EMPIRE'S SON

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

By the time they'd reached Danuta and gained a geostationary orbit over the Imperial garrison in the planet's capital, Trid, the assault was over and its offensive forces gone. It had been brief and bloody, with massive damage done, and yet the duty officer at the garrison was claiming that there was presently no reason to assume that an incursion into the high-security sections of the base had taken place, maintaining that most of the damage was done by a series of low strafing runs on the base's air corps, and an explosive device to its perimeter, which saw a second wave of attacks designed to destroy the base's AT-ST. The attack on the TIEs had cost ships, but the attack on the base had cost lives, almost thirty soldiers lost when they went to investigate the perimeter bomb, including the base's commander.

For Captain Roth, the base officer's word was sufficient, but Luke had made the journey down to Trid garrison by shuttle, cursing all the way that their target was already gone and the signal no longer transmitting. More interesting-sufficient to take he, and therefore Han, down to the Trid facility-was the base officer's admission that the attack had apparently been by a civilian craft…though the fact that their Rebel X-wing had been transmitting from Danuta's low orbit meant that there were clearly Rebel craft in position at the time.

They stopped first at the spaceport, where a single craft-a CEC Hawk-290-had made several strafing runs, damaging and downing all TIEs on the ground.

The next obvious stop had been the garrison itself, which had suffered a bomb on the North Perimeter. By now, Luke-going down in his Ubiqtorate uniform-had gained access to the base's incoming data, still collating on the datapad he'd been provided. It hadn't taken long to tie down the bomb and the resultant attack on base personnel who had investigated, to the same Hawk-290.

"Gets around," Han observed dryly.

Commander Byrne, the duty officer who'd made the report to the Immortal, turned to glare. "Sufficiently to kill our Officer of the Day, Major Horst, yes."

"And then it landed on the roof?" Luke asked, glancing to the main facility. Roils of dark, acrid-smelling smoke still curled from a few of the buildings, though the fires were already doused.

"Yes, Sir." Byrne's aversion of Han wasn't exclusive, it seemed; he'd also taken a dislike to the Ubiqtorate officer who'd shown up just minutes after the raid, but still made the time to come down to his base and waste time asking questions.

"To pick up…?"

"Sir?"

"The strafing runs were clearly a diversion, and if you had bombs and wanted to damage an Imperial base, you'd place them in the base and not at the perimeter fence. I'm assuming the Hawk didn't just then land on an Imperial garrison's roof for the hell of it. It was picking an incursion team up."

"It now…" Byrne hesitated, glancing away, "it now appears as if the base itself was infiltrated. We're still taking debriefs, to put the facts together. We think the Hawk took its people out."

"So we can assume their mission was a success?"

"Sir?" Byrne asked, through a clamped jaw.

Luke shrugged, holding the datapad up to shade his eyes as he stared at the roof where the Hawk had landed. "A success-otherwise they wouldn't have been retrieving their people."

"We've no reason to assume that," Byrne said, affronted. "There's every chance that they abandoned their mission under pressure."

Luke looked at the man, then back to the continually updating datapad he'd been provided with. "Considering that you don't have a single incoming report to date listing even loosely how many men were in the infiltration unit-meaning that you hadn't properly engaged it-I find it hard to believe that you had them on the run."

The officer jerked straight. "I resent the insinuation that…"

"No insinuation implied, Commander," Luke said boredly, "just an observation. Shall we go inside?"

By the time they got to Main Ops, the picture was starting to come together. There had, it seemed, been just one intruder, who had pretty much waltzed past the South Perimeter gate, managing to stay below the radar until he'd showed up several levels down, where the base's internal security had finally gotten a useable image of him, presently being run through all databases.

"Why isn't there a report from the south perimeter guard station yet?" Luke asked, eyes on the datapad.

"The officer in charge was another of those injured during the attack," Byrne provided. "He's presently in the medicenter."

"I want to speak to him." Luke glanced down as the memopad pipped quietly. "Well, well, well-we have an ID on your intruder: an ex-Imperial trooper named Kyle Katarn. Decorated officer, went AWOL not long ago. Has a warrant out for his arrest on charges of desertion, treason, and murder."

"Rebel?" Han asked.

"Known associate is Jan Ors, who's a confirmed Rebel Intel agent, so based on that and our signal in orbit, I'm guessing it's a safe bet."

The officer was conscious but still recovering when they arrived, having taken a glancing shot which had put him out cold and in the medicenter. He straightened slightly as Luke and Han entered, followed by Byrne.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Odom. He was in charge of the south perimeter when the attack took place. Odom, we're just following up on the raid, trying to work out what happened."

The man nodded, turning to Han, who coughed and glanced down to the kid in front of him. Odom frowned for a second, then seemed to realize what Han was trying to tell him, and looked at Luke, making a woozy effort to hide his confusion. For a few seconds more he seemed uncertain, then he finally took in the Ubiqtorate uniform and his eyes widened a little.

"Uh…yes, Sir." The man glanced down, blinking himself awake.

"Nothing serious," Luke smiled. "I was just hitching a lift onboard the Immortal when she answered your distress call, so I thought I should earn my keep. You were the officer on duty at the south perimeter, right? Did you see anything?"

"No, I didn't even know until the perimeter had been breached and the alarm sounded, Sir."

"You have no idea how?"

"No, Sir."

"But the perimeter breach sounded?"

"No, Sir, it was the general alarm."

"We're still trying to ascertain how they got into the base," Byrne added. "We came under attack from several fronts."

"But with minimal infiltration, which seems odd."

"Odd?" Byrne asked.

Luke turned to the commander. "It wasn't an attack on the base, otherwise the Rebels could have done a lot more damage. But they left it intact. Presumably because they wanted something specific."

"Maybe they wanted Major Horst," Byrne said curtly.

"Then why not debug as soon as he was killed? Why enter the base at all? They wanted something in the base, and chances are that since they debugged by choice, they have it. So what did you have in your vaults, Commander?"

Byrne straightened. "I'm not at liberty to tell you that, Sir."

"No? Well since you seem reluctant to admit it despite the number of prompts I've given you, let me tell you that I already know you have an Imperial Security Bureau research and storage facility here." Luke didn't even slow as the man's eyes widened. "Has it been breached?"

To his credit, Byrne's face hardened. "I'm not at liberty to tell you that either, Sir."

"No? Then let me tell you; it was, and the memory matrix there was compromised. You've kept that off the reports coming into the datapad you gave me, but from the way you've been quietly panicking, I assume it's been coming in on yours. I won't bother asking you what they were storing here, because you don't know…but I do. And let me tell you, Commander, you have no idea how much trouble you're about to be in. So I hope that the ISB officer you contacted, who persuaded you to falsify information being reported to my datapad, has friends in high places or this could get very sticky. And believe me, that ISB officer, whoever he is, will be intending to come out spotless…which leaves just you. Good luck with that."

Luke turned back to wink at the injured man, who had sat upright in his bed, deeply uncomfortable at seeing his commanding officer dressed down. "See? That wasn't too painful, was it?"

"Uh…no, Sir." He glanced from the kid to Han and back again, obviously at a loss as to what to say as Luke turned for the door. "I uh…I hope you catch him."

"We intend to," Luke nodded…then paused.

Han stumbled to a stop behind him as the kid turned back, head tilted…looking for all the worlds like a predator catching the scent-

"What did you say your name was?"

"Odom, Sir. Meck Odom."

"Odom…" Luke had turned fully now…and he was smiling. Kid never smiled; it made Han sweat when he smiled. "You seem…nervous, Odom?"

"My base was just successfully attacked, I was shot, and now the Ubiqtorate are here, asking me questions…yes, sir, I'm nervous."

Luke nodded as he took a step closer. "Well, your part's over now, you should rest… You took a shot in the raid, right?"

"Yes, sir. Just a glancing blow. I was lucky."

"Very lucky. Left you out cold until now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Right…but you didn't see who took the shot?"

"No, sir, didn't even see it coming."

"Not even a glance?"

"Sorry, sir."

The silence stretched too long as the kid stared at Odom, who recoiled slowly, deeply unsettled. Finally Luke straightened, new strength in his voice, his brief play of genial interest completely gone. "Stand up."

Odom looked to his base commander, then back to Luke, clearly uncertain.

"Stand up," Luke repeated. "Get out of the bed."

Byrne stepped in for his officer as Odom climbed shakily from the bed, still pale. "Sir, I remind you that this is an injured crew member who was shot and knocked unconscious during the raid less than an hour ago. I have to ask what the hell…"

Luke didn't even take his eyes off Odom. "Lieutenant Commander Meck Odom, you stand accused of conspiring to aid enemies of the State. Do you understand the charge brought against you?"

Even Han blinked, shocked at the speed at which events had turned. Odom glanced again to his senior officer, aghast, and Byrne stepped in, practically shouting.

"What? This is a time-served officer whom I know personally! You can't just come in here and…"

The kid didn't acknowledge him, instead continuing with the official arraign, simply raising his voice to be heard over Byrne's objections. "You will be taken immediately into detention until such a time as that charge is answered to the satisfaction of the State. Conspiracy is a class one charge and entitles you to no defense or council. Do you understand the charge?"

Odom looked to his senior. "Sir?"

Byrne was quick to answer, eyes still on Luke. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You want to know how your Rebel got in? Let me tell you." Luke indicated Odom with a jerk of his head. "He shut down the perimeter defenses and opened the South gate."

"What!" Byrne glanced to Odom, who was wide-eyed. "I've known this man for years-he has an exemplary record!"

"He also let a Rebel into your facility. Knowingly." Luke turned on Odom. "Did you provide him with information on where to go? A floor plan?"

The man stared, still shocked to silence, hand rising to the medical gown about his neck as if it were tightening every moment.

Luke looked to Han. "Go and get some binders, we're taking him with us."

Byrne stepped closer. "You can't just take one of my officers!"

Han lifted his hands. "Maybe we should all just calm down and…"

"Go and get some binders!"

The kid was getting that manic look in his eye as his tone hardened, so Han backed out of the room, eager to get the damn binders and get back, 'cos Force knew what Luke'd do if Byrne started trying to throw his weight around when Han wasn't there.

By the time he got back the argument had moved out into the corridor, with Luke hold of one of the bewildered officer Odom's arms as Byrne held the other, holding Odom back against Luke's onward pull as Byrne continued his harangue.

"You have no right to come in here and…"

Luke turned, free hand raised to point threateningly. "Back off, soldier; last warning."

"Who the hell do you think you a-"

Luke's hand opened wide as he thrust it forward, and without contact Byrne was propelled back across the corridor to hit the far wall with a heavy thud, staggering to remain upright. Han stepped quickly in, hands out before him as he looked to the kid.

"Woah, woah! Let's all calm down here-it's just a misunderstanding…"

Byrne pushed off from the wall and Han twisted round to stop him as Luke pushed Odom on, still hold of his arm. Han grappled to hold Byrne back, aware that if the kid let loose then Byrne wouldn't see another day.

"Do you want to go down for aiding and abetting?" Luke yelled. "This man is a traitor. You want to know who was responsible for the deaths you're so outraged at? You're trying to protect him right now!"

"You have no right to…"

"I have jurisdiction everywhere!"

"This is a Security Bureau site-Ubiqtorate don't…"

"We have equal authority to the ISB, you know that."

"That doesn't give you the right to ride rough-shod over this base. We have protocols-you can't just take a man with no evidence!"

A few other officers were beginning to join the stormtroopers who had appeared at the end of the corridor, drawn by the raised voices, and Han was becoming painfully aware that they were on their own here. He'd pulled out his comlink already, but was forced to keep breaking off from trying to summon their shuttle to land on the flat ground outside the medicenter, in order to try to keep Byrne and the kid from each other's throats.

