Summary: Luke begins his training.
A/N Here we go, round two! Thank you all for your lovely comments in the last chapter! I very much appreciated them! And a huge thank you to SpellCleaver and JediScribe for beta-ing the chapter for me! They give phenomenal advice and feedback.
Please be aware that from here on out, individual sections of the story will start with a date and time. If there isn't one between sections, you can assume that it is the same day.
Without further ado, please enjoy!
The Will of the Force
It is quiet.
That is the first thing that Vader becomes aware of. The silence is all-encompassing, drowning out even the sound of his own breathing. He is standing in a space that for the moment, is nothing of any grand importance and yet somehow… it bears an immeasurable weight.
The stillness in which he finds himself is entirely unnatural and slowly, his surroundings begin to make themselves known, appearing slowly as though from a thick fog. It was the throne room on the Death Star.
He recognizes the audience platform and the staircase leading up to the Emperor's throne, as well as the interrogation and restraint equipment sitting in front of it. There are view screens on the walls on either side of the throne, showing both the exterior and interior views of the battle station. Surrounding the room itself was the open shaft that surrounded the four turbolifts which congregated around the central tower itself, and led to the Death Star's power core. The lifts themselves opened up onto an observation gallery of gleaming durasteel.
Vader does not like this place and he senses, deep in his soul, that whatever happens here will determine the future of the galaxy.
He felt like a ghost, barely existing, nothing but a shadow on the wall that was being shown an echo of the future. With trepidation in his heart, Vader stepped further into the room. As he does, two figures shimmer into view at the top of the staircase.
One of them is Luke and the other is the Emperor himself, sitting arrogantly on his throne, a massive circular viewport directly behind him looking out into the darkness of space, his yellow eyes gleaming wickedly under his hood.
In time you will call me Master, he whispers coldly as Vader slowly ascends the staircase to take his place at Luke's side. His voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It is cold and unfeeling and sends a tingle up his spine.
You're gravely mistaken, Luke denies calmly. Soon I will be dead and you with me.
Sidious laughs, low and terrible. A greater darkness than Vader has ever possessed seems to expand around them both, darker and darker, whispering promises of futures that are far worse than death itself. He knows that Luke can feel it and senses his underlying sense of fear in the wake of it.
He is determined though, squaring his shoulders and prepared and willing to face it on his own. Luke is angry - perhaps righteously so, in the wake of this monster who is responsible for everything that is wrong. But his anger is dangerous here, opening a doorway to be manipulated by an evil that he cannot fully comprehend. In one hand, he tightens the grip he has on the hilt of his lightsaber.
Give in to your anger, Sidious hisses. With each passing moment, you make yourself more my servant.
No. I am a Jedi, Luke declares, igniting his lightsaber. The color is wrong though - instead of green, it is red and the air around them grows colder and colder as the sense of darkness increases until it is no longer a sensation at all but a physical weight trying to drag his son down into the depths of hell. The light that surrounds Luke dims in the wake of it and in the hazy lighting of the room itself, Vader could swear that Luke's eyes flash yellow for the briefest, flickering instant.
Sidious laughs, recognizing a weakness that Luke is yet unaware of.
No. You, like your father, are now mine.
In the blink of an eye, a fight ensues and the two of them are then moving and exchanging blows, ducking, dodging, and parrying strikes that are each intended to kill, the two lightsabers creating a red blur in the air as they move at a blinding speed.
Vader watches the fight almost breathlessly and can see the weaknesses and lack of experience in Luke's fighting, though he fights bravely and ferociously. He keeps up with Sidious but just barely, relying mostly on the Force to tell him when and where to move. Sidious is toying with him, a master swordsman amused by the antics of a talented but inexperienced pedagogue.
You are mine, he repeats and in an instant, he disarms Luke and sends his lightsaber down the reactor shaft. Luke stands alone, surprised and breathing heavily. He is entirely unarmed but he stands his ground as Sidious advances on him.
You are wrong. I am a Jedi, like my father.
An expression of contempt slowly appears on Sidious' face. He stares at Luke as if seeing an insect on the ground that needs to be squashed.
So be it, he hissed. And now, young Skywalker… you will die.
There is no time offered to Luke to prepare himself before he is being attacked, assaulted and tortured by the blue lightning that is shooting out from the Emperor's gnarled fingers. It throws him off his feet and then he is screaming in absolute agony. Hatred reflects from Sidious; sunken yellow eyes and Vader understands in an instant that his promise is not what it seems.
He won't kill Luke by stopping his heart. He'll kill him by driving him to depths of insanity, torturing him into submission no matter how long it takes, until there is nothing left of Luke at all. He won't stop until Luke is past the point of begging for mercy - until everything good and light about him is extinguished forever and only a hollow, dark shell of everything that made him who he was remained.
The smell of burning flesh becomes prominent, sickly sweet and terrible.
Vader can't move - everything inside of him is fighting to move, to intervene, to save this son of his whom he loves and yet he is frozen in place, unable to do anything except watch.
The moment seems to last for a lifetime. And then, in one breathless moment, the torture stops and Luke is left twitching on the floor, residual sparks of lightning crackling over him.
Give in to me, Sidious whispers once more.
On the floor, Luke sobs weakly but shakes his head. No.
In an instant, the torture starts again and his screams are louder, echoing around them and pounding in Vader's ears until he is convinced that they are his own. He feels the pain keenly, knowing it perfectly and intimately and hating with every fiber of his soul that his son knows it now too.
No, he whispers, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. He wants to move. He needs to intervene. He tries to draw on the darkness that has been his companion for so long now and there is nothing - he is not here to participate in the vision itself, only to watch and see.
The expression on Luke's face is tortured and twisted and growing older and paler - scars that Vader knows intimately begin to appear and then it is as though he is looking at a gross imitation of himself except his eyes are still Luke's. In an instant, everything seems to freeze in place and their eyes lock for the first time.
Luke sees him, his tortured expression desperate and pleading.
Then in the next instance, everything resumes its normal speed and there is only his agonized screams and Vader knows it will never stop - Sidious will break him into pieces and destroy the only person he loved and it was too much - it was too much, he couldn't take it anymore -
Father! Help me! Luke begs for the first time, his desperate plea nearly drowned out entirely by his cries of pain. Help me! Please!
No, Vader whispers, when Luke is granted another short reprieve, laying on the floor, unable to do anything except sob. Sidious doesn't bother to speak again, glaring hatefully down at him. Luke's light was flickering, dimming… almost gone entirely - it wouldn't be enough to save him. No, no, no -
Sidious raises his hands and blue lightning erupts from his fingers once more and the sounds of Luke screaming grow louder and louder, drowning out everything else just as the vision begins to fade.
