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Chapter 6
"Why didn't Obi-Wan deactivate the tracker and just take control of the Death Star last time?" The voice murmured under his breath with mirthless sarcasm.
Deep within the armored hull of the battle station, a figure slipped through the shadows, moving with a silent, deadly grace.
The green lightsaber vibrated softly as he ignited it, casting an eerie glow in the dimly lit corridors of the Death Star. He kept the blade low, moving with the precision and poise that only years of training could bring. The Stormtroopers patrolling this sector were composed.
As he rounded a corner, Luke sensed them before he saw them—three Stormtroopers chatting idly by a blast door. Without a moment's hesitation, he sprung. The first never saw it coming; his blaster clattering to the floor as Luke's blade impaled through his heart. The second trooper barely had time to elevate his weapon before he too fell, a swift strike eviscerating him as well. The third trooper managed to fire three blaster bolts but was unable to do anything further as Luke swung his lightsaber, cutting through her armored chest, a slight feminine shout followed as she joined her fallen comrades.
Luke deactivated his lightsaber; the hum fading into silence as he looked down at the bodies. A flicker of remorse passed through him. These were not the architects of the Empire's tyranny, merely soldiers following orders. But the mission was clear—these deaths, though regrettable, would save countless lives.
He pressed on, moving deeper into the heart of the Death Star. His presence was a shadow, flitting from one darkened alcove to another. He encountered more troopers, each time dispatching them with swift, precise strikes. The green blade flashed in the darkness as more fell to his blade.
As he reached the detention level, Luke paused. He could feel the fear and despair emanating from the prisoners held within the cells—Rebel fighters, captured spies, and political dissidents. All of them had been doomed to languish here until the Empire decided their fates.
He approached the control panel, his fingers dancing over the keys as he countermanded the security systems. One by one, the cell doors slid open with a hiss, and the prisoners stepped out, blinking in disbelief at their sudden freedom.
He reflected with astute bitterness that these may have been the people on the bloody station last time. It was likely they believed rescue was coming, or that they had to come to peace with the fact that their time of imprisonment had come to an end.
"Who are you?" One of them asked, a grizzled man with the look of a veteran fighter.
"There's no time to explain," Luke replied, his voice calm but urgent. "Take these blasters, and head to the docking bay, and find any ships you can. Get off this station. I'll deal with the rest."
"There was an uprising before! " A dark-haired man pointed out. "It was a crazy man with that type of glow stick." he motioned to Luke's lightsaber. "Vader's troopers gunned him down. How do we know the same ain't going to happen to you, kid?"
"I have cleared out all who came here. You just have to be careful." Luke had already deactivated the tracker.
"I don't know if we should do this," a young woman spoke, this one with brown hair, "we might be as good as dead."
"I rather not spend the rest of my life rotting in this bloody cell," the veteran huffed, eyeing Luke.
"Go," Luke reinforced, "if you want to at least have a chance of survival."
The man nodded, sensing Luke's authority. "Thank you," he said simply before turning to lead the others. Come on, let's go!"
As the prisoners fled, Luke continued deeper into the Death Star, navigating its labyrinthine corridors with the Force. The control room was his next target—the nerve center of the Death Star. The entire station would be at his mercy if he could seize control of it.
The control room was heavily shielded, with squads of Stormtroopers stationed at every entrance. But Luke was undeterred. He reached out with the Force, sensing their positions, their thoughts, and their lawful conviction.
In one fluid motion, he activated his lightsaber and charged. The first squad barely had time to react before they were cut down, the green blade hacking through their ranks like a scythe through wheat. Blaster bolts flew, but Luke absorbed them, the bolts flying back at their owners, dropping them one by one. The remaining troopers tried to form a defense, but it was no use.
Within seconds, the control room was silent, save for the faint frizzle of severed circuits and the gentle buzzing sound of the lightsaber. Luke extinguished the blade, his breathing steady, though his heart ached with the toll of what he had done again. These men were enemies, yes, and killing them was unavoidable; but it had been a reminder that no conflict had complete morality. They had family and friends who would be stuck with the job of burying them.
He shook off the thoughts again, allowing the determination for what was important right now to take over. There was still work to be done. Moving quickly, Luke accessed the main console, his fingers flying over the controls. The vast array of systems was at his disposal—life support, weapons, propulsion. The entire Death Star was his to command.
