CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Reece re-read the final briefing for the formal reception to be given in honour of the Patriot’s launch, frowning at the unexpected changes before glancing to The Heir. “Your orders have changed slightly for this evening, Sir. Your mark, Kiria D’Arca- apparently you’re to lead the first dance with her tonight.”

Luke glanced up from his reverie, having clearly not heard. He’d spent the afternoon trying hard to avoid everyone, yet frustrating unable to contact the one person he desperately wanted to speak to; his father. Nor would he be able to speak to him tonight; the Executor had already left orbit at the Emperor’s command, in pursuit of those who had launched the attack, and remained unobtainable whilst in lightspeed. Finally he'd taken to hiding out in the small study behind his office, which was where Reece had found him by searching out the plain-clothes guards who always hovered outside which ever room he’d retreated to. Now he stood absently watching the sun set behind the opposite tower of the massive, imposing Palace, turning the ring over in his hand; turning Palpatine’s words over in his head.

This was Reece’s third attempt to reinstate some kind of normality to the day and railroad Luke into dressing for the official reception this evening, though Luke remained indifferent, half-glancing back as Reece pushed on, repeating his words. “Your mark, Kiria D’Arca- you’re to lead the first dance with her.”

Luke pursed his lips, “I don’t think so. In fact after today’s fiasco, I’m seriously considering not attending at all rather than give Palpatine the opportunity for some public potshot at me.”

He'd skimmed over the facts of his meeting with Palpatine that afternoon, giving Reece and Hallin none of the specifics, and that only because Hallin already knew about the ring, even if he didn’t know its significance. And because of course, there would be fallout and damage control to consider. Reece paused for a few seconds, and Luke knew that he was taking the time to get his argument straight in his head before he launched into his reasons, probably numerous and maybe even numbered, which he had a habit of doing if he considered the points relevant enough. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Firstly, an invitation given by the Emperor is a command, not a request; you know that.” Reece’s voice was the epitome of restrained calm, “Secondly, your father has spent months setting up the contacts from the Rim Fleet for you to speak with tonight. You can’t not attend; it’s the only chance you’ll have to make contact with many of them for the rest of the year; it’s an unrivalled opportunity.”

“And you really think that the only opportunity I have to meet with them should be when there’s a good chance of Palpatine launching into some kind of public reprisal?”

“Yes Sir, I do. And if he did- well then, that only supports your position. As far as everyone there is concerned, you saved the Emperor’s life today. He made a public speech to that effect, changing the name of a Super Star Destroyer in recognition of the fact. He’s hardly going to counter all of that by making some open criticism tonight over something as insignificant as a ring, Sir; there is no public discord between the Emperor and The Heir, you know that. And if he did, it would be the Emperor who would be considered capricious and not yourself.”

The Heir leaned back, jaw flexing as he looked out over the city with a long, doubtful sigh- but at least he was prepared to hear Wez out. He ploughed on, hoping to provide a little perspective; a glance at the larger picture which The Heir seemed unable to step back and see today.

“I’d also advise you to consider Palace protocol; its bad form to refuse to turn up to a reception given in recognition of the launch of a Super Star Destroyer you’ve just been given command of.”

“Protocol.” Luke made the word a curse, but Wez pushed on.

“The people out there watching are the foremost powers of both the Core and Rim Systems- they’re the one’s you need to impress. And they want to be impressed; they’re willing to listen to you because they’re ready for change… Real change. Not just a replacement for the Emperor- they’re looking for an alternative. Palpatine was a leader of his time; he forged an Empire from the chaos of the Clone Wars but that time is over now- the Empire’s ready to move on and they know it. They’re looking for someone who can be a diplomat, someone composed and practical and level-headed. Palpatine was a stabilizing force but he’s spent years imposing and enforcing his view without exception; they still want that strength, that decisive focus, but now they’ll rally around someone who offers more. Someone rational and adaptable- someone more humane. They’re ready to move on and they’re looking to you. All you have to do is show them you understand- that you agree; that your values and goals are the same as theirs.”

“And I do all that by dancing with a woman I’ve never met?”

The Heir’s disparaging, long-suffering tone brought a rare smile to Reece’s face. “No, Sir- but it’s a start. You need to inspire confidence by example- by a method they recognize in a language they understand. The D’Arca’s are a powerful family politically and militarily in both the Core and the Rim systems; they can help forward your plans considerably and regardless of the Emperor’s machinations, you need to pursue your own goals."

The D'Arca’s are loyal to the Emperor.” Luke stated uncategorically, though Wez wasn’t yet ready to concede.

“You may well find that the D’Arca’s are in fact loyal to the Empire, as I am.”

“I think it more likely that they’re simply loyal to their own goals.” Luke said, remembering his previous meetings with Beladon D’Arca.

“Which doesn’t mean to say that they’re not valuable.” Wez argued, “They’re an old House and they offer links to the past and you need to show that you respect that. That when you come to power those traditions and conventions will be acknowledged and upheld; there’ll be no more upheavals, stability will be maintained. You need to start acting like the Statesman they need you to be.”

“That’s an awful lot to squeeze into one dance.” Luke said with dry humour, finally coming round a little. “Maybe we could just hand out cards?”

Reece raised his eyebrows slightly in sardonic reply, following Luke as he set out from his study into the lofty hallway beyond, aware from his tone that The Heir was willing to concede this fight even if he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud.

It was one of the reasons why Wez had defected; unlike Palpatine, The Heir was willing to listen to reason. In fact, Reece genuinely believed him to be all of the things he’d just cited as requirements for the Empire’s next leader- and he’d made it his mission to make others realize that too.

He brought his attention back to the Heir now as Luke offered in a mock-conciliatory tone, “We could put gold edges on the cards if it makes you feel any better.”

“Gold edges are for invitations, Sir.” Wez said in feigned seriousness on his charge’s gibe at his familiarity with this kind of convention, “Statements of intent are always sent on woven white ground with grey edging.”

The State Ballroom was immense, it and its grand entrance, the Mirrored Gallery, occupying a complete floor of the East Tower. Soaring over five storeys in high, above its intricately-inset polished marquentry floors, hundreds of rock-crystal globes illuminated a reeded and coffered ceiling, their faceted surfaces bouncing refracted light over gilded detail. Lofty windows set with faceted panes ranged the run of one wall, giving vague, mirror-image views of the other towers, the photovoltaic glass darkened against the low-lying sun of the early evening, the low amber light making the wood of richly-carved relief on hundreds of separate panels lining the remaining walls glow softly, each panel carved from a particular planet’s most valued hardwoods, depicting an elaborate dado-to-ceiling-level representation of that for which the individual planet was famed.

The sumptuous décor and furnishings were purposely ostentatious, the room a monumental, lavishly extravagant statement of Imperial power and wealth. The State Ballroom - a mirror-image of its sister the Dominion Ballroom in the North Tower but almost three times its size - had been chosen with great deliberation; there were twenty-seven different civic ballrooms in the Palace towers, discounting those in individual apartments, each carefully designed to project a different facet of the Empire’s influence.
This hall with its exceptional craftsmanship and incalculable affluence, art new and ancient from throughout the Empire adorning it, was an imposing expression of confidence and continuity, solidarity and perpetuity. It was an impressive testament to the incomparable wealth of the Empire - and the willingness of Palpatine to spend it without hesitation.

