Leia frowned onboard the Arcturus’ bridge, her heart suddenly skipping a beat, fluttering in her chest. The Sol lay dead in space before her, the Imperial Star Destroyer Fury nearby, both still floating slowly forward under their own inertia, the Fury making a ponderous corkscrew turn on its own axis as it did so.

Close to the Fury was the were the two battered freighters that had been so innocuouslyunder cover amongst the bona-fide shipping at Bothawuii, both dead, affecting a slow-motion tumble dangerously close to the front edge of the massive Destroyer. The true potential of the DEMP suddenly came home to Leia; the realisation of what it could do in a pitch battle if one side had shields and the other did not - if they did not. She took a slow breath to calm her sudden attack of nerves as they nestled close to the Sol, helm struggling to match its slow drift for tractor beams to engage, the vessels too close in mass for one to anchor the other securely without using its engines. She pulled her eyes from the scene of silent devastation, turning to Wyatt, “Are we in position, Captain?”

“Yes, Ma’am- we have a lock on the Sol. We’ll begin evacuating immediately.”

“Do so. Estimated time?”

“Around fifty minutes Ma’am- the best we can do with one shuttle.”

Leia turned back; if only they’d had the room to take the Sol’s shuttles onboard the Arcturus before it went to hyperspace, they could have halved the evacuation time. But with the Arcturus’ other two shuttles already committed to ferrying boarding parties and its third lost along with Mon, she was painfully aware that every minute spent so close to the damaged Star Destroyer increased the risk of a second Destroyer turning up to check on its last location.

Theoretically they had up to an hour before the Fury would be considered to have missed a routine communication; longer if it was supposed to be in hyperspace, plus another hour response time, but they had no guarantee of either of these facts; it could have been just minutes away from its hourly check-in and another Destroyer could be trying to raise it now- there could already be a Destroyer on its way here. And if it was, anybody who wasn’t onboard the Arcturus when it arrived would have to be left behind; there was no way this poky little freighter was about to outrun or outgun even a Frigate or Corvette, let alone a Destroyer. They’d been lucky once today in escaping the Fury only because of the Sol’s intervention; she didn’t want to have to try that luck again without it.
Which made her next command all that much harder;

“Contact Commander Solo and Commander Luss- tell them to launch their teams.” Something buzzed at the back of her mind which she couldn’t quite place, making her heart race and setting her nerves on edge all over again. “And start the calculations for a lightspeed jump in case we need to get out of here in a hurry.”

In the bowels of the petty-officer's quarters, Luke stared out of the small viewscreen from a cramped, empty room, watching the lights of the distant freighter and feeling... something trickle up his spine.

“Why aren’t they coming in any closer?” Mara asked uneasily, wondering what they were doing.

She turned back to Skywalker who remained silent, eyes locked on the ship… and again, Mara felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as he summoned the Force; intense contact, accurate control, channelled like a laser specifically at the Rebel ship.

Was he everything that the Emperor was now, she wondered? Just as powerful, just as precise… but a completely unknown entity. She knew that he was Sith… she thought she knew; Palpatine was so sure now, so convinced… but he used his abilities so rarely that unlike Vader, she really had no concept of how extensive they were.

One thing she did know; he wasn’t the man who had come to the Palace four years ago. Palpatine had invested a great deal of time and effort in creating his new Sith, some of it glaringly obvious and some of it so subtle that she was sure even Skywalker didn’t know- and certainly there would be manipulations; hidden compulsions and coercions in place that she wasn’t aware of.

But Palpatine had achieved what he wanted; because whatever else she saw when she looked into his eyes right now, she also saw her master’s precious Wolf. She didn’t doubt that Palpatine saw the same thing, but when he looked, he saw the opportunity to tame that will; bring it to heel, hold that source of power and potential. When Mara looked, she just saw the wolf - and the thought rolling round her head was; what did this wolf want?

At best, he was simply biding his time until leadership of the pack became available, and the more she knew him, the less likely she thought that to be. At worst…

His chin tilted up and his eyes widened as he took in a short, quick breath- “Well, well, well…”

Luke had shut out Mara’s close presence, her dormant connection always making her glow within the Force, and reached out to the distant ship, narrowing his focus to try to track down just exactly what was happening. He was a long way away from the ship and the minds aboard were a diffuse mix of humans and aliens, all tense and wired. But leaders was seldom that difficult to find; they tended to have a singularity of purpose, a clarity of intent which made them stand out from the crowd. This time was no different.

Except that, whilst searching again for Madine, he had turned that intense Force-scrutiny on Leia…

She was as sharp and as focused and as doggedly determined as every memory he still held of her… but he sensed something else as well - it was only now, when he was acutely aware of Leia but looking for Madine that he sensed it; like trying to see a star in the night sky by not looking directly at it.

An unmistakable aura. Pale and faint, as insubstantial as a whisper… for a moment he dismissed it as some echo of Mara’s presence, but this was different…

The corners of his scarred lips lifted just slightly in surprised amusement and he let out a short, disbelieving laugh, only too willing to consider that the galaxy could throw him this curve-ball so completely without warning.

She was Force-sensitive -­ how had he never noticed?

He could sense it quite clearly now, muted though it was, untapped and untamed. A resonance in the Force, compelling despite its indistinct diffusion. He held still for long seconds, mes­­­­merised…

Palpatine must know - his Master had made several veiled attempts in the last few years to get hold of Leia Organa, always careful to try to keep them hidden from his fallen Jedi. Luke had always assumed that this wa­s simply because of his past friendship with Leia - now he wondered…

“Well, well, well…”

“What?” Mara whispered, confused at his obvious revelation. For long seconds he remained silent, his features just visible in the cold starlight, attention rapt, focused entirely on the distant ship.

“There.” He pointed to the vague shapes which slipped through the blackness, relieved to have something to turn Mara’s attention away. Visible only by their edges, defined by the merest trail of diffuse starlight, their presence was detectable only when their shadowed bulk momentarily obscured the stars behind them - and in the Force of course; “Two shuttles - I think around twenty in each one.”

Mara squinted into the endless pitch... for a second she saw the bright burst of a manoeuvring thruster flare in the darkness, “I see them… no running lights."

"Wouldn't want to draw attention to themselves."

Mara frowned, eyes locked on the moving shadows, black against black, "A boarding party?”

“They’ll likely go for the aft bays; they’re closest to the Detention Centre.” He turned and set off into the darkness of the enclosed corridor, Mara’s hand brushing against his hip and slipping over his belt.

They were another three levels down, moving quickly now, accustomed to their system, when Luke slowed.

“What?” Mara asked

“They’ve docked. Both ships in the same bay. I don’t think they’ve encountered anyone yet.”

“Probably because the bay atmospherics would have failed - they’ll be in vacuum until they can get out of the bay and they’ll have to crank the doors and risk some loss of atmosphere - they can’t cut their way in or they’ll just remain in vacuum.”

Luke paused; he hadn’t considered that. “Which could be exactly what they intend- just open up a corridor to vacuum between here and the Detention Centre, one set of doors at a time. It’s a quick way to get rid of any opposition.”

Mara tilted her head in acknowledgement; it was, she had to admit, a very efficient plan of action. “Would it be worth their while to cut their way through? Doors can be closed again if someone onboard finds a working pressure suit.”

"Plus their line of withdrawal would be very obvious. We could set up an ambush at any point along the way and just wait."

"Too much of a gamble for them?"

She felt him shrug, “I guess it would depend on how many stormtroopers they were expecting to meet along the way. I think they'd try to go for the quieter, less obvious option, considering how many stormtroopers are onboard the Fury. As far as they know, no-one's even seen them yet. .. though I’d still consider venting corridors in their position.”

“Well let’s hope they haven’t.”

“I don’t think that hiding our heads in the…” He paused again, and Mara realised that he’d been tracking the group’s location using the Force whilst they’d been speaking, “No- they’re in the same corridors as troopers. They’re moving too slow and the troopers are still in the corridor- if it was vacuum, they’d have been dragged out by now.”

“Maybe it didn’t occur to them.”

