Chapter XIII
As Rogue Shadow entered Hyperspace with Nar Shaddaa once again its course, Starkiller left Juno to deal with the final checks in the cockpit. The moment of shared excitement soon wore off as his thoughts slipped back to Luke. Worry for his brother's safety ate him, and a familiar fear gripped his heart as he thought of what might happen if Darth Vader found out of Luke's absence.
He killed me once. What more can he do?
Evidently, a lot more, or Starkiller would not be alive right now.
He had to find Luke and take him back home. Thank the stars Starkiller knew where to start looking. At least he could wrap the situation so that to Juno he could be a sudden idealist seeking revenge, and for Master Vader, he could be seeking out a connection through Kota's band of terrorists.
PROXY followed him, and as soon as they were in the privacy of the training room, the droid spoke: "Master Luke has disappeared."
Starkiller halted. "I heard."
He didn't turn to face the droid. "I'll find him. What did Lekauf tell you? Did he have any message from my master?"
"No messages. It appears Lord Vader has not been in contact at all since we left."
"Aunt Beru said the same," Starkiller sighed.
"Finding Master Luke should be our first priority, but we can't ignore Lord Vader's orders."
"That's why we're going back to Nar Shaddaa. We'll find Kota, we'll hopefully find Luke, too."
"And the General may still have followers who could give us useful information about other resistance movements," PROXY approved, voicing what he had privately thought as well. "A lucky coincidence."
"There's nothing lucky about this," Starkiller lamented.
"Cheer up, Master," PROXY said. A lightsaber ignited. "We'll make a Jedi out of you yet."
"I don't really want to be a Jedi," Starkiller counter as he ducked out of the way and pulled out his new blue lightsabers just in time to meet PROXY's green saber. He wasn't even wearing a hologram.
"Aren't you going to be anyone?" Starkiller questioned, using both sabers to drive PROXY across the room.
"I thought of just using a mixture of techniques from my databanks, but if you prefer a familiar opponent..."
A hologram of Rahm Kota took shape, hiding PROXY's lanky appearance. Starkiller felt his anger flare, just as PROXY had intended, and he launched a ferocious attack, both sabers slashing through the air and clashing against Kota's. If Kota was really alive, and if he had anything to do with Luke's disappearance, Starkiller would rip the man apart. He would make the Jedi reveal his allies and use them to find more of the Empire's enemies. Kota would suffer.
Starkiller was not used to fielding two lightsabers. He had practised Jar'Kai in the past and was familiar enough with it to utilise it when needed, but it had never been his preferred style. But if Master Vader wanted him to improve his Jar'Kai, then practise he would. It did not take him long to disarm PROXY, but not before the droid had knocked off the saber from his left hand.
"Excellent," PROXY stated. "But there is still room for improvement. I think I got really close to killing you this time."
"No, you didn't," Starkiller scoffed amusedly. "There might have been a small chance you could have dismembered me, but kill? No. Better luck next time."
"Thank you, Master. I'm sorry to disappoint you again."
"You'll get there next time," Starkiller consoled the droid. Who knew, maybe PROXY really would. He felt unusually exhausted and out of breath, and they hadn't even duelled for that long. His muscles ached again, and he was uncomfortably aware of the unease at the pit of his stomach.
He tried going through some familiar exercises as PROXY observed to calm his mind and ease the tension he felt but soon gave up. The unease he felt beneath his skin could not be soothed by strict steps and movements.
Frustrated, he made his way into the small refresher. He undressed, avoiding his own reflection in the mirror. He did not want to see yet another scar on his body. It choked him up to think of the pain and sheer horror of Lord Vader's lightsaber piercing through him. Not to mention the shame he felt.
The more Starkiller tried not to think of it, the more he felt the ghost of its pain in his gut. He stood still with his eyes closed, letting sonic waves cleanse him, but he did not feel clean. He felt wrong and itchy and lost. Lost because he did not know what to do, lost because he had lost Luke. Lost because he felt so wrong.
It's natural, he reasoned with himself, not quite succeeding. After spending half a year unconscious, anyone would feel strange.