Mara entered quietly, avoiding the Master of Ceremonies announcing those who entered at the tall double doors and stepping quickly down the wide expanse of carved steps, the train of her dark, chocolate brown dress pooling behind her as she set forward to lose herself in the throng, glancing about the multitude of people, looking for only one.

She had expected to be on duty tonight serving as Luke’s bodyguard, as she so often did at such functions, but Palpatine he had ordered that Reece and not she should attend with no further explanation. At first she’d felt snubbed, uncertain what was going on but certain that something was. Then she’d taken it as a challenge, confident of her ability to gain entry- it wasn’t as if she’d been directed not to attend. So she’d taken the time to make an effort tonight; she used to do this so much when on assignments; turned heads with her casual grace- sometimes the best place to hide was in full view.

The gown she wore was rich, matt chocolate vinesilk, cut on the bias so that it skimmed every contour, the front shaped low in a fluid crumple of fabric which always hinted that it may just fall loose without ever being so gauche as to do so. Her jewellery was heavy amber and citrine set in rose gold, a fine, fretwork headdress set with the same stones pinning her hair back from her face to tumble loosely down her back, rich red against dark chocolate. The heavy stones in her earrings tapped gently against her neck as she glanced about, the citrines reflecting warm glints against flawless porcelain skin, her delicate blush all the color needed to set forest green eyes flashing.

She still turned heads when she walked through the crowd.

Luke stood unobtrusively off to one side of the vast hall, turning immediately when he sensed her presence, watching her walk quickly down the steps, eyes scanning the room.

His first thought was that she looked beautiful; she always looked that to him- always had- but tonight she was stunning; exquisite. His second consideration, as she vanished into the crowd, was surprise that she was here at all; he’d allowed her to be subtly excluded from coming, taking the convenient opportunity to hide his own intentions behind Palpatine’s manipulations tonight, accepting without complaint the Emperor deliberately naming Reece as his bodyguard so that Mara had no excuse for being here- and had thought she’d taken the hint.

The automemo excluding Mara had been delivered from Palpatine’s personal offices three days ago and had been brought to Luke’s attention by Wez Reece, eliciting only the mildest curiosity from Luke as he handed it over.

“You have a mark at the reception following the launch of the Invincible, Sir.”

Luke took the proffered automemo with only vague inerest, glancing down at the screen, “For?”

It wasn’t uncommon for the Emperor to do this, using state functions to place his Jedi close to someone from whom he needed information in one form or another. Easier able to stay out of the spotlight and less intimidating than his Master, Luke could often accomplish Palpatine’s intent more subtly, so to have a covert assignment was par for the course.

Still, Luke frowned at the image of his mark, “This is… D’Arca?”

“Kiria D’Arca; eldest daughter of Beladon and heir to the D’Arca family. Her father will be Master of Ceremonies at the Invincible’s launch.”

“What does he want me to do?”

Reece raised his eyebrows; “Talk to her.”

“For?”

“That’s all that’s listed in the brief.” Reece said. “The Emperor requires you to… ‘Make contact and establish a dialogue’.”

“Establish a dialogue - now what’s he up to?” Luke murmured, ever wary, “Why do I feel I’m being stage-managed?”

“Because you are.” Reece said dryly, “Though there may be reasons other than the obvious; and even if that’s the case they’re not such a bad idea- the D’Arca’s are a powerful family who hold sway among both the military and the Royal Houses. You could do worse than court them a little, with or without the Emperor’s blessing.”

“And who will you be ‘courting’ to further the cause?” Luke asked pointedly.

“That isn’t my forte, Sir.” Reece said levelly, eliciting a short laugh from Luke.

“Believe me, it isn’t mine- and don’t say this is a good opportunity to learn.”

Wez held his eye for a moment then turned away. “It’s a least bought us something; I’m ordered to stand as your bodyguard, which means that Mara Jade won’t be in attendance.”

Which was a useful thing indeed, considering Luke’s self-imposed mission for the evening, planned with his father. He turned away, all business again.

“Send an acknowledgment and get more information on D’Arca. We’ll work it into the timetable but we need one of our own people to mark her; run interference and separate us when I have the opportunity to make a contact with someone useful. I’ll speak to her just once or twice- I’ve more important things to do.”

He handed back the autoreader, aware that yet another level of play would have to be factored into the evening. “Get me something on D’Arca; anything to satisfy that I’ve taken an interest with minimum effort. I don’t have time to be wasting this.”

The Emperor’s unsubtle assignations aside, Luke had his own agenda for that night and the best place to hide it was in plain view. If he couldn’t ignore the Emperor’s order regarding D’Arca then he could at least exploit it, and while Luke was well-used to operating around Mara’s constant presence, an excuse to remove Palpatine’s eyes and ears was surely worthwhile.
Dismissing his momentary pang of guilt, Luke firmly fixed his eyes on the greater goal; they had never lied to each-other about their positions or their situations. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t do it with Mara in close attendance.

Yet here she was, and she was clearly looking for someone. Did she know about his intentions tonight? Or more likely, had she found out about the Emperor’s orders regarding D’Arca? Either way, if she was here looking for him then they had an interesting night ahead.

Luke turned away, hiding himself in the crown, mind focused on the task at hand.

The launch of the Invincible - or rather the Patriot - had gathered an unprecedented number of influential people in one place, both military and political; many potential allies, if approached properly. Those who may be open to such negotiations had already been identified, and Luke had the task of working his way round the carefully chosen selection of Destroyer Admirals and Captains, representatives of both the Core and more importantly the Rim Fleet, whose ships had accompanied Vader’s back to Coruscant in Palpatine’s grand display of force.

Although Luke now had large numbers of supporters in the Core Fleet, Palpatine had always taken great care that he had little or no prospect of accessing the Rim Fleet, so that to date Luke had the support of only a few Captains who had been transferred from the Core to the Rim Fleet, making this an unprecedented opportunity to increase his standing there.

There were also dignitaries, politicians and officials from all over the Empire; people of standing and power. To be here at all one must have certain credentials- which coincidentally made them just the kind of specialist entrepreneurs Luke was looking for. Those willing to claw their way to the top were often willing to invest in the future and every shrewd dealer knew that one should invest early; by the time such investments paid off, there was no time for latecomers. The earlier one invested, the greater the rewards.

So tonight he was selling, and the product was himself- not Luke Skywalker of course, but The Heir. Power, potential; a place in the future- for those prepared to take the risk.

Already he had invested a good amount of time speaking with those whom he needed to, scattering thoughts and suggestions, oblique offers of endorsement and future support, forming the beginnings of working relationships, affiliations and alliances within the Empire’s expansive military and political machines. Mostly suggestions of such at the moment, a testing of the waters - it was too early for anything more yet - but the groundwork was laid... and the general attitude was receptive. Which was good, because he needed to have people in power who would support him- enable him to maintain stability through change. Needed to identify those who would be willing to work with him, the presently-subordinate, the mid-ranking and those within the existing hierarchy. As Heir he was in a position to create or consolidate status… to manipulate, elevate and maintain.