Vader's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright in his chair, breathing heavily, unable to hear anything except the fading, whispered sound of Luke boldly declaring …I am a Jedi, like my father….
He is in his meditation pod, as removed from his suit as he can possibly be and yet in this moment, he feels trapped and claustrophobic. His heart is pounding frantically in his chest and he is sweating. When he looks down at his hands, they are trembling in a way that they haven't in years - he feels like he is having a heart attack.
Fear and dread sit heavy in his stomach as the reality of his Force vision hits him like a speeder bike.
Not again.
He can't do this again.
He hasn't had one in years. Not since her. Those visions had plagued him for months at a time, whispered warnings of a future that was coming. He had tried in the past to thwart them but no matter what he had done, they always - always - ended the same way.
It is one thing to know that he and Luke might die at the end of this - it was another thing entirely to be forced to watch it happen.
Vader tries to calm his breathing, looking around his meditation pod for any kind of distraction and immediately makes eye contact with the twisted, torturous medical equipment that hangs from the ceiling of the pod, all dark panels, blinking lights, mechanical arms, and needles - things meant to take him apart and put him back together.
The memory of Luke, tortured and screaming, slowly becoming more and more like him until there is no difference between them at all flashes through his mind.
He can't be in here, Vader decides abruptly. He needs to get out. Now. Right now. He fumbles, pressing the necessary controls to activate the chamber and have it reassemble his suit and helmet as quickly as possible. Once everything has been put back in place, he gets up, waving a hand to depressurize and unlock the meditation pod and stepping out.
Everything is dimly lit and perfectly quiet. Vader quickly navigates through his private floors; and they are private. Designed to be structurally separate from the rest of the ship, there were only an incredibly limited number of people, including those who had built it, who even knew exactly where it was. As he had explained to Luke just the other day, his floors operated independently from the rest of the ship as well, fixed with its own set of reactors, electronics, and life support systems.
His feet take him where he wants to go before his brain has the chance to catch up. It is the middle of night shift and no one beyond a few mouse droids are authorized to be down here at this time.
The door to Luke's private quarters opens at his approach - in the two days that he has been here, his son has yet to create his own personal access codes that would disallow him or others from entering uninvited. Vader has wondered, privately, if that is because it is Luke's way of saying he is always invited.
He cannot imagine why Luke would want that. Regardless, he appreciates it now and enters. He knows the layout of the apartment well and does not turn the lights on as he crosses through the main living area, heading swiftly towards the master bedroom.
He just needs to see - to confirm with his eyes what he already knows is true.
The bedroom door slides open silently as he approaches and Vader pauses for the first time, lingering in the doorway. He finds that he is unwilling to enter the room itself but allows the lights to turn on at their dimmest setting so that he can see a little bit better.
There.
In the center of the room, on an elaborate king size bed, is his son.
Luke is fast asleep.
He is safe and out of harm's way.
Not tortured and screaming and begging for help.
When Vader brushes up lightly against their Force bond, he senses a quiet, drifting quality to his son's unconscious thoughts. He is not dreaming and is resting peacefully. If he had to give a name to what Luke was feeling, it would be comfortable. The realization eases an awful, gnarled tension inside of him and Vader finds that he can breathe a little easier now.
Upon further observation, he spies discarded clothes and a towel lying strewn about on the floor and R2-D2 in the corner of the room, near an open viewport that is looking out onto the planet Endor. His dome swivels to look in his direction but he remains silent.
Everything is fine.
A dark, angry, and fearful part of him protests the idea that anything was fine.
The haunting whispered echoes of his vision flashes once again in front of eyes, unwanted and terrible.
Blue lightning and cruel laughter.
Luke, screaming and in terrible pain, his light fading in the wake of Sidious' darkness.
His son, begging him for help.
Vader clenched his hands into fists and tightly closed his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to banish the memory of it away. He knew how this would go. He had never been able to make his visions go away. He has never been able to stop them from happening either.
He had always been too late. Too slow to act.
Too weak.
Perhaps this was his curse - to watch everyone he loved and cared about die. His mother… Padme… and now Luke.
No.
No, not this time, he thought desperately. This time would be different. This time he would be stronger. Faster and more powerful than any time previously. It would be enough, Vader thought fiercely. It had to be.
…but it hadn't been enough to save her, the quieter part of himself which had been making itself known more and more over the last few days, whispered softly. A cruel, undesirable sort of conflict arose in him.
Vader stood, uncertain of what to feel, and silently watched Luke sleep for a few more minutes before turning around and leaving him to his rest. There would be no returning to meditation tonight. There were plenty of other things to occupy his time and thoughts with - some of a military nature but namely, Luke's Jedi training.
No small part of him detested the idea of teaching his son how to be a Jedi and his Force vision had done nothing to convince him that it was the path that would ensure his son's survival. But… he did not possess the strength to break Luke into pieces and rebuild him as the Sith that he had the potential to be… and more than that, he had given his word and for Luke, he would keep it.
His officers could deal with the lesser details of their coup. Vader's main priority now was to ensure that Luke was ready when the time came. He knew, based on his vision, that the encounter would occur on the Death Star. His son was powerful and had near unlimited potential and Sidious was not wrong to fear him. It was unfortunate that his education was severely lacking but as a whole, it would probably prove to be only a minor setback - Luke learned quickly and seemed eager to understand the Force.
He walked with less urgency now in the direction of his private office, going over previous encounters with Luke in his head as he did so. His office was another place of relative peace and solitude for him. It was possible for command staff to reach him there in the event that something needed his attention.
Vader had a suspicion, based off of their previous duel on Bespin, that Luke had no real lightsaber combat training at all. The only form of dueling that Luke had displayed was a fairly close imitation of Vader's own adapted method of Form V.
There was no one else that could possibly teach him that, since Vader had created it himself after Mustafar in order to accommodate his limited mobility as a result of his injuries. His son had done something similar in the mines as well - using borderline Dark Side methods to deal with the monster. No Jedi would have ever taught him Force choking. Which meant Luke was only mimicking what he had seen someone else do.
Luke had no solid foundation in any one style but he was smart, quick, and adaptable. Vader would start him off with the basics and figure out which style would serve him best and then go from there.
The door to his office seals itself shut and the locks engage. There is little in the way of decoration present, only a large desk and two chairs to accommodate him and anyone that he summoned. He spends the next few hours on a datapad in relative silence, drawing up lesson plans and pulling to the forefront of his mind Jedi knowledge that he has long tried his best to forget. It chafes and irritates him in no small measure but he slowly begins to remember, from a former life, the things that he had both learned and taught to another.
Things that had worked and others that could have been improved upon. Places where he had gone wrong and things that he hadn't elaborated on enough.