"Evidence?" Luke yelled. "How did he know, Byrne? Your reliable officer was shot and didn't see who did it-didn't see anything, he claimed. He'd been out cold throughout the raid, and been alone in the medicenter ever since, yet he knew that it was one man who'd infiltrated the base. How did he know that?"

"That's not enough to arrest him!"

"It's enough to make me look closely, and I'm telling you he did it. That's enough!"

The group had moved down the corridor, Byrne not backing off as Luke dragged the ever more nervous Odom with him. He'd taken the binders off Han and paused to fasten them round Odom's wrists, though the man struggled to pull his second hand free.

"Give me your hand," Luke yelled into his face. "Give me your damn hand, or I'll break both your wrists, knock you out and drag you to the transport!"

The other base officers were starting to murmur, and the group seemed larger now as they stared and straightened and braced to form a subconscious block to the end of the corridor that Han knew they needed to pass through, to get out of the external doors just beyond. Having summoned the shuttle, he was now on the line to the Immortal, trying hard to make this an unarguable situation for Byrne and his men, 'cos he knew damn well that the kid wouldn't back down.

"You have no jurisdiction on an ISB base," Byrne yelled again.

"Unless you have a higher-ranked ISB officer here, I do. Do you have an ISB officer on the base?" Luke challenged. "Because I'd very much like to meet him, to ask him what the hell he's been doing the last few hours, and why he was falsifying information coming in to my datapad."

They'd reached the gang of officers and troopers at the end of the corridor now and Han turned first, to a sea of stony faces which stopped him cold. The group had grown to maybe twenty-five, officers and troopers both, standing four or five deep. He was acutely aware that neither himself nor the kid wore sidearms.

Backing into Han, Luke turned from Byrne to the group, one hand still holding the now bound Odom by a handful of the medical gown at the small of his back.

"Stand down." Sixteen years old and head and shoulders shorter than anyone else there, he still had a tone of absolute command in his voice, lips pulled back in a near-growl as he rumbled the command a second time. "Stand down. Back off."

He shouldered past Han and started forward, shoving Odom before him…and the soldiers fell back just slightly, thrown by the fact that Odom was pushed into them. Han followed Luke through the barely shoulder-width gap that opened, stares of undisguised hostility from armed and agitated soldiers burning into him as they jostled his shoulders in silence. Narrowed eyes glared as they whispered, arms crossed, fists clenched, and Han silently prayed every step of the way, muscles wired ready to fight, just waiting for the spark that'd ignite this into violence.

From the corner of his vision over the crowd, he saw clouds of dust kick up as their shuttle dropped smoothly into the parade square outside, the pilot probably wondering why the hell Han had told him to land there rather than at the nearby pad.

Then they were in the corridor beyond, its doors opening smoothly onto the dusty square…and all the time the crowd stayed with them, keeping pace just a step behind Han as he backed towards the shuttle.

As the ramp dropped Luke took the time to turn about to the crowd, who'd slowed a few paces back. Han stepped onto the ramp, taking Odom's arm, but the kid kept hold, looking through the tense mob until his eyes rested on Commander Byrne. Smiling, he brought his hand to his forehead to flick a mocking salute. "Been a pleasure, Commander," he said simply-then turned, and pushed Odom up the ramp and into the shuttle.

Byrne shouted something in reply, but it was drowned out by the flare of the shuttle's engines as the ramp closed, and the gathered soldiers were forced to step back from its dust-laden backwash.

Han collapsed back into his seat in silence as the shuttle accelerated skywards, watching Odom stagger slightly as the floor angled beneath their feet. Luke pushed Odom forwards into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the shuttle without a word, then wandered over to sit opposite Han.

"Well, you sure know how to crash a party," Han managed at last as his pounding heart rate slowed.

"Because I'm the one at fault here."

"You know, there is such a thing as tact. They'd just had their base shot from under them-they're gonna be a little jumpy."

"I'm a soldier, not a diplomat."

"Copishit. I've seen you tiptoe through way less volatile situations than that, with all that 'young and innocent' stuff."

"It wasn't necessary this time."

"I beg to differ!" Han exclaimed, pointing planetwards, feeling that events were on his side on this one. "Do you actually like causing a situation!"

"Please, that wasn't a situation. It was barely a spat." The kid stood to pat his jacket down, and Han knew exactly what he was looking for.

"I don't believe you, I really don't."

Luke stared, mildly belligerent. "You want me to calm down or not?"

Han glared, furious…and the kid started to laugh, any anger instantly gone as he dropped back onto his seat. "I don't have any anyway. You're bright red, you know that?"

"That's 'cos my heart's three beats short of a coronary," Han grumbled as he settled back, glancing once to the wide-eyed Odom. "He'd better be worth it."

The kid walked from the cell without looking back, and Han stood, feeling his chest tighten. He hadn't gone in this time; couldn't, not again. "Well?"

"He didn't deny anything," Luke said quietly. "He knew Katarn from their academy days, said he trusted him. Trusted his judgment. He provided everything Katarn asked for: layouts, codes…even took down perimeter security so Katarn could get in."

"Does he know what Katarn wanted?"

"I do. There was a partial set of plans relating to the Death Star stored in the ISB vaults in Trid Garrison. Odom doesn't know how the Rebels knew."

"Does he know where they were taking them?"

"No. He doesn't know anything because he had no greater involvement. He made a mistake, an error of judgment. Simple as that."

"What'll happen to him?"

The kid glanced away. "He admitted to treason."

Which held a statutory sentence, Han knew: death. "C'mon, it wasn't treason, it was an error of judgment-you said it yourself."

"I also said he admitted to treason. My hands are tied."

"By whom?"

"By Palpatine-by the law! You break the law, you get punished, everyone knows that."

"Punished, not executed!"

"I have standing orders."

"C'mon, you know-you know it's too much!"

"Palpatine expects…"

"He's not here," Han said. "He's not here and you are, and I know you can make that kind of judgment-you want to. The guy made a bad decision…a really bad decision," Han added, at the look on Luke's face. "But he knows it. He's co-operated. He's not a radical or a revolutionary-you can see that. He just made a bad call."

The kid glanced down, a trace of uncertainty in his voice. "I should do it…"

Han too lowered his voice, coaxing rather than forcing. "But you won't…because you know it's not right."

Luke stared, uncertainty setting fine lines in his youthful face. He brought his hands up to swipe at his eyes, more out of frustration than tiredness, though Han knew he must be feeling it by now. He held his breath, willing the kid to comprehend, to understand what he was doing in someone else's name…

Luke looked to the side, then back to the cell door. Tense moments ticked by as he stared, torn…

Just once more he looked at Han, expression somewhere between annoyance and accusation-then he turned and walked from the detention center without looking back.

Letting out a low sigh, Han took a few seconds to glance to the sealed cell door, knowing that the man within would never realize just how close he'd come…then set off after the kid.

He reached him about the same time as Indo did, on his way down from the bridge. With Luke's turbolift already gone from the detention center's hub by the time Han arrived, he had no idea where the kid had gone, and had to resort to the ship's internal security system to track him down.

Which was why he reached stellar cartography just in time to have Indo, who'd come from the other direction sporting his signature withering glare, enter and close the door in his face. Figured.

Keying the release, Han walked into a glowing hologram of this part of the Outer Rim, planets of the three systems spinward from Danuta spread out across the big chamber as Luke moved through it, the display tracing in bright images over his face and clothes.

"Toprawa," Luke said without turning.

Han glanced up into the holo. "Huh?"

"That's where they'll go next-Toprawa."

"The Kalmith sector's too far out of their way," Indo said, squinting at the holo. "You said yourself they'll look for the Maw Installation-that means they'll stay in the Halla Sector."

"They have no leads on the location of the Maw Installation-but some of the information they just picked up from Danuta would have come from Toprawa, probably via the Cron Drift satellite they sliced into, which means they have the same Imperial base named from two different sources, in connection with the Death Star. The logical thing for them to do is try to backtrack from there…which would take them to Toprawa Garrison."

"You assume they can decode the information," Indo said.

"Location base codes passing through an Imperial Garrison wouldn't be subject to the same level of ciphers as the messages themselves," Luke said, eyes still on the holo. "They'd be a standard code glyph. If they can't break those, then we really don't need to worry about them-ever. And chances are they've got at least a partial decode."

"You're making assumptions again."

"No, I'm playing percentages."

Indo raised an eyebrow. "That's the same thing. Insufficient investigative study or…"

Luke turned. "The Cron Drift was clearly part of a pre-meditated, ongoing plan which started with the strike to gain an Imperial communications satellite. For that plan to succeed, they also needed an informer to smuggle the codes out from Sinto Barracks, and recruited Lieutenant Derrig. Given the time scale determined by the theft of the satellite, it would be wildly optimistic to assume that Derrig hadn't smuggled at the very least one set of codes out before we caught him, and that the Rebels haven't now gotten a good few code-breakers committed to extrapolating the rest." Luke paused, tipping his head. "Given those facts, it's reasonable to assume that they've decoded a percentage of the information they hold. Toprawa Garrison was named on the files sent through Sinto Barracks at the time that Derrig was active, and would have been named on the files they've just gained from Danuta. Even assuming that they haven't accessed any of the Danuta information yet, Toprawa's name would still have gone through the Cron Drift satellite and through Sinto in the time-scale we're working with. If we assume that they've decoded any two of those information sources, then Toprawa becomes the next most probable target. Logical enough?"

Indo remained silent for long seconds; not out of pique, but clearly running the explanation through his head, looking for flaws. He broke off as his comlink sounded, and as he turned away to answer it, Han took his opportunity, stepping closer to the kid.

"Listen, you…you did the right thing-in the detention center."

Luke glanced quickly to Indo, whose attention remained on the incoming comm, then turned back to study the holographic map. "No, you did…I would have killed him."

Which should have worried Han more, save for one thing; despite all that cool logic that Indo had drummed into him to the point that the kid could now throw it out on demand, and for all his willingness to cite orders…the kid had still known what was right and what was wrong.

Indo closed his comlink as he turned back, visibly nervous. "The Emperor commands an update."

They were back in the Comm One to the side of the bridge, the bright glow of the transmission platform indicating that a comm was waiting. Indo stepped up to the console to enter the cipher as Luke walked forward. He hesitated just a second, gathering his thoughts, then he stepped onto the platform and dropped to one knee as the image coalesced.

That same image, filling the massive three-story chamber to loom over all present, every fold of wasted, waxen skin accentuated, lines of disapproval long-since etched through inclination and habit about reproving eyes, rendered on a massive scale which made the viewer flinch before a word was spoken.

"Report." The impatient command echoed around the dark chamber, and the kid stood immediately, tension edging his voice.

"We arrived in the Halla sector seven hours ago, Master, based on information collated from the Rebel listening post in the Cron Drift. We received a signal from the homing beacon almost immediately, and triangulated its position as orbiting Danuta. We also received an all-systems alert from the Imperial garrison there, which was under attack. By…by the time we reached Danuta the Rebels were gone, so…"

That massive visage crawled as thin lips split into a snarl. "The Rebels attacked the Danuta garrison?"

"Yes, Master."

"Did they know of the Security Bureau's vault?"

"Yes, Master. The aerial attack was to cover an incursion. The man who infiltrated the base was ex-Imperial military. Security images ID'd him as a mid-grade officer named Katarn, who went AWOL a few months ago. He didn't appear to have pre-existing knowledge of the layout of Trid garrison, but he knew one of the officers who worked there, and the man agreed to help him."

Lips drew back from darkly pitted teeth. "My military? Those who gave an oath of allegiance to their Emperor! First the Sinto spy, then the pilot, and now here-they have less loyalty than rats. I'm plagued by treachery and sedition! Petty little miscreants who scutter about serving their own narrow logic, vermin who scurry to their own extermination with no idea of their insignificance."