Reaching out for the clean set of familiar clothes he brought with him, his bare arm caught his eye. Rather, the lack of something on his bare arm.
When Starkiller was a child and still lived on the skeleton of a Super Star Destroyer, he and PROXY duelled daily. Though his skills had yet been severely limited, he always fielded a real lightsaber against PROXY –and so had the droid. Injuries, though usually small, had never been a rare occurrence.
When Starkiller was ten, he took a bad hit on his right arm, right below his armpit. It healed, but despite bacta and other treatments, it left behind a faint scar that never completely faded. His clothes usually covered it entirely.
It was gone.
"What–?"
Starkiller stepped forward, closer to the light source, lifting his arm for closer examination. There was no scar.
He checked the other arm, in case he was somehow mistaken. Thoroughly confused, he turned around his arms, his hands. Nothing. Heart now hammering in his chest he looked down to where he knew the evidence of his greatest failure should be, but his skin was unblemished as if he had never taken a single blow.
His hand trailed the skin on his side where Darth Vader's lightsaber had pierced him, but nothing marked the wound.
Trembling slightly now, Starkiller faced the mirror, turning himself around to examine each centimetre of his naked body, but he could not find a single mark.
Cold dread spread within him.
The scars, his permanent reminders of past failures and obstacles he had overcome —his badges of honour. They were gone.
"How–?"
Most of his scars had been small and faded, noticeable only to those who knew to look for them. As a child, he had had more of them, but over time many had disappeared on their own. Since PROXY's programming prevented him from trying to kill Starkiller on Tatooine, even small injuries had become a lot rarer. When still alone at the Super Star Destroyer, he hadn't always cared much about treating his injuries beyond what could not be left untreated. That, too, had changed. Aunt Beru was very strict with him, insisting he treated any injury immediately and until completely healed. Still, new scars hadn't been completely unavoidable.
Bacta could not have done this. It could prevent a lot of scarring if applied early on and regularly, even help fade existing scars, but not to this scale. He supposed there must have been a way, but why? Why would Vader bother?
Before full-blown panic could settle, he heard a knock on the door.
"Starkiller?" he heard Juno call behind the door. "Will you still take long?"
"N-no, I've just finished," he hurriedly replied, gathering his clothes again. He gave the mirror one last glance as he finished dressing and stalked out.
"Sorry," Juno startled, passing him to the refresher. "I had a lot of caf earlier..."
"I need to get something from the back room," Starkiller said. It had been largely occupied by Juno since she became part of the crew.
"Sure. I've got my stuff lying around, I can clear it up first if–"
"No need," Starkiller cut her off, already marching away from her.
The opposite half of the ship from his training space and his humble sleeping chamber was, on blueprints, occupied by two large open spaces. In reality, several walls separated the areas into smaller chunks, parred from one open space large enough to hold land vehicles. Cargo space, weapons and technical equipment storage, a modest galley by the common lounge, two holding cells, and for now most importantly: access to the passenger quarters that doubled as a basic medbay that Juno occupied at the back of the ship.
She had exaggerated, Starkiller thought as he stepped in. The room was nearly spotless. The only things out of place by military standards were her black flight jacket on the back of the chair and a datapad on the otherwise neatly made bed. There was nothing on the desk.
He had no interest in Juno's possessions. The sickening feeling grew at the pit of his stomach as he rolled up his shirt, looking for an exit wound that should have been there. It should not have been possible to pierce someone with a lightsaber and leave no mark.
Starkiller booted up the hologram of a medical droid.
"I need a full body scan."
"Certainly, sir," the droid agreed. "Please, let me guide you through using the scanner."
Though the space would have permitted a full medical ward, Rogue Shadow only housed the very basic of equipment. No fancy step-in scanners, or beds fitted with one. Just a compact hand-held model. The rest of the space was used as storage, and it had always doubled as living quarters for his pilots. Starkiller followed the droid's instructions for the scanner's settings and for how to move it around himself, and then impatiently waited for the droid's verdict. There had to be some kind of an explanation for this, surely. Scars didn't just vanish on their own.