His former padawan had been a talented Jedi, with a fire inside of her that Anakin had never been able to bring himself to quell entirely. He wouldn't even try with Luke - his son would need it more than ever. Emotion was powerful, even if it was not anger and the Jedi had done their best to remove themselves so far from it that it had desensitized them to all the wrongs that were occurring throughout the galaxy.
That was not the proper way of things.
The will of the Force, they had said. If it was supposed to be different, the Force would make it so, and in the process they had forgotten that they were supposed to be agents of the Force to bring about that same change.
There could be nothing less natural than to deny oneself of all feeling, all passion, all desires to achieve something and to do good. The Jedi had been wrong. It was why the Empire even had the chance to come into existence at all. Their negligence and unwillingness to see the truth had been the undoing of both the Order and the Republic. He would not allow them or their corrupted dogma to be the undoing of his son as well.
13:47 Hours
Telona 9th, 4ABY, Galactic Standard Time
SSD Executor, Main Dining Hall
"Thank you," Luke said politely, nodding his head in appreciation to a culinary worker as he grabbed a food tray. He turned and began walking back through the crowd of people. The way seemed to part for him as he did so.
A whisper of warning in the Force had him warily watching his surroundings and two crew members in particular quickly caught his eye. One of them looked fairly pissed off, glaring at Luke furiously and looking like he was two seconds away from throwing a punch. The man standing beside him quickly grabbed his friend by the arm and forcibly pulled him out of Luke's path, hissing something along the lines of, "Vader is in here, you idiot,".
Luke stayed quiet, keeping his stride unchanged and doing his best to seem entirely unbothered by what had happened as he made his way back to his father. It had been decided that he would have an escort during his first forays on the ship, either with his father or another member of the command staff; the idea was to drive the point home that everyone on a level of authority was aware of and accepting of his presence.
So far, the staring was the same no matter where they had gone and even after a few hours of touring the Executor, he had failed to get used to it. Anger, whispers, and pointing fingers followed him everywhere. Luke was holding on to the hope that it would get better eventually - but until that happened, he was relieved that he was allowed a weapon and debating more seriously than he had before the wisdom of accepting an armed guard.
It was what he probably should do; though Luke suspected that he would attract far less attention and notice if Darth Vader wasn't walking him around personally on a guided tour of the Empire's flagship. From what little he understood and had gathered during the last few days on the Executor… it was an accepted fact that his father would rather get shot with a blaster rifle than have to waste his time and escort anyone around . It did not matter who they were or what their rank was.
It was a chore that was delegated to others and very, very few people apparently ever had the nerve to complain. The fact that he was doing so now was probably drawing more attention than Luke probably would have on his own. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that the crew itself had been notified of his presence on the ship and that most of them were actively attempting to get a glimpse of him… Luke suspected that he might have been able to get away with passing off as just another higher ranking officer.
His face was fairly well known, true, but he no longer completely resembled the picture that was attached to his bounty either. He was dressed more formally than he'd ever been dressed in his life, for one thing. His clothes were not quite the same as the rest of the officer uniforms that he saw - the quality of them seemed to be a fair bit better and he wore darker colors than others who held the same rank as he did. Primarily dark blues, grays, and blacks, which suited his own developing style just fine.
The design was about the same, however; a double breasted tunic and trousers, a black belt with a silver buckle, and matching black boots. His officer ranking was set on his right breast and with his father's permission, he was allowed to forgo the officer's cap, since he had relented and agreed to a haircut. Admiral Piett had insisted that he adhere to the military regulations in both conduct and appearance, stating that it would help him to not stand out quite so much in a crowd.
His hair was shorter than he had worn it in years, much to his annoyance. He enjoyed the length and as soon as this was all over, Luke had declared that he would be growing it back out again. His father had been quietly entertained by the whole thing.
"You do not have to wait in line, my son," Vader said pointedly, once Luke had sat down across from him. His father didn't bother looking up from his datapad. "This is an empire, not a democracy."
Luke rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. "It's rude," he said between his chewing. "I can wait my turn like everybody else."
Vader shook his head, exasperated but clearly deciding that it wasn't worth the effort to push the issue right now. Instead, he fell silent, giving Luke the opportunity to eat his meal while he worked. He was taking whatever it was that he was working on very seriously - his emotions felt both vexed and focused. Luke was curious but figured he'd hold off on asking about what it was until he was finished eating.
All the tables within immediate range of them were completely vacant, Luke noted quietly. It seemed that no one on the Executor was willing to take the risk of eating anywhere close to either of them. Luke suspected that it was, in part, because his father had probably never eaten or been seen anywhere even close to here before, considering that he didn't eat.
At all.
An unsettling fact that Luke had learned the first day or so after his arrival when he had mustered up enough random courage to ask how and when his father ate his meals. Vader's rather blunt response had disturbed him and he hadn't tried to ask about anything else. Instead, he just filed the information away and added it to the growing list of knowledge that he was acquiring about his father's physical condition and overall health.
Which sucked, apparently.
His only request had been that Vader inform him of all the "need to know" information that Luke should be aware of. If they were a partnership now, he wanted to be able to help if and when it was necessary. He wasn't certain how well Vader had taken his request. There had been a strange flurry of emotions that had ranged between just plain suspicious and paranoid and then entirely dismissive of his concern.
In spite of that, Luke had decided to take a leap of faith and trust Vader at his word when he had said that Luke already knew about the worst of his injuries.
Still… he would have taken to eating alone so as not to disturb his father except Vader had expressed a quiet interest in joining him for meals.
It was a small thing but it was also an obvious break in Vader's normal routine and something that he was only doing specifically for Luke and he found that he appreciated the effort that was being made on his behalf.
Doing his best to tune out the negative emotions around him, Luke settled into the companionable silence and turned on his own datapad, opening one of his saved tabs. It might be unwise… and while he didn't think Vader would actually care, he hadn't told his father that he was doing it, either… but he was working on sending a mission briefing to the Rebellion.
He had sat on the idea for the last few days, debating whether or not it was worth the effort to have any kind of final say in what had happened. But… he didn't like the idea of just disappearing without a word, like a thief in the night. Luke had never been that kind of person. Uncle Owen would never have approved - he would have said something along the lines of finishing what he started, no matter how painful it might be.
It just felt… important, somehow. To say something, at least. Luke knew that Wedge would have had to tell them where he went and he knew that it wasn't going to look good - but maybe… maybe he could still try to tell them that he was on their side.
That… and despite everything that had happened between them… he wanted the best for his former squadron. He had flown with Rogue Squadron for almost three years and being their commander had been a role and an achievement that he had been incredibly proud of. Though he had been leaving them anyway… High Command had been waiting specifically for his recommendation on who they should promote in his place.
Wedge had only recently become Captain and an additional promotion almost back to back would have been unusual… but Luke honestly couldn't think of who else could do the job. Wedge was the only other person who had survived the Death Star trenches with him and he took flying almost more seriously than Luke did.