Han stepped back before the diatribe, hissed with such venom that a fine accretion of spittle had whitened the corner of those bloodless lips. The kid, wisely, remained silent, head down, until the Emperor's anger had abated and those ochre eyes had lowered again.

"Were they successful?"

"The vault is under the jurisdiction of the ISB, so I'll need clearance to download specific system logs and access their mainframe, but…but the Rebels left of their own volition before our arrival, so I would assume they had all that they came for…" Again the kid paused, knowing he was delivering bad news. "Which would mean that they now have a partial copy of the Death Star's blueprints."

The silence, in many ways, was more sinister than any outburst. Even at this distance it burned in Han's chest, making him stare at the floor, apprehension eating inwards. Even the kid, who had grown up with the formidable old man, eventually felt the need to fill the silence.

"They were already gone when we arrived… We thou-"

"And you didn't think to follow them?" That harsh voice reverberated about the empty chamber, clipped with contained fury.

"There was nothing to follow, Master. They entered hyperspace before w-"

"You followed them successfully from the Cron Drift to Danuta."

"We made a jump to the Halla system based on available data, and received an alert from Danuta when we arrived. The Rebels…"

"You had a homing beacon on the Rebel ship."

"The beacon only works in an airless atmosphere, when the fighter carrying it is in deep space. Any transmitter that was active whilst in their capital ship's hangar would have been detected by them almost immediately and…"

"Excuses…endless excuses. It's the one thing at which you excel."

Han stared, offended on the kid's behalf. All the things he'd achieved; placing the tracker without suspicion, ensuring that it would remain undetected for as long as possible…the leaps of logic that had gotten them from the Sinto garrison to the Cron Drift and then to Danuta. The Rebel sympathizers uncovered, the codes maintained intact, the doctored satellite discovered, the chain of infiltration broken…all that was dismissed because the kid had failed to stop the theft of one document that had taken place on the other side of a system that they wouldn't have been near in the first place, without the kid's involvement!

Luke glanced momentarily to the side, where Indo skulked against the wall. The Viscount nodded just slightly, and Luke lifted his head. "We…I have reason to think their next target will be Toprawa, in the Calamith sector."

The Emperor paused, judgment written in the lines of his face. "You come to this conclusion, how?"

"It's the next outpost that stores and forwards information regarding the Death Star. The Rebels have partial plans, but they need more. What they have confirms its existence, but gives them little of tactical value. With all other lines of information now closed down, if they were desperate enough to attack Danuta they may well turn on a larger base like Toprawa to further their knowledge. We're preparing to make the jump now."

Yellow eyes narrowed in thought beneath that deeply scowling brow as Palpatine considered, bringing his gaze back to the kid who stood straight-backed before him, clearly prepared to wait as long as was necessary. "Did he give you any information, this Danuta traitor?"

"Odom? No, Master. He knew little, other than that he was helping a friend."

"To enter my base! To steal my secrets!"

"Yes, Master."

It was a brief outburst, mollified by the kid, so that the Emperor calmed quickly, lips pursing to a thin line before they pulled back into that familiar curling snarl. "Worthless creatures, every one. May their hides rot…they're dead, of course."

It was part statement, part question…and standing behind the kid, Han watched his hands at the small of his back squeeze tighter. "…Two are dead, Master-the Rebels from the listening post. They had nothing more of value to-"

"Two?"

"The…the officer from Trid garrison is still in custody. I've…"

"You said he knew nothing." Palpatine voice had cooled by degrees, dropping to an icy threat.

"…No, Master, but-"

"But? But? Are my orders to you unclear? Twice in two weeks you have seen fit to ignore them! Or perhaps you feel you know better than I?"

The kid lifted his head. "No, Master!"

"Then what am I to think? You are either stupid or disloyal-which is it? I'm surrounded by incompetence! You-you of all people, know this: my will is law, my command is absolute. You do not interpret it, you obey it. Unconditionally."

"Yes, M-"

"You're useless, useless to me! Every time I give you some modicum of responsibility, of autonomy, you throw it in my face like an insult! You claim obedience and commitment, then you do this!"

The kid held silent beneath the tirade as the Emperor ranted, threats and accusations rained down on him unchallenged. He simply remained still, head tipped, hands clasped tightly behind his back…as Han began to realize just what he'd asked of the kid. And having asked him, he wouldn't leave him to face this alone.

He pushed off from the wall, intending to walk forward to the transmission platform and say that it was him who'd questioned the sentence…and a weight pressed instantly against his chest, pushing him smoothly but forcibly back against the wall and pinning him there. The kid risked a glance to the side, his eyes widened in warning, before he turned quickly back, hiding his head-turn by lifting it.

"It was just one man," he murmured quietly-and Palpatine exploded.

"My will is law… My will is law, do you understand! Answer!"

"…Yes, Master."

That massive visage rocked with breathlessness at shouting. Snarling lips settled to a curling sneer as the Emperor quietened, so that his next words were a low, grating growl. "We will speak further, on your return." There was no attempt to hide the open threat, and the kid's head dropped low, voice penitent.

"Yes, Master."

"In the meantime, Lord Vader is less than half a day's travel from Toprawa. He will assume command of this fiasco, since you are clearly incapable. You're to hand any and all information over to him and comply fully with his commands, do I make myself clear?"

That brought Luke's head up, making him drop the pressure which had pinned Han loosely to the wall. "Vader! I can-"

"Silence!" Palpatine's image pressed closer, filling the space completely and looming over the kid, who dropped his head quickly at the booming command which rattled Han's ribcage. "I have no confidence in you, boy!" The words were bellowed out with absolute knowledge of their power. "If you cannot follow the simplest of ongoing commands without constant supervision, then I will certainly provide it. You will do as you are told, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master, I understand."

The Emperor quietened to a brittle calm, yellow eyes narrowed, though they lost not an ounce of their seething threat. "And we will speak further on your return."

The towering hologram dissipated, leaving the room to a brittle silence. Luke remained still for long seconds more, staring at the floor before him…then he turned about and walked quickly from the room, eyes dead ahead.

"Luke-Luke, wait…" Han set forward, but Indo's iron grip took his arm.

"I think you've done enough damage for one day, Lieutenant. It was you who persuaded Luke not to carry out the sentence on the prisoner, wasn't it? He wouldn't have done that alone."

Han snatched his arm free. "He shouldn't be expected to do it-any of it! He's a kid, he's just a kid!"

"No, Lieutenant Solo, nor has he been for a long time. Ask him, and he'll be the first to tell you that."

"Because you all keep on sayin' that to him! You keep on dangling it before him that if he grows up then all this'll stop! But you know as well as I do that that's just not gonna happen. Palpatine's not gonna let up-ever!"

"All the more reason to help Luke comply…or is that insufficiently obvious?"

"You want to know what's sufficiently obvious? It makes no difference what the kid does-it never will!"

Three paces beyond the door of the comm room, Luke pressed to the wall, listening to the raised voices within, charged with emotion. He closed his eyes, sensing the turmoil that bubbled beneath the surface of Solo's anger, deflected with barely a scratch by the familiar cool of Indo's stony presence, always a calm oasis. There had been many times when Luke had clung to Indo for that very reason, through years of chaotic confusion. And Indo was right, this was his life. It had always been this way.

But now Solo was stepping in and saying that it was wrong somehow…putting questions and doubts into Luke's mind which would only bring down his Master's wrath, and he knew it. Why risk that-why endure it all over again, on the word of a stranger?

He slid slowly down the wall to sit on the polished floor as the argument continued in turns of heated outbursts and frosty replies. He shouldn't listen. Not because it was wrong, but because if Palpatine found out that he had-that he'd wanted to-then he'd remove Solo; take him to pieces. And yet he still didn't move. Couldn't walk away, fascinated in part that someone here had the gall to actually think they could stand up and ask the questions that had long since been beaten out of himself, and in part that…that he did so out of concern. For Luke.

In his own way-in a safe and reassuringly distant way-Indo had been the nearest that Luke had ever come to this strange, unsettling thing. But it had been always reserved and restrained, tempered by the Viscount's private ambition and the loyalties necessary to feed that, nothing promised or expected on either side.

This… Luke stared at his distorted, darkened reflection in the polished floor, as the argument raged. Should he feel something, right now? He'd lived his life in this maelstrom, with never a hand lifted in aid. And because of it, he owed nothing to anyone, save his Master, to whom he owed absolute allegiance. He knew that. It couldn't be any other way-it couldn't. He'd learned that long ago; had stood and fallen alone. Alone…

Solo couldn't change anything-not really. Only someone with a close connection to the Force could challenge Palpatine. Luke wasn't about to, and Vader never had. He thought briefly of his father, Kenobi, and the woman, Leia Skywalker. But since they hadn't done so already, he had to assume that they too stood in his Master's shadow, albeit from a safer distance.

In fact, why was Solo here at all? Because Luke had brought him, yes, but…nothing happened here without his Master's express sanction: nothing. Luke scowled, thinking on that; Solo was argumentative, disrespectful, and wilfully headstrong-that was what so fascinated Luke about him. He dared to speak out even inside the walls of the Imperial palace itself…yet he was still here. Indo's cool reply to another yelled assertion tilted Luke's head slightly-surely Indo himself would have spoken to the Emperor more than once by now…yet Han was still here.

Luke brought his hand up, chewing compulsively at his thumbnail, a heavy weight settling in his stomach. The fact was that if Solo was here, then it was by his Master's consent…and why would that be? Why allow a wayward influence inside… He straightened, breath leaving him; wayward influence…  Was that what this was? A test of Luke's resolve, of his ability to maintain self-discipline-one which he was failing, dismally.

He leaned back to bang his own head against the wall behind him, chiding himself for not seeing it sooner, knowing more than ever that he shouldn't sit here and listen. Not because it was wrong, but because Palpatine would know damn well that he had-would want him to. Want to see if Luke was fool enough to listen to Solo…and would knock him mercilessly back down if he suspected that he had. Even Solo had no comeback to that, save to rail against Indo, when the shouting was done.

So nothing changed; not really. He rose and walked down the corridor alone, leaving the argument behind. After ten steps he threw back his head and let out a laugh, forced and empty, fired only by his own amusement that he'd thought, for even a moment, that it could.

Leia Skywalker sat cross-legged in the center of the Rebel corvette's exercise bay, eyes closed in concentration. Before her, clearly delineated in the coruscating lines of power which moved within the Force, she could see the six large packing boxes she had lifted, as well as the ever-complaining Artoo. And walking towards them, his quiet amusement radiating outwards in mellifluous waves, was Obi-Wan. His presence shone within the Force, incredibly powerful yet infinitely gentle, so familiar that she couldn't imagine what her life would have been without him. He'd given her everything, though he'd never claim such a thing.

He'd also, after much thought, told her the truth about her heritage when she'd begun her training, aged fourteen-though Leia suspected that Mon Mothma had had more than a passing influence on the decision.

She remembered it being a terrible, tearing blow despite softly spoken words, its impact magnified by the knowledge that everyone around her was fighting to stop this man and everything he stood for. She remembered the guilt, the fear, the confusion and denials, the endless questions which Obi-Wan had answered hesitantly, reluctantly sometimes. She knew even then, as she knew now, that not all had been told. But Obi-Wan and Mon had taken care to underline that Leia herself had done nothing wrong, ever, and that it was the choices she made, every day, which meant that all she had in common with her father was a name, and that unknown to almost everybody save herself-as it must remain. Taken great care that Leia didn't allow her knowledge that she was Darth Vader's only child to isolate her, or disconnect her from those around herself.

She'd come herself to a realization of the necessity to stop both Vader and his Emperor. A brief flirtation with meeting the father she'd never known had been quietly tolerated by Obi-Wan, but in the end, seeing for too many years the dire consequence of Darth Vader's actions, Leia had slowly separated herself from her heritage, in her own mind.