"There are no obvious abnormalities."
Starkiller felt his stomach churn. "Nothing? Are you sure?"
"Nothing that a basic scan would have detected. What are your symptoms?"
"N-no symptoms. I just..." Starkiller swallowed, holding his hand against the ghost of a wound. "I was stabbed. Here. But there's no entry or exit wound."
"It is clearly not a recent trauma. How long ago was this?"
"About six months ago."
"What kind of weapon was it?"
"It was a lightsaber." The words caught in his throat and his mouth had suddenly gone dry.
"I detect no evidence of such trauma. Are you certain?"
"Of course I'm certain!" Starkiller lashed out even to his own surprise. Taking in a deep breath he allowed his shoulders to relax. "Check again."
"Certainly."
Starkiller followed through the quick scanning process a second time with the droid's guidance, yielding no new results.
"You are perfectly healthy, sir," the projection of a droid said. "There is no evidence of any major trauma of your description to your body."
"That can't be possible. I– It did happen. I– I had scars. I've got hurt so many times in the past–"
"You are perfectly healthy, sir," the med-droid repeated. "Will you be needing any further assistance?"
Starkiller did not know what to say. He didn't even know what to think. It made no sense, he remembered being stabbed, he remembered so well he could almost feel Darth Vader's arm around him, hear the blade ignite, feel and see the lightsaber pierce him. He remembered the smell, the fear, the petrifying terror and confusion of that moment.
"Wait," he urged before the droid would turn itself off. "What about bones?"
"If you have fractured bones in the past, there will be evidence of healing."
Starkiller took a moment to gather his thoughts. He did not want to, but he forced himself to think back to Vader hurling him around the room before throwing him through the viewport. He did not recall much physical pain, but he did remember a sickening sound he knew must have been something in his body breaking.
"I don't know which bones I broke," he admitted. He genuinely did not remember feeling much pain after slammed against a wall for the first time, nor had he so far considered the injuries he must have suffered beyond the stab wound and a general notion of broken bones. The force Darth Vader had used would have killed him, had he not instinctively tried to protect himself with the Force.
"Could've been anything, I guess. Arms, legs, ribs... Spine?" Starkiller shuddered at the thought of the extent of injuries he may have had. "Scan again. See if any of my bones have healed."
"Certainly, sir," the droid agreed again. "Please, let me guide you through using the scanner."
Starkiller followed through the instructions for the third time and watched as a new skeletal hologram of him began taking shape.
"Well?" he prompted. The hologram zoomed in on his left hand, highlighting three of his fingers.
"There is evidence of a past trauma in the highlighted section."
Starkiller lifted his hand to compare it with the hologram.
"I got them caught between machinery," he confirmed confusedly. But that had been years ago. He had still been a child, fifteen if he recalled correctly, helping out Uncle Owen. He had feared his fingers would be left unusable or heal wrong, but such injuries weren't uncommon on Tatooine and Bestine had very good care to offer to anyone with money. That could not be all there was.
"What else?"
"I detect no evidence of other similar injuries."
"But that's... No, there has to be something!"
"You are perfectly healthy, sir. Will you be needing any further assistance?"
"No, that can't be right! Scan. Again."
"Sir, I cannot perform a more thorough scan," the hologram of a droid spoke. "There is no evidence of any recent trauma of your description. Such trauma would be within my capabilities to detect. I suggest you seek a specialist to address your concerns. Would you like me to seek the nearest one?"
"This doesn't make any sense," Starkiller shakily breathed out. "How is it possible there is no evidence of– of–"
"I do not know, sir. Are there any other symptoms?"
Starkiller shook his head, balling his hands into fists. Control yourself!
"Sir, you are in a very agitated state. Perhaps–"
"I'm fine," he snapped. He breathed in deeply, willing himself to calm down.
"I'm fine," he repeated with a much more controlled tone after several cycles of breathing in and out.
"Will you be needing any further assistance?"
"No. No, that's all."
