When Han arrived at the familiar tall, heavy doors to Luke's opulent prison, it was to a scene of organised bedlam. There were about three times as many guards as normal, the two sets of heavy blast doors which marked the entrance to the sprawling apartments uncharacteristically shut and heavily guarded, large, roll-away boxes lining the wide main corridor within, filled with what looked like explosion debris, so fine and unrecognisable were the fragments. He glanced to his right as they took off his binders and cycled open the heavy bolts to the long dining hall, the first of the three rooms the kid was imprisoned in.
The roomy, unused office opposite was also full of the boxed debris.

"Kid's been busy, huh?" he asked his guards, who looked ahead in stony silence.

He'd spent the last two weeks alternately worrying that something major had happened to the kid and reassuring himself that nothing would- that the Emperor needed Luke for whatever the hell reason and so wouldn't do anything stupid.
Still, after nine days he'd taken to pacing the cell and lying awake running all kinds of scenarios through his head, banging on the cell door though nobody came.

So finally when the door had slid open today, he'd been so eager to see the kid that he'd stepped forward, hands held out before him for the binders, wrists up, grinning like an idiot.

Then he'd fretted all over again on the way up here, bracing himself for every possible situation.

Except this one, of course. He was marched through the empty dining hall to the locked doors of the cavernous room beyond, slowing his step to look at the massive damage being repaired about the centre-three windows in the long, tall run to the dining-room wall. Whole panes had been removed, the plaster about them chipped away to show for the first time the massive fortification hidden within, organic steel girders and massive alloy slabs set against each-other, the transparisteel windows bonded back into the main structure, the fine monofilaments within running not just through the panes themselves but welded into the body of the frame, and that bonded into the main structure beyond. The jumpy guards pushed him forward as he slowed, taking up position around the drawing room door before it was released.

He entered the vast arch-ceiling drawing room, the incessant oppressive silence of the huge, impersonal space being chipped at by a constant stream of noise from the bedroom beyond, the muffled conversations of many voices.

Luke turned casually, eyes fixing on Solo.

Something was different- Han knew immediately, though he didn't know what. Something about Luke... he looked…different somehow. Not just the clothes- Han was getting used to seeing Luke like this, in perfectly-fitted, expensive clothing, always flawlessly tailored. Hand-made boots, luxurious, hand-stitched shirts in vinesilk or cortal linen, presenting an overall appearance which was groomed and casually affluent, so very much in keeping with the self-assured, prosperous excesses of Palace life, whether the kid wanted that or not.

His hair had been cut short too since Han had last been allowed to see him- very short.

But it was none of these things which made him seem so different today. It was his manner, his eyes, the wariness of the guards who tip-toed around him.

The way that for some reason, Han already felt he should do the same.

Then the kid rose, walked toward him smiling broadly… and he was Luke again…just…with an edge, maybe.

Han opened his arms in automatic answer. It was this moment, these few brief seconds when they leaned in, patting each-other's backs in a friendly embrace, that they were able to exchange a brief burst of whispered information.

"We're leaving this week. Late." Luke murmured, and Han nodded silently as they pulled apart.

"Been busy, huh?" Han said casually, gesturing to the room beyond.

"No- not at all."

There was something in the kid's manner that was hard to pin down- something erratic and edgy. This close, Han noticed that Luke's face was covered with fine cuts and grazes, frowning in silent question.

Luke merely turned away, as if he hadn't noticed, his manner restless and wired.

"Come in why don't you, Red." He invited without turning

Han glanced back to the slim, trim redhead who was walking in from the bedroom beyond to monitor the conversation, as she always did when Han was there. Today though, his eyes were drawn to a glimpse of the bedroom, completely empty, a haze of dust in the air.

Han gestured to Luke's, short, military haircut, "Someone get a little carried away with the clippers?"

Luke only glanced away again, vaguely dismissive. 'I think it's the only cut they know around here'

Doesn't want to talk about that either, then. Han frowned; "You okay?"

The kid's voice remained completely neutral, "I'm fine."

" 'Cos you seem a little…wired." Han pushed.

"No." Luke replied.

Han glanced uneasily at Jade, who held his gaze for a second too long, then turned away.

Luke's voice drew Han's eyes back. "Seems like an age since you were here last- we have a lot to talk about."

Han didn't miss the implication- that they had a great deal they needed to communicate in a short visit without once mentioning anything directly.

"So- how's life below decks?" Luke said.

"Good, good. I was moved this morning from a small white box on Level Nine to a small white box on Level Seven…which is nice."

"Well you know what they say about variety." Luke said. "In fact- maybe I'll come visit you next time."

Han raised his eyebrows slightly at this, knowing that Luke was referring to the escape. It seemed an odd way round to work it when Han had travelled the path up through the Palace so often, yet Luke had never been outside these three rooms. "What, and deprive me of my regular walk?"

Luke paused a second, considering, Han knew. "Maybe we can meet halfway- I'm sure I can arrange that." He half-turned to his wary jailor, "What d'you say, Red? Trip out next week?"

She merely raised her eyebrows in silence.

"She loves that idea." Luke said, turning back to Han, "She's very excited."

Solo kept his eyes on Jade, "How can you tell?"

"She raised both eyebrows."

Jade turned to walk smoothly to a chair some distance away- to give some appearance of privacy when it was no such thing, Han knew. How could the kid stand this, to be watched all the time?
When he turned back to Luke, the kid's eyes and thoughts were still on her, "Red thinks I'm gonna do something stupid today." He observed, tone dryly amused, more of a taunt to the silent redhead than it was an explanation to Han.

Han wondered how the kid would take it if he pointed out that he was with Jade on this one…

Immediately, Luke turned to him, eyes sharp and searching, and Han knew he didn't have to say it out loud. But the challenge died unsaid as, quick as it had appeared, the momentary anger was gone, and Luke only laughed, turning to walk to the tall windows.

"Well you're both wrong," he said easily, eyes to the horizon, "I'm fine."

The brittle silence hung for long moments…

"So-" Luke turned back suddenly, "How's life on Level..?"

"Seven." Han repeated, trying to keep his reply casual, "Minus seven I'm guessing, from the distinct lack of windows down there. See, you got this whole fresh air and daylight thing going on up here. We don't get that below decks."

"No, but you get the weekly walk through the Palace. That's a good ten minutes of freedom."

There was the slightest of questions in the last, and Han reacted accordingly, "Twenty minutes easy- but then I make the most of it. Maybe ten if you were running flat out. Plus the inclision grids at the Tower entrance slow us down a lot, gives me some time to sightsee. And the security checks every three…"

"That's enough." Jade said simply.

Both men fell silent for a few moments, Luke half-turning back into the room.

Solo kept his head down, surreptitiously trying to look at the fine grazes all over the kid's face, uneasy at his mercurial manner.

"You look tired." He said at last, genuine concern in his voice.

"Just sick of being cooped up." Luke dismissed, "I'm ready for some fresh air."

Han nodded, his concern not settled a whit. "You know," He said at last, turning to look out at the city, "Last time I was on Coruscant I was complaining because I had no-where to stay. Now I'm in the Imperial Palace. Admittedly not the best room in the house, but still…"

Luke turned sharply, understanding, "How long ago?"

"Four or five years." Not too long, was the inference.

"Doing what?"

"Dropping off." Han said vaguely.

"Where?"

"Tyren Islands- a district actually, near the equator. There's a few spots there." Now wasn't time to be giving out co-ordinates. "Didn't like 'em though. They were okay for a short stop, but too hot to stay too long." Han said pointedly.

"I like the heat, you know that." Luke reassured.

"You've just been in it too long. It gets like that." Han said, keeping his tone casual.

Luke smiled, knowing what he was saying, but wishing to disperse the conversation a little for Mara's ears. "No- desert born and bred. I think the novelty of snow on Hoth wore of about the same time as I lowered the Falcon's landing ramp."

"You were the one who kept volunteering for perimeter checks and dragging me out with you." Han accused good-naturedly, glad to see the kid smile, if only fractionally.

"It was a rota." Luke said easily without turning from the window.

"You were the Unit Commander- you could have left your name out, y'know."

Luke shrugged dismissively, "I liked Yavin though- and Circarpous. Liked the greenery." his eyes turned down to the verdant roof gardens of the Main Palace below. "Like the gardens here. I'd like to visit them one day."