All she had kept was the name that Vader himself had forsaken; the name which linked her only with a Jedi known before the purges-and that only to the very, very few. Obi-Wan had been reluctant, but again the tempered views of Mon Mothma had come to her aid; they could and would keep Leia's existence concealed as long as possible-her very survival depended on it-but the name she'd been born with was part of her identity, and to take it from her was to disparage her faith in herself. If she did one day face her father, it should be with her own name held high, not whispered as an embarrassment. She knew who she was; she had nothing to prove, and Vader, said Mon, had no hold on her. Would he make the connection when he heard it, long-believing that his daughter was dead? Possibly; probably. But the advantage would be hers, not his; she knew who she was-her past could never be used against her, least of all by her father; Mon had said this so often, and so often, as Leia had grown, she'd wondered at the hesitation in Mon's voice as she spoke.

And so she'd stepped free of her inhibitions at a past not of her making, and been stronger, for knowing. For acknowledging. And having stepped free, she'd looked even more strongly to surround herself with a family of her own making, comprising of those she respected and cared for, those whose beliefs and tenets she shared. And foremost among those were Mon Mothma and, of course, Obi-Wan; her Master, her mentor and her friend.

Together they had gifted her the confidence always, to look within and trust herself. To look out into the greater galaxy and see the truth…and to be unafraid to fight for all that she believed in. Faith that she wouldn't falter or lose her convictions; that all that was wrong could be changed, and it was her responsibility to try to change it-hers and those around her. Gifted her, always, with the innate knowledge that she could.

She hadn't had a normal childhood since she'd come here, aged eleven, she knew that. Towed from one tramp freighter or corvette to another, always half a step ahead of the Empire, sometimes fighting, sometimes running…yet she'd always felt safe, somehow. Always been aware of the unspoken indulgence and protection of the fighters and the techs and the pilots who'd sat with her and showed her how to field-strip a Blas Tech E-11 or a DT-57, or how to hotwire practically any SoroSuub fighter on the market inside of two minutes.

She'd run down battered corridors with hand-fashioned toys, and played on the landing strips of crowded fighter bays. She'd learned that a lag-pursuit with an angle-off at high velocity was absolutely the best way fro any pilot to get in behind an enemy craft without sacrificing all-important speed, and if you got caught yourself, you fell back on a spiral dive and prayed you had the inside turn. She'd been out on quieter missions with Obi-Wan since she had begun her Jedi training at fourteen-been given brief spells in command of tramp freighters carrying illegal munitions, at fifteen. Flown fighters in combat without blinking an eye.

She didn't know much about the latest boy-band or what color she should be painting her toenails this year, but because of Obi-Wan and Mon, and countless other friends, close and here, and long gone and sorely missed, she could shoot practically any gun, cross practically any border, hardwire practically any security lock, fly practically any fighter going… And she believed, absolutely, that it was possible to change anything.

Obi-Wan smiled as Leia gently lowered the objects she'd chosen at random in the cluttered bay, glancing once to Artoo as he continued his long and typically forthright scolding. He waited patiently as Artoo finished his extended harangue then wheeled about on the spot to scoot back to what he felt to be a safer distance before finishing with a brief, rasping flourish. Turning back, Obi-Wan raised greying eyebrows at Leia, the dry, perpetual bemusement that was so much a part of him audible in his voice. "I would think he'd be used to it by now."

Artoo had been around as long as Leia could remember, and she'd pretty much taken over his ownership when she'd started training as a pilot, occasionally lending him to Biggs Darklighter in the last few months when the Tatoonian pilot, about her own age, had joined up because…well, he was from Tatooine, and that damn near made him family. She could get a newer droid, she supposed, but Artoo was family, too.

And to Leia, aware on some level that, despite everyone around her she would always be alone…family was everything.

She stood, dusting off the pants and crossover tunic she wore, a shorter, more serviceable version of Obi-Wan's Jedi robes. "I couldn't sleep," she explained wryly, knowing that he'd understand. "How're we doing?"

"We've managed a partial decipher of the information from Danuta. The Liberty will continue working on it when we transfer the information."

Leia glanced down, frustrated. The decrypt codes that they should have gained from Sinto Barracks on Coruscant would have been invaluable in decoding the Death Star files, but despite her having gone there herself to try to re-establish contact with their agent, they'd been unsuccessful. Perhaps if she'd had longer… But she'd been pulled away as operation Skyhook had gained ever more momentum, and they'd been forced to push on without it.

She would have felt a whole lot better too, if they'd managed to transfer the information they'd gained from Danuta straight from the Tantive where she and Obi-Wan were presently assigned, to the Liberty, whilst they were still over Danuta. But the unexpected appearance of the Star Destroyer Immortal at the edge of the system had stopped the transfer, as both Rebel ships had jumped to avoid being spotted. So now, with a deadline ticking down and no way to contact the Liberty whilst both it and the Tantive were in hyperspace, they would be forced to make the transfer during the coming battle.

"How's Biggs doing?" Last she'd heard, he'd been stuck right in the middle of the whole Cron Drift fiasco.

"They pulled him out…only just, it seems," Obi-Wan assured. "He's onboard the Liberty, along with the information from the listening post." He tipped his head in tolerant disapproval of the pilot's enthusiasm, linking his hands behind his back beneath the long, roughspun cloak he'd always worn. "He says he'll see you spaceside."

"Will he be there?"

"And Klivian…and Wedge. Red, Blue and Gold Groups are launching from the Liberty to attack the convoy whilst our ground troops meet up with the localAlliancemilitia cell to concentrate on the base. Though I understand that Biggs and Wedge have been assigned to make sure that the shuttle transporting the data makes it safely over to the Liberty."

Leia nodded. They'd fought long and hard to pry information about the Death Star from Imperial sources over the last few months, and every step of the way the stakes seemed to rise. "Will we stay aboard the Tantive?"

Obi-Wan shrugged, unflustered by the fluidity of the situation-but then it was always this way, Leia knew, when facing a larger enemy. "We'll go where we're needed, which may be here or with the fighter squadrons. The orbital battle will have the worse odds, and we need to be sure that all the information's delivered safely to the Liberty-both from the Tantive and from our ground attack on the Imperial base."

Leia nodded. "Do we have an ETA?"

"Five hours," Obi-Wan said gravely. "We reach Toprawa in five hours."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Vader stood on the darkened bridge of the Devastator, hands behind his back as he watched the battle unfold before him, feeling the familiar twist of satisfaction at the pit of his stomach which had never quite left in moments such as this, with the realization that all that happened was at his command.

It also gave him a private satisfaction that the Devastator had arrived at Toprawa before the Immortal, even knowing that this had put his own Destroyer in the front line of the battle. He knew how much Luke Antilles would have resented handing information and control of this mission over to Vader in the first place, at the Emperor's command-and therefore how much he would have pushed the Immortal to try to get here before Vader.

Why exactly that would have been important, the boy had…omitted to mention. But being given what details he had, Vader had immediately done a little investigation of his own…and so he knew that a convoy gathering all the separate elements of the Death Star plans was due to stop in orbit around Toprawa to collect the schematics of the superlaser's control systems from the Imperial Research Station on the planet's surface. A perfect opportunity for subversives like the Rebels to gain twice the intel for a single strike.

And therefore the perfect bait to draw them out of hiding…if Vader could get there in time. Until his new flagship was completed, he remained aboard theDevastatorwhich, as a Class-I Star Destroyer, had slower lightspeed capabilities than the newer Immortal, but the Devastator had been closer, so it had been a difficult race to call-but an important one, in terms of command. It would have been…galling to have arrived in the middle of a pitch battle and been forced to ask the Immortal for an update and then, worse, probably have to appear to follow a course of action that the boy had already set in place, because whatever else he was, Kenobi's bastard son had a head for tactics and would read the situation quickly. Chances were that the boy's assessment and reactions would be very similar to Vader's own-they had been in the past. And having judged the situation and ensured that the necessary counterattack was underway, he knew exactly what the boy would be thinking to do next; he would seek to put his own Destroyer in the thick of the action, in a tactic that would relegate the Devastator-and so Vader-as far from it as possible. He knew that, because he had every intention of doing the same with the boy.

At the point that the Devastator had arrived, the Imperial convoy had been in tatters, its remaining ships spread over a wide area in mid to low orbits, with many already destroyed or forced down to the surface causing collateral damage, despite Toprawa firing its ground-based emplacements in support. But then, they'd had nothing to counter the firepower of the lead Rebel ship…because it was the Liberty-the flagship of the Rebel fleet.

And having finally come face to face with it, Vader wasn't about to let it leave.

The Vendetta-the only other Star Destroyer within striking distance-had arrived within minutes of the Devastator, and Vader had wasted no time in concentrating the majority of the two capital ships' firepower on the Mon Cal vessel, ordering both ships to scissor closely before the massive flagship in order to prevent it from accelerating to escape velocity. Now it was struggling to back off, turning on its own axis in an attempt to stop the two Star Destroyers from concentrating their fire too heavily on any one spot. The massive Mon Cal cruisers were impressive behemoths, and this one's military readiness had clearly been fortified with an impressive arsenal and upgraded shields, but they were ponderously slow at sublight speeds, not designed for outright battle, and the Liberty was taking a beating…

It had changed so quickly, to Leia-but then battles did. Everything about the operation had gone perfectly in the early stages. They'd arrived at Toprawa exactly on schedule to catch the Imperial convoy, coming out of hyperspace almost on top of them and enabling the Liberty to launch its fighter wings before the Imperials had even begun to react, Red Hand's ground troop transports breaking the atmosphere unchallenged on their mission to hit the barracks on Toprawa itself.

The Imperial convoy had nothing to counter the scale and firepower of the Liberty and had crumbled and scattered, relying on less accurate planetary surface guns from Toprawa for its defense as Rebel fighters systematically mopped up any and all resistance. Meanwhile the TantiveIV, under Raymus Antilles' seasoned captainship, had nestled alongside its target in the pandemonium and launched shock-troops under cover of a four scoutship element headed up by the Wookiee, Chewbacca, to penetrate the Imperial carrier and gain its intended information with ease, evacing its team onto the shuttle Maria.

With the arrival of Biggs and Wedge to escort the shuttle Maria-carrying the new information gained from the Imperial ship it had just left, as well as everything delivered to the Tantive from the Danuta raid-over to the Liberty, Leia and Obi-Wan had returned to the Tantive's bridge to check on the battle taking place at the Imperial barracks on Toprawa itself. The final packet of information regarding the Death Star's superlaser was held in the Toprawa barracks; gaining it would give the Alliance a complete set of Death Star schematics, and so the hope of countering the new super-weapon. Everything had run like clockwork, and despite Obi-Wan's reminder that no battle plan ever survived first contact, Leia remembered distinctly thinking that they almost couldn't fail-not now.

Then the Star Destroyers had arrived. The Devastator first, joined almost immediately by the Vendetta…

And all hells had broken loose.

The Liberty had come under almost instant attack from both the Devastator and the Vendetta, who had moved to flanking positions, their tails sufficiently inward to hinder the Liberty's forward escape. Forced to try backing on maneuvering thrusters only as she rolled, her hull shields were beginning to glow beneath the sustained barrage. The flagship of the Rebel fleet-with Mon herself onboard.

The Tantive was moving to their aid, of course, but it was a tricked up blockade runner, not a front-line fighter. As the two Destroyers had begun to spew fighter squadrons from their bays even that had become harder, the space between the Tantive and the Liberty ablaze with dogfights…

Then the Immortal,which had dogged Operation Skyhook almost from its inception, came out of hyperspace in high orbit behind the Liberty, and Leia could only watch from the Tantive's bridge, feeling her senses pull tighter in reaction to the new threat.