Considering that Wedge was the only one who had even tried to listen and hear what he had begged them to understand in the mines… Luke thought this could be how he said thank you.
He spent the next few minutes working on his draft, trying to decide what was necessary for him to both add and avoid. The pettier part of him was alright with denying the Rebellion the more private parts of their conversations from the mines, the same way some of them had denied him the right to know who Vader actually was. He hoped that when they read it, they appreciated the irony.
"Your X-wing is arriving today," Vader said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. Luke looked up, silently turning his datapad off and setting it to the side, giving his father his full attention.
"Really?"
"Yes. It will be delivered to one of my private hangars. When you are finished eating, I can show you where, if you would like."
"I would like that," Luke agreed. "Do you know who is flying it?"
"No one," Vader answered swiftly. "It was disassembled, packaged into several large containers, and is being shipped on a freighter."
Luke paused mid-bite. "What?"
His father looked up at him then and Luke sensed well enough the dead-paned expression that was being sent his way. "I was not going to have them fly your rebel X-wing onto my ship near an uncompleted Death Star and in full view of the Imperial Armada."
"...well, when you say it like that, yeah, it sounds obvious," Luke grumbled. He couldn't help but think of all the ways his ship could have been damaged by a bunch of Imperials taking it apart and shipping it across the galaxy in a box. He doubted very much that they would have really taken the time to do it carefully. "Still. That's the only thing I have that's really mine. They better have been careful with it."
"If they were not, I will be sure to send a scathing message about their incompetence and my displeasure," Vader said flatly, though a hint of warm humor was flickering between them now.
"You'd better."
"If there are damages," his father continued tolerantly. "You will have access to whatever you need in order to repair it."
"So… it will be put back together then?" Luke clarified cautiously.
"Of course. Though you should be aware that the reassembling process can take time."
Yeah, depending on just how much they took it apart, it could technically be months. Luke knew he wasn't going to be flying it around anytime soon, but still.
"No chance of you speeding that process along for me?"
"The model of your ship is old enough as it is," Vader said bluntly. "It does not need to be put together incorrectly."
"It's not that old," Luke said, rolling his eyes.
"Old enough," Vader repeated. "I will not order a rush job on anything that you are flying. It will take however long it takes."
Luke shoved another bite of food in his mouth to try and avoid being annoyed.
"I had noticed," Vader continued, entirely unbothered. "That you had done some custom modifications on it?"
Luke looked up and this time he got a sense of his father's genuine curiosity. He shrugged in response, trying not to be too proud. "I'm not agreeing that it's old, alright? But there's always something that can be improved on," he said after a moment. "Doesn't matter what type of spacecraft it is. I work on it here and there when I can. It's been a little hard to find all the right equipment I need for what I want to do when the Rebellion is constantly on the move though. My funds have been limited as well. But… I've done what I could."
Truth be told, there were few things that Luke took as much pride in as he did his X-wing. Spacecraft, and engineering in general, was apparently a hobby and an interest that both he and his father shared. Vader had even alluded that he had his own private collection stored somewhere, though Luke had yet to see it… but he could only imagine what one of the most powerful men in the galaxy could get his hands on.
Maybe, since he was being deprived of his own ship, and once he found out where they were, he'd relive some of his teenage years and take something for a ride one night. The thought of doing so entertained him quite a bit.
"What has you so amused?"
Luke shook his head, hiding a smile. "Nothing. I'll tell you later."
Vader stared at him suspiciously before seeming to decide to let it go. "In any case… your ship has served you well enough," he admitted. "And you are a talented pilot."
Luke flushed, feeling pleased with the compliment. "Thanks," he said, taking a sip of water. "Coming from you, that's high praise."
"Why is that?"
"Because I was told that you were one of the best starfighter pilots in the galaxy." Luke admitted.
Something distinctly smug flickered between them. "Safe to say," Vader agreed humorously. "Who told you that?"
Luke paused. "Ah, well… Ben did, actually."
His father's humor dimmed to reluctant tolerance. The humor dimmed enough to be noticeable, his father's emotions going from being humorous to tolerant.
"You asked," Luke pointed out, taking another bite of his food. Honestly, who else had he been expecting him to have spoken to? It's not like there were a lot of people left who had known him.
A minute or so of silence stretched between them while Vader seemed to grapple with his thoughts.
"I did," Vader finally acknowledged, a little reluctantly. "And I suppose… that it is interesting… that he would say that. Obi-Wan did not usually enjoy my flying."
Luke raised his eyebrows, offering his father a wry smile. "Probably because you're insane?"
The rest of the tension disappeared and a faint sense of mock offense fluttered between them.
"The difference between insanity, my son, and brilliance," Vader declared, sitting up straighter and pointing a finger at him, "is measured only by success. Of which I have had plenty."
Luke choked on a laugh. "Noted," he managed to say. "I'll have to remember that one the next time I do something stupid."
His father paused, as if he hadn't considered anything along those lines until just now. Luke broke eye contact with him, looking back at his nearly finished plate and trying in vain to hide his thoughts behind an air of innocence.
It didn't work.
"Refrain from doing so as much as possible."
Luke hummed, making a considering noise and shrugging his shoulders half-heartedly. "I make no promises."
"Luke."
"Father."
Their eyes met and something warm, affectionate, and entirely exasperated passed between them. This was a battle his father would lose, Luke thought privately. Not that Vader should be in any way surprised - it wasn't like it was personal. But like he'd told Admiral Piett on the day they'd met… the genetics in his family were strong.
"What have you been working on?" Luke asked, changing the topic and nodding towards his father's datapad instead.
Vader gave him a long look but then slowly relented. "This is your training schedule."
Luke blinked and then reached across the table and took the datapad, scanning through the page quickly. An excited thrill went through his heart.
"Wow," he breathed, reading through the names of different lightsaber dueling forms and defensive techniques. He had no idea that there were so many ways to fight. Everything was categorized into different sections such as The Jedi Code, Three Pillars, Meditation Forms, Force Basics, Healing, Seers, Dueling… it went on and on. Some sections only had a few notes jotted down and others were more detailed. "This is…"
Luke looked up at his father. "You're going to teach me all of this?"
"This, and more," Vader said, watching him carefully.
Luke dropped his eyes, scanning the document again. There was so much more than what Yoda or Ben had ever said or expressed to him.
"When can we start?"
"Tomorrow," his father said decisively. "You have had time to recover from your Force exposure and your injuries will have had plenty of time to heal as well. I would suggest that you take the time tonight to clear your thoughts and mind. We will be training early."
That suited him just fine; Luke had always woken up early on Tatooine to work with Owen, before the Suns appeared in the sky. Yoda had liked to have him wake up before the crack of dawn as well in order to meditate.