It took a second for Han to work this out, then he glanced down, affecting a disinterested air. "Well, unlike me, you're in the right place. You can't get to them from the Main Palace, they're completely sealed off. I don't think you can even get through…"

"Stop it." Mara interrupted, editing the conversation again. Luke turned quizzically but she wasn't amused. "Stop discussing how to get from the Towers to the Palace."

"I already know how to get from the Towers to the Palace." Luke said dismissively, turning away.

Mara narrowed her eyes, "And you would know that how?"

He gestured with a sideways glance to the bedroom, "You really should use 'droids occasionally and not sentient minds. Everyone in that room came up through the Palace into the Towers this morning; it's in the mind of every single person who walks through here, Red. Yourself included."

It wasn't quite a challenge, but Mara knew Solo too could hear the short fuse when the kid spoke, which was rare enough to make him shift uneasily.
"You can't read my mind." She dismissed, the barest hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"You think those shields stop me? They don't."

"Liar."

He half-turned to her, his face hidden in the brightness of the daylight behind him. "When have I ever lied to you, Red?"

She turned away, unwilling to be pulled into an argument with him when he was so uncharacteristically volatile. But he wouldn't let her off so easily.

"Worried?" he had a wicked grin on his face, but she wasn't about to be brow-beaten by him.

"Hardly." She lied.

"You should be." He said simply, voice amused and brittle, the uneasy truth of his next words stopping her cold, "I am."

Then he turned away again, all his attention focused on Solo, leaving Mara to study him closely, no longer listening to what they were saying.
He was slipping, increment by infinitesimal increment. Too long under her master's influence, frustrated and bound, constrained and provoked, he was loosing perspective and gaining an edge, volatile and erratic, quicksilver fast.

And he knew it.

Vader walked through the towering, lavishly decorated halls which led to the Throne Room, grinding his jaw in distaste as Councillors and Senators and Moffs paused in whatever malicious whispers they were spreading to bow lightly and politely as he passed, though he never once acknowledged them.

He had been summoned to Court, something he disliked intensely, the pomp and ceremony which his Master had instigated grating against his reigned-in distaste.

He wasn't stupid- wasn't blind to what his Master did. The intricate formalities and etiquettes of Court were designed expressly to intimidate, to instil insecurity and hesitation into anyone coming into that most exclusive of circles- to dissuade anyone without prior knowledge from daring to intrude.
Thus an elite was formed, who had a vested interest in maintaining their own position and therefore by extension the Emperor's, whilst Palpatine kept close to himself all those who held any power- and he made it his business to know them all.

.

Before one entered the Throne Room, one must travel through the Attendant's Hall, an equally large and lavish space, three storeys high and awash with the constant chatter of many languages, always crowded out by literally hundreds of lackeys and sycophants petitioning for entry to Court in hope of gaining the Emperor's patronage, which was always strictly rationed, though when one was in his favour, there were no limits to his generosity. But in order to gain position or favour, one must do it at the expense of another, and risk either the Emperor's amusement or his wrath. 'Dead Man's Shoes', they called it.

The vast chamber fell to an observant hush as Vader strode through it, looking neither left nor right, having no time for the petty power-plays of these contemptible parasites.
They were everything he had once thought his Master would remove. Everything he'd once hoped to have the power to remove himself. Now there seemed more and more of them every day, crowded into these halls and this Palace, exchanging power for money or money for power. He hated them, every one, their weakness was sickening- but no less than his own for tolerating them.

The grand, floor-to-ceiling double-doors of the Throne Room,where his Master held Court swung open, scarlet-robed Royal Guards stepping back to allow Vader entrance- he was never made to wait.

He walked forward without breaking stride into the whispering shadows of the lofty, imposing, expansive hall beyond, the gathered assemblage turning to view the entrant, lowering their heads in polite acknowledgement of his status.

The Throne Room consisted of a cavernous Audience Chamber whose carved, fluted pillars and crenulations were picked out with thousands upon thousands of small sheets of rose and yellow gold, whose lustre reflected the low light, subtle striations of vermillion and cobalt blue threaded into the metal in flowing, fluid arcs and scrolls on the grandest scale. The distant vaulted ceiling was a mosaic of darkest midnight blue, a perfect representation of the night sky beyond it rendered in fine gold strapwork.
Flanking it to either side, divided from the main chamber by a series of ornate, gilded floor-to-ceiling sliding panels, were less formal but still equally grand private Receiving Rooms which were only reachable by walking through the opulent main hall, and only ever available to the favoured few.
Through them, the sumptuous, elaborate chamber was capable of creating several stately, intimate receiving rooms or one vast, impressive hall, an ornate raised dais at its far end.

On this dais stood Palpatine's precious Sunburst Throne, the extinct Jedi Order's vaunted 'Seat of Prophesy', taken from the Jedi Temple before its destruction. Set above its subjects as Vader's Master always believed he was, the throne refracted subtle light about the dais from the beaten, hammered surface of the precious metal sunburst which formed the backrest, the infamous Son of Suns prophesy engraved in fine, archaic script upon it, the only copy of the prophesy in existence. Had Vader had his way, the prophesy which had hung like a chain about his neck his whole life would have been destroyed along with the chair into which it was carved.

Set in a half-circle into the floor of the throne's wide, deep dais, its mirror-half completing the circle on the floor of the chamber itself, was an inlaid design of creamy Terassotti marble, once naturally occurring on Coruscant, now long-since mined to non-existence. At regular intervals around its outer edge, a featherhead design was inlaid in a muted blue-grey, and a pale russet red circle was laid to its centre, in a complex filigree.
Vader often wondered if anyone else recognised the floor as that of the venerated Jedi Council Chamber; probably not- who was left alive to know?

It would, he knew, give his Master a great deal of satisfaction to have desecrated it so- to know that his throne now rested on the floor that he would once never have been allowed to stand upon.

Now Vader himself stepped forward onto the half-circle set into the floor before the dais, kneeling before his master, eyes lowered and back bent, gazing at the floor which he had once stood upon as a Jedi.

Did that too fill his Master with cold amusement?
He had always sworn that if he ever rose to Emperor, he would have this floor ripped up and destroyed- broken down to dust. If he rose to Emperor.
But the floor remained, and he still bent on one knee each time he came here.

And he knew now that his wish would never be fulfilled. It had outlasted hundreds of generations of Jedi- it would outlast this one Sith.

It gave Vader some small modicum of pleasure to think that it would outlast his Master too- even here.

"Lord Vader." Palpatine lounged upon his throne when everyone before him was made to stand. No-one was allowed to sit in Court- no-one save himself. He loved his power, Vader knew. It gave him no greater pleasure than to wield it.

"What is thy bidding, my Master?" Vader asked, eyes to that familiar floor.

"Rise, my friend, rise." the Emperor bid him magnanimously. "Everything is proceeding as planned."

Vader remained silent, knowing exactly the true subject of this conversation but unwilling to play these pointless word games with his Master. Unsure why he was being included in this one, given its context. Though he knew that Palpatine was right- the boy balanced at the brink…but something held him back thus far. Some sense of duty or self-restraint which had always eluded Vader. Or perhaps it was simple stubbornness- in that he and his son were very much alike.

He saw himself reflected in his son a little more every day now. Saw the brittleness, the mercurial mood swings as he struggled to maintain control. Felt the boy's sense in the Force shift.
Luke knew it too- and he fought it, struggled to maintain a connection to something which no longer existed. Could not exist here, so close to the Emperor.

Vader looked to his Master, who had remained silent. Did he expect some answer? A confirmation of his own appraisal in this? If so, it would be the first time.
But then, Vader had a unique perspective in this. A certain…personal connection.

"Yes, Master." He said at last. "Though something remains intact- some limit yet to breach."

Palpatine narrowed his eyes in consideration of this, leaning forward and nodding slowly. Still he remained silent, staring at Vader for a long time, no longer considering his words, Vader knew, but considering him.
Vader held his peace, not wishing to be drawn further, already regretting his words, feeling he had in some way betrayed the boy.