He set about initiating a series of controlled malfunctions—nothing too severe, but enough to cause chaos across the station. Power surged in the barracks, false alarms in the hangar bays, and atmospheric disruptions in the command sectors. The Death Star would be thrown into pandemonium, its crew scrambling to contain the myriad of crises unfolding simultaneously.
Finally, Luke set the last command—a timed overload in the main reactor. It would give the escaping prisoners enough time to get clear before the entire station went up in a blaze of glory. He paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the final command key. Was this the right choice? Was there another way? But as he closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, he felt the answer. The lives he had spared today would go on to fight another day. The Death Star had to be destroyed—it was too great a threat to leave standing. It was too late to save Despayre.
It wasn't to save Alderaan.
With a deep breath, Luke pressed the key. The reactor began to overload, a low rumble resonating through the floor beneath his feet.
He concentrated with not even half of his power and allowed the Force to course through his veins. It traveled through the station, gripping the station's reactor as it began to strain from within, desperate to be released. In one singular stroke, Luke was in control of the Death Star, preventing it from exploding with all of them on it.
His task completed, Luke turned and left the control room, moving swiftly through the corridors now alive with flashing lights and blaring alarms. The station was in chaos, exactly as he had intended. He encountered no more resistance—most of the troopers were too busy trying to manage the emergencies Luke had created.
"Son..." Vader said telepathically, his voice borderline awed, "I have seen it all..."
"It's nothing," Luke disregarded.
"You're occupied with holding this accursed station together with only a quarter of your power." Vader stated. "You may be as powerful as the Emperor, if not more so."
Even after all of this time, that praise sent pride through his chest.
Darth Vader couldn't deny the jubilation he felt at the amount of power his son possessed.
All that power and proper control. Vader could almost even admire the effort. It would be easy for Luke to embrace the Dark Side, but he'd refused to follow it. It was similar to the same beliefs Anakin Skywalker once had.
Alas, that was yet another moment of weakness.
Vader would be powerful enough to protect his son and daughter, not Anakin Skywalker. Skywalker failed his family. He couldn't demonstrate proper restraint and control over his powers, just when he had enough to save his wife. For that reason alone, Skywalker was better off dead.
Vader won't fail.
His daughter was also a factor.
The knowledge of the Yuuzhan Vong also changed his prerogatives. For that, if anything else, the Empire of his dreams would have to be delayed. Starting with here and now...
"Your report, Lord Vader?"
"Grand Moff," Vader stated in greeting, looking at the man sitting in his chair.
The Grand Moff had been particularly gleeful in the idea of apprehending Princess Leia. While Vader held no disdain for the Princess outside of a militaristic one, that had evaporated when he'd discovered the truth.
"The Princess has escaped custody," the Dark Lord stated.
A muscle in Tarkin's jaw throbbed in vexation. "How could you let her to escape?" he demanded.
"I let nothing happen, " Vader replied, phlegmatic. "While I was interrogating the Princess's personnel, my men's oversight costed them. As such, they will be dealt with."
Another voice spoke up. Admiral Motti. "Very few are notorious for escaping your custody, Lord Vader. Perhaps your time with the Empire is stagnant and indelible."
If it were up to Vader, Motti would have been terminated by now. Motti was a deeply zealous man, a fact acknowledged by Tarkin. The Grand Moff long since held the opinion that once the Rebels were destroyed, the pretentious man would receive a promotion to Moff. Indeed, the Admiral was very ambitious, and though he seemed loyal to the Emperor, in truth Motti harbored dreams of becoming Emperor himself. He attempted to convert Tarkin to his cause, trying to convince the Grand Moff that whoever controlled the Death Star could control the galaxy. If Tarkin did destroy Palpatine, the Admiral would then arrange Tarkin's death cunningly, allowing him to ultimately become Emperor.
Motti would serve no use being left alive.
"Did her personnel possess the location of the Rebel Base?" Tarkin cut in before an argument could proceed.
"No. They did not."
The Grand Moff scowled. "Then the Rebels are lost to us."
A small smirk fell on Motti's lips. "Not to worry, Grand Moff, the Death Star has completed primary trials and is ready for the big one: the destruction of a planet. The Empire needs to make a statement; a politically important and culturally valuable world must be selected."
"And waste countless resources and lives on whatever planet it may be?" Admiral Tagge spoke in indignation. Vader sensed the genuine love for the Empire from the man. A foil for him and his son's efforts on a later date, perhaps.
Tarkin's eyes gleamed, ignoring the man's protests. "Perhaps Alderaan can still be useful to us after all. I'm sure Her Highness will endeavor to go there next." The implications were clear.