Power was something which came at a price, as his Master was so fond of saying. Some accepted this and others didn’t. Those who played the game would prosper- he would see to that. Those who did not… they were of interest only in as far as that they were now fair game.

Officials and military personnel whom he felt he felt could be relied on would be quietly manipulated into new positions within the Fleet and the Palace, both by Vader and himself. The astute would realise why; some had already made subtle suggestions of deals to be made - the rest would find out in time. Some may never know - occasionally an enemy in the right position could do far more to further one’s cause than any ally.

Wheels within wheels.

This was what he did now. This was what his Master had trained him for- in his own way and for his own reasons, but lessons learned were applied across the board.

And Luke felt no trace of guilt at drawing the willing or the powerful into his own strategies; these were intelligent, ambitious men who well knew the rules of the game, and if they chose to gamble it was at their own risk. They would have no qualms about using him in the same way if they could.

His eye was drawn by a movement from the crowd as Mara glided by several steps away, still searching. Luke turned away slightly, catching the sliver of her attention within the Force and subtly deflecting it, the action muted enough that he hoped Palpatine did not notice, or if he did it was only to take it at face value; as a rejection of her interest, given D’Arca’s presence.

He glanced now to the far dais where the Emperor sat on his gilded throne divorced from his subjects by distance and disposition alike, making a rare ‘public’ appearance; he would stay a short while, then retire.

Luke was more wary of his disappearance than his presence; at least whilst he was here, he couldn’t be watching his precious Jedi too closely. Though he had others doing just that; Luke had sensed four watchers scattered among the crowd already; it seemed a pointless act on face value, since Palpatine knew that Luke would sense them, but they served to slow him down in his avoidance, just as Mara did on a daily basis, and there were doubtless more, hidden in one way or another.

Eyes still on the Emperor, reluctant to go any closer but knowing that eventually he would have to, and that his Master would make the moment as difficult as possible, as he always did, Luke took the time to reflect on the day’s events-

Admittedly the ring had placed into question all the hard work he had put into reassuring Palpatine of his loyalty, but he thought his Master had accepted the misdirection he’d provided - that he had wanted the ring, nothing more -­ a surface truth used to hide a deeper one, his search for some link with his mother shielding a deeper connection with his father. He’d tried again to contact his father on secure channels tonight, but again had been unsuccessful, though to his knowledge Palpatine hadn’t cared to verify the ‘facts’ Luke had provided.

Yes, he had lost favour in going to retrieve the ring but now it was done, quickly addressed and dealt with, Palpatine’s anger satiated. To have left the ring in his Master’s possession would only be an open wound to fester on both their parts. He reflected briefly on Palpatine’s unsettling accusations of his mother, much as he’d ordered himself not to- not yet, when so much hinged on tonight. Still, they hovered at the edge of his thoughts without showing on his face.

Had they been true? Yes- as Palpatine saw them.

That was the trouble with the truth; it could so easily be subjective. Another lesson learned at his Master’s hand; one of his favourite games was to tell the truth scattered with just a few omissions and personal opinions. It was still the truth as he saw it- just not the actual facts.

What Luke needed for the facts was a name- something no-one seemed willing to give him. But even Palpatine’s jealous diatribe had been of value; his father had told him his mother’s given name and now he had what seemed like a profession; she had been a Senator - or at the very least involved in the Senate - right up to the time that the Republic had collapsed. And she had been involved in the resignation of Chancellor Valorum… and the Delegation of Two Thousand, whatever that was; records from pre-Empire days were scant, particularly those relating to the Senate. Those that were available were, by the very fact of being made available, unreliable.

Still, that was surely enough to begin a search, though even that was a dangerous thing. And given his own carefully-manipulated history, in all likelihood any useful reference to her would have been removed long ago- another of his Master’s favourite impediments. Which didn’t deter Luke; it simply made him consider his course of action that much more carefully.

His mind naturally moved on from this to other considered actions today, carefully placing uneasy thoughts of his own muddy past aside for a time when he’d have the opportunity to study them.

His conduct onboard the Patriot had at least ensured that his greater plan remained intact; Leia Organa was still free- though what had possessed her to come on such a high-risk mission to the heart of the Empire in the first place he had no idea. It had been an impulsive gamble to risk helping her at the time; a gut-instinct which had overruled all else, but the fact that he had gone to her aid may be of some value, setting questions in her mind, making her believe him still sympathetic to her cause in some way. Making her more willing to think that she just might be able to trust him, if only for a short time- which could only be to his advantage.

A brief smile came to his lips, curling the scar there at the memory of what had happened last time he had answered that gut feeling and gone to rushing to Leia Organa’s aid.

He’d like to claim that today was indeed a result of long-term plans, but in fact it had been the same flip in his stomach as it had been on the Death Star… he chose to look no further at that tangle of feelings, concentrating instead on the benefits it had netted; he’d eventually be called upon to validate his actions, not so much by Reece and Hallin, but certainly by his father when the facts came out - and claiming a gut feeling would not be an acceptable justification.

There was no point in trying to explain to his father; no point in trying to offer any persuasion. He always knew best, and rolled over any unwillingness on Luke’s part as forcefully as Palpatine ever did. Was it out of paternal concern or myopic ambition?
Luke remembered of old how many friends had lied to their parents on Tatooine, to maintain their own autonomy - but none had done so believing that if their parents discovered the lie, they could easily face betrayal to a ruthlessly implacable higher authority. That remained, as always, the limits of Luke’s relationship with his father; that it had been he who had handed Luke over to Palpatine, knowing what the Sith would do.

And despite everything, Luke still believed that under the same circumstances, his father would do the same thing.

Under that threat, how could he even consider admitting the truth? How could he risk what little he had left - and how could his father blame him for doing so? No, better to hide Luke Skywalker behind The Heir. It wasn’t too hard a task; the truth was that even he found it different to tell one from the other now, intentions which had originally seemed so incompatible melding into a single intent. It would probably never come to fruition, but it was these long-range plans which kept him moving, kept him sane. And if either Vader or his Master figured them out then they deserved the upper hand, because Luke seldom could; sometimes they changed from day to day- from minute to minute, according to his disposition.

Yet when he’d seen Leia… in that second, all his plans had fallen away, secondary to his need simply to help her. Why he was always driven to protect her he didn’t know. Yes, he needed her exactly where she was to fulfil his plans, but the truth was that in the moment that he’d realised she was aboard the Patriot, they hadn’t even been a consideration. All he knew was that he needed to help her… and in that moment when she turned to run, if she’d taken his hand…

But she hadn’t; he’d seen nothing but fear in her eyes; no recognition, no acknowledgement at all of the man she’d once said she couldn’t imagine life without. And who could blame her? That man was long gone, swallowed up by this life and its constant demands.

Sometimes though, he still heard Luke Skywalker whisper to the Emperor’s precious Wolf and sometimes… sometimes he still listened.

He focused his eyes, realising too late his mistake as Mara walked toward him, having no way to reasonably avoid her now.

Mara smiled as she walked toward him, aware that he'd been daydreaming. “You know, I may begin to get the feeling you’re avoiding me.”