Before the arrival of his son, he would have spoken out of his own discomfort beneath his Master's searching gaze. Now he felt strangely empowered, his son's close presence, his connection and abilities, giving Vader confidence where before he had held none- not before his Master.
And as much as Vader tried to hide this, Palpatine knew it.
He shifted uncomfortably, raising barrier after barrier, realising that he was too late- he had already given too much away; in facing his Master, in speaking his thoughts. In knowing at all.
Palpatine sat back again, some decision made.

"You have done well of late, Lord Vader, and I wish to reward you." The Emperor announced at last, words quick and decisive.

Vaders eyes narrowed beneath his mask; reward? His Master did not reward. What was the wily old Sith doing?

"I am restructuring the fleet to better reflect the needs of my Empire. You will be given new responsibilities and powers my friend, in acknowledgment of your exemplary service."

"Yes, Master." Vader said uneasily, hearing the wary tone in his own deep voice. Looking for the trap.

"My Empire and my fleet are growing ever larger, Lord Vader. I have decreed that the fleet is to be divided for efficiency into two separate commands. One will be named the Core Fleet, responsible for all aspects of maintaining stability in the Core Systems and the Colonies. The second will be named the Rim Fleet and will administer to all other territories and responsibilities, including expanding Imperial space and policing all insurrection and rebellion. The Rim Terrirories require a strong hand and a dedicated, loyal commitment to Imperial policy. Your experience and diligence in such areas has earned you the right to command the Rim Feet in my name, my friend. I can think of no-one I would trust more."

Ah, there it was- the twist of the knife.

He was being sent away, Vader realised. Away from the Palace and away from his son. His Master needed time to bring the boy fully to heel- to guarantee his loyalty. Vader's presence was now an unwanted complication. The Rim territories were vast and with no legitimate reason to take his fleet in to the Core Colonies, Vader would remain away for extended periods of time. Masterfully done... but then he had expected no less from the man who brought a Republic to its knees.

Palpatine twisted thin lips to a triumphant smile. "You are to go to the Meridian Sector immediately, my friend. Your fleet will be reassigned to join you in the coming days."

Vader's chin rose in shock at this, "Now?"

The Emperor paused to stare Vader down and he held that hard glare for long seconds before he crumbled, the chains which held him too old and too ingrained to withstand.

"As you wish, Master."

Palpatine continued now, as if the interruption had never taken place, "There is word of a Rebel unit hiding in the Gion Asteroid belt. Hunt them down in my name as only you can, Lord Vader. Destroy them completely. This is the first mission for your new fleet my friend, and you are to dedicate yourself to it completely. I know you will not fail me."

There was a finality to his last words which indicated dismissal and Vader bowed low in response, backstepping before turning to leave.

The susurration of whispers as he strode down the vast hall set his teeth on edge. Blind, power-hungry fools; they saw only that the Emperor had rewarded the loyalty of his favoured servant.

Vader knew the truth- that this empty honour had taken his son from him…and with it any chance of securing the boy's loyalty.

Strangely, in that moment of realisation, the former meant far more to him than the latter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Eleven long weeks- stimulating and challenging and enervating. And dormant promise was finally shaping into workable potential. Inherent traits finally breaking through the pressure fractures.
Palpatine rose, stalking forward around the table impeccably set for a dinner never eaten, reaching out to rest his hand on the boy's shoulder as he reached him, feeling him tense in wary reaction, the air in the cavernous chamber charged.

And his Jedi, his sense in the Force blaring out with agitation now, layers of repressed anger threatening to overcome all logic.

"This is why they would not teach you, my friend. Why they hid you in the desert and left you to rot. Surely you wondered why they delayed your training?"

Palpatine stopped behind the chair, his hand still on the boy's shoulder, the close proximity to such wildly fluid power drawing him in, urging him on, his voice a hissing whisper of shared outrage. "They were afraid of you. Of what you would become."
He paused, aware that he was walking a fine line. He was pushing for a reaction to see just what the boy was capable of. See it for himself- sense it. Know the extent of the power Vader's son could command; whether it was equal to his father. But at the same time he wanted him to fail, to recognise the limitations of the lessons they had taught him, to realise that he could so easily move beyond them with Palpatine's aid.

Now was the time to take control, to push the advantage, to take the conversation where he willed it, knowing that the boy was too committed to turn away.
"Why teach one who some day you may have to destroy? Why not wait and watch? An untrained mind would be so much easier to…deal with, should the need arise. Why do you think Kenobi waited and watched from the desert as you grew?"
He leaned down to whisper, close enough that his breath caught against the boy's hair, bringing his head about slightly. "Would you like the truth, my friend?"

His Jedi took a breath to speak, but Palpatine pushed on before he had a chance to do so, fingers tightening about his shoulder to silence him, "The truth- the real truth- is that your precious teacher was placed there to be your judge, jury and executioner."

Luke shook his head, though he did not pull away, "That's not true…"

"Then why did he not teach you?" Palpatine demanded, knowing from the boy's tensed shoulders that he had delivered a blow.

Still he did not turn, blue eyes searching before him as his mind sought an answer. "To protect me."

"From the Sith? We would not sense Kenobi, a trained Jedi Knight, yet we were supposed to sense you? You know that cannot be. You know the truth." Palpatine hissed, "Kenobi hid you in the desert, then he stepped back to watch you grow and struggle, trying to live within the confines of an ordinary life, knowing how this would constrain and frustrate you- yet he never divulged your heritage. Never once gave you any information, any explanation, no matter how obscure. Why?" Palpatine pressed down against the boy's shoulders, holding him captive, demanding his attention, his voice damning.
"You say he wanted to protect you, but what better protection than knowledge, child? Potential Jedi were trained from infancy- yet he never attempted to do this, never once offered guidance, though he knew- he knew- that this would someday happen...that it was inevitable. No- he did not teach you because he was waiting, my friend. Waiting to see what he would have to deal with- whether he would be able to control it- because if he could not, then his mandate would have been to destroy it rather than see it beyond his command."
It was, after all, exactly as Palpatine would have done.

"But he did teach me."

Because they had to gamble- they had to take the risk that they could instil enough lies and manipulations to control you before I found you."

Palpatine smiled at the boy's confusion, played out in tensed muscles beneath his hands. As if realizing, his Jedi twisted free of the touch without rising, his sense part distaste, part resentment.
Palpatine only smiled, allowing the act, indulging the emotions; feeding them.
Never a direct lie, only ever the truth- as Palpatine saw it. Always logical and plausible and compelling.
Whisperings of doubt were beginning to lodge in the boy's mind now, much as he tried to deny them, much as he declared them untrue. A thousand tiny cuts, a thousand blows quickly landed. If only one drew blood then the damage was done.

And he had drawn blood, Palpatine knew, his voice a triumphant whisper, "But they could not control you completely. They could not change your lineage so they could not change your destiny. Nothing can do that."
He left this thought hanging in the dusky hush, lit more now by the dancing light of the fire than the waning sun, knowing that the boy's knife-edge silence spoke volumes.

Turning, he stepping away to stand before the hearth, gazing into the brightly destructive flickering of the flames, though every ounce of his awareness was centred on the muted, still form of the Jedi behind him. The chaos of doubts which assaulted him now, robbing him of clarity, instilling again that mercurial edge, that wonderfully volatile potential.
Still gazing at the fire, Palpatine shook his head, his voice laced with studied sympathy and empty outrage.

"But how callous an act- to withhold from an orphaned child knowledge of its past, its parents. To watch it struggle to survive, abandoned on some forsaken planet by those who st. Another generation to twist with their insurrection and their lies."

He turned slowly to the boy, whose eyes had not risen from the table before him.

"This is what they did to you, Jedi- knowingly, deliberately. They used the isolation they had created as a way to control you. They took everything from you, not I. They took you from your father and they hid you from me- denied you your birthright. You would have been raised a Scion- Heir to an Empire. They knew this. You accuse me of holding you here, yet I believe I am freeing you from the enforced, restricting environment which they had bound you to… I could not begin to explain to you the life they so deliberately denied you."

Palpatine set forward now, walking to stand beside his Jedi, hand on his shoulder in empty commiseration. Head down, lost in his own thoughts, the boy did not react at all.

"And when they had done this in their own self-serving attempt to control you, when they thought they had you, body and soul, they dragged you centre-stage in their worthless Rebellion, aware of the danger you would be in, knowing that they had left you with a profound weakness. One so easily remedied, yet so grievous that it brought you here, bound and broken and betrayed."