The hologram disappeared and the system turned itself off. Starkiller put the scanner back and slumped down onto the edge of Juno's bed.
Could the med-system on Rogue Shadow be lying to him? What would be the point of that? He knew even he himself had no access to most files concerning himself, but his overall medical record had never been restricted.
The Empirical had been a medical research facility. They had called him a subject. He had been one of Vader's experiments.
"What did you do to me?" Starkiller asked the empty room. Could Rogue Shadow's system be showing him old data? The only way to confirm that would be to get a second opinion, but that would put him at risk of being discovered. If the Emperor wanted to keep an eye on him and did not trust Darth Vader alone, his genetic signature would likely sound an alarm.
Whatever this was, he would either need to wait for Darth Vader to tell him, or get a hold of his medical files from the Empirical. The one PROXY had crashed into the nearest sun. A small, melancholy smile tugged his lips as he thought he would probably have a better chance of getting the answers from Empirical than by asking his master.
Another day of fruitless search had come to an end, and Juno once again found herself in the common lounge of Rogue Shadow with a take-away meal and an empty seat across her. She heard Starkiller unpacking his meal in the galley. Though they spent some time together scouring the area for any signs of the remnants of the Jedi General Rahm Kota's militia, Starkiller would soon leave her to conduct his search alone. He said they could cover more ground working individually, and though it was probably true, Juno couldn't help but feel excluded.
She had spoken to plenty of people who knew of Kota's resistance group, but few knew or wanted to have anything to do with them. At least when speaking to a stranger. Her core accent and poor grasp of Huttese probably didn't help, either.
Starkiller seemed to live in his own world, and apart from discussing their findings and planning further where to look for, he didn't speak to her. As soon as they returned to the ship the young man was quick to disappear into the depths of his side of the ship along with his droid, leaving Juno alone with her thoughts. She would eat her meal in silence and lock herself into the room that had become the closest thing she now had to a home, and lie awake for hours for the lack of anything better to do.
She thought of the faint memory of being carried by Starkiller to safety, and of the kiss that should not have happened. But she did not regret it. She had thought of it many times during her imprisonment, mourning his death and wishing something more had come out of it.
She could not go on like this. But she had nowhere to go.
Could she ever return to Corulag now? She thought of the meadows by the village she grew up in, and the mountains on the horizon. She might never see them again. Any friends she had had would remember her as a traitor. PROXY had said her life had officially been terminated. For those who had known her, she would be a failure – one executed for it, too.
Some might call her lucky, she supposed. She yet lived after all. But what for? Why had Darth Vader not just killed her? Why have her locked away and tortured for months on end?
The thoughts kept her up at night, kept her silently crying herself to sleep. Why was she even here? Starkiller barely spoke to her, barely even looked at her. He didn't truly need her. Sure, she could keep his ship running and pilot it, but neither of those things seemed to be on the agenda right now. Ever since the visit to Tatooine and arriving to this wretched moon he had seemed to shut himself off from her like the moment of shared excitement in the cockpit had never been. If he could find himself a Jedi teacher with what was left of Rahm Kota's militia, what then?
She regretted ever saying anything at all about the Jedi. Juno didn't truly believe in the cause Starkiller suddenly seemed to have found. The Empire was vast and had crushed all those who opposed its rule. What could the two of them do? She didn't believe in the Jedi, either. The Jedi had betrayed the government they served, and for all she knew, all the horror stories were true.
Juno heard the assassin move towards the door. She dug her nails into her hand.
Was it something she said? Did he regret rescuing her?
"Starkiller."
The young man halted. "Yes?"
Juno forced herself to relax her fingers. "Would you not join me at the table?"
The silence between them grew just a tad too long before he answered: "If... If you would like me to."
"I would like that very much," she said. She was sick of being ignored.
The young man sat across her but said nothing with a scowl on his face. He began eating, but Juno had suddenly lost her appetite. Did he resent her, she wondered. Perhaps he only saw her as a burden now.
"What's wrong?"
