicked glee. It was a simple account, but a most welcome one.
"Skywalker is in custody. Injuries are not life threatening."
That was all, but then his agent in Darth Vader's service knew to keep his reports brief. The dance between the Sith Lords was one of suspicion and hostility, hidden beneath a mask of obsequious honor of the younger towards the elder, and falsely paternal care of the elder towards the younger.
Ever since Luke Skywalker had risen to galactic prominence, the dance had grown more complex. Certainly, Darth Sidious had numerous spies in Vader's ship; it was regrettable, if not surprising, that many of those spies found themselves dead at Vader's hands due to so called incompetence.
Or perhaps genuine incompetence. Darth Vader was not a forgiving man.
At any rate, Skywalker was in custody. It remained to be seen if his servant would obey his direct order and report immediately ...
There was melodious chime from the com on his throne, and he flicked it with the Force.
"Yes?"
"Your Highness, we have a priority signal from Lord Vader's shuttle, requesting an immediate conference with you."
Palpatine smiled and relaxed infinitesimally.
"Inform Lord Vader that I am currently unavailable and will com him shortly."
"Yes, your Highness."
"And send up a goblet of the Alderaanian wine."
/-
Lord Vader's shuttle
En route to the Executor
"You expect us to believe that you were completely unaware that your companion and rescuer was a notorious Rebel? That would argue supreme stupidity, but I doubt that the nephew of Admiral Piett would claim such a thing ..."
Darth Vader strode out of the cockpit and into the main compartment of his shuttle, causing the officer haranguing Maximus Piett to lapse into welcome silence.
The Sith looked first, long and hard, at his son. Luke was lying on a reclined bed, with his arms and legs chained. His left arm had been expertly treated by a medic on the field, and his overall health status was being carefully monitored by a med droid. He was unconscious, first due to the stun blast, now because of the potent anesthetics coursing through his veins. Best to get Luke safely into his secure quarters on board the Executor before he was permitted to wake up.
Satisfied that his boy was secure and in good health, Darth Vader turned his attention to the other three occupants of the room. Maximus Piett, his hands bound, was so pale and terrified that it was a surprise he was still vertical. Admiral Piett, a meter away, wore a look of rigid discipline on his face, but he was obviously upset. The third man was a spy for the Emperor. Vader hadn't found a viable way to execute the man yet, but he would. In the meantime ...
"Your 7th degree of the younger Piett is unnecessary, Agent Prillus," he rumbled. "I am confident that Maximus Piett did not know Skywalker's identity."
There was a brief flash of indignation and rage on Prillus's face, before the man bowed slightly, "As you wish."
"Piett's manacles are not necessary," Vader continued. "Remove them."
As the agent reluctantly obeyed, the Dark Lord turned to the young man who had accompanied his son the last two days.
"Young Piett, you called him Lars. What else did he tell you about himself?"
Max licked his lips and took a deep breath, centering himself.
"I don't know if anything he told me was true, my Lord."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"Uh. He told me his name was Lars, yes. He said he was on a mission to take down the group that abducted me. He called them the Yakoska Pirates."
"Yokaska?" the agent inquired in a slightly sarcastic tone. "I have never heard of them."
"It means 'Big Turtle' in Huttese," the Dark Lord stated. "A foolish name, but I am peripherally aware of this band. They have been involved in abductions and slave trading in the Outer Rim for some time."
"That's what, um, Lars said," Max said eagerly, "and he wanted to destroy their base. And I helped him."
He waited with bated breath to be told that he had just blown up an Imperial complex of some kind, but Vader merely considered for a long moment, then nodded.
"Did he com anyone while you were with him?"
Max thought long and hard and shook his head, "No, my Lord. I was asleep for a while in a cave after he, er, rescued me. He could have contacted someone then. But while I was awake, he only spoke to me and Nalla, aside from the pirates, I mean."
"Nalla?"
"Yes, my Lord. He commandeered a hovercraft from the pirates, and the only survivor was a Twi'lek woman who called herself Nalla. She and Lars spoke in a language I don't know, but he said she was a slave herself."
"Did you get the impression that already they knew one another?" Agent Prillus demanded.
Max shot him an uneasy look. He could sense the hostility roiling towards him from the agent, then forced himself to relax his body. Oddly enough, Darth Vader seemed gently disposed towards him, and he, and his uncle, were the ones that mattered. Right?
"No ..." Max trailed away as a vagrant memory popped up, "She did recognize him! She called him Skeewoker, but she certainly seemed surprised."
"She might still be part of the plot," Prillus said importantly. "I've given orders to have the slaves and hostages retaken."
"Belay that order," Vader said, the rising fury in his voice obvious to all the conscious individuals in the chamber. "The fate of the slaves is of no concern of mine. And Agent Prillus, I suggest you limit further orders if you wish to retain your current position."