“It should’ve- if…” Luke paused again, and again Mara felt that brush against her senses; that Skywalker had realised something significant. She felt acutely attuned to his thoughts, more so than ever before. Maybe it was their close proximity…

He spoke again, cutting through her thoughts, “They’re splitting up- some are staying back.”

“Presumably to guard the shuttles. If we…”

Luke turned to Mara in the darkness, her hand slipping from his belt to slide over his hips as he did so, “Go back up to the aft landing bay. Stop off at the munitions store two levels up from there - there’ll be slug-shooters in storage. Make sure you don’t get the ones with smart grips.”

“Thanks- I’d pretty much figured that out.” Mara said dryly; smart grips recognised the palm-print of the holder and only fired for that individual, but they used a recognition chip to do that, which left them as dead as all standard-issue blasters. Old-fashioned explosive-based slug-firers would be as dangerous as ever though.

“Why are we going down to the hold? The infiltration unit will be heading down to the Detention Centre for Mothma.”

“Because the ships they flew in have power- and if they have power then they have comms.”

Mara could have slapped herself on the forehead- Everything that came off the second Rebel ship was still fully-functional. They had shuttles, they had blasters, they had pressure suits... and they had comms. She could contact the Peerless! It was minutes away by lightspeed, waiting for their signal. All she had to do was get on board the…

“Wait a minute- where are you going?” she asked warily, suddenly realising he didn’t intend to come.

“I’m going to the Detention Centre.” He said grimly.

“Well then I’m…” she didn’t get a chance to finish.

“I need you to get that comm through now.” Luke reiterated, hoping she’d see the logic in this. “I need the Peerless back here. You want to help me? Then the best thing you can do is get to the landing bay.”

He needed Mara gone- he knew who was heading to the Detention Centre and he didn’t want his Imperial ‘watcher’ reporting back to Palpatine, because he had no idea, none whatsoever, of what would happen when they met.

Mara still hesitated, but Luke surprised her by reaching down to take her hand, still resting against his hip. “Mara- I need you to do this.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, his voice tinged with humour now, “I promise you I won’t get shot.”

Mara hesitated, suddenly uncertain, moved by the unanticipated act of intimacy- but she couldn’t drop it that easily, “Is this like when you promised me you wouldn’t get blown up?”

“I never said I wouldn’t get blown up.” came his voice from the darkness, gently amused, “In fact I think I said my bomb would go off first.”

“Yeah, but you failed to mention that you’d be stood in front of it when it did. On purpose.” She charged in reply.

“I had... other things on my mind.” It was a huge admission and she knew he’d given it in the hope of reassuring her, “I don’t anymore. They’re not gonna take Mothma and they’re not gonna come close to stopping me. If you get word to the Peerless.”

“Anyone can get word to the Peerless.” She didn’t want to leave him, more protective than ever.

“I can’t rely on anyone but you, Mara. You’ll get the job done, I know that. I trust you.”

She hesitated, still torn…

He could have just ordered her; could have made it a command and just walked away, Mara knew. But he didn’t; he was trying to show consideration- to recognize her as something other than another subordinate, just as she’d seen him do with others in his close entourage such as Joss and Hallin. It was realisation of this, of the fact that for the first time she was being included rather than politely, pointedly excluded, which finally made her concede defeat.

“Fine.” she allowed, stepping away, “Just don’t get shot, or Palpatine will have my hide.”

“And here’s me thinking you cared.” He said easily, and for once Mara had no rejoinder, feeling her cheeks flush in the darkness as she backed away.

“Mara-” he added as an afterthought, hearing her turn back to him, “Tell the Peerless to fire across the bow of the second Rebel Freighter, but let it leave. They’re not to take it into custody.”

He could sense her confusion; hear the uncertainty in her voice, “I thought you’d want it captured?”

“No- it’s not Madine. He isn’t onboard.” he lied easily, no guilt in the action, even now. It had become as natural to him as a bluff on the sabacc table, a legitimate tactical practice in the circles he moved; the only way to maintain any autonomy, particularly with the Emperor who always played his games, wheels within wheels.

Before someone with such far-reaching power, the only way to beat the system was to play it. Despite his father’s warnings, Luke had quickly learned that the sole way to manipulate the Emperor was to manipulate or withhold the facts he acted upon, just as Palpatine did with others. His Master's weakness lay in his insular existence; he seldom left the Palace and so relied on information being brought to him rather than seeking it out- that was why he had so many spies and watchers.

And that was where he was vulnerable; getting a lie past Palpatine was incredibly hard; getting it past Mara and having her deliver it believing it was the truth was so much easier- if he dressed it right.

Whatever Palpatine wanted Leia Organa for, Luke could pretty much guarantee that it wasn’t the same as he; in fact, his own plans depended greatly on Leia remaining right where she was. This whole operation - coming after Mon; shaking up the Rebellion’s leadership - was specifically to place Leia exactly where he wanted her. Yes, he wanted to remove Mon from power before she did the same to him, but he wouldn’t have done so with such single-minded zeal had he not held ulterior motives- motives which were kept very carefully hidden from his Master. And to do that, Luke needed to lie not just to Palpatine but to the eyes and ears his Master had placed so carefully about his fallen Jedi... and he did so now without compunction.

“I want them to go back without Mon and without the stolen DEMP generators. I want them to have to admit to all that - losing Mon; giving her away - then wasting the generators trying to get her back. I want the people who were here to try to work out what happened because the reasonable conclusion is to think they had at least one informer onboard who gave away their identity and location on Bothawuii- and if they do, they’ll believe them to be highly-placed. I want to make them look to each-other and wonder.”

Mara grinned in the darkness; he was always setting fireworks beneath the Rebels and standing back to watch the show. “Lighting the blue touch-paper again?”

She could hear his smile in his words, “It’s my only entertainment Mara- give me that one.”

“What about sabacc?”

She heard his mock indignation, “Sabacc’s not an entertainment; it’s a life-lesson.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you want your winnings.”

“I didn’t say it was free.” he countered, humour in his voice, which was growing ever more distant as he backed away, and she snorted as she turned again, heading down to the aft docking bay.

“How close are we to completing the evacuation of the Sol?” Madine asked of Leia Organa, having just entered the bridge of the Arcturus.

“Maybe fifteen minutes.” Leia assured. Madine had been uncomfortable with Han’s insistence on using the DEMP generators but this far, it seemed to be going to plan. The only problem they’d encountered was that residual currents from the surge were causing patchy communications from the assault team onboard the crippled Star Destroyer.

It had been a bold move and Leia’s backing of it had no doubt upset the General; were Mon in charge, under similar circumstances she would have taken Madine’s advice and surely gone for a more conservative response. Leia could only hope she’d made the right decision; in truth there was no right or wrong here given the circumstances, but she knew that the Captain of the Fury would no doubt have come up against the combination of Mothma and Madine before, so hoped that her distinctive response would at least have the edge of surprise.

“How long since we fired the generator?” she asked of her Ops officer.

“Twenty-seven minutes.” The pike-thin Utapan replied, a lisp in her voice.

The DEMPs - the precious DEMP generators which had bought them this opportunity - the first was blown beyond repair, unprotected from the second discharge, and the second was in bad shape. The ‘tech who had run all the way to the bridge after he and his companions had finally risked returning to the hold, had chased Madine down as he prepared to board the shuttle to the Arcturus, quoting between gasps that the URG superconductors, which they’d had neither the time nor the technology to calibrate before its discharge, had suffered a ‘catastrophic failure ‘ of their own.

Getting any more information at this point was useless; it tied personnel up running between the hold and the bridge and any description containing the words ‘catastrophic’ probably meant they weren’t getting it back on line any time soon - certainly not in time to turn on another Star Destroyer if it appeared - which also assumed that the Arcturus would somehow be able to escape the discharge itself.

A team were now in the Sol's hold, hoping to secure the badly-damaged DEMP and get it onboard a shuttle to the Arcturus, but if it came to the crunch, Leia wouldn’t exchange lives for hardware. The Sol was already being set with charges to cover the origins of the two DEMPs and if she had to, if another Destroyer came in… another Destroyer….