She'd watched him intermittently from a safe distance for almost two hours now; had seen him intently single out specific officials and Moffs, the conversations always short, probably lasting until he had achieved whatever goal he set himself, a few minutes of mindless pleasantries either side, purposely including third parties now to conceal that goal from prying eyes, then he moved on.

It was like watching a con-man work a room…

She walked to stand beside him rather that before him, which may appear too familiar to watching eyes in the crowded room of milling people, both of them staring out for a short while, listening to the orchestra, keeping their distance, maintaining a casual formality as they always did in public, their words hidden behind the distant music.

Mara glanced sideways at him, studying him far closer than her casual glance suggested, aware that there was a focused energy about him tonight, an intensity which spoke more of purpose than nervousness. He looked at once distant and removed yet completely, intensely focused, as he often did on these occasions, and … very handsome.

He was dressed formally in a dark, flawlessly-fitted suit, a touch of white showing at the high collar. The suit was an interesting choice, hinting at military styling without being so specific as to alienate any civilians present, its cut emphasising his trim form- he was slim, would have perhaps bordered on rangy without the muscle which heavy daily exercise had earned him. As it was, it made him lean and powerful; one more allusion that he was becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Impeccable as always, very straight, very calm, he exuded self-possessed confidence despite the plethora of high-ranking officials present; an effortless poise which seemed completely unassailable. If it was an act for the benefit of those around him then it was a flawless one, Mara reflected. Sometimes it was difficult to tell with Luke; at times he was absolutely The Heir; the Emperor’s Wolf, his Sith advocate, decisive and ruthless, relentlessly pursuing his goal… yet at other times he seemed absolutely the pilot who had been dragged here with no desire to stay, isolated and unreachable, still trying resolutely to cling to a past and a precedent which could only hinder him here and he knew it.

The more she knew him privately, the more she recognised these disparate facets, no matter how well he hid it from Palpatine.

The more she understood why Hallin stayed close.

Luke’s mismatched eyes faltered momentarily, uncomfortable beneath Mara’s searching gaze, and she turned away, smiling, her voice quiet enough to be hidden beneath the music. “So what trouble are you up to tonight?”

He smiled slightly, composure returning, his voice low and smooth, tinged with amusement, “I never create trouble; I just wake up on a morning and there it is.”

“That’s because you take it to bed with you.” she countered easily, glancing back round.

“You can say that again.”

She looked away, stifling a smile, but he kept his eyes on her, making her turn back, curious.

“You look very beautiful tonight.” He said simply, making her self-conscious, her cheeks heating. He still had the power to do that; take her completely off-guard.

“Now I know you’re up to something.”

He glanced away into the crowd, manner politely indifferent for the benefit of any outside observers, “Yes I am - and you’re ruining my schedule.”

“Dance with me?” she asked simply, choosing to ignore his words even though she could sense the truth behind them.

He glanced back, momentarily surprised, then looked away, “I think I’ve upset Palpatine enough today, don’t you?”

She too turned away slightly for the benefit of those watching, though her quiet voice was warm and teasing, “Why would dancing with me make it any worse- are you that bad-a dancer?”

He set his head to one side without looking to her, “Well I promised him the first dance- you know how tetchy he gets if someone steps in.”

Mara smiled at his irreverent comment, keeping her eyes on the crowd though her complete attention was on him, reminding her of the journey up to the Patriot that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

“Interesting,” she said, nodding her head in mock consideration; “So who leads?”

He grinned, the unaffected air momentarily ruining his polished veneer, “Ah, that’d be telling.”

She shook her head, stifling a grin, unable as ever to conceive of anyone speaking in such detrimental terms of the Emperor, though somehow since it was Luke, she found she didn’t mind. “See, I thought you were gonna say you had to dance with Lady Kiria D’Arca.”

He allowed the slightest of grimaces to show, for her benefit alone. “I’m trying hard to avoid it.”

Mara turned to look ahead again, “You don’t seem to be trying too hard to avoid her.”

“I’m under orders.” Luke excused, amused; was that jealousy?

He’d spoken to D’Arca just twice and, having fulfilled his order as far as he was concerned, had no intention of doing so again. Though in truth she’d been an unexpected distraction; elegant and striking, with caramel skin and almond eyes, she was an obviously ambitious socialite though she disguised it well, balancing it with a quick and witty mind and a spirited, game disposition which had drawn him in.

He felt a sudden pang of guilt at the thought and set it resolutely aside. And anyway, he had no further interest in her despite her obvious attentiveness to him - or at least, his position.

“Yeah, life’s tough.” Mara deadpanned, making Luke smile genuinely.

“Fortunately I have you to make it tougher- just in case I find a moment’s peace.”

“Hey, I’m not even trying yet.”

“Really? Then you must be a gifted natural.”

Mara frowned, her voice suddenly taking on an unexpectedly serious air, “Do I complicate things?”

“Yes, incredibly.” Luke said without hesitation.

“Seriously.”

“Seriously? Yes incredibly.” he said again, refusing to be drawn into a serious discussion right now. When she continued to study him, he allowed, “Fortunately you’re worth it.”

She turned away, satisfied, and they remained silent for a few moments, content just to be close to each-other, Luke forgetting his orders and aims for a moment, Mara no longer caring what they were.

“Dance with me tonight- alone?” she said at last, without looking- and he knew what she asked.

Knew the risk they ran.

Mara remained still, not daring to turn, and Luke remained silent, gazing out into the crowds so long that she thought he’d chosen not to reply; that his silence was an answer in itself. He’d said a hundred times that the risks of meeting in the Palace were too great and he was right, of course.

“Tonight.” he whispered in quiet agreement, then walked quickly off into the crowd, the tips of his fingers trailing lightly across her hip as he left, soft as his whisper, leaving her at stare at his receding form quickly lost in the crowd, her heart hammering, a flush in her cheeks.

Luke was deep in persuasive conversation with Captain Hoken when the chime sounded and the room fell to well-mannered silence, so he actually missed the announcement of the First Dance, realising only as every mind and every eye in the massive room turned to him, expectant.

For long seconds he remained perfectly still, though his face registered no surprise, only a polite indifference as the crowds parted in a whisper of expensive gowns.

After a few moments of consideration, politely broken by the slightly nervous prompting cough of Reece behind him, he set forward to the centre of the vast space. Easy as it would have been to create a scene, he had an agenda to fulfil tonight and Reece had been right when he’d maintained that Luke wouldn’t do that by seeming a loose cannon to those he needed to impress with his potential as a future leader. Better to simply go with the flow and pick up where he’d left off in a few minutes time.

He made the long walk to the centre of the floor, reflecting how much he had changed that what would once have seemed an insurmountably daunting prospect was now viewed as little more than a minor nuisance- less than a glitch in the evening’s plans.

As he reached the centre of the floor, a petite woman with warm olive skin and dark, oval eyes stepped gracefully towards him, the train of her ruby dress shimmering with each step.

He stopped before her as she curtsied perfectly and, though it wasn’t strictly necessary, he took a half-step back and inclined his head slightly in a not-quite bow. Luke held out his hand in invitation, and the lithe, delicate woman stepped in and took it, the music beginning just as he rested his hand about her waist.