"Alderaan is one of the shining jewels in the galaxy. Destroying a planet of the Core would cause revolutions!" Another spoke up. Colonel Yularen of ISB. "Have the Emperor even been informed?"
Tarkin's condescending laugh followed that proclamation. "The Emperor has placed me in charge of this battle station. As such, I have authorization to annihilate any planet of my choosing."
The Dark Side flared around Vader.
He was not the Emperor's pawn any longer. One of the constant conflicts a Sith had to fight was keeping their powers in control-struggling with the Dark Side to prevent it from clouding their vision as it did Skywalker on Mustafar when his wife came before him, pleading for him to end this.
Vader looked at the Moff and mumbled a single word.
"No."
"What?"
"No, Grand Moff," Vader replied, his voice full of ire now at the thought of the Princess. "Admiral Tagge and Colonel Yularen is correct. Annihilating Alderaan would be meaningless and provoke only further problems for the Empire."
The Force churned in eager anticipation.
"The Emperor gave you permission to destroy one planet as a show of force. However, there are conditions. Protocol outlines a dozen or so planets that were listed as "acceptable to destroy", with a small subset of those requiring the Commanding Officer of the station to consult the Emperor first. Need I remind you this is so that the Emperor could have time to use the media to twist some negative propaganda against the planet in question? Alderaan is one of those. "
"The Emperor will suppo-!" Tarkin shouted, fury burning through him.
"Alderaan isn't some backwater in the Outer Rim, or some well-known hotbed of crime and rebellion. It is one of the eldest members of the Galactic Republic, well-known as a cultural center and garden world with a history of promoting peace and civility extending back thousands of years. Should Alderaan be destroyed, this can escalate to riots on Coruscant and many worlds across the Empire. Alderaan is a compliant, malleable member world of the Empire: Many Imperial citizens will see that their government was one that could issue swift death from above at any time, even if they had been perfectly loyal. You can be contributing to the Rebellion because it is a massively effective tool."
The Dark Lord stepped closer. Now was the time. Part of the Sith wanted to see Tarkin go down with his prized superweapon. This weapon was a waste of years of resources, something that all who discovered what happened shall understand.
"You are a threat to the Empire and to the Emperor, and you will be dealt with accordingly."
Tarkin swallowed hard and looked fiercely at Vader with wide eyes. "You can't touch me, Lord Vader," he said in a shaky voice. "The Emperor needs me."
Vader scoffed, "He needs the Empire's stability and fleets," he retorted, "you are irrelevant."
"You wouldn't–"
Vader held out his right hand, catching the old man by surprise as his hands shot to his throat on instinct.
"Vader! Let him go! Now!" Motti shouted, standing up along with several others.
Vader said nothing. The Grand Moff's face began to turn blue. Exacerbating his grip on his throat, several snapping sounds echoed through the air. Tossing him away, Tarkin's corpse landed on his back on the nearby table, undignified. Some inched their fingers to the blasters on their holsters.
"Touch those blasters and you'll follow Tarkin's fate," Vader threatened. That caused them to stiffen, seeming to mull over this new move.
"The Emperor will be informed of this!" Motti exclaimed, the only one who didn't heed the warning, hands shaking over his blaster.
"How about you, Motti?" Vader asked, uncaring of that. "How long have you plotted to use this Death Star to overthrow the Emperor? To squash all opposition within to seize the throne."
Vader amplified his negative emotions through the Force with a small tilt of the head that no one saw. Unexpectedly, he required less coercing than Tarkin...
Motti growled. "The Emperor's term has long since expired! A new face is required for this Empire to flourish!"
Fool...
With the amount of sharp eyes turning to him at that confession, Vader had won this again. No need to delay this further, or else Motti's death could be perceived as a martyr.
"Unfortunately, your term will never begin."
Motti stepped back, his throat convulsing. The next second, his legs kicked at empty air, his hand loosening over his blaster and dropping onto the ground with a thud.
Apathetic, Vader snapped his windpipe and tossed him next to Tarkin on the table. The reactions didn't vary this time. All were staring at Vader with... understanding and newfound respect.
That could be an opportunity for the future. However, they were required elsewhere.
"I sense a disturbance through the Force. This conspiracy has been crafted for years." Vader lied.
It all went over their heads.
"What do you mean?" Hurst Romodi demanded, still somewhat conflicted about Tarkin's death.