The assassin's question startled her. What was it with her, indeed? She had not had this little confidence in herself in a long time. Six months in a prison really had taken a toll on her. As it would on anyone, she reminded herself. She shouldn't expect herself to be the same Juno she had been. She wasn't that Juno anymore. The Juno she had been was stronger.
Or was she? Perhaps the Juno she used to be had just been better at pretending she was strong.
She remembered being a young girl who would shy away from her strict father, one whose approval she had chased all her life. She had built an armour of confidence and professionalism, one she had believed to be real to protect herself from his rejection, one that she felt she no longer wore, but one that was the only way she knew how to be.
"Why did you come back for me?"
Juno did not look at him, her words barely louder than a whisper. She was surprised he even heard, and more so by his response. It angered her.
"I needed a pilot."
"That's not true and we both know it," she said, her voice cutting like a knife. "You could fly this ship well on your own."
"Not as well as you do."
"Don't make fun of me!" Juno lashed out, surprising even herself with the amount of anger she felt. Starkiller was taken aback by it, too.
"I'm not–"
"Then stop lying to me! Tell me the truth. I have nowhere to go, but if you don't want me here–"
"I do want you here," he interrupted her, leaning over the table. "You–" The young man paused, pulling back before continuing: "I could not have left you. I didn't want to leave you."
Starkiller had looked her in the eye, but now the young man averted his gaze.
"You said you've lost everything. That's true, I know you have. It's my fault."
His posture remained unchanged, but there was learnedness of a soldier in his stillness.
"I couldn't...I just could not have left you. And I'm so, so sorry for everything."
He bit his lip and several times it looked like he was about to say something, but each time he stopped himself. Juno waited, still feeling angry and bitter and rejected, but also sorry for him. He looked so uncomfortable –like he was debating himself.
"I can never make it up to you," he finally managed to continue. "I didn't want to push you or make you feel like you're still here to work for me. You didn't say anything. I thought you wanted to help me. I thought you understood."
Juno felt a pang of guilt. It was true that he had looked hurt and apologetic when he had first spoken to her. And yet, what she most vividly remembered from that conversation was him saying he saved her because he needed his pilot. As if a pilot was all she was and all she would be and all she was good for. He had left and never spoken of it again, but as nights went by with her lying awake, those words returned to haunt her.
"Understood?" She found her voice shaking, and she hated it. "How could I when you barely speak to me unless you have to."
"That's– that's how I've always been with my pilots," Starkiller said, with his back straight and hands tightly clasped on the table. Clearly uncomfortable. "I didn't realise I offended you."
There it was again. Pilot.
"But I'm not just your pilot anymore, am I?" she demanded, suddenly aware of how close she was to crying. "If you want me to support you and conspire with you, you can't treat me like before. You–you can't just ignore me and then acknowledge my existence when it's convenient for you."
Starkiller suddenly looked ashamed as her eyes drilled into him. He positively shrunk on his seat, and he looked lost and younger than before, reminding Juno of the fact that he quite possibly was younger than her.
"I'm sorry, Juno," he said. "I don't know what else to say. There's... There's a lot on my mind right now. I didn't mean to make you feel like I was ignoring you. I'm sorry."
Juno felt suddenly sorry, too. Of course he would have a lot on his mind. Starkiller must have been as lost as she was, she reminded herself. But if it were so, then should they not work together? They were in this together now.
"Whatever it is, you could try talking about it," she said, not quite managing to keep off the biting edge of her tone.
Starkiller shook his head. "I can't."
"You're not working for Vader anymore," she snapped. "You don't have to keep his secrets."
"It's not Vader's secret alone," he said quietly.
Juno felt her anger melt away. Of course. She had been so focused on her own misery, and on Vader, that she had completely ignored the reason they went to Tatooine for. Because she wasn't supposed to know.
"You mean Skywalker then."
The assassin nodded hesitantly. "Yes."
"I already know," she said gently. "I know he's your brother."
Starkiller's eyes widened. "How–"
"He told me."
For a moment Starkiller just stared, startled like an animal caught in headlights.