Onboard the bridge of the Immortal,Luke stood close to the main viewports, his eyes locked on the massive Mon Cal cruiser Liberty as Captain Roth made comm contact.

"Devastator, this is Captain Roth onboard the SD Immortal, requesting orders."

"Immortal, this is the Devastator. Stand by on comm code three-three-nine."

They held for long seconds in which the Immortal slowed, leaving Luke to straighten and cross his arms in frustration. They didn't need to wait-the Liberty was right there! He glanced once to Solo, whose eyes remained on the fight. The Corellian's frustration at being a fighter pilot stuck on a capital ship's bridge in the middle of an all-out dogfight was palpable, igniting Luke's own adrenaline as he glanced back out to the battle. To his left Indo stood calmly, little of his disposition escaping out into the Force, as ever. Between them, Luke felt like he was standing in the open, with one side of his body up against the heat of a fire, whilst the other side froze in cool night air.

The comm crackled to life, then gave a momentary hitch as its systems decoded the encrypted frequency. The bass timber of the voice was enough to let Luke know that Vader had already taken command. "Immortal, you are instructed to launch all fighters, then take up a flanking position for a starboard sweep of the battle perimeter. Any and all Rebel vessels attempting to leave the fray are to be destroyed."

Always ready to follow orders, Roth was quick to reply. "Confirmed, Devastator. Fighters are launching, and the Immortal will begin a slow pass to the outer edge of the arena."

"What!" Luke hadn't meant it to come out that loud, but this was ridiculous. "You want us to pick off stragglers and runners?"

His words had, apparently, been loud enough for the pick-ups to transmit, and Vader was quick to reply-and dismiss. "The Liberty is not the only ship in this battle, Lieutenant Commander Antilles."

"Luke." Standing beside him, Indo tilted his head in quiet warning without looking, but Luke knew exactly what Vader was doing.

"He's putting us out of the fight!"

"Your opinion is not invited, Lieutenant Commander Antilles," Vader growled. "Particularly since it appears to have done little to aid this campaign so far."

"Little to…Igotyou here! I got you a chance at the Liberty."

"And now you are wasting valuable time and airspace when I should be dealing with her. If you are unable to restrain yourself, then I shall order you removed from the Immortal's bridge. Captain Roth?" Vader barked. "You have your orders."

Luke turned about to stare at Solo, who lifted his eyebrows in an unmistakable, 'Shut the hell up' expression. Clamping his jaw, Luke took two steps backwards, boiling. He was saved from making another outburst by an incoming message.

"Sir," The Ops officer looked in Luke's direction, still unsure what exactly was going on here, but not wanting to be caught out either way. "I have an incoming signal-your homing beacon's transmitting to port."

Luke paced quickly to the tech station at the side of the command walkway. "Put it on screen."

And there it was, less than three hundred clicks from their present position. Luke glanced out across the bridge's viewports into the thick of the action as the Immortal began to slide forwards, moving level with and then past the Liberty's struggle. Grinding his jaw, he looked out into the larger battle, watching the exhaust flares of TIE wings as they launched from the Immortal in finger-four formations. He could probably make the tagged X-wing out from here...they'd be passing it about now. Solo stepped in beside him, squinting at the tech screen which mapped its location. "That our X-wing?"

"Yep," Luke said, resigned.

"We could go out and take a pot-shot at him, I suppose-we're not about to do anything else, apparently."

"We should go out there and protect him," Luke murmured dryly. "He's my lead back to the Liberty if this goes wrong."

Solo's voice dropped. "You think it'll go bad?"

"We can only hope."

Letting out a laugh beneath his breath, Solo squinted at the board and keyed for a closer image. "Is he with a shuttle?"

Luke glanced to the image. "Not our problem, evidently-and I wouldn't want to waste valuable time and airspace checking it out."

"Seriously? You're gonna let Vader get away with that?"

Luke stared for long seconds, weighing up the odds in getting involved in a fight in which, if it went well Vader would take the credit for, and if it went badly and Luke had been even slightly involved, Vader would certainly be looking to lay blame…

On the Tantive's bridge, Leia stood tensely before the comm console, watching a holo of Mon Mothma as it fritzed with interference. "… taking substantial damage, and we've lost contact with the shuttle Maria. We're transmitting her last co-ordinates, but we fear she was forced down to the surface when the Immortal launched its fighter squadrons."

Obi-Wan stepped forward, a pillar of calm in the chaos of pitch battle. "Chief Mothma, we're on our way. We can be there in…"

"No, Master Kenobi, hold the Tantive back. We're unable to complete our mission in receiving the plans from the Toprawa barracks. You're hereby ordered to make that your priority. The frequency is 1215 on Reshi, your contact is Vermillion, and your codeword is Skyhook."

Leia leaned forward, unable to keep the worry from her voice. "But the Liberty…"

"Do your duty, Leia," Mon said, the barest of smiles touching her worried features. "Get the plans."

Leia nodded, finding her own strength in the tacit faith of Mon's voice. "Yes, Ma'am. We won't fail you."

Raymus was already turning. "Helm, take us towards the planet. Set a course below the battle to bring us in to a low orbit over the Research Center, ready to receive transmissions. Comms, get me someone on the surface."

"That's Red Hand Squadron, Sir."

"Get me a line to them-and start scanning on 1215 Reshi-find Vermillion."

Obi-Wan was staring out into the battle, watching it unfold with seasoned eyes. "We can free up at least three Wings to go to the Liberty's aid. Y-wings and the Wookiee heavy scoutships can make attack runs to the Vendetta's port side, where they'll be protected from the Devastator. If they can do enough damage, they may force the Vendetta to break off."

"Tactical, do it," Raymus said without hesitation. "And get me the damn Red Hand Squadron!"

On the bridge of the Immortal,Luke stood at the tech station, its screens tuned to reflect the Immortal's aft view, where he watched the distant barrage as the Liberty fought for her life. The Rebels had risked pulling multiple fighter wings from the central skirmish to concentrate their fire on the Vendetta, who was beginning to list, opening up a narrow corridor for the Liberty to aim for. Tilting his head, Luke felt the barest smile tug at the corners of his lips; she might just make it.

Beside him, Solo too was caught between dismay and guilty pleasure as he watched the battle for the Liberty falter. "They're gonna lose her."

The Immortal had just completed its first slow sweep of the battle and was bringing her bulk about on a tight axis, making the scene before her seem to roll as she angled her tail for the tightest turn. Luke stepped forward to the main viewports, finally able to see the Liberty again as the battle came slowly into view.

Still rolling defensively on her own axis as she accelerated, the Liberty was disgorging plumes of explosive fire and venting gas and debris where her shields had failed entirely and she was taking direct hits to her port side from the Devastator. But she was a Mon Cal capital ship and she could take a pounding, still accelerating into open space…then with a flash of displacement, she was gone. Standing alone at the front of the bridge, Luke's hidden smile turned into a wide grin…then he became aware of Indo to his right. He glanced over and into a stern cautionary glare, and looked down, chagrined… but he couldn't help but feel a buzz that Vader hadn't caught her. She was his ship. No matter who his Master gave the mission to, it was Luke who'd started the chase; his strategy that had gotten them even this close. The Liberty was his hunt now, and he'd bring her down himself, in his own good time.

The silent half-smile that he was trying to hide from Indo melted as another thought occurred, and Luke set quickly across the walkways to Solo, who had remained at the tech station. "The X-wing signal, is it still transmitting?"

"….No, we lost it."

"Well, at least something's gone right."

"Wait, it's back."

"Back?"

"Yeah, we have a strong signal, just coming up to starboard. It must've been in Toprawa's atmosphere. Problem?"

"Yes, it's still out there," Luke said of the X-wing. "That means it didn't leave with the Liberty. If it gets shot up in the battle, that's my lead to her gone."

This was turning out to be a great day.

About him the view from the bridge swung about as the Immortal straightened early from its tight roll, and Luke turned from the tech station as Roth handed out orders, chiding himself for not paying attention. "Captain?"

"Toprawa's surfaceResearchCenteris reporting incursions. We've been authorized by Lord Vader to provide support."

"The research center! They're trying to get the information from the research center-they're still going through with the raid."

To his credit, Roth acted instantly. "Contact the station's Duty Officer-tell him we're on our way and ask him if their vaults have been compromised."

All officers on the Immortal's walkway had now turned to the crew pits, where everyone had stopped, leaning back from their consoles to stare, eyes on the Comm Chief as he relayed messages. "Sir, I have confirmation from the station's Duty Officer-the vaults are intact."

Everyone relaxed just slightly-except Luke. His day just wasn't going well enough for that. "Ask him where the Code nine-three-nine research plans are stored…are they kept in the vault?"

"Sir, the plans were stored in a high-security node in the habitation unit, on the Research Commander's order… They've lost contact with that section."

Beside Luke, Solo rolled his head. "They've got 'em."

"Well, they're not taking them anywhere." Luke looked to Roth. "Are we low enough for an aerial bombardment?" Roth remained still, but Luke straightened. "If you knock out their transport they can't get off the surface."

"We don't have that kind of accuracy," Roth said. "Not at this range."

"I'm not asking you to do a surgical strike, I'm asking you to disable any visible starships within a mile or so of the barracks-the airfields there for a start." From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Solo react-and knew why. He straightened, pointing back to the orbital battle. "I realize there'll be collateral damage but despite Vader's focus, the point of this mission was not to bring the Liberty down-it was to stop that information falling into Rebel hands. And we're about to fail."

Roth pursed his lips for a moment, then looked to the comm officer. "Contact Lord Vader-explain, and ask permission to target any viable landing strips."

"Contact the Duty Officer at Toprawa and ask him to do the same," Luke said, eyes on the comm officer. "And to disable any useable craft on any part of the base, including speeders."

On the bridge of the Tantive, Leia and Raymus Antilles stood close to the comm station as the Tantive changed course, turning away from the Immortal, who was slowing at the far edge of the battle to take up aerial bombardment of the planet below, her first ranging shots clearly aimed around the Research Center and the ground battle on Toprawa. Leia's brief pleasure at the Liberty'sescape had been tempered by the knowledge that now, the Tantive was the next logical Imperial target…and until they had that information, they were going to have to tough this out. She watched the dizzying complexities of multiple dogfights, torn between the pull to be out there among the pilots to aid the Tantive's push through the scrimmage, and the need to see their greater mission through as those about her on the bridge fought to make sense of the jammed and fragmented communications from the surface.

"Comms," Raymus said tightly, "any luck with our surface troops?"

"Negative, Sir," the Bimm comms officer said, shaking his head. "We're just not close enough to cut through the interference."

Raymus sighed, eyeing the massive bulk of the Devastator which, with the loss of its primary target the Liberty, had turned to cut a swathe through the thick of the battle. "Helm, take us down to low orbit-get us within range of transmissions."

"Sir, on the Devastator's new heading, that'll put us under her guns."

Raymus pursed his lips as he looked at Obi-Wan, who nodded just slightly. The captain straightened. "Well then, we'll brazen it out. We're picking up that damn transmission."

Aware that every moment they remained now put them a second closer to the Devastator's superior firepower, Leia struggled to make anything of the garbled interference from the ground assault as the local Alliance militia moved to join up with Red Hand Squadron, the Rebel task force sent down to clear their way and secure their backs whilst they broke into the base.

"Red Hand, this is the orbital task force, come in please… I repeat, Red Hand, this is the orbital task force, come in?"

Broken static hissed as Leia watched the Devastator close…

"Red Hand, this is the orbital-"

"Liberty, this is Red Hand, we copy. Are you receiving, come in?"

Leia straightened, feeling a burst of relief; would they make it-would they actually make it?