And they danced.

Something else that four years ago would have been inconceivable to him, but many hour’s tutelage on the polite but dogged persistence of his assigned - and much maligned, if only for his title - Ministerial Representative of the Office of Court Culture and Protocol, had made even this, before so many, second nature. No more taxing than any other Court etiquette he had been force-fed in recent years.

For a long time he had resolutely ignored the fact that twice a week every week, a dance instructor arrived promptly at his apartments, at the request of the CCP Minister. The instructor and a dance partner waited patiently in the Perlemian Ballroom for the full hour of his supposed lesson before leaving, to return as ordered by the Minister for their next scheduled lesson, waiting in vain for their charge’s attendance.

For well over a year this continued, a series of tutors and advisors arriving as commissioned to teach all aspects of protocol and etiquette, all waiting patiently, all pointedly ignored, though often Luke was in his apartments when they arrived- he simply walked by their assigned rooms without a second glance.

As the year rolled on, Luke was well aware that he was living on borrowed time; the Emperor would certainly have been made aware of his lack of attendance to any protocol lessons and sooner or later Luke knew he would be called on it, certainly in public and probably in some situation carefully chosen to inflict the greatest embarrassment. He’d held out a little longer, more out of stubborn refusal to be intimidated than any greater cause, but eventually, as he found it necessary to move in certain circles and project a certain image, it had become more of a impediment to be ignorant of such practices than to simply back down and learn them.

So he had reluctantly begun to attend, much to the surprise of his assorted tutors, genuinely committed to learning all that they could supply, viewing it more as ammunition than acquiescence. It irked him that it was necessary but he wasn’t about to be hobbled or be judged and found wanting by those who considered such things important- not when it was so easily remedied. Yes, he still privately considered such things irrelevant and elitist, but age and experience were dampening that blunt, blind, obstinate will to something more manageable; tempering it to serve rather than hinder.

Hallin had been his usual erudite self in advising Luke to look on this as simply learning another language- one that, like Old Coruscanti, was essential to the world he now lived in. Having finally relented and learned the protocols, etiquette and complex machinations of Court life from a strictly self-serving point of view, he felt no discomfort in its use anymore. Familiarity bred, if not contempt than certainly confidence- relaxed poise in the presence of this unspoken language of countless rules and subtle conventions.

Whether he agreed with or despised them was irrelevant; close, often-illustrated knowledge of it enabled him to use, abuse it or hide behind them as he saw fit. The fact that everyone knew that he understood this complex, convoluted language meant that whether he chose to flout it or to enact it in itself became part of that language.

So now, when he danced with D’Arca, although he was polite and maintained eye-contact, he felt no particular need to speak with her; it wasn’t necessary- it wasn’t required of him. The dance was for the benefit of others; he was doing nothing more than fulfilling an order on the part of the Emperor and despite Reece’s words earlier that week suggesting the logic in forging an alliance with the influential D’Arca’s, Luke wouldn’t be led or cornered, either by his Master or his advisor.

She held his eyes intently as they danced and he didn’t look away, used to the curiosity of others by now, so that all he could hear above the distant music was the sound of their breath as they danced, and the light tap of their feet against the polished floor.

Eventually those entitled to do so joined them and the floor began to fill, though they always enjoyed a clear space about them, everyone remaining politely distant. When the music finished, Luke released D’Arca and took a step back, inclining his head again before turning to leave.

“Perhaps…” D’Arca’s hastily-spoken word brought him about and she immediately lowered her head in apology; one didn’t generally talk to The Heir’s back, or continue to speak when he had clearly made to leave, her decision to do so also part of that unspoken language, subtle messages even here. She held tenaciously to her guns, lifting her head as he turned about, dark mahogany-brown eyes inviting. “Perhaps The Heir will dance again tonight?”

“I very much doubt it.” He would have turned away, well aware that he was being played, but some sense of genuine regret on her part made him add, “It’s hardly my strong point.”

She flashed a smile which lit up her face, “I thought The Heir danced beautifully.”

Luke couldn’t help but smile, drawn in by her charm but hardly blinded by it, “I’m afraid I dance as well as you lie, my Lady.”

“My heart wasn’t in it- until now.” D’Arca said, clearly hoping to echo his own restrained distaste at such protocol, but the moment was lost and Luke backstepped slightly, voicing what could easily be taken as either acceptance of her white lie or tacit admission of his own feelings.

“As you say, Lady D’Arca.”

Luke bowed slightly again, aware that the music could not continue unless he made clear either his intention dance or to leave the floor, and this time D’Arca had the good grace to back down, curtsying again as he turned an left without looking back, his mind already elsewhere.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Hallin burst into Luke’s bedroom, making Mara start awake, scrabbling vainly to disappear beneath the sheets. Luke didn’t even move, but then he probably already knew he was coming.

“Up! Get up! Quickly!” Hallin didn’t even pause, rushing about the room, picking up Mara’s clothes.

Since he clearly already knew she was in here, Mara finally stopped trying to hide beneath the sheets, instead watching the surreal scene unfold before her in the early morning light, the slender medic rushing about like a dynamo as Luke finally turned over from his stomach, gruff voice very pointedly unamused, his Rim accent holding sway.

“This had better be so good…”

“Chancellor Amedda’s on his way here. Now.” Hallin added, glancing about to check that he’d missed nothing.

Which was enough to wake Luke up, but he still pushed calmly upright, covers tangled about him, letting his legs drop over the side of the bed and dragging his hand through unruly hair, “And what- am I receiving him in my bedroom?”

Hallin stopped dead, Mara’s clothes still bundled in his arms, “Well I’m glad one of us thinks this is funny.”

“Wait- why is Amedda coming here?” Mara asked of the Emperor’s Primary Aide.

“And how far away is he?” Luke added, voice still husky from sleep.

“He’s still several minutes away- we had…” Hallin paused; he didn’t look meaningfully at Mara but he may as well have done. “…prior warning.”

Mara heard Luke sigh very lightly and knew that he was thinking the same as she; Hallin had already said and done too much- not only had his actions clarified to Mara that his trusted position was such that he already knew about Luke and herself - and was evidently so trustworthy that he would now attempt to cover it up - but he’d just all but admitted that Luke also had an informer in the Cabinet or Council offices.

“It’s fine Nathan.” The tone of Luke’s voice was more awake now- and clearly very eager to get Hallin out of the room before he made another gaffe, “Mara will stay in here; you’ll ask Wez to arrange for someone he trusts to go and get her uniform and she’ll leave later as if nothing happened. She’ll take her clothes back separately.”

Mara was still frowning, worried by the Chancellor’s coincidental arrival, “Does Amedda often come here?”

Luke half-turned. “No. Only formal business as the Emperor’s official representative.”

Mara turned back to Hallin, eyes sharp, “Did your ‘friend’ say why he was coming?”

Luke cut in before the medic even began to reply, obviously not wishing to allow a very twitchy Hallin under Mara’s close scrutiny, “If Palpatine knew you were here I think he’d be here himself by now and if he wasn’t sure, sending an official representative isn’t exactly subtle; neither of us are likely to get spooked into making a mistake.”