"Of course he did. That kriffing stoopa," Starkiller cursed. He suddenly looked so angry that Juno found herself pushing her back against the seat. But then, something in his expression changed, and she realised his anger was there to mask fear.
"He asked me not to tell you I knew. I think he probably thought you'd be angry."
"Of course I'd be angry! He knows the danger he's putting himself in if–" Starkiller cut himself off so quickly his teeth clicked together.
"If what?"
Starkiller shook his head. "I can't, Juno. I can't tell you. If you knew then you'd be at risk, too."
"I'm already at risk," she insisted.
"I can't," he repeated, pleading for her to drop the subject. "It's not just us who'd be at risk. I'd be risking his life, your life...people I care about. It's not for me to tell you."
Juno's eyes narrowed in annoyance and she stared him down. Once again, the young man averted his eyes. It dawned on her then, that though he acted tough, though he could kill a man without breaking a sweat or blinking an eye, that was where his confidence ended. Maybe like her, inside he was just as insecure. If her father had been a bad influence on her, Darth Vader must have been infinitely worse.
Juno let out a breath, allowing herself to relax against the seat. Whatever it was about Skywalker that made him so special, even free of Darth Vader, his influence still silenced Starkiller. She supposed Starkiller must have feared Vader just as much as she did. Perhaps even more than she did. After all, she did not understand Vader's unnatural powers, but Starkiller did.
"All right. I can accept that."
"Thank you," he said, obviously relieved that she was willing to let this go.
The silence that followed was comfortable and reassuring. She smiled at him a little but said nothing. She ate a bite, feeling like eating again. Across her, Starkiller mimicked her, gingerly picking his utensils.
"Are you worried about him?" she asked. "You said he wasn't there when we left Tatooine. Is that what's bothering you?"
The young man didn't reply immediately. "Yes."
There was something else, but for now, Juno could let it be. Whatever it was that bothered him, Skywalker must have been at the top of his mind.
"Who did you meet then, if not Skywalker?"
Again, Starkiller took a moment to think before he answered. Long enough for Juno to think he would either tell her nothing or lie once more.
"Our... I guess you could call them our caretakers."
"And?" she prompted, now that she had got him admitting this much. "What did they say?"
Do they know Vader betrayed us? But she did not voice her other question. She did not want to push Starkiller more than she already did. He was so secretive that getting this much out of him was an achievement in its own right. But she wanted more. She did not want to be left in the dark if she was to follow him.
"That Skywalker knew something had happened to me, and that he left to look for me. He's been gone for two months and he never contacted them after leaving."
Starkiller must have been very worried then, she thought. Could Vader have got to him first? Would he have tried to kill the boy, too?
"Did they know where?"
"Here. He came here to look for Kota."
Juno blinked in confusion. "Why?"
"One of our caretakers said he thought Kota was behind my disappearance. They didn't know where I was the past six months."
"But Kota's dead, isn't he?" Hadn't executing Kota been the entire point of coming here the first time?
Starkiller sighed deeply. "I didn't kill him."
Juno did not know how to respond. "Why not?"
"Not on purpose," Starkiller elaborated. "My orders were to kill him."
"I'm surprised you are still alive then," Juno blurted out without thinking.
Idiot, she berated herself. Darth Vader had nearly killed him.
But Starkiller agreed. Once again he hung his head, looking lost and vulnerable. "Me, too."
"Why didn't you just tell me we're looking for him?" she asked frustratedly. "I could've been much more helpful to you if I knew it was him you wanted to find."
"I..." Starkiller looked miserable. "I don't know. I couldn't tell you about Skywalker. And I guess..."
Starkiller trailed off, but Juno waited. Eventually he continued: "I've never failed before. Kota's the first target I failed to eliminate."
He was ashamed, Juno realised. He had lied to everyone to cover his failure. Even to Darth Vader.
"I should be dead," he said.
Not because of General Kota, though, Juno thought. From what she could tell, Vader had changed his mind about assassinating the Emperor. He had been getting rid of his co-conspirator, hadn't he?