"Red Hand, this is the Tantive," Raymus said quickly. "The Liberty is no longer able to receive the data; we've been sent in her place. Report?"

"We're coming under heavy bombardment here-they've already hit our drop-ships and they're now taking out the surrounding airfields. We have…" There was a long break of static, in which Leia held her breath, before the woman's voice continued, her attention clearly divided.

"…blocking our retreat completely. We also have…wait…we're getting comms from Vermillion's group now-they're in the barracks. Are you getting this?"

"Negative, Red Hand. You're the only channel getting through. What's happening?"

"Hold on, incoming comm… Tantive, Lieutenant Paol tells me you've lost a shuttle?"

Leia leaned in, hope firing through her. "You have contact?"

"Confirmed, Tantive. Paol has the shuttle Maria'screw about a half-mile from my position. Their information is intact but the shuttle's damaged. We're meeting up and we'll combine their information into a single packet with the information from the research station to get it back up to you. We ha…g…be…."

"Red Hand, come in? Do you have the information from the research station… Red Hand, come in?" Raymus straightened, frustration clipping his voice as he turned to the comm officer. "Get her back!"

A veteran of fifteen years with a lifetime's experience as a soldier and bombproof in combat, Leia had never heard him raise his voice before.

As the Immortal rumbled underfoot from her continued barrage of Toprawa's surface, Luke let his gaze wander across the thinning dogfights, eyes caught occasionally by the pinpoint flares as ships and lives were lost in brief, inconsequential flickers. Arms crossed, he watched the Devastator tilt as, its target gone, it turned to join the main battle. "Oh, welcome to the actual fight," he muttered acerbically.

Along the Devastator's flightpath and in low orbit over Toprawa, a CR90 corvette took his attention and he frowned, uncertain whether it was part of the firefight or not. Civilian shipping was always ordered down and tended to get out of the area as fast as possible, but the corvette, hunkering down without firing on anyone and trying not to be noticed, could be a civilian craft unlucky enough to be caught in the center of a full-on firefight and now not knowing which way to turn. Surely a Rebel craft wouldn't be suicidal enough to actually put itself in front of the Devastator's main guns by choice… He glanced behind him, looking for Roth. "Is that a Rebel ship?"

Roth followed Luke's eyes, then looked to the crew pit. "Identify it."

"Unknown ship, this is the ISD Immortal," the crew officer said, already leaning into his pick-up as he switched from coded to an open channel. "You're ordered to heave-to and transmit ID."

Luke waited with everyone else, idly watching as the ship skimmed down into a lower orbit. Had they been closer and had he been in command, he would have ordered it shot down by now; practice for the gunners. But he wasn't…and with the loss of the Liberty and the surface plans unsecured, he was reluctant to get caught up in the battle now.

The comm crackled to life on the main speakers. "Immortal, this is Captain Raymus Antilles of the civilian freighter TantiveIV, requesting clear passage."

Luke frowned, butAntilleswas a common surname. Still…he turned to the crew pit. "Where's the Tantive registered?"

The crewman tapped in the trace as Indo stepped forward, his sense instantly watchful. "Luke?"

"Sir, the TantiveIV is registered to a shipping firm on Kattada. Previously the Star of Alderaan, a consular ship. It has no outstanding warrants."

Alderaan… Luke turned pensive eyes to Indo, but it was nothing-nothing he could put his finger on. So why did it bother him? He turned back to the pit. "Pull the ID on…" Luke halted as a flash-image hit like a broadside-the memory of a toy zero-g fighter, being run along the white walls of a consular ship long ago, as his mother smiled indulgently-

"What do you have there…and who gave you that?"

"Raymus…Raymus Antilles!" Luke hissed.

Before him, Indo backed up a step at Luke's sudden intensity.

Raymus Antilles was… Luke spun about to Roth-and stopped dead.

He stared at Roth, then back to the crew pit, where several of the officers had begun to raise their heads. It was a conscious effort for Luke to find his voice again as if nothing had happened. "The…the ID on Captain Antilles-last ten years."

Everyone looked away, continuing with their duties as Luke stared without seeing, realization of the name a blow to the gut. He glanced back to the Tantive, knowing he should tell Roth it was a Rebel ship, but unable to betray Raymus Antilles, a man he barely remembered from a past he'd long ago learned to suppress. He remembered exactly that small toy given to him byAntilleson his seventh birthday, during that fateful journey to Coruscant… Raymus Antilles, his mother's cousin and Captain in the Alderaanian Royal Guard. Raymus Antilles, who Luke knew with a sudden certainty had been at the Imperial palace on that grim day, though he also knew for a fact thatAntilleswasn't listed among those who had attended the trip to Coruscant. Had he tried to help them, Luke wondered; tried and failed to help Bail and Breha Organa escape, but somehow, managed to do so himself? What would a soldier do, when he'd witnessed his cousin's death and narrowly escaped his own? Vaguely, he became aware that someone was talking to him, and turned to see Indo leaning close, face pinched, his words only gradually coming clear.

"Luke…Luke, is there a connection?"

"I don't…"

"Is there a connection?"

Luke frowned, heart pounding, torn by memories he'd all but forgotten. Why was he protecting the man? He glanced back to Solo, who was watching him closely from across the bridge, knowing what the Corellian would say right now; what he'd tell Luke to do…and to Indo, the one constant who had been with him for so long when those like Raymus were gone, knowing what Indo would want…what Palpatine would expect.

He shook his head, pulling himself together, forcing himself back to the moment… "Raymus Antilles was a member of the Alderaanian Royal Guard-he was there on Coruscant, when the assassination took place! The attendance documents from Alderaan must have been falsified, to hide his involvement. If that's Raymus Antilles, that's a Rebel ship."

Captain Roth turned about. "Tantive, you're ordered to heave-to and drop your shields."

The ship didn't slow, still powering to a low orbit.

Roth turned to Tactical. "Is she in range?"

"No, sir."

"She's closer to the Devastator," Luke said, eyeing the distances. "Why is she staying in its field of fire when…"

"Sir, we've received a distress call-it's coming from the communications center."

Luke turned. "On Toprawa?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The comms center," Luke said quickly. "How far is it from the research station?"

"Sir?"

"How far-on foot?"

"Uh…" The man looked back down to his console, pulling up GPS images. "Not far…reachable, sir."

Luke turned to Roth. "The Rebels are trying to take the comms station to transmit the information out."

"Sir," The comm officer stood to catch the captain's eye. "We have a second comm from the communications center-its perimeter walls have been breached."

Luke turned, realization tightening his chest. "Devastator, this is the Immortal. You have a CR90 corvette dropping to a low geostationary orbit over Toprawa on a bearing of one-three-one by nine-nine-six by five-zero-one. We believe the ship's attempting communications with the Rebels on Toprawa-it's trying to pick up the data."

"Acknowledged, Immortal, we are on an intercept course. You're ordered to cease aerial support of Toprawa garrison and pull back to an intercept course."

It wasn't Vader-which meant they hadn't told him yet, Luke knew. By the time they relayed the message, it would be too late. He glanced to crew pit. "Hold our position. Tactical, get a bearing on the communications center. Target to allow for atmospheric distortion."

Roth turned about. "There are no viable targets about the comms center."

"There's the comm center itself."

"You're suggesting firing on our own installation?" The captain straightened. "You want me to contact Lord Vader and actually ask him for permission to fire on an Imperial structure? It's against every single code in…"

"Stop quoting rules!" Luke was yelling now, still unsettled by Raymus Antilles' unexpected appearance, and driven to distraction by Roth's constant by-the-book conduct. "You're about to lose any control of this situation! You've already lost the initiative, don't lose the target."

"I will not fire on an Imperial installation."

"It's overrun by Rebels! Any Imperials in there are already dead. You're wasting time!"

"I will not fire on an Imperial installation," Roth repeated doggedly, turning away. "Tactical, cease orbital bombardment. Helm, bring us about to intercept the Rebel ship, fastest course."

Luke turned to Indo-and hesitated. "Secondary bridge," he murmured quietly, tensing at the mention of it. He had codes to a Command Protocol given to him by the Emperor himself, that would seal and lock out the main bridge, transferring all control to the secondary bridge at the base of the command tower. He could use them to take over the Immortal now-stop the comm station on Toprawa being useable.

Even the stalwart Indo blanched slightly at this, though it didn't show on his face. "Be sure."

Luke hesitated…and the decision was made for him.

"Sir." It was the comms officer, his voice quiet. "We're detecting transmissions from the surface comms station."

Luke turned quickly. "Tactical, can you take the antenna dish down and leave the emplacement intact-can you make that shot?"

The man pursed his lips and looked to the Immortal's Captain, then, "Yes, Sir, I think I can."

Luke turned to Roth, who glared…but made the call. "Take the shot."

They needed only a minute, Leia knew…

They'd reached low orbit as the Destroyer Immortal had taken out the last of the surface airfields, though it was too far out to be of immediate threat to the Tantive-until it began to take notice.

"Unknown ship, this is the ISD Immortal. You're ordered to heave-to and transmit ID."

Raymus glanced to Obi-Wan, and tried the only thing he had left: "Immortal, this is Captain Raymus Antilles of the civilian freighter TantiveIV, requesting clear passage."

Leia stared, amazed at his nerve, as the comms fell to silence. Probably wondering just what the hell was going on and trying to check out the Tantive's credentials, the Immortal held fire. The Tantive wasn't a known Rebel vessel, instead registered to a sham haulage company close to Raymus' home planet of Alderaan, and although Raymus had joined theAlliancelong before Leia had arrived, his name had remained always below the official radar…

Raymus leaned on the edge of the comm console, eyes on the closing Star Destroyer as he flicked channels, knowing he'd bought them only seconds. "Toprawa base, come in?" Static, as those about the bridge stared in anxious silence. "Red Hand, come in? Vermillion, come in? I repeat, Vermillion, come in? Toprawa base, come in?"

The hiss rose and fell in tone, then crackled and whined as everyone waited…then a voice came over the comm system…not the one they'd hoped.

"Tantive, this is the ISD Immortal. You're ordered to heave-to and drop your shields."

Raymus glanced briefly to Obi-Wan, who made the slightest shake of his head, though it wasn't needed; Leia knew Raymus would have no intention of complying. No one spoke, and the Tantive powered forwards.

Leia turned to Gumbrak, the Mon Cal at helm. "How long until the Immortal's in range?"

He rolled glassy eyes, his raspy voice indicating a rough guess. "Thirty seconds…"

"The Devastator?"

"Less."

The comm crackled again, and this time the voice which spoke out seemed to Leia far too young to be speaking as it did, from what must have been the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer. "Tantive, this is Luke Antilles. We know you're a Rebel vessel. Heave-to, or the Devastator will fire for effect. Last warning."

Leia turned, shocked; Palpatine had sent a Sith to stop them. TheAllianceknew almost nothing of Luke Antilles other than his status as a Sith, though even that was only assumed. Found by Palpatine in childhood, the most recent image they had of him was in profile and over a year old, shaky and slightly out of focus. A man of her own age, slight and slim, his build belied the danger that Intel believed he would one day represent to theAlliance. Was that day today? Had the Emperor's new Sith come of age?

Raymus turned decisively. "Tune them out, scan the lower frequencies-no more transmissions from Destroyers, they're blocking any weaker signals."

Seconds stretched as Leia stared through the viewport at the hulking bulk of the Immortal…

A young man's voice broke through the static, tense and fraught. "Come in, Skyhook? Come in, Skyhook!"

Raymus leaned instantly forward. "Skyhook here."

"We have only moments! Prepare to copy!"

"Go ahead."

The high tones of a burst-transmission filled the bridge as Leia looked to Obi-Wan, who stared out of the viewport as the Tantive turned to face the still-closing bulk of the Devastator.