Again, the brief look of anger, replaced by outward obedience, "As you wish, my Lord."
"Is there anything additional that he told you that was of interest?" Admiral Piett interposed.
Max considered. Lars had said many interesting things, but how much was truth and how much was fabrication?
"He said he was able to manipulate some esoteric energy field called the Force. I thought he was a Dark Ops agent because he could do incredible things. He said ..."
Here Max hesitated, then decided to plunge on ahead, "He spoke of his father, whom he said he didn't get along with. He said he was an administrator with the Empire."
There was a brief moment of silence.
"An administrator?" Vader repeated flatly.
Max nodded, "Among other things. He said he wasn't sure everything that his father did, but that he did quite a bit of administration. He also said he wasn't an officer, so I assumed that he was a low level beauracrat of some kind. But I guess he made all of that up?"
That seemed odd. Lars had seemed so genuine in the conversations about his father.
The admiral spoke now, "Skywalker's father died more than two decades ago, Maximus. It must have been part of his cover story."
Max nodded even as there was a series of beeps. Vader turned rapidly and gestured; a moment later, a large holoscreen lit up.
The Dark Lord stepped over just as the screen lit up to reveal the face and form of an old man, an incredibly old man, a wrinkled, ugly man, dressed in a dark cloak.
"What is thy bidding, my master?" Vader asked, bowing his head slightly.
Max's breath caught in his throat, and he had to work hard not to cough loudly. This ... this was Emperor Palpatine? The sovereign of the whole galaxy? This ugly old man?
"I require a report, Lord Vader," the Old One said imperiously.
Apparently, it was. Stars and moons, the man was ancient!
"Skywalker has been captured, my Master. He sustained significant, though not life threatening injuries. We will arrive at the Executor within minutes where he will receive more advanced medical treatment."
"You have done well, Lord Vader. I look forward to meeting the young Skywalker when he has recovered sufficiently."
"Yes, my Master."
"Proceed to Imperial Center as quickly as possible."
Admiral Piett stood awkwardly to one side, well out of visual range of the holotransmitter, and shot periodic warning glances at Max.
Who, without a doubt, knew to keep his mouth shut. Emperor Palpatine himself was personally interested in Luke Skywalker? Stars.
Vader bowed his head to Palpatine, then turned abruptly as the chains holding Skywalker's legs suddenly rattled loudly.
Max turned and flinched slightly to see Lars (no, Skywalker) not only awake, but with an expression of fury marring his visage, so different from the man's usual pleasant expression. Max found himself hoping those chains were strong!
There was a long pause while the Sith and the prisoner gazed at one another, and then Skywalker spoke.
"You are, without a doubt, the most rotten, controlling, obsessive, lousy father in the galaxy. The entire galaxy."
Piett jerked in shock and Max yelped softly.
What?
The Dark Lord stiffened slightly, even as he locked his hands behind him in a parade rest position.
"So, you have accepted the truth."
The prisoner sat up slightly on his inclined bed, straining against his bonds, his blue eyes blazing.
"The truth? Yes, I have accepted the truth. I have accepted the truth that you lost your mind 24 years ago and somehow haven't managed to find your way back. Not that you are insane, because if you were you'd have some kind of excuse. But what is this? First, you chase me across the galaxy from one end to another, then you grab my friends and torture them, then you batter me, and then you put this incredible bounty on my head so every third rate bounty hunter is looking for me ..."
The youth's heartrate monitor was beeping increasingly rapidly, and the Dark Lord shot it a glance.
"Do not overexcite yourself, my son. You are injured."
Max found himself taking deep breaths to avoid hyperventilating. Lars really really really was Darth Vader's son!
A quick glance at his uncle showed that the Admiral was equally shocked. Not that he looked particularly amazed as he had learned to control his expression well. But the slight widening of the eyes showed that yes, his uncle was completely stunned by these revelations.
"Injured? Injured?! This ... this is nothing! After Bespin, I had a concussion, and several broken ribs and, oh yes, a missing hand. Which you chopped off. For no apparent reason as far as I could tell ..."
"You would not yield."
"No, I would not yield," the youthful face wore a look which was a mixture of disbelief and outrage. "I don't pretend to be brilliant, but I know what happens to Rebels who are captured and it isn't pretty. Yielding was not on the agenda since you waited until I was half dead before you told me I am your son!"
"Luke ..."
"You know, I've spent the last 18 months studying up on rotten fathers in history. You're not the very worst, which may or may not please you. I have you at #15 right now, right behind an ancient king named Nivar the Terrible. Who, in a fit of rage, threw his son and heir off the roof of his palace, killing him. Of course, you did throw me through a window but by some miracle I survived ..."