Something was scratching at Leia’s thoughts, like a distant whisper that she couldn’t quite make out, like a shadow at her shoulder… she half-closed her eyes in concentration, trying to track down the hunch, to see into that indistinct shadow…

The though t- the realisation when it finally coalesced and hit her - took her breath away, spinning her about, “Where’s the Peerless!?”

“The last known location was close to Nubia Ma’am, with the Dauntless.”

“Do we have a contact on-board?” Leia turned to the Intel officer, regretting not having Tag Massa in attendance; the razor-sharp Intel Chief would have known immediately. As it was, there was a pause before the Intel Officer stated, “I believe so. We can check?”

“Do so. Ask Home-one to send out a constant message; we urgently need contact. We need to know where Skyw…” she paused, correcting herself; it was a long time since she’d made that slip out loud. “Whether The Heir is still onboard the Peerless.”

She turned back to Madine, hazel eyes wide, voice low so as not to be overheard, “What if he’s aboard the Fury?”

Madine frowned, alarmed, “No. he never leaves the Core Systems- you know that.”

“What if he did.”

Madine was still shaking his head, very sure. “That’s impossible. He never leaves the Core Systems.”

He said it like a mantra, Leia knew. For all his strengths, Madine always worked on the evidence at hand, and all previous intelligence stated that The Heir wouldn’t leave the Core or the old Colony Systems, the latter now officially swallowed up by the former. It gave Palpatine’s Wolf a big arena to play in and the Alliance a well-defined ‘danger zone’… but what if the parameters of the hunt had changed? What if he’d finally been given permission to range further afield?

“The operation to catch Mon wasn’t headed up by Vader.” Leia said, very sure. It had none of his trademark behaviour; he was accustomed to having the massed power of the Imperial fleet to back him up and tended to use it in force. This had been too subtle; disguised freighters and small units, relying on subterfuge and surprise rather than brute force. That was why it had worked; they were doing as they always did; watching for Destroyers, watching for a fleet. No-one had thought to look for anything less - why should they?

They’d all been watching the sky for dragons and a snake had slithered up and bit them on the foot. This was creative and Vader didn’t do creative; he went for the jugular, he took the shortest route between two points. He had superior firepower and he had superior numbers and he threw them against the Alliance without hesitation. This- this had been…

“Think about it-” Leia said urgently to Madine, “That was a hit-and-fade attack against us at Bothawuii- minimal troops, civilian starships; make your move then get clear of the field of battle. It was an action planned by someone who was used to having few resources, someone used to using any method to gain the advantage. Someone who learned to lay low, make the sting then get out... someone who was a Commander in the Alliance…”

Madine considered the alarming consequences, eyes skipping about the deck before him as she spoke, “Even if that’s true, if we accept the possibility that it was The Heir who planned this, there’s still no reason to assume that he would be onboard the Fury.”

He’s on that ship! Leia knew it as certainly as she knew that Madine was stood in front of her right now- she didn’t know how or why she knew and she certainly couldn’t explain it in rational terms but… he was on the Fury.

And she knew something else as well; he knew they were coming… and he wasn’t concerned. In fact - he was looking forward to it.

Leia turned back to viewscreen, attention held completely by the hulking, silent shadow of the supposedly defenceless Fury. Suddenly it didn’t seem nearly so vulnerable.

She had to go with her gut on this- she had to. She walked quickly over to the comm station, leaning in to murmur, “Contact Commander Solo- tell him The Heir’s on board the Fury.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am; communications are down again.” The comm officer replied; “Last we heard, our units were on the Fury and close to the Detention Bay. I’ll keep trying.”

For an instant, Han thought the soldier beside him had simply tripped in the poor light and fallen heavily headfirst toward the wall, making an incredible amount of noise as he did so- but as he spun about to try to catch him, Han realised that the ten other commando’s who had been close on his heels were also down, collapsing into still, crumpled little heaps in the near-darkness, illuminated by the limited glow of the pinlight set into his earpiece which flitted around as his head moved, their own headlights pointing randomly this way and that as they fell.

They’d made it to the Detention Center without incident, leaving commandos behind to keep key exit lines clear. Moving quietly and keeping out of trouble, they’d taken out the guards on duty there using silenced blasters with low-visiblility tracer-burst and night-vision lenses. When they were sure they’d cleared the area, they went onto side-lights, small pinlights set into their earpieces. But only when they were sure- so why the hell were all of his unit now laid out? If it was gas, why wasn’t he down?

Finally Han’s thoughts caught up with him and he spun around in the dark, narrow corridor, hoisting his gun, realising who would be there-

Head tilted, long, dark hair falling over pale eyes, Luke Skywalker stood like a sentinel in the corridor, barring any further advance.

Even in the wan beam of the pinlight, Han couldn’t fail to miss the deep scar slicing from his right eye down his cheek and through his lips, cast into sharp shadow by the uneven light. He seemed… bigger. Seemed to fill the corridor from side to side, immovable, blocking any chance of access, every muscle taught. He didn’t have a weapon that Han could see, but for some reason he didn’t feel inclined to lower his own blaster.

“Why did you come, Han?”

When he spoke, despite his cold, steely tone, it was like the years just melted away for Han.
Somehow he couldn’t reconcile the voice of the man he’d known so well - had fought beside and laughed with and gotten fall-down drunk with - with the man who stood before him now, eyes ablaze with contained fury, absolutely confident despite Han’s blaster, making every danger sense the smuggler ever had blare out so that it was a struggle just to hold his ground, to make himself hold onto his goal.

“You know why- I came for Mon.”

Luke only shook his head slowly, “Not gonna happen, you know that.”

“Look, I got no fight with you Luke - let’s both just calm down, okay?” Despite his words, Han was aware that his hand was tightening about the butt of his blaster, finger resting lightly on the trigger.

“You gonna shoot me, Han?” It was a raw challenge rather than the uneasy request it should have been given the circumstances.

“No I’m not gonna shoot you.” Han denied, deeply uncomfortable, “I just want what I came here for.”

“I told you; no. Turn around- let someone else try, Han. Not you. Don’t make this a fight.”

Han hesitated, wishing to avoid just that… “I can’t just walk away, you know that. I know Mon too well.”

Luke paused, seeming to weigh the situation, and his voice when he spoke had lost some of its edge. “She’s not here.”

“Well then you won’t mind if I pass.” Han maintained, squaring off though he didn’t move forward.

“You too, Han?” Luke said, voice now disturbingly calm and neutral, “Do you think I’m lying too?”

Han almost, almost said it- Are you?
But in that last moment his own conscience held him to silence. He’d never once faced the same question from Luke, despite all appearances to the contrary. When everyone else - Han included - had tried to convince the kid that Han Solo was just another untrustworthy smuggler, Luke had stubbornly stuck with his own gut feeling, had held faith when everyone else had judged Han on sight- on principle even. The kid deserved no less from Han; he didn’t give a damn what anyone else said.

“No I don’t think that. I don’t think Luke Skywalker lies.” Han purposely used his old friends’ name- his real name.

Luke smiled tightly, amused at Solo’s brashness - but then he’d never lacked nerve. “Actually he does.” he countered easily, “But not to you- not about this. She’s not here, Han. She’s not even onboard.”

Han’s heart skipped a beat at that, “What?”

“She’s not aboard. I wanted Madine.”

Han blinked, mind racing. “So you came out of hyperspace and sent that handy little acknowledgement to Coruscant saying you had Mon onboard and helpfully added your stopoff point.”

“He should have led the assault. Not Leia.”

In that moment, it didn’t even occur to Han to question how Luke would know that. Instead he simply answered, uncertain why he did, distracted by the buzzing in the back of his mind. “Madine was onboard the Sol- he keyed the generators so his ship was caught in their influence-” Han faltered, suddenly aware of what he was saying, seeing the realisation on Luke’s face as he pieced it all together.

Han glowered at the kid, “Did you just do that Force-thing on me?!”

Luke brought his eyes back to Solo, unrepentant, “Are you pointing a gun at me?” he reminded easily, no real animosity in his voice.

“No- I am pointing a gun near you,” Han corrected, “There’s a big difference.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Well you don’t seem particularly put out.” Han said laconically.