Vader provided, "There's a switch that Tarkin crafted to destroy the Death Star in the case of his death. I am holding this station together but my concentration may falter shortly. If you wish to survive, you all have ten minutes to evacuate. No one else needs to perish here."
They all stood up and began to charge out of the conference room. One of them set off an alarm mere ten seconds later, and evacuations began, as the Death Star was compromised.
Appreciation shot through the Force. "I knew you could do it."
Vader disregarded the praise and began moving to his quarters on the Death Star, entered, and typed into the console, withdrawing all of the currencies and anything else within his control. Indeed, he wasn't as loyal as the Emperor believed. He altered the codes and passwords for each of them, making it improbable for anyone but him to access them, before shutting them down.
Less than ten minutes later, Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader exited the Death Star's hangar in his personal TIE Fighter.
They would have to make several jumps and disable the tracker.
Waiting for them to fly some distance away, his son let go of the Force and allowed the station to crackle as if buzzing before an explosion engulfed that technological terror.
All within a span of a second, the Death Star was evaporated from existence...
"What happened last time?" Vader asked curiously.
"The Rebels launched a successful attack on the Death Star..." Luke answered, feeling a clenching ache in his side.
"I envision after Tarkin tracked them down."
"Shrewd," Luke confirmed.
He tilted his helmeted head slightly. "The battle impacted you. Beyond the millions of moralities there's more."
"You shot down my best friend," Luke retorted airily but without anger.
"I see."
"He might be as good as dead even now."
"He will survive," Vader responded nimbly, "you're far more powerful now."
"I cannot protect him from the force of nature," Luke replied, uncertain if he would be successful.
"...What else shall we travel to?" Vader inquired, altering the subject for a later discussion. "Will we reunite with your foster family?" He would have to see to interrogating them for their sincerity shortly, though avoid any permanent harm; either mental or physical that would damage his son's relationship with him, not to mention his psyche.
"No, we have one final place to go to," Luke answered.
Vader was bemused but obliged to follow his son for now.
The short-term objective was to travel with his son and carry out the next plan. The Death Star had already been obliterated and prevented from destroying Alderaan, allowing him to not lose his daughter forever.
The long-term plan was to destroy the Emperor and rebuild the Empire to something new to rival these Far Outsiders, establish a bond with his daughter, save his grandchild, guarantee her husband and the father of that said child wouldn't hurt her, save Luke's wife...
And most importantly, help his son.
Vader made a vow not to be the same as his Master was with him. Losing Padmé destroyed both Skywalker and Vader, but it gave the latter the stubbornness to ensure his child didn't go through the same trauma. His son presented him with an interesting predicament; Luke was as desperate as Skywalker when he gave his heart content to Sidious to mold and twist his mind.
The same mustn't happen to him.
The Emperor mustn't be in a position where he could destroy Luke's mind. Time favored them, allowing Vader to aid in rebuilding his son.
And with that in mind, they were traveling away from everything that Vader had constructed for the last twenty years: his vessel, his troopers, his Empire.
Oddly, the feeling was akin to freedom.
Author's note: To address a review, yes, every Force Adept in my stories is insanely powerful. However, the way I depict the Force does have limitations, and overexertion is possible as with all magical abilities; similar to the EU, not the video game Disney Canon depicts it as. That doesn't mean that someone wouldn't be powerful nevertheless. Luke is powerful. So is Vader, Sidious, Yoda, etc. No nerfing will occur here for ANYONE. There will be logistics attained though. After all, the entire galaxy doesn't care about the Light, Dark, etc.
Note: Vader only knows about Anakin and maybe suspects Luke has a child (Ben) since he knows he was married; but not Jacen and Jaina. In his haze, Luke didn't inform him of them by accident so Vader thinks Leia lost her only child. Vader also doesn't know about Mara Jade. Both will be plot points picked up later.
The timeline has been irreversibly altered beyond recognition, with the future in motion. I try to make it so that a character depends less and less on memories of the original timeline. I don't try to keep things the same for long and want to make them slowly despondent through positive and negative changes, since everyone gets a vote in these things. HFTF!Luke had to play along with the "script" (mostly) for the first few chapters because he wanted Anakin and Shmi freed ASAP. ARH!Luke doesn't have the same restrictions as HFTF!Luke. He already has lived this life and more or less knows what he's doing. HFTF!Luke has to rely on his historical knowledge and deal with unpleasant changes along the way.
May the Force be with you all always.