Mara shook her head, uneasy at the coincidence, “Still…”

Luke turned on her, and just for a second she could see the contention in his eyes; ‘you wanted to risk this’, but he stopped himself long before he spoke, turning back to Hallin, voice even and measured, “Go and tell Reece to show Amedda to the White Drawing Room.”

“No- wait; show him to the Morning Room.” Mara corrected, knowing it afforded no line-of-sight to Luke’s private rooms.

Luke turned, eyes quizzical, and Mara’s mind whirred for a second or two, but she had no reasonable excuse for this, so admitted the truth; “There’s a concealed passage in the rear wall of the storeroom in your Music Room; if I can get to that, I can come out three storeys down.”

“Into the staff quarters?” Luke was trying to keep his voice casual though Mara knew this would be of great interest to him.

She nodded, knowing that he would store that piece of information away for future use, but knowing also how useful it could be for them both from now on, “In a side corridor in the kitchens. If you can get me a clear route across the main hallway.”

Luke turned immediately to Hallin, mind back in the moment, “Who’s on duty?”

“Clem and Vassigo. Vassigo’s your close guard, but Clem’s in the main cupola.” Hallin recited from memory, knowing the latter was in the main crossroads, an easily-monitored central point popular with the guards because it offered a clear view down the four wide hallways which reached to the far corners of the sprawling apartment, meaning it would bar Mara’s exit whichever way she chose.

“I could cut through your office.” Mara said of the common shortcut used to avoid the long, grand main hallway and massive central atrium, “Then… what- through the State Dining Room and-”

Luke was already shaking his head, “You’d still need to get through the Grand Hall and the Gallery then cross the main corridor to get to the Music Room- plus you’d need to cross it again close to the main entrance and close to Amedda. Too many chances.” Instead he turned back to Hallin, considering.

“Clem will take a private comm whilst on duty. When Mara’s ready, you go to the staff wing and comm the guard room opposite- ask for Lieutenant Clem. Make sure the comm can’t be traced.”

Clem was one of the many more general bodyguards attached to all high-ranking individuals in the Palace, Mara knew, whose brief tended not to extend outside the Palace walls, though they were generally attached to a single individual or household. As always seemed the case with individuals of high status, an inordinate number of people seemed to find it necessary to be in Luke’s apartments at any given time- bodyguards, personal aides, secretaries and servants. She remembered how he’d resented it when he’d first arrived, viewing it as little more than a method of not-very-covert surveillance - which was at least partially true of all people of rank in the Imperial Palace. Now he seemed completely at ease with it; but then, he had carefully surrounded himself with people he trusted- and those he didn’t trust, he clearly made it his business to know very well.

Which made her wonder momentarily which category she fell into…

Hallin was nodding as Luke spoke, but his eyes remained wide, seeming all the more so because of his slight frame and olive skin. It seemed to Mara that even if she and Luke were not the panicking kind, then Hallin was doing enough for all three of them.

“And Nathan-” Luke added, making the fretful man pause at the door, “Try not to be around when Amedda arrives.”

Hallin delivered a withering look and dashed out, leaving Mara to realise that he hadn’t once met her eye or acknowledged her; only Luke.

Luke finally sighed into the silence, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, “See, this is why we don’t meet in the Palace; for one thing Nathan would have a coronary within a week.”

Mara was still staring at the closed door, “… he just took all my clothes…”

Luke lunged up and headed for the door, pausing just as he reached it to dash back and grab a gown which lay over a nightstand.

She smiled mischievously, setting her head to one side, “See, you make that whole panic routine look so much nicer… maybe it’s the naked thing…”

He spared her a dry glower before setting off back to the door, pulling the robe about him as he went.

In the event, the visit was indeed to pass on an official communiqué from the Emperor; it was Flight Orders for the Patriot which, in a change from the intended shakedown flight, was to leave that morning for the Rim Systems- with a guest.

Palpatine would be on the maiden voyage of the Patriot, the Peerless and the Dauntless serving as escort.

That brought Mara back to reality with a bang, making her realise just how foolish they had been the previous night; not only had they been reckless in taking the risk themselves, but clearly Hallin also knew about it - and while Luke could teach Mara to hide her thoughts whilst near the Emperor, she was pretty damn sure that he couldn’t do the same with Hallin- who was now about to spent several weeks in close proximity aboard the Patriot.

If Palpatine had wanted to caution, dissuade or just plain scare them, he couldn’t have done a better job.

Palpatine sat in the high, curve-backed chair on the Command Deck of the Patriot, specially fitted on his order to accommodate him on this journey, completing ignoring the tense, respectful bow by the medic Hallin as he walked briskly from the bridge, abuzz with nerves.

And well may he be; he clearly knew about Jade and Skywalker - was at virtual meltdown every time the two were together before Palpatine’s close scrutiny - yet he had elected not to tell Palpatine of their trysts.

Palpatine had chosen the medic very carefully when he had first gained possession of his Jedi, seeking one person whom the boy would reasonably trust - one of a similar age and mindset with whom he could perhaps even build a friendship - confide in. He had at that point no clear knowledge of his new Jedi’s mindset- if Jade were unsuitable to hold him, then perhaps Hallin would be more appropriate. Whichever- he needed something to exert control over the boy, something which could easily be taken away. Something that wouldn’t withstand interrogation, if it came to the point that Palpatine needed facts.

His Jedi knew all this now of course- knew that the medic was living on borrowed time, that the thing which both protected and condemned him was Skywalker’s continued association. For all his burgeoning strengths, his Jedi allowed himself far too many weakness- and he knew it.

Stood to the front of the Bridge, as far away from Palpatine as he could reasonably be and well aware of his Master’s eyes on him, his Jedi was now with Admiral Joss and three officers, quietly conferring, Mara stood to loose attention at a tactful distance.

They were all uneasy with the fact that the Patriot was making a lightspeed jump with co-ordinates only, no planetary name or navigation inventory. Not that Palpatine cared; his military would do as they were ordered, and the reason for this journey was something he had purposely kept hidden from his Jedi. He wanted a genuine reaction on arrival; no time to hide true opinions behind shields- Skywalker was becoming far too adept at that.

And he still wore the ring; Palpatine hadn’t failed to notice that. Though a few days had given him the perspective to see the fact for what it was; a minor dissent. Not so minor that he hadn’t moved to prevent the boy from speaking to his father since the incident, bringing this trip forward to keep them well apart until Palpatine had finished sewing his little seeds of doubt in the boy’s mind. The slightest of smiles twitched the corner of his lip in appreciation of the irony; here he had been, wary and watching for associations between the boy and his father, when in fact it had been his mother, the slip of a girl who had tried to turn Anakin’s head, who had proved the problem.

Still, she had failed then and she would fail now; she wouldn’t drive a wedge between Palpatine and the boy. He should thank her, he supposed; she had after all provided him not only with the man who had helped him create his Empire, but with the building-block to ensure that it thrived for generations to come. He had great plans for Padmés son, just as he’d once had for his father, and nothing as trivial as the boy’s wilful intentions would derail him. Palpatine’s greater plan rolled on regardless, and the boy was still dragged with it; this journey was proof of that.

Sulphurous eyes turned coldly on Mara as he considered long-term schemes and stratagems, some of which required her presence… others of which did not.