The kid set his head to one side fractionally, little more than a shadow, dark clothes lost against the limited light. “If it were anybody else, they’d be dead already.”
A thought occurred to Luke and he spoke out again before Solo could answer. “Where are the others?”

“Around.” Han evaded uneasily, immediately kicking himself for admitting that there even were others.

Luke sighed, annoyed, but not really at Han, it seemed. “Keeping your exit clear?”

“Maybe.” Han skirted then, at Luke’s disparaging look, “Hey, I don’t know how to lie to a Jedi, okay?”

Luke jolted just slightly at that, the word stopping him mid-thought; Jedi. His Master used the word often, but only for his own amusement… Solo- Solo had said Jedi… and meant it.
“I’m not a Jedi Han...” Han shook his head firmly against the kid’s words, but Luke spoke on regardless, “And you’re right to point that gun at me, because the moment your guard’s down even a fraction I’ll take it from you.”

“Really?” Han said, a challenge in his voice. Before Luke could reply Han spun the blaster expertly in his hand and held it out to Luke, butt first. “Take it.”

Luke remained still, shaking his head slowly, genuine threat in his voice, “Don’t. If I take that gun, you’ll not walk out of here.”

“Take it.” Han repeated, holding the gun out, willing to call Luke’s bluff, “I’ve never pointed a blaster at a friend before in my life and I’m not gonna start now.”

Still the kid stood frozen, head tilted to one side, eyes flashing a final warning in the low glow of the lightbeam, making Han chillingly aware of the fact that his blaster was now muzzle-in. He still held it at body-height and kept his finger through the trigger-guard though, awaret hat he could spin it about again in an instant. Still, he set his jaw, unable to kick the tightness in his stomach when he looked into the kid’s eyes.

Luke remained coiled spring-tight, unmoved at Han’s actions. “I’m not a friend - don’t make me prove that.”

“Really? ‘Cos the guy who busted me out of that Imperial prison on Coruscant sure looked a hell of a lot like you.”

“He’s gone.”

“See that’s the thing; I don’t think he is. ‘Cos I’ve met a Sith and I know how low they go… and that’s not what you are.”

Luke’s anger flared at the inferred defamation of his father, “Don’t.”

There was a raw threat in the word; Han saw the kid’s chin come up and his eyes narrow. The last time he had seen Vader and Luke together, they’d practically been sparking. What had changed he had no idea… but he did know one thing-
“No- I know you,” Han shook his head decisively, “And I don’t believe you think they’re right. You’re better than that.”

The kid straightened and seemed to cool a little, one side of his scarred lips turning up in dry amusement, “How very gracious of you.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Han said, letting his blaster drop to his side, “You said you wouldn’t lie to me; well look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll do better then that, Han.” Luke whispered…

Something… something overwhelming and nauseating reached inside Han’s head and made him flinch and he looked back to the kid in slow motion, consciousness slipping away as reality dimmed to a hushed whisper, a smothering wave of devastating weakness overcoming him. And Luke was just… stood, an ominously intense look on his face in the tight beam of harsh light, no trace of emotion in his uncanny, mismatched eyes.
The strange thing was that it didn’t hurt, not really; he’d thought it would - like getting hit around the back of the head and knocked unconscious - but in the event Han just… collapsed down, a long sigh escaping him, his whole body sagging in one instant as if someone had hit the off-switch.

He crumpled, legs giving way, head going cold, eyes loosing focus, every single muscle loose as the floor seemed to rush up at him in the small pool of unsteady light-

The world sideways on, Han saw polished, black booted feet approach him, then Luke crouched down before him, his words fading into the ether…“I told you not to put the gun down…”

Mara was crouched by a side corridor which led to the aft hangar, listening intently in the darkness, when it happened-

She’d managed to gather up about three dozen stormtroopers on her way down to the hangar, leaving officers and non-com’s where they were, thinking them more of a hindrance than a help in a close-quarters firefight, particularly one requiring this kind of subtlety.

A stop-off at the munitions store two levels up had turned up enough slug-firers for her impromptu unit, plus three packs of old-style explosive putty. They had no way to remote-trigger it of course; the detonators were working perfectly, but the remote activators were all blown. Still, she knew from experience that the explosive could be detonated by actually firing into it, though how she intended to do that in the pitch-black she wasn’t sure.

It was in truth the least of her worries- top of her list at the moment was the lack of atmospheric shields in the bay and the fact that each of the emergency oxygen masks in the corridor outside the hangar was regulated by a small chip- which had of course blown, rendering them all useless.

She needed to get to the Rebel ships and the Rebel ships were in the now-airless docking bay and she had no air. The Rebels guarding the ship had air - she could see them through the small series of viewports which ran down the corridor to one side of the hangar - but they were in the airless hangar.

Bit of a vicious circle.

So she was crouched down in the dark corridor, trying to figure out a way to get those damn masks, when it happened.

It was a shout and a whisper, sharp as a knife and soft as a breath, and it spoke directly into the centre of her mind, powerful and focused and crystal clear. Like the Emperor.

But it wasn’t the Emperor.

--Mara--

It wasn’t a word; not exactly, but it was her name - hers specifically - and it commanded her attention completely, making her draw a shocked breath in, amazed and disbelieving in the same instant.

Stupidly, she glanced up the darkened corridor, expecting to see Luke there, even though the word had formed in some vague point directly between her ears.

Impressed upon her thoughts was the sudden need to be silent; that more Rebel troops were nearby; if she made a noise they would hear. An image formed in the shadows at the dges of her vision, shifting and erratic, trying to close in. It seemed the most natural thing in the galaxy to close her eyes, falling back into it willingly… trusting him.

She saw the main access corridor from the hangar bay to the lower decks, the image inverse, a miasma of fine lines, in places describing intricate detail, in others the vaguest of profiles fading into nothing, but enough to tell her where it was and show her three Rebel soldiers crouched expectantly in the darkness, all looking away from her position. Occasionally different parts of the image would sharpen as he tried to pass on specific information. She saw in crystal clarity the firearms they carried; she saw that they were wearing night-vision, recognized the need to be careful.

The moment she understood, the image broke down and coalesced; another three men at an intersection five levels down, gathered on the emergency stairwell, two looking up, one looking down… Again the image broke down and reformed; three more men, close to the entrance to the Detention Levels. She had the distinct impression that she needn’t worry about these- that he was already nearing their position, his intention clear.

She saw a momentary image of slumped bodies in the narrow hexagonal corridors of the Detention Centre, these ones diffuse and indistinct- unconscious.

Mara squeezed her eyes shut- she could do this; she did it all the time with the Emperor and this was already so much easier, so much more natural. She recreated in her mind her earlier frustration, frowning in concentration as she remembered exactly the moment that she had looked at the oxygen masks on the wall, cursing when she realised that they were inoperative-

Almost as the thought was forming, another force-augmented impression pushed into her mind; the three in the corridor nearest her, small rebreathers drawn in sharp focus hanging on chords about their throats… it dispersed and resolved, the night-vision in sharp focus; dangerous when they had them; useful if she could get them… then it buzzed, redrawing itself one final time; comlinks on their belts- be careful; the channel may be open to those in the hangar.

The moment she understood, the images scattered leaving behind hazy, red-green outlines as she blinked repeatedly in the darkness.

The connection lasted all of a few moments; a mass of information passed over in a burst of direct mental contact, leaving her reeling at the implications, her mission momentarily forgotten, her heartbeat loud in her ears, adrenaline pumping. She knew of course; knew that Skywalker could do this but… to other Sith, not to her. She had… sensed him, had understood completely. And he had understood her, intent and communication crystal clear. Like the Emperor… but not.

Because whilst contact with her master had always been sharp and invasive, condescending and demanding, just as he always was... this had been…

What? Just as powerful and as focused and as defined but… empathic. Tempered and measured, even under stress… just as he was.

Another thought occurred; how long had he known? How long had he known that he could contact her - that she would be able to understand? Her one gift, taught in meticulous detail by her master.

Had Skywalker admitted it to her now out of necessity… or as a further development of trust? Either way, the implications were significant. What would she tell the Emperor?