"Why aren't we dead?" she asked. Why let them live? Why go through the trouble of saving Starkiller's life?
"I don't know," Starkiller said silently. Juno examined his face, unable to decide whether he was lying or not. He must have been extremely valuable to Darth Vader. A man who generally tolerated no failures would not go through saving someone's life for no reason.
"Did Darth Vader really plan to assassinate the Emperor?" she wanted to know.
Starkiller startled, clearly not having expected her to, what? Know about this? She had told him she spied on him.
"Yes, I did hear you two conspire", she confirmed. "Was he really planning to do it?"
Starkiller's expression hardened again. "Not anymore," he stated bluntly.
"What about you? You were in on it, too."
"I was," he admitted. "I trained my whole life for it."
"To kill an old man?"
"The Emperor's not what he seems," Starkiller said in a low voice.
"What is he then?" Juno challenged. She had always been a good, patriotic citizen, and though she had lost her trust and love for the Empire, she found it hard to accept Starkiller and Darth Vader had planned to kill its leader. Emperor Palpatine had led them through a civil war, brought order and security into the galaxy. He was not a bad person.
"He's a Sith Lord."
The title meant nothing to Juno.
"He's...like me," Starkiller elaborated, grimacing uncomfortably at the comparison. "Or Vader. Except stronger and more experienced. He knows the Force."
The Force wasn't really something Juno understood, either. It was part of the Jedi religion, somehow, and it appeared to give them supernatural powers. But if so, would it be so bad if the Emperor was familiar with it?
Starkiller raised his hand and Juno gasped as blue electricity sparked to life around his fingers.
"The Emperor is a master of this," he said. Then closed his fingers around the energy, pressing his fingers against his palm, and when he opened his fist the energy was gone. "He's not just an old man."
"Even if he isn't, why would Vader want to kill him?"
"Vader hates him. He's a horrible person." Starkiller shrugged. "And it's the natural order for things. He's supposed to kill him. The Emperor knows it, too."
Juno couldn't agree, but then again, she had never had the honour of meeting Emperor Palpatine. Unlike Darth Vader. "And you? Do you still want to kill him?"
"I will kill them both."
Juno felt like banging her head to the table. "Why? Screw Vader and the Empire. You've broken free!"
Starkiller shook his head, saying nothing, so she continued: "You escaped. You saved me. We're free. Of him, of the Empire... We should look for your brother. Let other people deal with them."
"It's not that simple, Juno," Starkiller said, not seeming happy at all about his freedom. Then again, nor was Juno. She would have never knowingly chosen to leave the Empire. It wasn't a choice she got to make for herself, but there was no going back, nor did she want to, though she still had no idea what to do with her life if not stay with Starkiller.
"I have to do this."
"Why?" she insisted. "What's the point? You can't kill them, not even if we recruit Kota's militia."
"Kota's militia is just a start. You said it yourself: if we can convince enough resistance movements to work together, we'll have an army."
Juno shook her head. "I wasn't thinking straight. No army is enough to stand against the Empire. I don't know if you ever served in the military, but I did. You can't even comprehend the size of it."
"Not even the Empire is invincible," Starkiller said. "Enough people are trying."
"I'm not... I don't disagree with you. But I'm sure others have and already are trying to combine forces. I have no love for the Empire now, and Darth Vader took everything from me. But why do we have to get involved?"
"You don't have to follow me. I... I'd prefer you helped me, but if you want to leave–"
"I'm not going to leave. I just–" Juno wanted to argue, but this conversation was going nowhere. Maybe if she could get him to focus on Skywalker he would forget about his larger-than-life plan of revenge. She could partially understand, and she had for a moment felt like it could be possible, but having spent days just looking for the remnants of Kota's militia was a stark reminder of what a fruitless effort it was. Besides, nothing good would come out of terrorism. Despite their feelings, the galaxy needed the Empire.
"Let's at least focus on Skywalker first. You must be worried."
"We'll find him if we find Kota. I can feel it."
Feel.