Palpatine stepped closer, gratified that the boy had allowed him to speak for this long without voicing some kind of automatic denial. Long weeks of carefully manipulated events were taking their toll, his words surely kindling burning trails of doubt for the boy to offer so little resistance at Palpatine's accusations now.
"But then perhaps I could see why they would do this. Too close-an examination of the past they had created to contain you would place them in a difficult position. Require them to validate…questionable actions."

The slightest tightening of the boy's shoulders was his only visible reaction, though the Emperor sensed that his mind had flickered in momentary protection and knew his thoughts must be of his mother; that after Palpatine's revelations there must be questions he was burning to ask.
But he did not- so Palpatine could wait. The boy would ask when he was ready to hear… what better time to voice accusations than to a willing audience?
"They used you. More callously than you know. Used you and gave you nothing in return, not even the truth. You weren't even worthy of that in their eyes." His lowered his voice now, relentless, laced with pity and disgust. "How can you defend them, knowing this? Why do you absolve them?"

Skywalker's chin came up in defiance, but he found nothing to say in their defence against this sea of accusations.

Palpatine smiled, gratified, though the boy did not see it. "Obi-Wan may be long gone, but I knew him well, and I can tell you without a shadow of doubt that he cared nothing for you. He blindly fed his cause and sacrificed anything to it without hesitation. Yet he cowered in the desert rather than face me himself. That is the truth of the man whose memory you so honour.
"The Jedi Council to which he belonged hid their true intent behind high morals and lofty ideals which perhaps they once represented generations past, but they had become far removed from this. The Council which Master Yoda so skilfully commanded craved ever greater influence. They controlled everything- politics, trade, planetary protection- manipulated events on a galactic scale."

"And you don't?" Luke's voice was quiet and even, but still held a challenge.

Palpatine smiled; it was a small rebuke and a long time coming, lacking the venom he had expected, though still as quietly resolute as ever.

"I command my Empire." He said without contrition. "I do what is necessary and hide nothing. I have told you, I do not lie. I do not cloak my goals. The Jedi Council sought nothing more spiritual than power. The Republic was crumbling- they fought me for control…and they lost. In you Master Yoda saw a way to regain his forfeited status. It was a gamble, but it was one which he readily took because he had nothing to lose. He did not himself challenge my power though- he has fought me before…he knew he could not win. So instead he found another- an outsider, a dispensable commodity in his eyes. He was quite content to hide in the shadows and send you to the slaughter- another innocent condemned for his cause- send you to do what he knew he could not. Sacrifice you and those about you without the slightest…"

"I think we have finished speaking." Luke said simply, his head turning away, voice quiet but firm.

"Don't EVER interrupt me!" Palpatine shouted his rebuke, hand banging down on the boy's shoulder, a shock of Dark power jolting through his frame.

Luke's heart pounded against his ribs at the fierce reproach, body tensing, hands tightening into fists at the provocation.
"I think we have finished speaking now." He heard the clipped tone of his own voice, heard the frustration and the hostility but in that moment was past caring.

He was sick and tired of being led around. Of honouring a deal which he shouldn't have had to make in the first place, of fighting when nobody gave a damn anymore, of holding back when he knew what he was capable of.

"No, we are not finished talking, Jedi- we have only just begun."

"Then I've finished listening." Voice cut through with barely controlled anger, Luke stood, walking away to return to his quarters. The huge double-doors to the drawing room swung shut in his face, resonating as the multiple bolts slammed home.

"Sit Down!"

"Open the door." Luke ordered, his voice cold fury now.

"Sit down." Palpatine hissed, his tone unmistakable.

Still Luke would not turn from the door. He heard the heavy rustle of cloth as the Emperor turned behind him and in that moment the Force rushed unbidden to his mind, giving a perfect image of the table behind him, every knife on it practically vibrating with the energy about them.
Answering his call- not Palpatine's- he had thought that. And in that moment, he knew how easy it would be.

The reverberating bang of Palpatine's fists on the table made him flinch just slightly, and his jaw tightened further in anger at himself for doing so.

"SIT! "

Still Luke stared forwards in silence.

"The door will not open simply because you stare at it." Palpatine spit out

The derisive, dismissive tone in the Emperor's voice lit a fire in Luke's stomach, searing away all other considerations. Narrowing his eyes, he looked to the huge, heavy wooden-clad doors-

And called the Force…

An inrush of energy, like a change in pressure, like surfacing from deep water and drawing that first breath, like the oxygen he breathed; natural, life-giving, potent

A sheet of intense energy immersed Luke, an unfamiliar twist of raw power tangled through, so that nothing could be hidden, even the smallest increments visible to this intense perception. Now the energy coalesced and defined, diffuse potential converging, frustration and blind fury channelling it as never before.
He pulled this huge well of power in, willed it into crystal-sharp focus, channelled it with absolute precision. Gave it direction, defined his intent and permitted it control in the same instant... allowed it everything it needed,

Gave himself over to it completely…

It blazed through him, his muscles twitching as he strived to confine and control this profound inrush of intense power.

He saw the door- truly saw it for the first time, every fine grain of wood, every striation in the dense slabs of interlinked polymer alloys beneath, rows of heavy bolts embedded in organic steel keeps, bound and inlaid with perennium cables from floor to ceiling, set into a cage of massive girders behind innocuous plaster walls. Every conceivable strength carefully compounded to hold against him.

And it was nothing- nothing at all

He hurled the Force at it, a wall of dense, unstoppable energy, and the heavy wood panelling which covered the true nature of the doors simply collapsed before it, the fine carving compressing inwards, its mass reduced to nothing as he kept on pushing, disintegrating to dust against the might of this single, sustained blow.

And still he pushed forward-

The metal hidden within began to creak; groan beneath the power thrown against it, compression heating it to red hot so the remnants of wood began to smoulder and blacken.
Luke tilted his head, leaning in to the task, indiscriminate fury giving him purpose as he'd never had, all his frustration thrown forward against that which stood in his way.

With a shock of movement, the door wrenched back several inches, masonry from the walls about it exploding outwards in fine powder as the heavy inset bolts began to fail, the keeps pushed back through plassteel block dragging heavy girders and strung cables with them.

Another jolting inch in a screech of tortured metal, the doors completely black now, flaws beginning to rip through the surface as the metal failed under massive, sustained pressure.

Finally Luke threw both hands up, palms out to the door.

The surrounding wall exploded back under the invisible blow, the massive doors torn away as if they were matchwood to bounce against the walls in the room beyond, dragging huge scars in the plaster to reveal the cabled plassteel structure beneath, coming to rest in a mangled crush against the far wall, deep gouges cut into the polished marble floors as they tumbled in a flurry of dust and debris.

Moments passed unchecked, the silence ringing in Palpatine's ears after the cacophony of noise, both mental and physical.

Luke remained perfectly still, the dust rolling back and billowing about him to settle in a fine white haze on the black marble floors.
He did not turn as he spoke, staring straight ahead at the huge, gaping hole ripped into the feet-thick walls where the heavy blast doors had stood, thick cable and dense alloys sheared off about it.

"Apparently they will." He said at last.

.

He walked calmly into the drawing room beyond, passing the destruction he had metered out without a single glance, continuing on into the adjoining chamber, its own huge doors closing in restrained silence behind him.

.

Alone now, Palpatine's face turned slowly to a broad, insidious smile as he looked appreciatively at the incredible destruction his Jedi had wrought.

He knew the power it had taken to do that; the power Skywalker had accessed, had called so easily and so naturally to him.

Slowly, in the reverberating silence, he began to laugh.

Luke slumped to his knees in the still hush of the empty room, that dark instant of flawless clarity gone, a shiver wracking his frame at the cold realisation of a brief affinity.
In the darkness of the huge, soulless chamber, he looked to the freedom beyond the thick panes of the tall windows, terrified in that moment that it was lost to him. Perhaps it could never have been otherwise.
Perhaps it was all he deserved.

Was this destiny?

Staring in mute silence at the moon beyond the Towers, feeling the howling call of the Darkness as never before, he remembered again his childhood dream; the wolf that clung to the shadows, at one with the night, slipping past any defence.
Always hunting, breath misting a snarl in the cold twilight.