He wondered, not for the first time, how much his training with his father would differ from his experiences with Yoda. There was no jungle to run through now.
Luke had the passing mental image of him running through a jungle with Vader riding him piggy-back, clinging to his shoulders and his cape whipping out behind him as he shouted, "Run!"
It took every ounce of control he had to suppress a laugh and school his expression.
"No words of warning about how I should be very afraid or something cryptic like that?" Luke teased instead, only half serious.
Vader gave him a strange look. "Am I to assume you ask this due to prior experience?"
"Maybe."
Something dark and frustrated passed between them. "If you are finished, I will show you the hangar bay," Vader said abruptly, standing on his feet and gesturing for Luke to do the same. He stood, taking a moment to throw away his trash.
"I will not tell you to fear the Force, my son," Vader continued when he returned. "You should respect it and you should respect yourself as an agent of the Force. Training can be difficult but it is not something to be feared. The one who told you that was wrong to do so. It goes against the Jedi teachings entirely."
Luke could feel his father's annoyance keenly and heard the flashing, angry thought of hypocrites! briefly flickering between them.
"How so?" he asked cautiously, walking alongside his father as they headed towards an exit together.
"Because fear, as the Jedi had liked to say, is the path to the dark side," Vader explained shortly. "It leads to anger. Anger leads to hate and hate leads to suffering…."
06:00:01 Hours
Telona 10th, 4ABY, Galactic Standard Time
SSD Executor, Workout Center
"Tell me what you know about the Force," Vader said, staring at him intently. "What did Obi-Wan and Yoda teach you?"
They were alone, the high quality gym that they were using empty and secluded aside from themselves. It always would be too - one of the perks of being the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy was that everything they could possibly need was located on Vader's floors. Luke was glad for that - he had little experience in learning with an audience to watch and he suspected that most people on the Executor would only stand around with the hope that they would see him get hurt.
"I… well, I didn't really get to learn very much from Ben," Luke admitted. "He gave me the blue lightsaber and taught me how to sense the Force through my feelings and to trust what I felt. It was how I made the shot on the Death Star."
There was an expectant moment of silence where Vader seemed to be waiting for him to say more.
"That's it?" his father finally demanded. "That's all that Obi-Wan taught you?"
Luke gave Vader a flat look. "Well, he probably would have taught me more except that you, you know… killed him." He shrugged, extending his hands out in a 'what do you want from me' kind of way.
"He didn't even try to win ," Vader said bitterly, catching Luke off guard as the darkness around him stirred in genuine anger for the first time. "He let me kill him and denied me the rematch that was rightfully mine…."
Luke silently pulled his own Force presence closer to him as his father continued a short bitter rant about Obi-Wan and all of his many short-comings. There was a lot of pent up rage and aggression still there, Luke realized quickly. Which was, in his opinion, completely ridiculous because Ben had been dead for years now. What did it matter that his death hadn't been good enough?
He shook his head and pursed his lips in irritation. He couldn't decide who he was more annoyed at - Ben, Yoda, or his father. He was mad at Ben for lying to him and using him and he was mad at Yoda for not wanting to train him - and then for training him poorly.
Vader ranting that Obi-Wan hadn't died well enough didn't help. Angry as Luke was, Ben had still been a friend and losing him hadn't been easy either. It was a loss that he had grieved for a long time and his father was directly responsible for it. Shouldn't that matter, even just a little?
Luke refrained, just barely, from interrupting and telling his father outright that he had a lot of issues.
He had a feeling that that might not go over so well.
"Alright, alright," Luke finally said. "I get it. Relax. Ben died before he could really teach me anything," he hurried to say, sighing in frustration. "I had to teach myself for a few years until I met my other teacher and we've already established that what I learned from him is sub-par."
The bitterness surrounding his father didn't dissipate; Vader was well and truly annoyed though Luke sensed he was doing his best to keep it to himself. Failing, of course. Patience was a discipline that Luke suspected his father had not exercised in a very long time… but he was trying.
"And what," Vader bit out. "Did he teach you?"
Luke took a few minutes to explain the things that Yoda had taught him, admitting that he had improved a lot under his tutelage but that there was also a lot he hadn't really understood either. Yoda had never been keen to answer his questions and oftentimes would actively dissuade him from them entirely. They had seemed to frustrate the old master and it had made Luke feel like a bad student.
"Oh, so knowledge is a Jedi's most powerful asset, except when it comes to my son," Vader spat out, mostly to himself. He turned around and paced for a long moment, his irritation growing even darker. "Naturally. Hypocrites. Every single one of them." he hissed.
Luke pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking that feeling the Dark Side so much was going to give him a bad headache if it didn't let up soon.
"Father?" Luke asked pointedly.
His father paused in his angry mutterings, turning to glare at him. Luke waited, trying not to be annoyed and was shortly rewarded when his father's emotions finally began to temper themselves.
"Your skills are impressive," Vader said after a long moment of gathering his thoughts. A faint flicker of genuine pride passed between them. "Considering how little formal training you have received. In some ways, I would consider your lack of education a benefit. You have learned through necessity how to rely on the Force in a way that few Jedi managed to accomplish, without their creeds or doctrine to stand as a distraction. I do not want to take that from you."
"Alright," Luke said slowly. "What does that mean?"
"I am a master duelist, my son." Vader said bluntly. "True, my intention was never to kill you on Bespin. But in prior encounters, you kept pace with me and held an acceptable defense despite having no formal training. I have fought and killed many others who have had years of training and experience with little effort exerted on my part. You have survived because you are in tune with the Force and listen when it speaks and for no other reason."
That was… a little disconcerting to hear.
"My friends have always said that I'm lucky," he offered, shrugging his shoulders.
"Perhaps. However, under my tutelage, I will give you the skills you need to develop your power into its full potential and ensure that you never need to rely on luck ever again . Those who have allowed you to do so up until now have done you a great disservice," Vader said tightly. His father stepped forward then, pointing a stern finger at him. "Hear my words and remember, Luke; you are one of the most powerful people to exist in this galaxy. The power of the Death Star is inconsequential to the power that you hold within yourself."
Luke blinked. "I couldn't -"
"You can," Vader interrupted. "Size does not matter. Your eyes will deceive you and your finite mind will attempt to convince you that what is possible, is impossible. Do not be fooled. When you are fully trained, my son - and I will ensure that you are fully trained - you will possess the power and confidence to manipulate space itself."
Luke swallowed, stunned even as he heard the Force whisper that what his father said was true . He stepped back, overwhelmed, and drew his hand across his jaw, trying to wrap his mind around that. The power to manipulate space was a long way from trying to lift his X-wing out of a swamp.
Was there a limit on how much power one person should have?