For now, he would tolerate their deceitful, impertinent little trysts because they served his purpose, immediate and long-term, but such indiscretions would not be flaunted within the Palace where Palpatine had other, larger games in play.

In the short term Jade bought him one more way to control Skywalker, however covertly. A valuable consideration, all things considered. She would never abscond and she would never betray him. Let the boy grow attached; Palpatine had already warned him repeatedly not to. That was the wonderful irony of it; despite all Palpatine’s warnings that she would be a weakness- his demonstration of the fact- Luke had allowed her close anyway. So when Palpatine finally did use her to control him, Luke had no-one but himself to blame; certainly that was the lesson Palpatine would be looking to underline.

And he would need new control soon; he was beginning to question whether his old methods would work anymore. Still, one must be prepared to adapt- and Palpatine had always been flexible.

It would be a pity to think that he would never again be able to resort to the cell beneath the Palace as a means of controlling his fallen Jedi, but the boy was more Sith now than Jedi, and Palpatine doubted very much that it would hold him anymore. The barest shade of a private smile lifted bloodless lips into a shallow grin; yes, it would be a pity- he had always enjoyed their… exchanges on that particular battlefield, all civilized façades finally stripped away…

He settled back now, watching his Jedi closely as he stood at the front of the bridge, his iron determination not to turn or be intimidated beneath the Emperor’s gaze blasting out, as enjoyably wilful as ever.

Yes, it would be hard to confine him again - to suppress and subdue by force…. but then perhaps he didn’t need it any more; the boy’s actions at the Patriot’s launch had surprised Palpatine in their decisiveness and their commitment.

That was why he was here now; he was ready for the next step.
His wolf was finally walking to heel… even if it still growled occasionally.

He narrowed yellow-flecked eyes, reflecting on his feral Jedi’s last visit to the cell, regretting the knowledge it would be just that. No matter how willing his wolf was to walk to heel, it would not tolerate further confinement; that had been crystal clear.

He remembered distinctly standing in the dark Ops room opposite the dedicated detention cell in the depths of the Palace monolith, watching the image within the nearby cell closely, waiting for Skywalker to wake from the drugs, very much aware that this would be a test of wills; though the specialized detention cell had been heavily augmented to allow for his burgeoning powers, it was now at the limits of technology. Skywalker knew his own abilities and he knew his own mind like never before. Now was the acid test.

The reason that he was here- that he had disobeyed his Master once too often and pushed just a little too far- would not come to Skywalker’s mind yet; only his outrage at being caged.

And the always-harsh punishment for such disruptive behavior would also wait, often days, while Skywalker remained in confinement to consider his actions- and await their inevitable consequences.

Because when the punishment was finally metered out- often over several days- it was without limits or mercy… as he had often said to the boy; a lesson taught ruthlessly and relentlessly seldom needed to be taught twice.

Palpatine watched as he came around slowly now, fighting the effect of the drugs which would remain in his system to some degree until an antidote was administered to counter their self-replicating attributes- another means to control his emerging Sith advocate.

Still, it didn’t take Skywalker long to realize where he was and drag himself unsteadily upright in response. He glanced to the door, but didn’t even bother trying to reach it. Instead he shouted out, then turned directly to one of the security nodes; had it been a lens, Palpatine was certain the boy would have shattered it, but it was simply one in a series of staggered sensor relay nodes scattered about the interior of the thick cell walls which combined to create a single holographic image in the Ops room, so there was no specific place to aim his frustration at.

It didn’t take him long to find one. He turned about, staggering against dizziness, shouting out again. When no-one came, he crouched down on his haunches, head tucked in, eyes closed…

Palpatine sensed the energy swarm as the boy called the Force to him, an all-encompassing inrush of raw power fed by fear and frustration and anger, and it tugged the Sith Emperor’s bloodless lips into a tense, expectant smile.

For long seconds the boy continued to pull power in, head down, immersed completely in the act until it whirled about him like a twister searching to ground…

Then his hands dropped to the floor as fists as he focused the power, throwing it out about him, incredible, elemental energy flawlessly focused-

The impact was felt in the Ops room as a dull thud, several alarms activating, runs of numbers and estimates running up a nearby status screen. Palpatine flinched at the intense Force-directed blow, eyes never leaving the holo.

In the cell, the floor beneath Skywalker had indented in a perfect dish, the two nearest walls compressing in an inverted dome, the ceiling crazing as it did the same. Combined, they described the curve of a perfect, invisible sphere about him as he crouched at its centre, glancing about.

“There’s been a sixteen percent reduction in the overall integrity of the structure, Excellency.” The nervous Ops guard watched the figures scroll up. His hand hovered over a series of marked keys, awaiting the command- but the Emperor only smiled.

“No- give him that.” Palpatine said, pleased, doubting the boy would have the strength left to try the same trick again, especially in his present state.

With several refinements, the cell had been constructed very much the same as the one which Lord Vader had first used to control his wayward son when he had caught him at Bespin.

It was a complex structure, one room within another, the outer room with feet-thick cast and cabled walls under vacuum, the inner room an interlocking series of heavy reinforced panels depending upon the vacuum which pulled them outwards to maintain integrity. Designed to withstand several times vacuum, the overlapping, interlocking structure of the walls was practically indestructible; if a Force-sensitive tried to destroy the cell by outward pressure, they only increased the wall’s strength, and if he pulled them inwards and the walls began to lose integrity, the vacuum pressure would automatically be increased to augment them. In the unheard-of event of the structural failure of the inner-cell walls, the resultant equalizing of vacuum would knock anyone within the room unconscious.

It was an ingenious, practical solution to the problem of holding a Jedi, used with great success following the Clone Wars, never once failing…

Skywalker lowered his head and the inrush of power this time was sharp as a knife, heaved in on a massive, expansive scale, pulled tight as a bowstring, incredible capacity converging on a single spot, raw power held suspended, waiting for focus-

Palpatine paused, breathless…

The release was like a bomb detonating, the shockwave of sufficient density to rattle the reinforced door of the cell and jolt the eardrums of the guards lining the hall beyond, making them start nervously, blasters raising, eyes to the cell as the warning light above the door flashed.

“Integrity just went down another twenty-nine percent. Multiple fissures in the inner wall; three structural fractures to the outer assembly. The system is ramping vacuum to compensate.” The man was audibly shaken by this, turning to the Emperor.

Palpatine remained still, head set to one side where he had braced against the outburst, eyes on the hologram of the cell as the dust which had scattered down from the ceiling cleared and the image-nodes recovered from the static burst of shock.

The walls were deeply inset now by the craters which still maintained a perfect sphere about Skywalker, long cracks crazing their surface, parts of the casing having broken free to show the heavier interlocking plassteel structure beneath.

He lifted his head to survey the damage and Palpatine leaned in slightly, narrowing his eyes. The pressure change of the outburst in the confined space had been great enough this time to affect Skywalker, though he must have shielded himself. But his nose was bloody, a burst of scarlet red spattered against the plain white of the featureless clothes he was always dressed in for his confinement.