Hunting him, he had thought.

But now… now when he slept, there was only himself in those raven shadows, and the Darkness clung to him like a cloak, dragging him down.

Leaving him to prowl the barren night alone.

 incarceration in the same few rooms. Twelve weeks of grinding pressure. Twelve weeks of uncertainty and doubt and incessant provocation.

And it wouldn't end here- not really. Not for him.

But it sure as hell was about to change. For better or worse.

Luke had spent much of the afternoon in the empty bedroom, knelt in meditation- or as near as he could come to it in this dark, desolate place. Putting up shields, raising imperceptible barriers to hide his intent.

He'd realised he could do this days after arriving here, sensing the impression of it in Mara's mind when she spoke to him and using it as a template to guide his own attempts, consistently investing time and effort in improving the same skill, week on week, so that he was pretty confident now that he could not only shield thoughts from Palpatine, but hide the shields also, in such a way that the Sith wasn't aware that something was being hidden.
The trick, Luke had found, was to always leave a few perceptible barriers in place- something to focus attention on- so that although he now hid far more than he showed, he was sure that although Palpatine knew he was hiding things beyond the obvious, he was also sure that the Sith had no idea what or how much.
He was staking a great deal on that theory tonight.

Luke opened his eyes to gaze out into the darkening night. To look at the heavy, filament-reinforced clear plassteel plate of the windows.
Could he break them?

Yes- he knew he could. He knew.

The window was nothing- he had broken down the doors five days ago, which were far heavier…and therein lie the dilemma.

He had destroyed the doors because he had touched Darkness, allowed it sway in his frustration and his anger. But he was aware of his abilities expanding now even without that spur, as if it had somehow opened a portal- or perhaps he simply had faith in his own abilities now, as Master Yoda had always sought to instil.
Or maybe he remained in contact with the Darkness… that thought brought a slight frown to his face; fast, easy power- that was what Master Yoda had said.

But would it be so terrible to use it as a method of escape- to gain Han's freedom? What could possibly be Dark in that intent? He glanced again at the windows, his momentary doubt rejected in the face of greater need.

In his meditative state, he easily picked up on Palpatine's presence as he moved through the Palace in the early evening, heading for Luke's quarters, sense focused, brimming with decisive intent, eager and energised and endlessly self-confident.

When he entered the hall two rooms away, Luke took one final deep, calming breath.

Long night ahead.

Palpatine mouthed and espoused as only he could. Vindictive, manipulative accusations whose words Luke did not even hear, gazing blankly at the old man, listening to his own blood whistling in his ears.
Time passed and he tried to listen, tried to react, tried to hide how wired and tense he was.

He reached out to take the large, engraved glass goblet from the table, momentarily chiding himself for not having taken the time to do this more often so that now it was a common act, casually transferring it to his left hand before bringing it to his dry mouth.

He took a long drink, wishing it were something stronger, aware of his heart pounding, replacing the goblet to the table but not releasing it. Waiting- turning his attention back to Palpatine- concentrate!…

"…tell me that you have been struck from the Rebellion's records- they are disowning you, my friend."

"They wouldn't abandon me so hastily." Luke said, shaking his head.

"You are already gone, jedi." Palpatine smiled, amused.

"Then who destroyed the Death Star?"

"The pilot who destroyed the Death Star died in the battle of Hoth, they say. That is the official line. He died a hero- sacrificed his life for their cause. You are an Imperial agent. A spy who infiltrated their highest ranks and betrayed their every trust- I'm told they fell over themselves to desert you, my friend. To deny any association or connection with the man they couldn't wait to condemn. That is the extent of their loyalty- it always was."

Luke tensed against this final barb, eyes narrowed, jaw tight.

"You have no…" the glass shattered into fragments in his hand, causing him to jump up and back, his chair toppling behind him.

He halted, cradling his injured left hand, blood beginning to flow from deep wounds, mingling with the red wine which stained the perfect white cloth of the table. Teeth clenched, he gingerly pulled at a large fragment which had lodged into the flesh of his palm, dropping the scarlet-smeared shard to the table, reaching back to work a second razor-sharp fragment free.

The Emperor watched all of this in rapt silence, as if it were a diversion acted out for his personal entertainment.

Luke clenched his hand shut against the flow of blood, jumped just slightly, then carefully picked at another deep gash to pull free a vicious glass splinter. Again he squeezed his hand shut, dark, viscous blood oozing between his fingers onto the already-stained cloth.
He gazed at his clenched fist for long seconds before finally lifting his head to Palpatine, eyes burning an accusation.

The Emperor only smiled, eyebrows raised in polite expectation, "Perhaps you'd like another glass?"

Luke glared long seconds before biting out, "Why, do you have something else you'd like to say?"

The Emperor paused considering, as if this had been a serious request. "No- no I think we have finished tonight, my friend."

He rose, the heavy doors beginning their slow cycle of unlocking, Luke subconsciously counting out the seconds, as he had done a hundred times before. Mara entered, followed by six Royal Guards, who opened their tight, two-by-two formation to allow the Emperor to step between them.

Glancing nonchalantly back, Palpatine murmured to Jade, "See to his hand." before walking from the room without looking back, the doors slamming shut behind him, the staged lock engaging.

Mara stepped forward, hand outstretched, but Luke only turned away.

"It's fine." He lied, stalking back through the dark drawing room alone.

Check it…

"Let me check." She said easily, following him.

"I said its fine." He dismissed again, dropping it casually open at his side to leave a trail of ruby drops scattered across the stone floor on his path through the bedroom and down the long marble corridor of the 'fresher, to hold it over the sink there.

Mara followed, walking into the washroom to see the sink already spattered with blood.

He let out a small sigh, as if uncertain what to do, and she took his hand and opened it without resistance, examining the deep cuts with a soldier's eye.

He remained silent for long seconds before offering in a quiet voice, "I think there's still some glass in, but I can't find it."

She lifted his hand closer, examining the oozing gashes. "I can't see anything," she said, easing the wounds open one by one to look, then pinching them closed. "These need stitching though. I'll send for Hallin."

"Stupid." He looked away, annoyed, stepping back slightly. "Stupid thing to do."

For some reason, Mara kept hold of his injured hand, "I think you both have a way of getting round each-other's defences." She said without looking up.

"Yeah, I don't see him calling out the medic."

"You've scored a few blows, believe me." Mara admitted, wondering why the hell she was telling him this, "He thought he'd have you well-trained by now."

He was silent for long seconds at this, in which time Mara studiously studied his hand. When she finally looked up, he was frowning at her, clearly wondering the very same thing.

She held his gaze for long seconds…
When he finally made to speak, she cut in quickly, "I'll…get that medic."

She released his hand and walked past him in the doorway, brushing against him though he stepped back.

"Thanks." He muttered quietly, then, "Mara-"

She glanced round, surprised; it was rare that he called her by name. "What?"

"Sorry." He said, a strangely heartfelt apology.

"For what?"

He shrugged, "Just…sorry."

She stared for a few moments longer, wondering at this, but he glanced down and took his bleeding hand in his other, so she turned to walk away, aware of the surveillance lenses, wishing she could slap herself on the forehead at her own rash actions.

Luke remained uncharacteristically quiet as Hallin cleaned and sutured the wound, sat on the arm of a chair in the locked drawing room, a light pulled close.

The medic was getting used to being just dragged out to perform his duties wherever his sole charge happened to be at the time, so that being summoned from his own quarters in the North Tower and brought through the incredible security of the South Tower to attend to Vader's son in what were hardly sterile conditions, with poor light and only what equipment he had brought with him seemed little more than a mild inconvenience now.

It had become clear that Skywalker occupied a strangely ambiguous position within the Palace. He seemed, to all intents and purposes, a prisoner here, with locked doors and countless guards. Yet he also seemed to occupy a position in the Emperor's personal entourage, and held the coveted title of Commander, with apartments and staff and all attendant entitlements.
It was just that they were always under incredible security, most of which was kept well hidden from the few who were entitled to travel this far into the always-restricted South Tower.