Would… would having that much power at his fingertips hurt him… change him, somehow? Vader had admitted to him in the mines that Sith Lords craved power. Perhaps that was another reason that Ben and Yoda hadn't explained things to him. Like father, like son.
It was a bitter thought and Luke abruptly decided that he would do everything - everything - in his power to prove them both wrong. He didn't care what it cost him. Power had never once been a motivating factor for him. There was no reason why any of that would change now. Not when he had his father standing as a perfect example of what he didn't want to become.
Feeling a little comforted, Luke nodded his head and squared his shoulders. "So, what is the plan for today then?"
"Today, we duel." Vader said swiftly, stepping back and gesturing to the gym around them. "There are no rules. I want you to fight and I want you to try to win. Everything in here is at your disposal."
"That's it?"
"That's it," Vader confirmed. "Tomorrow, I will start you on Form I. It is the foundation upon which every other dueling form is built. I do not expect it to take you long to master."
The confidence his father was willing to express in him was so different from any previous instruction he had received. He liked it though. It was nice to hear that someone thought he was capable of something - even if that someone was a very angry Sith Lord.
Vader drew out a lightsaber, turning the red blade on. It seemed to be less vibrant than the last one, though Luke couldn't say how or why that was so. A little trepidation set in Luke's heart as he stepped forward, drawing his own weapon out. Confidence in him or not, he was unable to help but remember the last duel that they had with each other.
"No cutting off limbs, right?" Luke confirmed, taking a deep breath and adjusting his stance.
"That would be counterproductive to our plans," Vader agreed with dark humor. "But rest assured… I will be sure to replace anything that you lose."
"Oh, ha ha."
He sensed his father offer him a smirk from behind his mask. "If you are ready… then let us begin."
22:14 Hours
Telona 11th, Galactic Standard Time
SSD Executor, Private Office of the Supreme Commander, Lord Darth Vader
Luke lost the fight.
He had expected to lose but what he hadn't expected, after getting over the unease he felt about dueling with his father... was that the fight had actually been fun. It had been nothing like any of their previous fights. Neither of them had gone full force on each other and Vader had been offering constructive criticism throughout the entire thing, seeming to find a gross amount of amusement in putting Luke into tight and dangerous positions but then coaching him on how to get out of them again.
Luke had learned quite a few things that he never would have thought of previously and in the aftermath, his father had explained that the purpose of the whole exercise had been so that he could identify Luke's biggest weaknesses and correct them as they moved forward.
That had been yesterday.
Moving forward, they would be training together almost daily now, once in the early hours of the morning and once in the evening, alternating between practice duels, meditation, and instruction in all the other previously unknown aspects of the Jedi Order that Luke had never known about. Those parts of the day were an exercise in patience for both of them. Vader had no issue with making is contempt for the Jedi known and his instruction often came with scathing criticism that Luke was forced to filter through. He found that he relied heavily on the Force to help him discern what was and wasn't true. So far, his father seemed to have no inclination to lie to him and he had also made it clear that Luke was free to chose what he did or did not act on.
There were a surprising number of things that Luke had learned which unsettled him and sat at odds with his own personal feelings. Like the fact that a Jedi was supposed to shun any kind of emotional attachment or commitment. Yoda had alluded to this on Dagobah when Luke had wanted to go rescue Han and Leia but he hadn't entirely understood why.
He didn't want to live that way. Not caring about people? Never loving or allowing himself to be loved in return?
It sounded miserable.
"So," Luke said, tilting his head as he asked another question. He was sitting cross-legged on his father's office couch. They had been talking for hours now, trading off asking and answering questions about anything and everything. Vader was particularly interested in Luke's life, wanting to know everything about him and his life with the Lars'. "If... the Jedi aren't supposed to have attachments or family... how did I get here?"
Vader gave him an amused look. "Obviously, I did not care for that rule." he said vaguely. A lot of his answers about himself were vague and Luke had taken the hint earlier on in their conversation to not push too much. "Though I must admit, you were... an unplanned accident."
Well, that was always nice to hear... but Luke could sense his father's emotions well enough that he knew without anything needing to be said that "unplanned" did not equate to "unwanted".
That, and the interest and longing he felt from his father's questions about him alone eased the pain of every childhood hurt he'd ever had about being an orphan. He was confident now that both of his parents had loved him and wanted him. That understanding meant more to him than he could ever express into words.
Luke hesitated, trying to decide if it was the right time to bring up Padmé. He had been careful to avoid mentioning her, trusting that his father would keep his word and tell him about his mother when he was ready. Straying so close to the topic now had reawakened his longing to know who she was.
As if sensing his thoughts, Vader stood up. "It is late," he said quickly, his emotions becoming withdrawn. "You should retire to bed."
Disappointed, pursed his lips and then glanced at the clock on the otherwise barren wall. His father wasn't wrong and he was getting tired. Aside from their training together, he found being on the Executor an exhausting experience. He felt anger, distrust, and intentions to cause harm from nearly everyone he met. Vader, whom he considered to be the leading expert in anger issues, was his refuge in the storm. In short, he was learning to value easy moments like this as well as his time alone in order to recover from the stress of the situation.
"Yeah, alright," Luke agreed reluctantly, uncrossing his legs and standing up with a sigh. "I'll see you in the morning."
The door to the office slid open silently for him. Luke hesitated to leave for a long moment, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to find the courage to ask even one question about her before deciding against it.
He could wait.
He could.
He just didn't want to.
"Goodnight," Luke said quickly, before hurrying to leave. He heard the door slide shut behind him and began heading in the direction of his rooms, shaking his head and beginning the process of trying to quiet his mind for tomorrow. He didn't get very far before he heard the office door open once more.
"Luke."
He turned around quickly, heart suddenly pounding, and then nearly yelped in surprise when he almost bumped into Vader entirely.
"Here," Vader said stiffly, barely giving Luke time to recover before he was shoving something into his hands.
Startled, Luke took it on instinct and then looked down to see that it was a datapad. It was already on... displaying a folder that was full of files. Labeled files, actually. Peering closer, he realized that they were all saved articles… and news clippings… stories and pictures and videos of speeches and everything else in between that were all centered around the exact same person.
Padmé "Amidala" Naberrie
The sight of his mother's first name nearly caused his heart to skip a beat in his chest.
When he looked jerked his head up again, his father had already disappeared and their Force bond had dimmed and nearly been closed entirely, telling him without words that Vader wanted privacy and to leave him alone.
Swallowing against a sudden lump in his throat, Luke turned and made his way to his own rooms. His father had them added to the blueprints when the Executor was being built. He enjoyed his rooms quite a bit - they were the only place on his father's private floors that weren't filled with a lingering sense of anger and suffering. They were bright, beautiful even, and well furnished. He knew without words that his father had taken a great deal of care in designing them for him because there was still a sense of the near obsessive adoration he'd felt for Luke imprinted on the rooms themselves.