"Son, enough of this," Vader ordered. "We can continue this conversation when you have recovered more from your wounds."
"And that's another thing, why in all the moons of Iago did you send your men in to interfere with my mission? I had the situation with those pirates under control until they started blasting me with stun bolts! I took down Jabba the Hutt, admittedly with some help; I was certainly entirely capable of taking out a lousy band of Yakoska Pirates! But then you and those bonehead troopers came in and stunned me, and I got shot!"
The beeping from Skywalker's heart monitor continued to rise rapidly, and Vader shot it a look which, Max thought wildly, might have actually been concern.
"Med droid, give him 20 mg of Diucinide," Vader ordered.
The droid in question moved forward, a needle appearing in one of its appendages.
Skywalker turned his head and a moment later, the droid abruptly hurled against the bulkhead with an electronic squeal.
"No you don't," he said, panting softly through bared teeth. "You can strangle me like you strangled my mother ..."
Vader jerked noticeably at this statement.
"Or you can kill me, or you can take off another limb or two. I have 3 remaining after all. But you are not going to knock me out with some stupid med just because you don't like what I'm saying ..."
/-
Imperial Throne Room
Imperial Palace
Imperial City
Imperial Center
Emperor Sheev Palpatine leaned back on his throne, his mouth widening to show his uneven yellow teeth. The stream of invective from Luke Skywalker towards his father was truly a thing of beauty.
This could not, could not, be better. The youth was not a calm, cool, and collected Jedi, but an enraged boy. It would not take long to turn the child and discard the father, who had grown increasingly unreliable of late.
The senior Sith Lord lifted his eyes absently as his cloaked and hooded servant approached, head bowed meekly, carrying a tray with a large glass of wine on it.
The servant kneeled, the tray proffered in one slender hand. Palpatine gestured slightly and the glass floated into his hand.
He took a sip with relish, then leaned back with his eyes closed, listening with fascination to the continuing conversation between father and son on the shuttle.
"The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force," Vader's bass tones stated solemnly. "He is your master now."
Palpatine's smile, if anything, widened more. Indeed, he would corrupt the young one, and destroy the father ...
There was a sudden sound of a lightsaber, and before Palpatine could move, could even open his eyes, there was an intense burning in his chest.
Everything went black.
Permanently.
/-
The Shuttle
On the way to the Executor
"It is the only way, my son ..."
"I'm afraid you will have to find another way, Father," Luke Skywalker suddenly said, his face suddenly calm, his eyes on the terminal behind Vader, "because the Emperor is dead."
Vader spun around, his gaze shifting toward the holoterminal which was still live. Indeed, Palpatine was leaning against his throne now, his eyes closed, a large hole in his chest, with smoke still rising from his black cloak.
And through the many parsecs between the shuttle and Imperial Center, all the occupants of the shuttle could hear a sound, a buzzing sound, it was like the weapon that Skywalker wielded ...
"Impossible," Vader said softly, even as the holo feed abruptly cut out.
"Impossible!" he snarled, turning back to his son.
Incredibly, unbelievably, Skywalker was smiling gently now, "No, not impossible. Because you see, Father, in addition to producing a wayward, rebellious son, you also produced an amazing, beautiful, strong daughter – my twin sister."
There was a very long pause.
"A daughter," Vader repeated in a hollow tone.
Skywalker sat up a little more, straining against the bonds around his wrists, "Yes, a sister. I've been training her in the ways of the Force for the last 18 months though I say I'm training her when she's teaching me a great deal as well. She shields like ... like nobody's business. She is amazing! And she, with my very uneasy support, decided that she'd take on the Emperor in Imperial City while you and the Emperor were distracted by me."
The young man frowned now, "I do hope she's Ok. I've heard the Royal Guards are a tough lot."
/-
Imperial Throne Room
Imperial City
Imperial Center
A few minutes later
"So is it just me, or was their behavior illogical?" Leia Organa asked Ahsoka Tano. The bodies of the red guards lay in sprawled heaps around the Throne Room.
Ahsoka was slapping a bacta patch on a minor wound on Leia's arm, so it was a few moments before she replied, "Illogical?"
"Yes. Palpatine is dead. What's the point in taking us on?"
Tano chuckled drily, "Fanatical loyalty, Leia."
"I suppose."
The other living occupant of the Throne Room closed a panel at the side of the Throne, stood up, strode to the rear of the room, and opened a hidden door.
"Are you ready to get out of here?" she asked
"Certainly."
"Then let's go," said Mara Jade.
Author Note: My apologies to the Mara haters out there. She lives! My heartfelt thanks and admiration to my wonderful husband who edits, and thank you for your encouraging reviews. Hope you enjoyed this chapters plot twists!