No-one within the Palace, outside of those who were involved with him on a daily basis, seemed to have the slightest idea who he was, and Hallin had found himself the subject of many subtle attempts to find out. Why exactly they thought he would know was a mystery, since he was almost as clueless as everyone else, aware now that he had been fed the official party line with regard to Skywalker's past.
Still, it had been made abundantly clear by the higher powers that speaking the name of Luke Skywalker outside of the man's presence was absolutely out of the question.
He was to be referred to as 'the Commander'. Only ever 'The Commander'.

Hallin had heard it whispered many times now that he was one of the Emperor's vaunted undercover agents, as Commander Jade was suspected to be, trained from a young age to travel unnoticed throughout the Empire fulfilling his master's commands in 'delicate situations'. But then he'd also heard that he was an ex-Royal Guard, an infiltration specialist who, like Lieutenant Commander Reece, had now been retired to take up a more conventional position within the Emperor's retinue. Either of which could well be true for all Hallin knew, though neither explained the guards at the door, more jumpy than ever tonight.

For some reason, Skywalker seemed to be being limited to the bedroom and drawing room again now, or rather, for what was a very obvious reason- it was hard to miss the huge amount of repair work visible around the drawing room entrance, the massive reinforced cage of the underlying security structure surrounding the security door carefully reconstructed but not yet matched in and hidden.

That they'd actually tried to take his scalpel from him at the outer door seemed a little extreme even here though, as outrageously wary as they always were of their charge. He'd argued strenuously that the short medical laser was hardly a threat, finally being allowed it by Commander Jade.
It all seemed rather a case of obsessive overkill as far as Hallin was concerned. Although he was clearly a prisoner, it wasn't as though Skywalker had ever done anything even vaguely threatening- he seemed always polite and mild-mannered, and was no taller than Hallin himself, though he had the kind of rangy, solid musculature one probably got from a life as a professional soldier rather than Hallin's more sedate days spent studying papers on specialist surgery and medical anatomy.
But he'd always seemed so very equitable and composed. Never once had Hallin felt threatened in his company the way he did in his father's presence, even when they had differences of agreement in their discussions - which they almost invariably did - for a man who lived in the Imperial Palace, Skywalker seemed to have decidedly radical views.

He'd often been tempted to just ask directly of Skywalker what exactly was going on…but since their one slip in which Skywalker had clarified just a few brief points, his answers posing more questions than they addressed, it had been made very clear to Hallin that his newly-acquired position depended greatly on his co-operation, and while a little knowledge could be a dangerous thing, Hallin had the distinct impression that in this case, a lot of it could well be deadly.

Skywalker broke into Hallin's train of thought as he worked now, his question as searching as every other discussion they'd had. But always congenial, even in disagreement.

"Do you ever ask yourself what you're doing, Hallin? Whether this is right?"

"No." The medic said pointedly, "Which is why I'm here and you're there."

"Then you're a fool." Skywalker said easily with a brief, tight smile, "If I get out of here I'm free- you'll stay in your prison for ever."

"How wonderfully self-righteous you are," Hallin countered easily, no malice in his voice, "But then I suppose that's all you have left."

"I have my integrity." Luke said without looking up as the medic sutured the deep slices in his hand.

"Integrity doesn't open locked doors." Hallin dismissed, his tone amiable. Though he disagreed with his views, he rather liked Skywalker in truth, enjoying their little debates.

"Integrity can't be chained." Luke said affably.

"But you, apparently, can."

Skywalker only smiled at this, unoffended. "Touché."

He turned to look at his hand as Hallin sprayed a liquid protector over the wounds, the worst three of which had required sutures, the rest closed with sterile strip.

"Thank-you." Luke said absently, glancing down.

"Try to keep your hand open tonight so the scars don't split open in the morning. And keep it dry." Hallin said, packing up. "It's a pity it wasn't the other hand, really- it would have been a far simpler job."

"But it would probably have been left 'till morning." His charge replied, as if this were some validation.

"Quite." Hallin frowned, uncertain what to make of that, studying the reader in his hand, a sample of his patient's blood in the small receptor.

"Your adrenalin's very high." He frowned, taking a scan, "And your heart rate's way up. How do you feel?"

"Fine. Thank-you, Hallin." Skywalker stood in polite dismissal, so Hallin backed away, packing instruments into his pockets and case.

"If you need something to sleep…"

"No. Thank-you."

Hallin shrugged and walked to the door, waiting long seconds for it to slowly cycle open.
Two Red Guard stepped in and to either side as it did so, to let him through.

"Ah!"

Hearing his shout, Hallin turned back to see his patient holding his injured hand awkwardly.

"It's split…the sutures..." Skywalker stepped forward to Hallin, hand out before him, so he took a half-step back into the room towards him. He reached the door, hand out... and Hallin frowned; all the sutures were intact…

It happened in a blur, Hallin barely registering the actions before they were done;

Skywalker twisted his injured hand to the side and the long pike in the grip of the nearest guard wrenched free to leap the short distance to his own-
Even as it happened he was already stepping forward, snatching the pike from midair and twisting it quickly round to land a solid blow to the guard's chest, the activated pike releasing a blinding charge of power, dropping the guard without a sound-
Without pausing to make sure he fell, Skywalker immediately backswung the pike into the second guard, using the opposite end for speed, so that both were on the floor before Hallin even realised what was happening-

The two guards who stood inside the dining room door started forward, reaching for concealed blasters as Skywalker flung the pike from his left hand to his right, stretching his left hand out before him, palm out, fingers open-
And somehow the guards were launched back, feet leaving the ground, arms flailing, hitting the far wall with a brutal smack which could have been bone or armour or both-

"S-Stop!" completely ignored by Skywalker, Hallin backed up a step, fumbling at the medical scalpel in his pocket, finally pulling it free and turning on the tiny blade, brandishing it before him.

Skywalker barely glanced at him. "Really?" he asked, pike still in hand.

Now, suddenly, with this mercurial change- in his stance and his intent and his casually threatening manner- he seemed very much like his father.

The medic glanced at the pike and the four guards, brought down without even the slightest hesitation, then looked into the man's eyes…
He backed up, dropping the scalpel as Skywalker grabbed at the scruff of the nearest guard, walking quickly to the huge windows in the dining room, counting down out loud-
The doors to the dining hall were cycling open now, more guards undoubtedle waiting to get in-

"Fifteen- fourteen-"

Hallin turned to Skywalker as he walked, unruffled, to the windows, paused as if gathering his thoughts…then he threw his open hand out before him-

Something- something wrenched at the air about Hallin with enough power to make his eardrums pop and in that same instant the heavy reinforced windows exploded outwards in a shower of fine, fragmented pieces, the screeching wrench of shearing cables competing against the deafening alarm which burst forth that same instant-
Hallin could see Skywalker's lips moving, counting down as he stepped through the still-falling debris onto the darkness of the balcony beyond, the unconscious guard in tow-

The medic stood frozen for several long seconds before the outer door finally cycled open, realising as it did so that this was what Luke was counting down.
Guards flooded into the room in a flurry of red robes, force pikes activated. Hallin gesturing pointlessly to the huge, gaping hole in the wall, massive chunks of reinforced lintel still swinging wildly, held in place by a few intact intact cables still threaded through the transparisteel slab-
He stepped back further as still more guards came through the narrow doors, the room a sea of scarlet now. Momentarily, he spotted the dark fitted jumpsuit and flash of red hair which was Commander Jade as she pushed forward, then she was lost again in the massed troops.

Bizarrely, in that moment, surrounded by this wild chaos of noise and people, heart beating staccato against his chest, the only thing which was going through Hallin's shocked mind in the face of this incredible revelation of Skywalker's true abilities was, 'That's why they wanted to take my scalpel!'

Mara stood on the balcony gazing out over the carved stone balustrade, trying to spot Skywalker in the dense black of night, the huge beams of light which illuminated the Tower walls, making them visible for miles around, now blinding her completely.
She turned quickly, blinking away the bright spots, having the forethought to check above as well as below and to the side of her, but he was no-where to be seen. She knew a Jedi could jump extreme distances without injury, but the balcony was twenty-four storeys above the monolithic Main Palace …could he jump that far?
She turned back, pushing through the throngs of Red Guards, struggling against the crowd back into the main corridor beyond the Dining Hall, heading at full tilt for the Ops room, cursing all the way.

"Status." Mara ordered as she arrived, struggling for breath.

The four ops officers shook their heads, expressions grave - everyone knew their heads were on the block tonight.