They were grand enough that the first time he'd seen them, Luke had privately thought they were more suited for Leia and her position in life than they ever would be for him.
He didn't notice any of the opulence when he walked in now, feeling blind to it for the very first time. He just made his way to his bedroom, using the Force to push the door open for him. Artoo twittered a greeting at him that Luke ignored, barely mindful enough to step and avoid some clothes that he'd left laying on the ground yesterday.
Luke paused, only looking away from the datapad for a few moments in order to prop a few pillows up against the headboard of his bed and then quickly made himself comfortable, drawing his knees up closer to his chest and resting the datapad against them.
There was so much to choose from… he hardly knew where to start.
Luke hesitated before tapping on the first folder that was simply labeled as Padmé Naberrie and watching as it opened up and revealed three additional folders inside:
Birth and Medical Records
Childhood Photos
Apprentice Legislature & Theed Royal Academy
He tapped on the second one labeled Childhood Photos and was greeted by a few images of what seemed to be a small family of four. A mother, a father, and two very beautiful little girls with long dark brown hair that looked almost entirely identical to each other. Twins, maybe? He couldn't be certain. Still… Luke felt a smile grow on his face as he stared at one picture of the two girls standing side by side together and just… knew in his heart which one was his mother.
She couldn't have been more than seven or eight when the picture was taken but her eyes were bright and her hair was set into two long horsetails with blue ribbons tied into them. She looked entirely happy.
Luke stared for a moment longer, studying the faces of the other people present in the pictures - his grandparents and an aunt whose names he didn't know. Then he backed out again to scan through the names of some of the other files.
File Folder: QUEEN AMIDALA: Campaign, Election, & Coronation, 32BBY, Naboo
File Folder: QUEEN AMIDALA: MOTION TO FILE AGAINST SUPREME CHANCELLOR VALORUM, Galactic Senate, Coruscant, 32BBY
There were other files containing what had to be a complete list of actions, speeches, and royal decrees that had all been made between the years 32BBY and 28BBY by Queen Amidala. The accompanying pictures and videos were available for all of them.
File Folder: PADME AMIDALA, Senator for Galactic Congress over Chommell Sector
…it honestly looked to be about the most complete professional history of any one person that Luke had ever seen or imagined existing. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much time had gone into it. It just went on and on - he imagined that he would have content to read about his mother for the next several weeks, if not months.
At the very bottom of the list, there was one additional file that was labeled a little differently than others. Luke had the thought that it was less professionally done and more… personal.
File Folder: Vacation on Naboo, 21BBY, Selona 17th-19th
There was a video attached as well, the thumbnail image of Padmé outside someplace beautiful.
Swallowing thickly against a lump in his throat, Luke gathered his courage and then quickly pressed PLAY so that he could listen to the sound of his mother's voice for the very first time.
23:41 Hours
Telona 11th, Galactic Standard Time
SSD Executor, Officer Housing Deck
The door to Firmus' private quarters closed silently, the locks engaging and granting him some much-needed privacy. He sighed, rolling his shoulders and then lifting a hand to unbutton the top two buttons of his uniform dress shirt as he walked across the floor to the bar counter of his small kitchen area.
It had been a long day on top of an even longer week. Sleep was his current priority but he needed to relax for a few minutes and sort out his thoughts before retiring to bed.
Snagging a small decanter of whiskey and a fancy shot glass, Firmus took a seat in the leather armchair that sat in the corner of his main living space and let out a slow breath of air before pouring himself a much needed drink.
Not much could happen anymore that could genuinely surprise him… but no amount of forewarning or preparation in the galaxy could have ever prepared him for what he had had to deal with this week. Firmus prided himself on his ability to keep a calm demeanor under severe pressure and had seen more than his fair share of death, horror, and unnatural displays of power during his time serving under Lord Vader.
But… this thing… with Luke Skywalker was on another level entirely.
A child.
He shook his head, huffing silently in disbelief. He hadn't seen that one coming.
However. Now that the shock of the revelation was beginning to wear off… Firmus could admit to himself that it was an interesting development. Some things that had never really made any sense to him suddenly made sense.
Like all the people that Vader had personally executed for speaking about committing violence against or seeking retribution against Skywalker for the destruction of the Death Star. Firmus wasn't one to question Lord Vader or his reasons for doing things - he knew how to keep his head, after all. He had just never quite understood why.
Skywalker being his son had answered every question he had.
Firmus drew a hand across his jaw and took another sip of his whiskey, letting it sit on his tongue for a moment before swallowing.
When the surprise of the email notification he'd received in a highly encrypted file had worn off, he had put the pieces together fairly quickly on his own.
It had never been an egotistical "only I and I only can do this" kind of situation like he had formerly theorized. It hadn't been about taking the credit for capturing one of the Empire's Most Wanted rebels or eliminating another Jedi or even gaining some perceived favor with the Emperor.
Lord Vader had been protecting what was his.
Skywalker was important to Lord Vader in a way that Firmus had not anticipated. But now that he understood why , he could plan accordingly to ensure that their plans to overthrow Palpatine continued without any issues.
Bespin had nearly been the end of those plans entirely and Firmus was not interested in repeating that situation in any way, shape, or form. His plans to protect the Empire would fail without Lord Vader and Lord Vader had made it very clear in actions, if not in words, that he was only willing to act on their plans to overthrow Palpatine on the condition that Skywalker was part of them.
When Skywalker had managed to escape on the Millennium Falcon, every single person on the bridge that day had anticipated Vader to erupt in an absolute rage and possibly go on a killing spree. Instead, to their collective disbelief, Vader had only stood silently at the viewport for a few moments before turning around and disappearing for several days. Nothing had happened and no one had died as a result of the plan failing.
Firmus understood now that Lord Vader hadn't been angry - he'd been disappointed.
Without the successful capture of Skywalker on Bespin, Lord Vader had seemed to lose interest in almost everything. He had been rote in his usual duties and had been slowly withdrawing from their plans.
The call from Opportunity Base informing them of Skywalker's whereabouts was what had woken him up again.
Firmus wanted it to stay that way. Their coup to overthrow Palpatine and the current government leadership, which so many people were all fully committed to, was entirely dependent on Darth Vader's support and assistance. They could not be successful without him and there were too many people that were deathly afraid of what would happen to them if Lord Vader wasn't on their side.
Because if it wasn't on their side… then it was Palpatine's and that would mean death for hundreds and even thousands of military personnel who were expressing discontent and rebellion against the Emperor.