For the first time, a thought surfaced which made her heart pump at its audacity…

…should she tell him at all…?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Luke stood in the Fury’s hold, partial power routed into the Destroyer’s crippled systems by front-line military mainframes shuttled over from the Peerless and patched into the Fury’s remaining systems via miles of new cabling which snaked in bundled disorder through open corridors, providing basic life-support and power-hungry shields. Outside of the hangar, the massive bulk of the Peerless was just visible, casting long shadows over the Core Fleet Destroyer Dictat, which would remain as an escort to the damaged Fury until she was taken under tow.
Repairs were estimated in months and double-figures at that. The Fury had always travelled with the Peerless as fallback support, so much so that the crew of the Peerless had nicknamed her ‘Little Sister’, much to the good-natured indignation of the Fury’s crew.

In the low lights, the Fury’s aft bay was a scene of shattered destruction, Imperial and Rebel soldiers still laid on the floor where they'd fallen, pools of blood almost black in the dim light, their slick reflections picked out by the white glow to the edge of the hold’s newly-slaved atmospheric shield and the dim glimmer of the stars beyond. Slugthrowers made a hell of a mess.

Frowning, Luke crouched before the nearest corpse, setting his head on one side as he studied the glassy eyes of a Rebel in a pilot’s flight-suit, staring blankly into infinity, absolutely still.

He remembered vividly when he wore a flight suit so similar to that; when he was a Commander in the Alliance… and when it was his responsibility to write that letter - the one that began, ‘Dear Sir, it is with greatest regret that I must inform you…’

He always wrote them, whether they could be sent or not. He’d written a great many of them, as he recalled.

He was still staring at the dead man when Mara walked up beside him, glancing momentarily at the downed Rebel before looking back up, eyes taking in the ruined Destroyer. “Call me a cynic, but I don’t think you’re going to get your deposit back on this one.”

Luke didn’t speak; didn’t acknowledge her at all, his head still on one side, eyes on the lifeless Rebel, on the dark, glassy pool which had seeped out about him, forming perfect right-angles at its edges as it had been channelled along the indented corners of the grey deck-plates. It could so easily have been him when he’d been a Rebel pilot, Luke reflected dispassionately; a hundred times over. Why had he survived but this man had died - what would have changed in the galaxy had their fates been reversed?

Mara continued, not noticing his distraction, “All the crew are aboard the Peerless and the prisoners have been transferred over.”

“The Rebel task force from the Detention Level?” Luke asked distantly without standing or looking up.

“Aboard.” Mara confirmed, glancing down at the inventory on the automemo she carried, mildly curious as to why he should bother to check.

“The Attin’Cho and Karrde’s freighters?” Luke prompted, moving her thoughts along.

“Adrift.”

“Get a ‘tractor lock on the Attin’Cho; transfer her to the Peerless’ hold.”

Mara thought to query this, but something in Skywalker’s manner held her to silence, so she merely nodded, stepping back and pulling out her new comlink to pass on the order.

She glanced out at the nearing shuttle on its final journey between the Peerless and the Fury, all other non-essential staff now evacuated. Luke had remained to oversee the securing of the Fury, strangely reluctant to leave the crippled vessel, so Mara had of course stayed with him. But now they too were leaving, and not a moment too soon; despite emergency life-support, the destroyer was already cold enough that she could see her breath misting before her, the edges of the bay nearest open space twinkling with the beginning of frost crystals forming.

“I won’t be sad to leave this outsize coffin.” she murmured, realising only now how silent Luke was. She looked to him, then back to the corpse on the deck, whom he was still staring at.

“Friend of yours?” she deadpanned of the lifeless Rebel, then broke off, realising what she was saying, wishing she could kick herself.

“Friends are an unaffordable luxury.” He murmured impassively; no answer at all, before standing to walk silently away, an insular, isolated shadow in the gloom of the bone deep cold.

Han struggled to consciousness, the light bright enough to make him squint, his head pounding at the effort, a distant ringing in his ears. Slowly, memories leached through his addled mind - of the mission, of his capture… of Luke.

He rolled onto his side, groaning, aware of the cold, hard floor below him, the vibrating hum of a struggling air exchanger rattling loose deck plates. It smelled empty and fusty, as if no-one had been here for a long time… which was never true of any Imperial detention cell. Realisation that the high-pitched warbling wasn’t in his head finally filtered through, along with vague recognition as to what it was; comm signals weren’t generally a feature of detention cells either...

He dragged his eyes open… and stared at the underside of an ageing holo-chess table, set into the corner of a battered hold, surrounded by a half-curve of dilapidated acceleration seats.

“Chell!!” he scrabbled upright, stumbling back a few paces over a huge roll of something on the floor to hit his hip against the corner of the hold ops console, his arm grabbing at the chair there.

“What the…” Was this a dream? How hard had Luke knocked him out?

He rested back against the console, his hand dragging a line through the dusty surface. Every bang and hum and patter was right- every vibration trembling through his boots and buzzing right up into his brain…

He was in the Falcon. The Millennium Falcon.

He had no idea - none whatsoever - what to do. His battered brain just couldn’t come up with something equal to the moment. For a long time he just stared, waiting to wake up.

Finally he staggered forward, stepping over the mass of the huge roll on the floor without even seeing it, reaching out for the dust-encrusted holo-chess table, a gradual, unstoppable grin spreading across his face.

He could have hollered and whooped and yelled himself hoarse… but in the moment, he simply reached out to the wall and ran his fingers over her, feeling again that familiar vibration which had always made his heart beat in quicktime.

“Hey Baby- ya miss me?”

The comm still trilled for attention and Han staggered, lightheaded, back to the ops console and flicked a switch- it was a little sticky; he really needed to fix that.

“…vessel this is the Alliance Frigate Arcturus- do you read me? I say again, you are adrift at the edge of a battle-zone. Do you require…”

Han grinned, “Hey, hey, hey- look what I found!”

Leia’s voice came over the comm, echoing slightly with distortion, her shock and relief audible. “Han?!”

He was grinning so wide now that his cheeks were starting to ache - his two favourite ladies, together again. “Hey doll, don’t go… I mean, Highness. Don’t go crossing me off the Duty List yet.”

“Han, how did you… never mind. Standby, we’re coming alongside. We’ll tractor-beam you in.”

In his excitement, Han didn’t even bother to refuse. He just turned about to take in the old bird all over again, “Yep-“ He murmured deliriously, “Still there.”

Heading for the cockpit, still giddy from excitement, wondering where the hell he was… where the Fury was; what had happened, Han stepped again over the huge canvas roll on the floor and was three paces up the corridor before he paused and returned, frowning.

Laid across the floor of the main hold was what looked like a massive roll of very old, stiffened canvas about twice as long as Han was tall and easily as big around as Chewie, tied in the centre with a braid cord.

Frowning, Han nudged the roll with his toe, but it was heavy enough not to move. Reaching out, he took the end of the slip-knot and stepped back, pulling the knot free. The bulky roll immediately sprang open, partly unfurling into a huge stiff sheet across the floor, covering the big hold from wall to wall.

On it was a painting- a very famous painting. It depicted a night-battle beneath the stars of some foreign planet, rendered in blacks and midnight blues, bright flashes of red and caustic yellow traced across the darkness.

It was the artwork Han had wanted to take as payback when they’d first been taken to the Imperial Palace and he’d said he would stay with Luke. He remembered distinctly pointing the massive canvas out; remembered Luke agreeing in the condition that he didn’t have to carry it...

As it had unfurled, a small piece of loose flimsiplast was thrown free to float lightly down.

Han fumbled and caught it midair, turning it over. The short message was handwritten and unsigned, but Han recognised Luke’s writing. It said simply:

Now we're even.

Han grinned from ear to ear, then carefully folded up the piece of flimsiplast and stowed it away in his breast pocket.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mara knocked lightly on the Peerless’ ready-room and entered without waiting for a reply. Skywalker was stood to the far side with his back to the room, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back, still looking out at the Fury.

She frowned, still uncertain why he remained in such a melancholy mood when the operation was a significant success. Yes there were unexpected complications, but he’d taken the leader of the Rebellion into custody, after two decades of the Empire hunting her, and he’d done so with a small force and minimal conflict or collateral damage, which made her capture that much more embarrassing for the Rebellion.