That must have been some kind of a Jedi thing, she thought. Or Sith. "Do you think he's alright? Can you...feel that?"
Starkiller shook his head. "I can't reach him."
"Reach him?"
"With the Force."
Juno frowned, not really understanding what he meant. "Can you find someone with the Force? Talk to them?"
Again the assassin shook his head.
"It's not a comm," he said a little irritably. "It's more like...feeling what they feel. If you're close to someone for a long time, you end up bonding through the Force. Then it's easier for you to feel each other through a great distance. I don't think he's on Nar Shaddaa anymore if he ever even truly came here."
"Do you think Kota could have hurt him?"
"I hope not. I...I don't think he's dead. I think I would feel if that happened. But I can't be sure."
"And Kota?"
"I think he's gone, too. Or he's very good a hiding his presence."
Juno looked at him questioningly, so he continued: "If there are other people strong with the Force or people who know how to use the Force, you can sometimes feel it. Sometimes it's really obvious, but most of the time you have to really...reach out and know where to look."
"I see..." Juno said though she didn't really. All this Jedi and Force stuff was very new to her, apart from the horror stories and what she had witnessed Darth Vader do. It mostly frightened her, so she did not want to think about it too deeply. She preferred to stick to reality as she knew it. "In that case, we just have to find someone from the militia who might know where to look."
"For now, yes," Starkiller agreed.
Neither spoke after that. They finished with their meals gone cold by now in a thoughtful, but amicable silence. It made Juno feel better, and she wanted to make him feel better, too.
"Starkiller," she called before he could leave and vanish to the other side of the ship again for the rest of the night.
"Yes?"
"I was thinking. I know we are looking for Kota, and I know you are worried about Skywalker, but–" Juno breathed through her nose, gathering her determination. "Let's watch Seven Level Heaven."
Starkiller said nothing, and before he could she continued: "You said you liked it. And you said the Empire Day special would leave dazed for days. The fourth season must have started by now, too..."
To her surprise and delight, Starkiller smiled –a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes.
"I'd like that."
"Really?" A big part of her had not expected him to agree. She grinned cheerfully. "Great!"
It would be good for both of them to get something else to think about. She remembered Skywalker telling her that Starkiller wasn't always all doom and gloom. The boy had called him nice and funny. Juno was skeptical, but hadn't she seen a glimpse of that when they spoke of the holodrama or with his brother? She wanted to see more of that Starkiller.
And perhaps, she thought, this could mark a new start for both of them.
Luke first began to notice the ghosts once Kota brought him back after the second time Kazdan Paratus had tried to kill him. He was hungry and thirsty beyond measure. Kota had promised to bring him water, and take him to the baths again, but the Jedi had not returned. A small part of him knew Paratus's droids were not letting the Jedi through. Kota had said as much earlier, but far bigger, darker thoughts that wrapped around him like a cold embrace told him the Jedi had left him to die. That the Jedi would take pleasure in the suffering of Darth Vader's son.
He saw movement at the corner of his eye in the darkness of his cell. It was the group of children at the back of the Ebullient he did not remember killing. Sometimes he thought he saw the woman who had sat next to him, who had tried to help him. He felt sick thinking of them. How could he have done that? They did nothing wrong.
Figures the son of Darth Vader would be worse than his father. How many times had he been told his father was a murderer? A monster. Anyone who recognised the name would call him such.
Luke knew the apparitions around him were not real –they were mere fever dreams, brought forth by the guilt that ate him. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of auburn hair, hating it more each time. A cacophony of voices filled his cell, and Luke clutched his ears, pressing his forehead to the cold floor.
"Leave me be, leave me be, leavemebe..." he cried silently under his breath, knowing he spoke to silence and that he would eventually hear that silence, too.
"Luke," a voice rang clear above the noise, dispersing the voices into nothingness. "Hear me, Luke."
Luke knew if he would open his eyes he would see the ghost of a Jedi kneel beside him.
"Please, Luke. Let me help you. It's not too late."
Luke rolled to lie on his side, squeezing his eyes firmly shut. The Jedi, too, would soon leave.