That could not be allowed to happen and with the willing recruitment of Skywalker, gods be willing, it wouldn't. The biggest hurdle that had been standing in their way had been cleared. The two main pieces of the plan were fully on the board and now they just needed time and numbers.
They could buy time. Not a lot and not indefinitely, but some. Gathering numbers was a bit trickier to accomplish without getting caught. It involved keen eyes and ears in the right place and at the right time, as well as a lot of patience.
That was something that he had a lot of. Playing the long game was one of his fortes, a skill cultivated and developed over a long and successful career. He suspected it was one of the reasons why Lord Vader had put him in charge.
Though, if Firmus was honest with himself, he wasn't certain of what to make of Skywalker just yet.
Young… had been his first impression.
Very young.
It was difficult to believe that the tired, scraggly, and underdressed young man he'd met in the hangar bay had been personally responsible for causing so much damage and destruction to the Empire. He'd had time enough to set aside his own negative feelings about Skywalker prior to his arrival and he could tell that the kid had been apprehensive during their meeting.
At least he'd had the sense to be polite and respectful to everyone present.
It was still too early to make any sort of accurate judgment on who he was as a person or whether or not he would actually be an asset to them though. Firmus couldn't even claim to know what made the kid so essential in terms of their plans; it was still early but nothing he'd seen from him so far convinced him in any way of his importance.
Lord Vader had only ever been firm in his stance that Skywalker was necessary and that any attempts to overthrow Palpatine would fail without him.
Others in the command staff were equally puzzled. Some of them felt that Skywalker was too young and immature to be an asset. His casual way of speaking about and to Lord Vader over the last few days disturbed and upset them. Firmus wasn't certain if it was because Lord Vader allowed it so openly or if it was because it was introducing a formerly missing element of humanity in their leader and they just didn't know how to react appropriately.
Merrijk was entirely fascinated by Skywalker, having done more than his fair share of trying to track the Rebellion's whereabouts specifically in order to try and find the elusive rebel, only for him to turn around and join the Empire on his own.
Max was the only one that Firmus intended to keep an eye on. The general was angry and seemed determined to do his best to professionally avoid Skywalker entirely, even if only in conversation. Firmus would allow it for the time being - but the second that his behavior became anywhere close to being detrimental to Skywalker's safety, he'd had to have a firm discussion with him about putting personal issues aside.
He didn't care what opinion his officers held about Skywalker as long as they were willing to do what was necessary to see this thing through. Not that he wasn't sympathetic. Max was a good friend of his and had been for several years now and Firmus had a pretty good idea of what was upsetting him.
It was Zevulon.
Firmus wasn't a father himself and he had never felt any particular pull to be one either. The military had always been his true calling and having family when he knew that they would never be his first priority had seemed wrong. He was content with his decision but he also knew that Skywalker's presence and the revelation that he was Lord Vader's son was tugging at a wound that Max had previously been able to ignore.
He did not know the details of that particular fallout and Max kept most of his personal problems to himself. But Firmus imagined that it was painful for one father who had lost a son to politics and opposing opinions to suddenly have to witness another father suddenly gain a son in spite of those exact same differences.
It was less Skywalker that Max was angry with and more the fact that he was angry with himself for failing to see what had been happening with his son before it was too late for him to try and fix it.
As far as Firmus knew, Max's opinion about the Rebellion remained largely unchanged. He was an Imperial loyalist, through and through, and had a temper to match. He had spoken some harsh words against Zevulon following his defection to the Rebellion, frustrated and ashamed by the betrayal.
It had only been in recent months, when a small group of captured rebels had been publicly executed that Max had finally ceased cursing his son for shaming their family. Firmus supposed that whatever issues and resentment he had didn't hold up as well when the end result of this war was going to be a blaster shot through his son's head.
Funny, Firmus thought quietly, the things that fathers would do for their sons.
His commlink vibrating against the wood of his side table drew his attention away from his thoughts. Setting his glass down, he picked it up and accepted the call.
"Go for Admiral Piett," Firmus said calmly.
"Sir, this is Security Officers Nayee and Verhoeven. We have detained a crew member who was discovered making active threats against Commander Luke Skywalker on Engineering Deck 66. We were told to use this channel to contact you in order to ask how you would like us to proceed with him."
Ah.
He wasn't surprised; this wasn't the first call he'd gotten. Skywalker had been making short appearances among the crew for the last several days with Lord Vader. His presence on board was the center of almost every conversation; Hurdiss had assembled a team that was now in charge of monitoring the ship's communication channels, keeping an eye out for any intel or particularly aggressive feelings that were being expressed about him between crewmembers.
Skywalker was never going to be accepted quietly. It didn't matter who he was related to; not when there were Imperial loyalists who would sooner disown their own children and see them dead in the ground before seeing them be anything other than loyal to the Empire.
The Empire was a brutal entity and her people reflected that as citizens and military. Especially here on the flagship.
An admirable trait, in some specific circumstances. The Empire was strong and that it was a government force designed to do what was necessary, without the interference of opposing political parties. Simple, in some regards but effective under the right leadership.
Firmus had done his fair share of studying the Republic and her downfall and he had long ago come to the conclusion that the Empire was the better option. He held that opinion still… but he could no longer deny that it was becoming a monster, unchecked and uncontrolled by an unfeeling ruler.
What had opened his eyes to the damage that the Empire was committing against itself was the unnecessary deaths of two billion sentients on a pacifist planet with certain suspected political affiliations, in order to test out a military weapon during a time of undeclared war.
Firmus hadn't had much of an opinion of Palpatine before and a mobile battle station had seemed like an effective preventative measure to dissuade potential uprisings and war from breaking out. A weapon to keep the peace.
He understood better now that in actuality, it was a blaster being held against the head of every living thing in the galaxy. Palpatine, the bastard, had to go. There was nothing necessary about destroying a planet. No man deserved to have that kind of power and no man who clearly had no regard for life at all deserved to lead the Empire and its people.
Under someone like that, they were all nothing but pawns.
Disposable.
Firmus hadn't gotten this far in life just to be considered as disposable to the government that he had sworn to serve.
"Kill him and dispose of the body," he ordered. Then, he downed the last of his whiskey.
There was a brief pause and then a firm, "Copy that."
Satisfied, he set the commlink and his glass aside and stood up, making his way toward the refresher. He needed to shower before going to bed. Five hours was all he needed anymore to get through a sixteen-hour shift, but six was definitely preferable. He knew that the next few days were going to be particularly busy and stressful.
It brought him no pleasure to execute any officer serving on his ship. But there was something bigger at play right now and he needed Lord Vader to get rid of Palpatine and Lord Vader needed Skywalker.
One of the very first commanding officers that he'd ever served under had often said that the end often justified the means.
In this instance, Firmus was inclined to agree with him.
He wasn't taking any chances.
A/N Thanks for reading!