For herself, right now Mara felt… what? Buoyant; infused with confidence- certain that he would lead them to further victories, more convinced daily of his loyalty to the Empire and positive of Palpatine’s faith in him.

She remembered when she had first seen him unconscious in the Perlemian Apartments - now referred to by all as The Heir’s Apartments - and the Emperor said that he would lead the Empire one day. Remembered her indifference; her unconvinced disapproval. Now... now she simply couldn’t imagine life without him; didn't want to. She had a vague memory of it being… serious and sombre; less stimulating, less energising. But then in the Palace it still was, she supposed- she’d always preferred to be out here in the galaxy… it was just that now, she preferred to be out here, in the galaxy with Skywalker.

With The Heir.

It had been a rocky road from that first wary meeting to his acknowledgement by Palpatine as the man who would one day rule the Empire, but more and more she had faith in his ability to do just that. More and more she saw in Skywalker the man worthy to be successor to Palpatine. They still had their disagreements, he and the Emperor, the friction often bordering on blatant dissent, and she didn’t expect them to stop any time soon. But what she’d once seen as a stubborn obstinate flaw, she recognised now as part of his strength; he wasn’t easily browbeaten or bribed, even by a Sith Emperor. In Vader, her master had always sought to create a savant; a loyal advocate - in Luke, he was moulding a leader. She saw that now. Saw the lessons he taught; the distinctions, the subtle adaptations and tolerance - though she doubted Skywalker had that perspective yet.

But he surely would, given time; she believed that absolutely now. Mara couldn’t for one moment imagine anyone else in the role Skywalker had achieved. Nor, she suspected, could the Emperor.

Yes, she knew Skywalker still had ties- more probably than Palpatine thought. She'd played a hunch and gone back to check the security images from the prisoners who were transferred over to the Peerless from the scuppered Fury, and Han Solo had been among the prisoners taken onboard and magically, when Mara had checked again less than an hour ago, he was no longer in the manifest. What exactly Skywalker had done with him, she didn’t know, but she could pretty much figure out the bigger picture - she knew that Skywalker had kept the Corellian smuggler’s freighter in deep storage aboard the Peerless since about three months after he had taken command, and she’d bet a year’s salary that it was no longer there.

But this was small-fry, unimportant in the larger scheme of things; one of those quirky little contradictions which made him so intriguing. Luke had taken prisoner all of those of value to their master; had been most conscientious in that.

It was that which she knew now as she looked to his reflection in the tall viewpane to the rear of his ready-room, Luke remaining still and silent, lost in thought, eyes on the hulking shadow of the dead Star Destroyer. It didn’t matter, she knew; he had many more in his fleet.

Luke stared at the crippled Fury, lost in his own thoughts, changing his focus just momentarily from it to the reflection of Mara Jade in the viewpane then back to the Destroyer again without speaking.

An awful lot of mess and loss in this last desperate tangle and nothing to show for it - on both sides. But at least his was by choice. Could he have caught Madine? Yes, easily when the Peerless had arrived, but he'd ordered them to leave the distant Rebel freighter alone, claiming no-one of value was onboard, telling his Admiral to let it return to its Rebellion with the full tale of their failure and Mothma's loss. The truth was that he wasn't prepared to risk Leia's involvment to catch Madine, and since they were together, if he caught one then he also caught the other. First rule of sabacc; never get pot-committed. So he’d let Madine get away; after everything he'd risked, the price was just too high - this time.

Some small part of him had been tempted to tell the Peerless to disable the tiny Rebel freighter and reel it in, firstly because he wanted Madine and secondly because he wanted to confirm what his Master wanted with Leia. But it would have required a massive editing of Luke's own plans to gain what was probably only a minor and, now that he knew what she was capable of, unsurprising piece of information. Presumably his Master wanted Leia Organa because she was Force-sensetive; he either wanted to train her or he wanted to kill her, and neither were particularly conducive to Luke's own plans.

No- he needed her where she was for now. And he’d needed Han to watch her- and hopefully intervene on Luke’s behalf, when it came to the crunch. Leia was integral to his long-term plans and Han… Han was his insurance. That was the only reason for is actions today. He smiled just slightly, the action pulling at the scar over his lips;

And anyway, he couldn’t imagine Han Solo without the Falcon - it set the galaxy to rights.

Seeing him smile slightly, Mara returned the same, relieved that her initial reading of his mood had been wrong.

“Congratulations.” She said; the first time she'd felt safe to do so. “I haven’t contacted the Emperor yet. I thought you’d want to make this report yourself.”

“No.” He replied casually, turning back to walk to his desk. In someone else, she would have thought it false humility, but in Luke she knew it was more calculated than that; he was playing his political games, even now. “Make the report. Send it to…” he paused, glancing up at her without lifting his head, voice teasing wickedly, “…whoever the hell you send those things to that I’m not supposed to know about.”

She set an unimpressed expression on her face, head to one side, but was prevented from making any reply by a quick knock at the door. Skywalker gave his best ‘how convenient’ look in return as he spoke out, “Yes.”

Lieutenant Fallin, another relatively newly-appointed bridge officer entered, clearing his throat. “Sir, all the prisoners are logged and confined; just under a hundred in total. We’re ready to make the jump to join up with the Executor at Nubia. Ops are asking what’s to be done with the Bothan ship- the Attin’Cho.”

Mara half-turned, reciting the Commander’s usual order under such circumstances, “Set it adrift and use it for target practice. Have the gunners…”

“Wait.” Luke interjected, “Is it still capable of life-support?”

“No Sir.” Fallin replied, glancing down at his automemo which clearly held a ‘tech run-down of the freighter before adding, “But I think engineering could get it made ready in a few hours if you require it.”

Mara took a long look at the young officer; that kind of initiative wasn’t common among his kind anymore; in the Imperial fleet it was more usual to keep one’s head down. He was another one of Luke’s finds, poached from the ISD Hurricane a few months earlier and given a promotion to earn him a place in the Peerless’ bridge crew.

She hadn’t failed to notice the recent turnover of staff onboard the Peerless - nor the subtle change in attitude which had accompanied it. There was a pragmatic, get-it-done mindset now; a sense of purpose, promotions depending not on who you knew or where you had trained, but on aptitude and attitude, less relevance placed on following the rules and more on achieving results. The consequent determined optimism was quietly contagious, spreading not just through the Peerless, but beginning to be whispered further afield. Skywalker was no longer leading someone else’s forces; he was creating his own.

Luke nodded, “Do so, and leave parts onboard so that its comm system can be repaired.”

Mara glanced back, confused, “Why do you want it spaceworthy?”

Luke turned mismatched eyes to her, “The Bothan crew presently held in the detention centre are to be returned to the ship when it’s been made safe, then it’s to be cast adrift before the Peerless goes to lightspeed.”

Mara frowned, “You want to let them go?”

“I am letting them go.” He stated simply, tone inviting no argument as he turned back to Fallin, “See to the freighter- quickly as possible; I want to be in lightspeed by the shift change.”

Fallin clicked his heels as he bowed his head, “Yes Sir.”

He turned smartly and exited, leaving Mara to stare at Luke as he sat down and turned his attention to the automemo on his desk. He remained silent for long moments, but Mara held her peace, and eventually he spoke out without looking up, “You disapprove.”

She shrugged, “I simply wonder what you’re doing.”

“Perhaps I’m feeling generous.” he evaded, eyes on the automemo screen.

She smiled just slightly, “Yeah, ‘cos I would fall for that.”

Luke sighed slightly, looking up. “Well then perhaps it’s the fact that in the last three months I’ve take over sixty-five prisoners, all Bothan. The Attin’Cho was a Bothan ship with a predominantly Bothan crew- if I hold those who were onboard that will effectively double the number of Bothans who have been arrested on my command recently. I’ve no wish to alienate the Bothan species and create further problems for myself in the future over what’s effectively nothing more than circumstance - that’s not my objective here.”

He turned back to his automemo, voice dismissive. “Plus there’s a long-established Bothan spynet which serves the Empire and I don’t wish to lose it- and neither dos the Emperor. More importantly, I’m not about to create a time bomb which will make all future dealings with the whole planet difficult simply for the sake of a few political miscreants. To do so would be to hand a moral victory to the Rebellion, and I won’t give them something valuable to pull out of this defeat. Let them go.”