"Nothing yet. All security images clean; no sightings. He's going to have to get back into the main Crossway in the Tower base if he wants to get down any further into the Palace though. The Towers are sealed already. Inclision Grids are active, blast shields are in place. We're locked down- there's no way he can get through to the Main Palace."

Mara considered… "Open the first few blast doors on the North Tower- the ones you can see from the Crossways. Let's see if he'll bite. Get extra troops down there, out of sight. And start repositioning stormtroopers around the stairwell in the main Palace."

The Ops Duty Officer nodded, speaking quickly into his comlink as Mara forced herself calm, eyes skipping from display to display…nothing.

She shook her head, frustrated. "He'll not try to get back in yet. He'll stay outside as long as he can to avoid being spotted; try to climb down to the Palace roof somehow. But it'll slow him down and he knows it- and whatever he does, he'll eventually have to get back in- he can't bypass the Main Palace entry, he has to go through it."

But he didn't know that- he may well try to stay outside and look for some way down the smooth, shielded bulk of the main Palace walls- in this situation, she would…Which meant he'd probably get as close to the main Crossway at the Tower bases as possible outside, then try to get back in- probably not back into the South Tower. Which would put him on the Main Palace roof in the next few minutes... and within striking distance of the landing pads there. "Lock down everything on the roof pad. How many transports are there?"

The duty officer frowned, "Just two. Both shuttles."

"Do you know the Deck Officer to look at?"

The Ops D.O. nodded.

"Tell him he's to go out to them right now with a blaster and shoot out the flight consoles- tell him it's my order. I want them unflyable inside one minute."

The man nodded, understanding- two shuttles were a small price to pay.

"Then get every spare body onto the roof gardens. Get every light on- I want it lit up like a landing strip. Call Units Four, Five and Nine down from his quarters and get them out there. How many…"

--Mara--

She flinched, knowing this was coming,

--We'll find him, master--

She knew that the Emperor was rising, heading downwards toward her position. There would be hell to pay for this. He'd known of course that Skywalker was going to do this eventually; make some bid for freedom. But he'd predicted that it wouldn't be yet- had been so sure that it would be late tomorrow, when the pact which had held him this long expired- and Mara had set all her plans around this, additional reinforcements to be placed everywhere at the change of shift at dawn tomorrow, sure that her master couldn't be wrong.
Sure that Skywalker would hold to his word on the agreement.
But Skywalker was changing; becoming more volatile, less predictable. She knew that, had watched it happen- why hadn't she allowed for it?

Stupid- stupid, stupid…
A stray memory clicked- of Skywalker cursing himself the same way in the 'fresher as she studied his injured hand.
Of him apologising, for what she hadn't known…

This was all planned! His hand, the medic- everything! "Pull up the footage of the drawing room just before it happened!"

She watched it closely, squinting… "Again."

There! This wasn't a chance opportunity seized. He'd walked forward so casually, eyes on his hand, not looking up.

She watched him move with that incredible burst of speed as he snatched the force pike, dropping both the guards almost simultaneously, swapping hands to use the Force to throw the second pair of guards back…then he grabbed one by the scruff and dragged him casually forward to the tall, reinforced windows…
The windows! That had been a trial! Weeks ago, he'd thrown the Force at them, and she'd believed as everybody had that they'd held against him…but he'd not broken them on purpose! He'd wanted to see if they could be broken, but hadn't wanted to have them further reinforced, so he'd just tested them!
It was all just a test. She shook her head, lips pursed in frustration.

And then the rest fell into place…everything. He'd wanted to know the response too; what would happen if he did break them- timings, numbers. That was all part of his dry run.

"You son of a… what are you doing…?" she gazed at the footage as that sea of red guards flooded into the room…"Come on, Luke- what were you planning…"

"Go back." She frowned, reaching forward to operate the controls. The image jumped back several seconds to the point when he glanced to the medic- what did he say? She frowned closer- "What's he saying now?"

Everyone in Ops squinted at the image. "He's counting." One of the men said slowly, "See? He's counting down…"

"He's counting the response time..." Mara said, then, in a flush of realisation, "The door time! The length of time it takes for the lock on the door to cycle open."

"But he's almost out…" the Ops officer said.

"Yes." the Emperor's guttural voice was hard and biting, and everyone spun about and bowed low, Mara included.
When she lifted her head, it was she whom Palpatine was glaring at.

"Why haven't you caught him yet?" he said, to the point as ever.

"We're having some trouble locating his exact…"

"Replay the images." Palpatine spoke over her, disinterested in excuses.

The Ops officer rushed to comply, playing the image from the moment the prisoner walked up to the drawing room door.

"Where are the guards stationed now?" Palpatine asked quietly, squinting at the image.

Mara checked status screens, "Mostly in the lower levels. We've got as many units as possible out on the rooftop gardens, searching it by quarters. He's still outside, because we haven't had an entry alarm sound yet. I've had some of the tranquilliser sent down, and there are three units who carry it routinely who've…"

"Bring them in." Palpatine interrupted. "He's in the Towers."

Mara frowned; "Master?"

"He's in the Towers, dressed as a Royal Guard. Probably with those you so considerately sent running down to the Crossways, since that's where he needed to get to. Replay the image."

Mara turned back to the display, head fizzing with adrenaline as she took in the scene.

"There -slow the image." Palpatine said coolly.

It was at the point where the first flurry of guards came rushing in… Mara studied the display as the image edged forward incrementally.

"Stop." The Emperor ordered curtly, stepping forward to point at the frame, his long white fingers pale against the sea of scarlet in the image. "He's there."

In the midst of the chaos of red-garbed Royal Guard who streamed into the room, spreading out and onto the balcony, one guard was walking calmly the opposite way, back through the entrance door, pike in hand…

"The guard he dragged out onto the balcony." Mara said flatly. "He was counting down the time he had to dress."

The Emperor turned hard, yellow eyes on Mara. "Are the guards still out in the gardens?" he asked pointedly.

Mara rushed to comply, recalling troops, reassigning the blue-clad Palace Guard and grey-uniformed officers - every Royal Guard now had to have his identity checked.

Luke smoothed down the olive drab of the Officer's uniform, running his fingers quickly through the short, military crop he'd had just days before, eyes flicking coldly from the nervous officer he'd just taken the uniform from to the second officer now slumped in the corner; there was always someone who chanced their luck.

He turned back to the first man, "Okay, here's the deal. You do exactly as I tell you and you'll have a very interesting story to tell over dinner tomorrow night. Cross me, interfere, get in my way or disobey and I will put you in the morgue and go find someone who will do as I say. Are we very clear on that?" his voice was quiet and flat, but deadly serious.
The man nodded dumbly.
Confronted with that blast of fear which blared out through the Force, Luke tried to feel any shred of guilt at the man's terror but in that moment it was far beyond him. All he saw was his plan- all he felt was cold, single-minded determination.

"Put those on." He kicked his own trousers, carefully chosen tonight, across to the man- also very carefully chosen.

A little taller than Luke with short dark hair, wearing Luke's dark trousers and military boots with the white shirt from his own uniform, he could easily be Han from a distance.

Luke had been eager to get rid of the Royal Guard's uniform as quickly as possible- it had been a method of getting him out of the room, nothing more. To keep wearing it when they would have him in security footage dragging the damn guard outside would have been suicide, but it had served its purpose.
He'd headed up four storeys- not so far that a Red Guard would have seemed out of place- then began frantically searching for his next change of clothes, on just the right officer. He needed someone with a reasonably prominent rank and therefore high security clearance- not too old, fast enough not to slow Luke down, though he didn't intend going that far- and the right look.

And he figured he had about three minutes to find him.

Then along came this guy, making Luke's night…though probably not his own, Luke reflected dryly, bundling the red overcloak into the hard cowl-helmet, the only pieces of the Red Guard's uniform he'd had time to drag on.

Glancing about, he turned his gaze up- at the lowered roof. He almost-almost- used the Force to pull the pike to him and lift the discarded clothes into the ceiling void. But he caught himself at the last minute- he could do a reasonable job of confusing Palpatine's concept of his exact position, but not if he used the Force directly.
Instead, he climbed quickly up onto the desk, pushing a tile back and stowing the disguise before jumping back down, his eyes on the officer.

"What's your name?"