If he was aware of the fact then he ignored it, glancing about him only momentarily before he lowered his head again in concentration, the scale of his influence ramping up again, building like static, grating in like nails down chalkboard, like blades on steel, still fed by that same iron resolve and unmeasured power-

“If he increases the strike by the same degree Excellency, both outer and inner walls will suffer structural failure…” The Ops guard turned tensely, hand still hovering over the same three toggle switches, knowing that he could render the volatile prisoner unconscious in seconds by activating them.

Palpatine considered for long seconds, torn between the fascinated desire to see just what the boy was capable of if pushed to his limits, and his intention that the cell remain indestructible to his Jedi’s mind……

“Wait,” he said calmly at last, “I will speak to him.”

The man nodded, biting down on the wish to tell the Emperor to hurry.

Luke hunched down again, tucking his head in, pulling in focus…

The door slid open with the slightest hiss of equalizing air, pulling the dust up again in a flurry against the bright light from the corridor beyond which made Luke squint as he turned.

“Stop it.” Palpatine’s voice was indifferent and dismissive as he walked into the room, the door closing behind him with a hermetic hiss. He crossed casually without pausing or looking to Luke, “You damage nothing but yourself.”

Luke lurched up, incensed, but the action made his head spin and he staggered back a step, shouting out his frustration. Palpatine paused at that, finally turning to face him, sulfurous yellow eyes staring out intently from the dark shadows of the heavy crimson cowl he wore, disapproval and demand hardening them. But the boy wouldn’t yield.

“You can’t hold me here! Not any more!”

Palpatine said nothing, merely stood with his back to the ruined wall and watched patronizingly, as a father would watch a child’s tantrum.

“This won’t hold me! It can’t hold me and you know it!”

Skywalker stumbled back another step, the venom in his voice fed by Palpatine’s composed distain.

“You’re right.” The Sith Master allowed, “But then we both know that this cage is more than walls and bars.”

Luke fell silent, his train of thought broken, though Palpatine knew from his wild eyes and his tense stance that he didn’t yet have control of his Wolf.

“This is a far stronger cage, and you build it about yourself.” The Emperor shook his head, gesturing to the sealed door, “There is the door- open it.”

Skywalker wheeled about, still unsteady on his feet but no less determined. He lifted his hand…

“But know that if you do, it will cost the lives of everyone you know here- everyone. Right now. The order is already in place; I need only activate it with a word.”

The boy faltered fractionally beneath the threat, knowing it was real- and even though his back was to the Emperor, Palpatine grinned, knowing he had him, his voice mocking now.

“See? Already the price is too high.” He shook his head, disdainful and derisive, “You’re contemptibly weak. Pitifully easy to manipulate.”

“You don’t have nearly as much control as you think.”

There was fire in his voice as the boy turned, eyes and sense boiling with barely-controlled fury, and Palpatine knew it was the truth. This would not be the easy victory it had been before; there were fewer chains of self-restraint which held his Wolf in check now, and barely enough control yet to bind him- but there was sufficient, if he managed it with care.

“Then walk out of the door”

“And then what Master?” the boy said, “What have you left to hang over my head if they were dead?”

“I have other means.” the Sith assured, “I would not relinquish my Wolf so easily.”

The boy remained silent, chest still heaving from his exertion, sense wildly volatile.

Palpatine stood his ground, unmoved. “You think you can escape- that you can run. You think you can hide from me? Don’t be naïve. The galaxy isn’t big enough anymore. You’ll never again be beyond my reach because I know exactly what you are willing to pay for your freedom and I know what cost you would consider too high. That is your weakness; you can be bought like anybody else- not with money or power, but with the lives of others. Beings you don’t even know. That is how weak you are.”

Palpatine stepped in close. “I have no such weakness. I would track you down a step at a time and I would leave death and destruction in my wake, because I know that you would react- that you cannot help but do otherwise. Every being that you’ve touched, spoken to, dealt with. Every planet, every system- everyone. At what point would the death toll be too high? At what point would your resolve snap?But it wasn’t the easy victory it would once have been; he wheeled about, realizing the emperors triumph and incensed by it”

“And if I were dead?”

The Emperor narrowed cold yellow eyes, gaze hardening at his Jedi’s words. It was a genuine ultimatum, the threat implicit- and it was to be stamped out decisively. “That would not stay my hand in the slightest, Jedi; I would still take my revenge.

“I would take it from the hide of every creature you had ever known. I would make it my mission to see them scream so pitifully that you would hear them from the pit of hell and know that it was you who had brought this upon them- your actions which condemned them; you who turned my wrath upon them. And their kin and their species and their planet. My revenge would span systems… it would be a long time before my anger was satiated, I promise you that.”

The boy held silent before the vehemence of this relentless, heartfelt tirade, jaw clenching, eyes filled with impotent fury at the unreserved threat he had brought down on everyone he had ever known. He had little of his old life left- Palpatine had long since ripped it to tatters in an effort to control him- but what still remained was precious to him, even when the memory and the reality were galaxies apart. And Palpatine knew it.

“You’re weak.” The Sith accused again, as Skywalker turned his gaze down, struggling to hold focus beneath the drag of the drugs now that his adrenaline was waning. “I’ve told you before- if you hold a weakness then those about you will always use it against you.”

Skywalker said nothing, remained silent, eyes burning with indignation as he looked back up to his tormentor.

“Say it.” Palpatine invited tritely, the slightest of sardonic smiles on his bloodless lips, knowing that the boy would speak. That this interaction, no matter what the circumstances, had been established the first day Vader had brought him here- long before his Jedi had first been confined to this cell.

“Compassion isn’t a…”

“Compassion is the most pathetic vulnerability- it was always the weakness of the Jedi.” Palpatine’s words cut into him, laced with disgust, “Ask any of them- but of course you cannot.”

Skywalker’s sense wavered just slightly and that was enough for Palpatine to lash out, knowing he’d won.

“Do you think it was compassion that gave you the strength to face down your father- do you think it was compassion that gifted you the power to bring him low? Do you think that those whom you humble yourself to protect would show the same compassion to you- have they ever? They used you and the fault is yours because you allowed yourself to be used- to be manipulated. There is no room for such atrocious, glaring flaws here. When you cure yourself of it, every door will be open to you but until then someone will always control you- you will always be in a prison of your own making.”

As he spoke, Palpatine’s voice calmed, so that by the end of his tirade, it was more frustration than anger which drove it. He stepped in close to the boy, yellow-flecked eyes searching palest blue; “Do you want to be controlled your whole life? Do you want to be no more than your father?”

Skywalker’s chin lifted at that though he didn't speak, so Palpatine delivered his final caveat.

“A true Sith has no weakness. Cure yourself of this failing or I will do it for you- in the most conclusive way possible.”

He held the boy’s eyes for several moments longer, the threat clear, then turned and walked to the exit of the cell, the heavy doors hissing open as he reached them, guards lining the corridor beyond, weapons trained.

“I will return tomorrow and we will talk further.”

He walked out before the boy had time to react to the realization that he was to remain confined. The inner door slid shut behind him, the outer one closing with the hiss of a hermetic seal.

The power which slammed against it a second later was considerable, but only a fraction of that which his Jedi was capable of; little more than a burst of frustration at the comprehension of his ever-contracting options.

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