Mara nodded slowly, very aware of the fact that more and more, Luke was thinking and acting with a real awareness of his future with the Empire - of his eventual position. He was becoming a leader.

“I’ll make the arrangements.” She said simply, turning to leave. She was at the door before he spoke again, bringing her eyes back to his own.

“Mara-”

He’d always had such flawless sky-blue eyes; now that wide segment of darkest brown left those perfect pale blue eyes mismatched so that when he looked at her, she often felt some vague uneasiness for several moments which she was unable to pin down, just as she did now. Then she would notice afresh the dark shard tainting them… and realise she was staring just a moment too long - just as she was now.

He paused just slightly and she looked away quickly, aware of those mismatched eyes on her, curious. Then he continued, all business again, the moment broken. “The Bothan leader Olin’yaa; he stays- I want to know how the Rebellion got the information about the Dynamic EMP from the restricted Invincible dockyard and how they managed to get the resources to build their own. And I want to know what the Rebellion intended to do with them, because it certainly wasn’t for this.”

She nodded and turned away, hand to the door release…

“Mara.” His voice brought her instantly back round.

“Yes?”

He paused again; “You did well today. Thank-you.”

She blinked, unused to praise from him, then shrugged, “We make a good team.”

He smiled genuinely, the action pulling the scar through his lips to a crescent, “Yes… we do.”

He held her gaze for a few seconds before turning back down to his work and she was left to stare at his dark hair for long seconds before wiping what was probably a very foolish grin off her face and turning to leave.

The two immense wedge-shaped hulls of the Super Star Destroyers made an impressive sight holding position close to Nubia, just beyond the well-travelled trade route crossing points of the Hydian and the Corellian Way. With the two Flagships were a total of nine Imperial-Class Star Destroyers, an outrageous show of force made more for political effect than to actually protect the prisoner they held.

This imposing squadron, a mix of Core and Rim Fleet Destroyers, remained in tight formation, ostensibly awaiting confirmation to make the last leg of the return to Coruscant together, synchronising systems so that they would arrive in orbit at the same time. In truth, the relative Fleet Admirals had made all arrangements hours ago and were simply awaiting confirmation from their Commander-in-Chiefs, who had spoken to each-other only briefly by inter-ship com several hours earlier.
It was common knowledge among the Fleet that Lord Vader and The Heir had a strained professional relationship bordering on hostility…

And they both worked hard to maintain that perception.

The Heir had continued to work through the changing shift onboard his Flagship, as was his habit, before returning to his quarters to continue working in his private office there, as was also his habit, Mara and Reece retiring for the night when he did.

So no-one noticed the man who slipped away in the carefully-timed gap between the patrolling guards’ attention, the surveillance lenses along the corridors about The Heir’s quarters always incidentally pointing the wrong way in their pre-programmed sweeps. He left the Peerless on a maintenance lugger, waiting for him in the off-limits bay occupied by the 701st, and landed in the docking bay of the Executor dedicated to Vader’s own trusted troops, the 501st. He’d return the same way in a few hours’ time, no-one being any the wiser. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and he doubted that it would be the last.

But it was of particular relevance because he had one stop to make, and though the arrangements had been made by his father, for once it wasn’t him Luke was going to see.

Mon woke with a start to the near-darkness of the cell, staring at the blank wall before her. For long seconds she lay still and listened to her heart beat loud… then the slightest of sounds scraped through the darkness behind her, tingling up her spine as she twisted about.

There, crouched down and sat on his heels, leaning back against the far wall, was a hunched, dark-clothed figure who watched her through pale eyes, cold as ice in darkness…

“What do you want?” She had meant it to sound stern and unafraid, but it had come out as little more than a whisper.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He said simply, eyes intent on her.

Mon sat up pulling the thin blanket to her, uncertain what to say, all her resolve bleeding away into the dim shadows. His eyes remained steady on her, face unreadable in the low light, and Mon couldn’t help but look again to the deep scar which ran down the right side of is face. She glanced away, then made herself look back as those unsettling, mismatched eyes remained steady on her. Had they always been that; one eye blue, the other cast through with brown, so dark in the low light as to seem almost black.

“You’re being taken to Coruscant for trial.” He said finally, voice emotionless, “I should imagine the verdict is pretty much a foregone conclusion.”

“Is that what you’re here for? To gloat?”

“No.” he seemed strangely placid, not rising to her angry accusation. “I thought you would want to know. Nobody should have to go to death unprepared.”

Mon felt lightheaded at this, angry and outraged all at once, her passion giving her courage.

“I’m not afraid of you.” She announced, and he moved just slightly, making her start despite her words.

“Yes you are. You’d be a fool not to be, and you were never that, Mon. Blind perhaps- willing to be led.”

She frowned into the shadows, shaking her head in refusal. “I’m not going to play your word-games.”

He remained hunched against the wall, a shadow in darkness, those star-bright eyes glinting. “No? Not even once, for old-time’s sake?”

Mon searched his face in the dusky light, but nothing was there save expectant amusement, any real intent or emotions well hidden, the man she had thought she knew completely discarded.

“Do you have anything you’d like me to pass on?” he asked at last, completely serious.

“To whom?” Mon challenged, “We hardly move in the same circles.”

He only shrugged, unoffended. “To the Alliance perhaps…to Leia. I know how close you were to her.”

Mon shivered at the realisation that he spoke to her in the past tense - as if she were already dead. Then realisation of what he'd said brought her chin up, “Leave Leia alone!”

He shook his head, bringing his steepled fingers up before his scarred face, the deep slice through his lips twisting as he smiled just slightly, “I can’t do that, Mon. You started a war- you opened the floodgates.”

She shook her head, “Don’t blame me for your own vindictive desire for revenge.”

“I have no need for further revenge - the score is settled. And in truth it was only partly that anyway; my desire to remove you coincided with your attack. The latter hid the former- bought me permission I would never otherwise have had.”

She frowned, uncertain, and he tilted his head just slightly, murmuring gently though that did nothing to ease Mon’s trepidation. “You see I have plans… an Empire to build. When all the obstacles are removed.”

“She’ll stop you.” Mon said of Leia, absolutely sure.

He smiled genuinely, but in anticipation rather than agreement. “Perhaps. If anybody can then it’s her... but I don’t think so.”

“She knows what you are.”

“So did you, Mon.” he said easily, “But you still let me lead you.”

Mon dropped her head, rubbing at her temples, lost. He gave her the time, not speaking as she struggled to come to terms with this; the realisation that he would go after another leader, then another, then another. Hunt them down; single them out and split them from the pack then close in for the kill - like the wolf Palpatine always claimed he was.

And still he sat, mute and mild, watching her with those strangely mismatched feral eyes…

“Why?” She murmured at last, “Why do you hate us?”

He only shrugged, impassive. “I don’t hate you, Mon. But as I said, I have plans - and you were in the way.”

Mon lifted her chin in defiance, “How inconvenient for you.”

“Yes it was. And I had no idea how to deal with it, none at all. Until you forced my hand- made it personal.”

“You think removing me will make a difference but it won’t - not at all. You’ll only feed the fire. Leia will replace me. She’ll lead the Alliance when I’m gone.”

“Why Leia?” He asked, openly curious.

“She was born to lead. It’s in her blood…” Mon paused, unsure why that statement seemed to interest the Sith so very much.

“Why Leia- why not Madine?”

“You know why - have you forgotten or did you never really listen?” Mon said, but he remained silent, expectant… and as good as she was, Mon fell for the oldest trick in the book and kept talking; “Madine is a General, and a good one, but he’s a military man and ours is not a military organisation, no matter what we have been forced into. The military are there to support the Alliance’s ideals- not to lead. Leia is a political leader therefore she can take power… Madine never could. But she’s also a pragmatist- and a fighter. She’ll find a way to bring your precious Empire…”

He rose, making Mon’s words trail off.

“Thank-you, Mon.” He said at last, his tone indicating that the conversation was finished as far as he was concerned.