"Arco."

"Do you have a first name?"

The man eyed him warily, "Andorius."

Luke lifted his eyebrows at that, "Okay…we'll stick with Arco. And when I ask you a question, you're gonna answer me straight away, and you're gonna tell the truth, 'cos I'm really not a man you should consider lying to- not tonight."

He hefted the man's stolen blaster up to rest it against his shoulder.

"Let's have our first try, huh? I need the nearest ops room up from here that'll give me access to the Detention Center below the Main Palace." He knew that Mara Jade used one just a few levels down, but going down was not an option…

The man tensed up resolutely, "There are none above here. The nearest one is…"

Luke stepped forward, grabbing the man's arm and wrenching him forward, slamming his hand down onto the desk before him. Swinging the blaster down, he pushed the muzzle against the back of the Imperial's hand.

"I assume you like the matching pair? Because let me tell you, the surgery to replace it will put my blasting a hole through it to shame…"

The man pursed his lips and Luke tightened his finger on the trigger. He didn't want to shoot- more because the noise may well give him away than for any other reason- but he would, if he needed to. And it wouldn't be the man's hand which took the shot…

Somewhere in the back of his mind an alarm sounded, but he dismissed it almost instantly, focused on his goal. "Last chance- then I get rid of you and wake up the guy in the corner."

Even passively through the Force, this close he could sense the officer waiver, resistance crumbling…

"Fine." Keeping hold of the man's arm, he lifted the blaster without hesitation to his forehead-

"Wait!! Okay- okay. Two storeys- it's two storeys up."

Luke pulled the blaster back, releasing his hold. "You're a smart man Arco. Lead on."

He was surprised how easy it had been. How easy it would have been…

Mara sat in the 'ops room, streams of information coming from each of the units as they searched the lower levels of the Tower, taking her time now to position and back up each unit carefully, moving all Red Guards from the last two levels above the Crossway, building the numbers of Palace Guards on every level.

In the Main Palace, just one storey and about thirty foot of blast-proof organic steel composite down from the Crossway and completely unreachable from it when the shields were down, she was also positioning stormtrooper units as back-up. She knew that it was impossible to pass between the two without ending up in the Inclision Grids at the base of the Towers, but that was no reason not to be thorough.

Plus she didn't really want the Emperor's prize Jedi cut to pieces by the military-grade lasers in the Inclision Grid. Both for herself and her master- professional pride, she assured herself.
She closed her eyes, listening to the reports- no sign of him yet.

"Where are you?" she whispered, "How are you getting down- how are you getting past us?"

Luke kept on heading up, subtly keeping hold of the Imperial, watchful for security lenses and trying to keep their backs to them, subtly keeping his own head down. Wondering how much serious firepower was being amassed on the lower levels of the Towers to stop him. Wondering when they'd start to look up.
Hoping that by now, Mara would be starting to move stormtroopers and Palace Guards up to the upper levels of the Main Palace. Gambling that they wouldn't risk the show of weakness inherent in closing down the Main Palace completely, believing he was still in the Towers…

"Here." The officer said quietly, pausing by a door marked Ops 90'

Luke stared at the man for long seconds, but he held Luke's eye.

"How many people will be in there?" he asked, not liking standing out in a corridor, but not wishing to go in half-cocked.

"Two normally, at this time of night. But there's been a call-to-quarters, so it could be more."

Luke gestured with his head, "After you."

Arco sighed, a tremble in his breath, but he pressed the door release and entered. As he stepped through, Luke gave him a good push forward, so that all eyes were on him as he stumbled and Luke was in the room, his blaster pulled free from the small of his back before anybody even looked to him.

"Up!" he shouted, "Move back to…"

The first man jumped up, chair toppling backward as he drew his blaster-
He was taken down in a single body-shot at this range.
The second man fumbled his own gun up and Luke brought his blaster back for another hasty shot, point-blank, the impact launching the man back. The blaster swung instantly around to Arco, who remained perfectly still, eyes shut…

The falling chair clattered to the ground, the sound making Arco jerk back in anticipation.

Luke held the blaster at the man for long seconds as his heartbeat slowed.
"Open your eyes." He dismissed casually as he set forward to the desk, leaving the man standing, shocked rigid.

When he didn't move, Luke reached around and grabbed him, pulling him back to the upright chair and yanking him into it. "Get online. And if you sound one alarm, so help me…"

He didn't finish the threat- he really didn't need to. The proof was slumped against the far wall for Arco to see.

"I'm in the system." Arco said quietly, "What do you want?"

"Detention Centre. Level Seven." Luke said, pulling up the toppled chair. "I need access to the security footage and the overrides."

Arco glanced once at him, but didn't bother asking.

Han lay back on his hard bunk for want of anything better to do, gazing up at the ceiling. Had he misunderstood? Tonight was the last night- tonight was one week.
He had no idea of the time, but it was only a few hours after his meal, so it was probably still before midnight- did that mean today was almost through? Or did the early hours of the morning technically still count?

"We have got to work out a better system." He announced to the empty room.

If it did mean- The cell door slid open…

Frowning, Han sat up looking to the door, not sure whether he expected to see two stormtroopers or the kid. Long seconds passed in silence before he finally stood and walked forward, leaning out into the long corridor beyond…
No-one was there.

First rule of Sabacc; never turn down a free card…
He stepped warily out into the corridor, seeing that the blast door at the only open end of the corridor was locked down, hearing muffled voices from beyond.

"Great." He muttered, "That's just…"

Across the narrow corridor, the opposite cell door nearest the blast door opened, making him jump outrageously.
Slowly, warily, he walked forward, uneasy at the proximity of the guards he could hear just the other side of the blast door, crouching down to look inside the apparently empty cell.

Nothing inside…. What the hell was going on? Was it just a malfunction?

He stepped back, glancing around- and the door half-closed, then slid open again. Then again.

"Come on, Han- get in the damn cell." Luke muttered, willing the cagy smuggler to step forward.

Watching security images from the holo's in the ops room he was holed up in, Luke's attention was split between the three guards on duty on the other side of the blast door, who were now beginning to wonder if it really was the malfunction he'd just assured them it was, and the image of the sealed cell corridor beyond, Han pausing suspiciously before the open cell door.

"Would you please get in!?" he urged, exasperated.

Finally, Han walked forward, crouching to pass warily under the half-lowered door, which Luke closed immediately he stepped through.

Han twisted quickly round, but wasn't nearly fast enough to get back through the closing door. Taking three steps back, he glared at it, "If this isn't you, kid, then I'm gonna look very, very stupid."

He stood still and expectant for long moments…in which nothing happened…

He realised he was staring so hard, his eyebrows were lifting off the top of his head…
Then, with no fanfare at all, the door slid open.

Stepping up, Han heard voices of the guards to his left in the corridor, the blast door to his immediate right lifted again now. Edging out, he saw them at the far end of the corridor, checking another open cell door. Without running, he stepped silently out of the cell and slipped under the blast door into the main entrance beyond, immediately sliding sideways out of the line of vision of the troops.

He'd just stepped clear as the blast door closed again, the troops running forward in unison, way too far away to make it.

Shielded now, Han stepped quickly past the main console to the closed turbolift.

"C'mon!" he urged- there were no call panels here for the turbolifts, apparently being sent down only on request.

The console beeped for attention behind him. He ignored it, visions of his last fiasco of a conversation on one of those things in the Death Star coming quickly to mind.

The turbolift doors stayed firmly closed. The com beeped a demand which was easy to ignore…

"Open the…" Han spun round, realising what he was meant to do, reaching over the back of the console to activate the com.

"Finally!" Luke's voice crackled from the tinny speaker, filled with impatience.

"Hey, I'm not a mindreader!" Han defended, smiling broadly, looking up to the security lenses in a bank on the wall, "Where are you?"

"Heading down. You need to get hold of a comlink and set it to 2372."

"Where from?"

"Hey, I got me out, I got you out, I'm about to try to talk down three very irate detention centre guards- all you have to do is get one lousy comlink."

"Fine." Han knew he was grinning maniacally now, adrenaline pumping. "…What frequency?"

He could practically hear the kid sigh, "2372. Don't forget. I can follow you on security images - get moving."

The turbolift doors were already opening, Han heading toward them. Finally! A little action!