Raymus glanced across the bridge. "Tactical, put out a message to bring all fighters back onboard, now. Anyone not in the hangars gets left behind."

Leia glanced quickly back, but he was right, of course; too much depended on this. The ululating timbre of the burst-transmission ceased…

"The Immortal's firing!"

The comm loosed a final shriek-then fell silent entirely.

"They fired on the station-they fired on Toprawa comm station, Sir. They took out the transmitter dish!"

Raymus spun back to Ops. "Do we have the transmission?"

"Verifying…"

"Sir, the Devastator's almost in range."

"Sir." It was Ops, looking briefly up, her wide, angular ears lifting in excitement. "We have the complete transmission; it's verified."

Raymus turned about as Leia let out a breath. "Tactical, shields up. Helm, get us out of here-start accelerating for lightspeed velocity."

"I don't have a course, Sir."

With the Immortal behind and Devastator before them, and the damaged Vendetta coming in to port to force them into Toprawa's atmosphere, Raymus named the only planet that Leia could think of along the narrow strip of open space still left to them.

"Telos-get us out to Telos."

"Sir." It was Ops again. "We have Imperial codes tacked onto the transmission; I can decode their comms."

"Do it."

With the channels open again as Imperial ship-to-ship codes were sliced, the first words they heard were from that same youthful voice, fired by undisguised frustration. "Devastator, this is the Immortal. The CR90 corvette received a transmission. It has the plans onboard-I repeat, it has the plans onboard."

Raymus looked briefly to Obi-Wan, whose silence-and the confidence that such inferred-gave an ongoing strength of conviction to the Captain's commands.

"Will we make it?" Leia asked, eyes on the Devastator, still tilting on its axis towards them.

Immediately the open comm spoke. "Rebel vessel, this is the ISD Devastator. You are carrying unauthorized material. Heave-to now or we will open fire."

"Keep going," Raymus said mechanically.

There were no warning shots; the first volley hit them midship, fritzing consoles as the shields glowed.

"Tactical?" Raymus asked.

"Glancing volley, Sir-range-finder. Shields at eighty-six percent."

Even as he said it the second volley came in, a wider spray of far more lasers, knocking the Tantive to the side and rattling her passengers, making them stagger as the lights dimmed momentarily.

"Shields down to seventy-one percent."

"How long 'till we can hit lightspeed?"

"Fourteen seconds, Sir."

A third volley hit, shaking them sufficiently that Leia had to grab for the console to the front of the bridge to remain upright. The lights stayed down for long seconds this time, and somewhere a console sounded a warning tone.

"Shields at fifty percent, Sir. The Vendetta is firing ranging shots to our starboard side."

"Make calculations to tile shields between fore and starboard-and hold course for that jump!"

Leia felt a tingling rush of power beside her as Obi-Wan brought his senses to bear, awareness pushed out into the Force. She watched him as he frowned, closing his eyes…was he trying to reach the Imperial ship? He'd never hold contact at this distance. She stepped closer and added her own focus to his without hesitation; sensed that arrow of power and perception reach out across the void to other minds, skipping from consciousness to consciousness, searching to share their knowledge; whether they were confident of success, doubtful, uncertain…

Then a very different contact; an acuity of vast range, a black hole fired by fury and rage that threatened to drag her down and engulf her…a bolt of recognition energized the unknown connection, a shock that jolted physically through her-

Obi-Wan pulled back, taking her with him and leaving her gasping. She turned, wide-eyed, left breathless and wordless by the unexpected flare of a Sith's scorching presence.

"It's Vader," Obi-Wan said, staring into the void. "Vader's on the Devastator."

Leia stared, shocked speechless, chest rising and falling quickly. She'd carried the burden of knowledge as to who her father was for years now-what he was-and had come herself to the realization of the necessity to stop Vader and Palpatine. But this was the closest she'd ever come to actual contact with Vader...and it was terrifying, the black storm of hostility harrowing in its focused resolve. She'd fought her adversaries in the faceless form of the Empire many times; she knew enmity and hatred, but this was…this was her…

"Leia…" Obi-Wan's hand rested lightly on her arm, the calm reassurance that flowed through him a balm which brought her back to the moment. The ship shook beneath her feet, lurching unsteadily as the rain of laser fire slowed, its power aimed to the rear of the Tantive-to its engines.

"Tantive, this is the ISD Devastator. Heave-to or be destroyed. You will not be warned again."

"He's trying to cut us off," Obi-Wan observed calmly as he turned to Leia, his next words for her alone. "He wants us alive, to take back to his Emperor."

Seeing what was happening, Raymus turned about to the consoles behind him. "Helm, make a course correction; take us well-wide of the Devastator's course."

"Sir, it'll add seconds…"

"Getting caught in a tractor beam will add more," Raymus said tightly. "Wide course."

"Ten seconds to lightspeed."

"Don't wait to be told-go on ready-light."

The young man's voice from the Immortal came again, near-frantic this time. "Devastator, this is the Immortal-what the hell are you doing? Fire all batteries! That corvette has the plans onboard-I repeat, the corvette under your guns has the plans onboard."

Raymus was leaning forward over the Helm console, every mind on the bridge around Leia willing it to reach escape velocity… She stared at the narrow corridor of open space before them as it lit with tracer fire from the closing Vendetta. The Devastator loosed another volley and the Tantive shook pitifully, multiple warnings sounding across the bridge consoles.

"It's through the shields! We have damage to port side levels three through nine, power lines severed and atmospheric breach in the main hangar..."

"Tile remaining shields to the breach!"

Another volley lanced out towards them. The blur of light made Leia stagger back, and for a moment she thought that the Devastator had made a direct hit…but the stars streaked into spirals, and she knew they'd hit lightspeed. They were away!

Onboard the Immortal, Luke watched in outraged silence as the Rebel corvette slid into lightspeed between the two Star Destroyers. Why had Vader held back? What possible reason could he have had!

He turned quickly about, all lesser enmities lost beneath the knowledge that they'd lost their quarry.

"Comms, is the X-wing still transmitting-quickly!"

"Sir?"

Luke glanced back out into the remnants of the battle as the remaining Rebel fighters turned tail and powered for clear courses to lightspeed. "Is the damn X-wing still transmitting?"

"Uh…no, Sir."

"When did it stop-before or after the TantiveIV went to lightspeed?"

"Uh…" The man scanned his boards. "Before, Sir. Just before."

"Open a line to the Devastator." Luke glanced triumphantly to Solo, who stared…then straightened, grinning in understanding as Luke raised his voice to be heard on the general comm pickup. "Devastator-Vader, I have a transmitter onboard the Tantive! We can pick it up when it drops out of lightspeed. It had a narrow breakout corridor and had taken damage, it can't go far before reverting to realspace."

"You have a transmitter onboard the Tantive?" Vader's rumbled reply held an edge of interest.

"I placed one onboard an X-wing. We lost the signal moments before the Tantive went to lightspeed-that means it's onboard. We lost the signal because it docked in the Tantive's hangar."

"The signal frequency?" Vader prompted.

"Transmitting now," Luke said, nodding to Comms. "We can make concentric jumps along the Tantive's last trajectory and be waiting-one of us will be close enough to its exit point. It won't make more than ten lightyears with the damage it's sustained."

There was a long silence, in which Luke frowned slightly, looking towards Indo as he turned. Everyone waited tensely before Vader's unmistakable voice came back on the open channel, curt and hasty.

"Vendetta, we are transmitting lightspeed co-ordinates and distance. Launch nine scoutships along the prescribed co-ordinates with staggered exit points, then set the final exit point as your destination. All ships are ordered to scan the supplied frequency as soon as they exit lightspeed. If you find the Rebel ship, engage it without delay. Immortal…"

Luke straightened, fully expecting to receive the same order.

"You are ordered to remain behind to deal with the situation at Toprawa. Lieutenant Commander Antilles, you will take charge of containing and curtailing all surface insurrection."

"What!"

"You heard my order. Confirm."

Luke actually took a step back, so incensed was he. "Confirm? No, I won't confirm it! That's my transmitter code-that's my X-wing!"

"And this is my mission. You will do as ordered, or you will stand down from duty."

"You've sidelined me twice in this operation, and twice I've pulled your fat from the fire! Now you're tying me to Toprawa while you chase down a lead I created."

"You will confirm the order, or you will stand down. This dissent will already be entered in the ship's log; that you wasted valuable time at a critical phase of the operation. Confirm the order, or I will relieve you of duty."

Luke stepped back again, this time in defeat, his head lowering. He couldn't face Palpatine with those charges levelled at him, and Vader knew it. Looking up, he ground out, "Confirmed, Devastator."

"When you have finished your duties here, you may rejoin the battle group," Vader said, mollified. "Until then, you will remain at Toprawa and deal with the insurgents. They are outnumbered and outgunned, it should take you no more than two days. If the battle group is still active, then-and only then-you may rejoin it. The Emperor tells me often that you are to be entrusted with contained tasks as part of your ongoing training. This should be something even you can handle."

Luke remained still as the Devastator angled its massive hull out towards open space and flickered into lightspeed. Stared, jaw ground tight, as localized distortions shuddered and collapsed at the point where it had been just moments before, well aware of the wary silence about him.

Finally he turned and stalked slowly down the center aisle above the crew pits, eyes dead ahead as nervous faces looked quickly away, minds busying themselves with any task. Without once slowing, he exited the bridge and turned into the secondary comms chamber, closing the door behind him.

From the side walkway, Han watched the kid walk past, face like thunder, barely hanging on to his composure. Like everyone else, he remained still and silent as Luke passed, knowing that the slightest thing could snap that fragile restraint. When the door closed on the comms chamber, Han watched, waiting. A second later, the screeching rend of stressed metal was drowned out by the heavy whump of something big landing with enough power to shake the blast-rated door on its runners. Even Indo didn't go this time.

Long minutes passed in which nobody moved, save for Captain Roth ordering the Immortal to maintain geostationary orbit. It occurred to Han only now that, even if it was to sideline the kid, Vader had put Luke in charge of the rest of this operation, which effectively meant that no one could move without him.

He glanced again to Indo, who merely held Han's eye expectantly… Cursing under his breath, Han set forward for the closed door. He'd just reached it when it slid open, giving him a brief, half-lit glimpse of twisted metal and ruined consoles, torn from their bolted mounts and crushed awkwardly against the wall to the far side of the devastated room…and the kid walked out, still fuming. He glanced once to Han but walked past without slowing, all business.

"Captain Roth, recall all fighters by sequence for refuelling, and have them set formations for inter-atmospheric combat. Priority goes to bombers and escorts, who need to load munitions for a close-surface barrage of military-grade buildings. Have Tactical load dropships with sixteen HAVr-nines, AT-ST support and ground troops, in preparation for a surface assault. And bring the Immortal into geostationary orbit over the Comm station; prepare for an aerial bombardment."

The bridge was an instant flurry of action as seasoned officers moved to get their orders underway. Han walked slowly forward, wary somehow of the kid who stood with such brittle composure at the front of the bridge, eyes on the curve of Toprawa's atmosphere.

Luke turned, voice tight. "Vader said we rejoin the Devastator'sbattle group when we've dealt with Toprawa-well then, I'll be done by dawn."

"They're pretty dug in to a shielded military bunker by now," Han murmured quietly, trying to keep the doubt from his voice. This wasn't his forté, but Vader's estimate of two days to root them out sounded more realistic. "Surface fighting's always slower."

"Only if you want survivors," the kid said evenly, then turned away. "Comms, get me the ground-based duty officer, and start a separate channel for updates, five-minute intervals, whether they're requested or not. Have all existing ground troops pull back. Tactical, make calculations to start levelling the land around the Comm station-if they run, I want our troops to see them. And Ops…" he paused just slightly, "have a repair team report to comms chamber two; it's sustained damage."