“What…?” Mon Mothma rose, uncertain.

“Thank-you. Since I didn’t catch Madine this time, I needed to be sure that Leia and not Madine would take command before I could move forward. Anybody else would have required an editing of my plans.”

He gazed at her for long seconds, face strangely open yet completely emotionless. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Mon - but the choices were yours, not mine.”

She shook her head, “I don’t regret them.”

“Really?” He looked at her for a long time, eyes calculating, searching…

Luke sighed, reluctant; aware that he should simply turn and leave… but unable to do so. Whether it was to ensure his ongoing plans or simply settle his curiosity he didn’t know, but he wanted, needed to do this; to make this offer. If she proved him wrong and took him up on it, he had absolutely no idea what he would do. But he still had to make it- if only to answer his own jaded conscience. “If I told you that I could help you - help the Alliance covertly - that there may be a way to work together to…”

She lifted her chin in defiance, cutting him off. “We don’t need your help. We can fight our own battles.”

His silence invited further comment, and Mon heard her own voice harden as she issued through clenched teeth, “I don’t trust you; and nothing you can do and nothing you can say would ever make me.”

Even this he seemed strangely tolerant of. “No- I thought as much… but I had to try.”

He glanced back up, his smile reminding her momentarily of the idealistic boy she had known… but that effortless smile turned so easily into a feral grin, “Time to move on...”

And finally, like a bolt from the darkness, Mon Mothma put all the pieces together - his offer to pass any message on to Leia, his confidence that he could, his need to know that Leia would succeed Mon…

“You’re in contact with Leia!”

“Among others.” He allowed, no triumph at all in his voice. “Don’t worry, Mon; she’s not a traitor. She doesn’t know it’s me- yet.”

Before she knew what she was doing, Mon had lunged forward, striking out, connecting a hard blow across his face.

He caught her hand as it left him, yanking it down to leave her defenceless, his own body tensing...

Then he smiled, though it never reached those cold eyes. “I’ll give you that one, Mon - perhaps I deserve it.”

She tried to pull free, but he held her wrist, grip like steel. His gaze stayed on her for a long time, contradictory emotions flitting across those disquieting, mismatched eyes.

Eventually he half-shrugged as he let her go, the action casually dismissive though there was something- some unspoken apology in the tone of his words. “Look at it this way, Mon- one way or another, you walk free of this prison in a few days. I’m serving a life sentence.”

She frowned, confused at his words, but still striking out, “I hope it’s an eternity.”

“Every day, Mon.” He assured as he turned to leave, “Every single day.”

Vader was aware of his son’s approach long before the commotion began outside his quarters onboard the Executor- though commotion may have been the wrong word, as brief as it was. There were two guards in the long corridor which led to his door, its entrance closed for the night, permitting no further visitors. Vader heard the sharply spoken words then sensed the brief spike in the Force, followed by silence…

He stood, waiting for his son to enter, aware that the boys’ senses were ablaze with confusion and anger.

The heavy, reinforced door ground open forcefully against its own inset bolts, not even slowing Luke as he stormed in.

“You once told me that I was beyond Light and Darkness. Why!?”

Vader kept his voice calm in the face of the boy's obvious vehemence, “Because you are everything that I once was - but you are not only my son. You are your mother’s child as much as you are mine and no evil could ever come from her. If you had known her, you would know that absolutely.”

Luke stared wild-eyed and disbelieving, and Vader knew it was not enough. “Because if Darkness could claim you it would have done so long ago.”

“How do you know that it hasn’t?” It was almost a plea, part desperation and part fear.

“You are not evil.” Vader stated simply.

To hear, simply to hear those words, was a release in itself and Luke’s sense and voice calmed as he took a trembling breath.

“How do you know?” he repeated.

“Darkness would not ask,” Vader assured. “Darkness would not care.”

Luke considered for a long time, eyes skipping the room, mind racing. “Palpatine told me I was lost- he was right.”

Vader shook his head, “You are not lost. You are finding your way- finding yourself.”

Luke let out a broken sigh, shaking his head, “I’ve surrendered everything I believed in.”

“For what?”

“For…” Luke faltered, frowning.

“For everything that you now believe - everything you know.” Vader finished, bass voice sure and confident. “The world is never as simple as our childhood wishes- at some point, we must all accept that truth… we must grow up and put impossible ideals behind us.”

Luke glanced up, “What if I’m wrong?

“As long as you consider that possibility, then…”

Luke shook his head, unwilling to be mollified so easily, “No- that’s just words. This is lives- people I…”

“Respect?” Vader said into Luke’s guilt-ridden hesitance. “It is no weakness to respect your enemies.”

“She isn’t my enemy.”

“She tried to kill you.”

“Maybe she was right.”

“Then why did you stop her?” Vader asked of his son; not a challenge, but a genuine request for an explanation.

Luke considered for a long time, shaking his head slowly. “Because I had to- she and others like her will just maintain the status-quo. The war will never end- old prejudices and deep wounds will always hold them apart. They’ve fought too long; become too entrenched, and Palpatine will always use that against them. They’re lost in their ideals.” He considered his words for a long time, looking for answers to the questions they posed- though all he found was further questions; “But that doesn’t necessarily make them wrong.”

“Nor you, for stopping them.”

Luke sighed, silent again, considering. Vader too held his peace; he knew better now than to push too hard- the boy would come to his own conclusions; he always did. This was merely a sounding, a testing of his viewpoint. He glanced up at his father now, looking for confirmation as he spoke. “Palpatine’s no better, his actions only fuel the extremism and he knows it- wants it. He would never negotiate but he’ll never wipe them out because he doesn’t want peace, only an opportunity to exercise his supremacy. We can never move forward whilst people like that hold power.”

“Then change it.”

Luke turned away, knowing where his father was leading him. But hadn’t he considered this himself- it was after all, why he’d gone after Mothma in the first place. Was this the time to finally acknowledge it out loud? Because he couldn’t do this without his father’s help - or at the very least his willing disregard of Luke’s actions.

He shook his head, unable to say it out loud yet, “If I removed him then whoever took power would have their own agenda.”

“There is an easy way to guarantee that the Emperor’s agenda is your own.”

Again Luke shook his head, “No. I have no right to take power.”

“If you believe the Emperor’s actions unbefitting, then you should stop him. Isn’t that what you had always intended to do?”

The boy remained hesitant, so Vader tried again, “You believe his actions destructive - that he should be removed from power.” they were long past prevarication now; it was in neither of their characters to do so and the boy had danced on the edge of treason long enough.

Luke lifted his chin, decisive. “I believe there’s no place for people like that in a new order.”

“Your New Order.”

“Everyones.” Luke avoided.

“But you will lead it. Because no-one else can.”

Luke considered, eyes down, lost in thought.

“You will do what has to be done.” Vader continued, voice very sure, pushing his son on, only now able to nudge Luke into the path Vader had chosen for him four years ago- and so of course for himself. “You will always do that- it is in your nature; you will look for a path, you will find a way and you will make it happen. You will make it happen- that is when stubbornness is a strength. You will never shy away from what needs to be done.”

His son remained silent for long seconds, eyes to the floor as his mind raced; were he able, Vader would have held his breath in rapt anticipation. Luke frowned, mismatched eyes hidden beneath a thoughtful scowl… then he nodded; just once, but firmly, the decision finally made, the path committed to... for both of them - together. And just like that, in the single nod of a head, four years of anticipation came to fruition for Vader.

“I’ll broker peace.” Luke said at last, a challenge in his voice for his father to disagree with his ultimate intent.

“Your peace.” Vader underlined. “Your way.”

“My way.” Luke confirmed, and Vader smiled beneath is mask, aware of the significance of the moment - that this was the first time that they had come to any accord in this. That he could finally move forward with his son at his side.

If the boy wanted some invented belief to ease his conscience, then let him have it. When he held power, when he realised what he could do - that all previous barriers were eradicated - he would reconsider. But those barriers must first be removed. “And the Emperor?”

Luke remained silent for a long time, his face and sense slowly hardening to Vader’s searching perceptions as he finally acknowledged the necessary truth.

“He doesn’t feature.” Luke stated calmly, “At all.”

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