It took nine hours. Nine hours, in which the kid didn't once leave the bridge.

He turned on Toprawa with a vengeance, fuming that Vader had left him behind and looking to bring the ground battle to a conclusive end. He even went so far as to send local law enforcement into the surrounding civilian districts to ensure that they were clean of insurgents, bringing in anyone with an existing record for interrogation, with an order to send any who didn't pass muster up to the Immortal. Considering that they were leaving orbit in hours, none of them would be returning to Toprawa, Han knew. You could say it was decisive, he supposed. You could say it was ruthless. It was certainly effective.

Standing back and watching, listening to the comms as images came up from the surface, Han had never realized before how clean a battle was when you were a pilot, removed from the gritty realities of the minute-by-minute struggle played out on the bridge.

When you were a pilot, you got in your TIE, you flew, you did your work, you left. The battlefield cleaned itself, returning to a still silence that hadn't changed for millennia. You were no more than a blip, a momentary aberration, a flash of blood and metal and enemies and allies. It was brief and intense and chaotic and surreal, but it came and went within an hour. Even if it didn't, you couldn't keep a TIE out for much more than that without refuelling, so battles for a pilot were short and clean somehow. You didn't hear your enemies. You didn't see the carnage transmitted in gory detail as it gouged the planet like a scar. In a dogfight, people died or they jumped from the battle. You didn't see this; the final mop-up of failing defenses.

They broke the Rebel's comm codes early; about two hours in. The ability to transmit extra-planetary was hastily restored with a temporary field unit, so that all Rebel communications could be intercepted and transmitted up to the Immortal. They didn't jam them, just listened as crackling, static-riddled orders were passed in ever more grim and desperate voices. Pre-empted each move before it was even made. That was worse, somehow; to hear them struggle hour on hour, to hear them tire, to hear them falter.

He'd never known how dire it became; how dirty and punishing, blow on blow. How pitiless you had to be, to be able to keep up that unyielding pressure. How hard it became to listen to that hissing, broken transmission, the voice of the woman leading them barely audible over the temporary comm as she tried to hold them together whilst superior numbers and weaponry came to bear, continually falling back, their transports destroyed, knowing they had no way out. That they wouldn't be leaving Toprawa alive. They didn't even know if their attempt to send the plans had succeeded; the barrage from the Immortal had taken out the base's original long-range transmitters before they'd had confirmation either way, so all they knew when day bled to night and they saw a still sky above, was that the space battle was over. All they knew was that their last order had been to hold their present position as long as possible.

Turned out that was just after midnight. The last day they ever saw was less than an hour long…it had probably been the longest hour of their lives.

They got the comm soon after; the Tantive had been taken with all hands by the Devastator itself, close to Telos. The mission was over. The battle group was disassembled and its Destroyers ordered to return to normal duty; the Immortal would remain at Toprawa to maintain order without Luke's presence. The ISD Formidable would pass by in three hours to transport them back to Coruscant.

Luke had retreated to the executive office to the rear of the bridge and sat, fingers interlaced, hands clenched before his mouth, staring in silence at the empty desk. Standing beside a quietly pleased Indo, Han had no idea whether the kid was shaking his head in guilt, regret, frustration…

But the worst blow was held for last-wasn't it always?

The final report of the surface battle came in as the Formidable maneuvered alongside in preparation to take them onboard. The kid had waited to watch Commander Litt make his report, finally standing inside the barricaded vaults where the Rebels had made their last stand. They were identified from their unit insignia as Red Hand Squadron, a self-contained Rebel unit apparently known mostly for their work against the illegal slave trade. Not knowing whether their mission to get the plans out had succeeded or not, but knowing absolutely that they had to protect what they knew, they'd taken suicide pills.

The grim facts were relayed via the holo transmitter set into the surface of the desk in the executive office, as Commander Litt took the opportunity to voice his congratulations to the man in charge for a job well done; a complete Rebel unit eliminated. A few images were sent up as he spoke, and Han looked away. Why did you know, even on a small holo-how could you look at a corpse, and know that it wasn't someone sleeping?

Even Luke seemed ill at ease. "I was doing my duty, Commander. Do you have confirmation that this was the entire unit?"

"Yes, sir. The numbers are right, and we have all their ringleaders: Hyx, Corporal Burrid, Lieutenant Paol, and the unit Commander, Bria Tharen."

It was a blow to Han's guts as he turned, horrified. Luke lunged out to slap his hand over the image transmitter in the desk, blocking the holo as it tracked slowly over the dead, his eyes going instantly to Han. "Tharen?"

Commander Litt continued, unaware. "Corellian woman, quite a good family. Good upbringing, good education…got caught up with the t'landa Til and the glitterstim trade, then fell below the radar…can't fall much lower than the Rebellion. One less to worry about."

"Yes," Luke murmured. "Thank you, Commander. Immortal out."

Han stared as the light from the hologram Luke was covering dissipated, feeling sick. Physically sick.

"It was Bria, wasn't it?" He didn't need to ask, not really.

The kid stared at him for a long, stretched moment, but managed only a broken whisper. "I'm sorry, Han-I'm so sorry…"

He stared at the kid's hand, still splayed over the holo transmitter though the image was gone, and remembered again Bria's hands; delicate little hands, cut to ribbons by handling glitterstim. Remembered those big, serious eyes. It had been her all this time, handing out orders, holding it together. Her, growing ever more desperate. Her, knowing she'd never survive this…

And he'd been right here, watching the kid take her unit apart, listening to them struggle. Watching the kid and thinking how self-controlled, how detached you had to be, to be able to keep up that pressure, directed mercilessly and without hesitation against a failing enemy. Against…

Luke straightened slightly, voice tentative, almost childlike. "…Han?"

Beside Han, Indo turned, realizing that something was happening. "What's this about?"

The kid didn't answer and Han sure as hell couldn't. All he knew was that he couldn't be there. He turned and walked quickly out of the office and off the bridge without once looking back.

A light knock on the door to his room onboard the Formidable brought Han's head up. He'd transferred over from the Immortal on one of the cargo shuttles, not yet able to look the kid in the eye after Bria's death. The night shift that had seen the battle end, had turned to the day shift as they'd transferred over to the Formidable, and he was now two hours late for duty, yet he couldn't bring himself to stand up and start moving, and do all those normal things like shave and get his jacket on and get out there. Couldn't bring himself to look the kid in the eye.

So he was still sitting, staring at the glowing holos of Red Hand Squadron that he'd pulled from the military mainframe, when the knock to his door came. It slid open without invitation, so Han didn't need to turn to know it was the kid. As ever when he knew he'd done wrong, though, Luke didn't enter. Just hovered at the doorway.

Han pursed his lips, staring at the holo images as they scrolled through. Two of the men they'd clearly had no images of, so they'd used those taken at Toprawa, the dead men's eyes half-open, jaws slack. He'd watched the images scroll for almost an hour, taking in the faces of those who'd been with her at the end. Jace Paol, Daino Hix, Sk'kot Burrid, Larens, Mecht, Renna…all marked deceased, already. The Empire was nothing if not efficient. Then Bria's name came around again, with a blank screen.

He heard movement as Luke stepped tentatively forward. "They didn't have an image of her."

"Really?" Han said levelly. "Because it says here it was removed by Ubiqtorate command."

Silence hung as the kid moved uneasily. "I only vetoed the…the Toprawa image."

Han nodded without speaking, and the kid came up beside his chair and crouched down to rock on his heels, arms still wrapped about himself as he watched the images change. Han scrolled to 'image only,' to see their faces clearer.

Beside him, Luke spoke quietly. "Burrid…Daino….Hix…Larens…"

Han half-turned as Luke recited the names from memory as each image came up. Watched the kid as he stared at them, his drawn face lit by the holo's shuttered glow. He didn't look like he'd had much sleep either. "You learned their names…why?"

Kid looked down. "I don't know."

"…What was the name of the Sinto spy?"

"Kern Derrig…first lieutenant."

Han frowned. "The Rebel from the listening post?"

"Keev Kline."

"You remember them all?"

Luke turned, finally looking Han in the eye. "I didn't know she was there. I wouldn't have…" He looked away, head dropping, arms tightening about himself as he stared at the floor. Twice he tried to start speaking, and twice he broke off without a word. When he finally did, there was something near desperation in his voice. "You should just punch me."

"What?"

"Hit me. Seriously, it's okay. You'll feel a lot better…and so will I."

Han recoiled, realizing the kid was serious. "I'm not gonna hit you."

"I won't stop you, I know I messed up." He shrugged, resigned. "I generally do."

Comprehension left Han cold; that the kid had come in here so that Han could explode at him, because that was what people did with him when they were angry. That was what Palpatine did.

"I'm not angry at you, I'm just…" It wasn't even true-or hadn't been, when the kid had come in. Now, listening to him reel off the names, listening to him seriously offering to let Han turn on him, willing to take the blame for something that no kid should have been told to do in the first place… "Sometimes stuff isn't clean-cut. Sometimes it's messy and offensive and…I don't know, just hard to take."

Luke looked down again, rocking slightly on his heels. "Palpatine would…would say that this is an opportunity."

"To do what?"

Luke glanced away, the uncertainty in his hesitant words telling. "I took away the one thing you care about. He'd…he'd tell you it makes you stronger, to do that."

"What do you think?"

The kid rocked on his heels again. "I don't know. I think it makes you wary of ever taking that chance again-being hurt like that again…so I guess you learn. Learn not to let anybody in. Learn not to care."

"How's that working out?"

The kid looked down without speaking-but then he'd already answered. He'd answered when he'd known the names of everyone in Red Hand Squadron.

Leia sat in the pilot's seat of the Wookiee heavy scoutship that she, Chewie and Obi-Wan had taken in the rush to get the Death Star plans safely away from the Tantive over Telos, staring out at her worst nightmare.

They'd paired off with Biggs Darklighter, the plans safely loaded onto Leia's astromech unit before he'd been loaded into Biggs' X-wing in preparation to make a break from the Tantive as the Devastator pulled it in. Two elements, each of a scoutship and an X-wing, had set off on different courses to confuse any later readings as to who exactly carried the plans and which way they'd gone.

But somehow, when they'd come out of hyperspace at a scheduled stop halfway to Yavin, the Empire had caught up with them. Whether it had been by coincidence or design, they had no way of knowing.

All they could do was try to piece the facts together. Biggs, in a lighter, faster craft, had probably come out of lightspeed perhaps half an hour before them, and had waited in a little-used and barely mapped pocket of space for their arrival, to synchronize before they made the last leg of their journey. The Imperial frigate couldn't have arrived more than minutes before the heavily armored Wookiee scoutship which carried Leia, Obi-Wan and Chewie-but it must have come out almost on top of Biggs' X-wing with guns blazing, because Leia knew damn well that Biggs was a first-class pilot, and for them to have taken him, they must have been ready.

They'd picked up the heavy frigate that had caught Biggs on long-range scans, and tailed from a safe distance, worrying every moment that the frigate would simply go to lightspeed and be untraceable. Wondering why it hadn't…

Thenithad arrived, the ripple of its emergence into realspace causing a flux that had rocked the frigate unsteadily in its wake and impacted on their scoutship sufficiently to dim its shields, even this far back.

And with a horrible, sickening recognition, Leia knew that she was staring at the reason for Operation Skyhook's inception. The very thing they'd fought so hard to uncover, in hopes of destroying it before it became a reality, was hulking, massive and foreboding, in space before them.

They'd known, of course, that it was near completion-but not complete and operative, as it so clearly was. Beside Leia, Chewbacca had howled a long refrain, part anger, part anguish. It had been his people who had given their freedom and their lives to build this monument to Palpatine's egotistical power. He'd been one of the lucky ones-he'd escaped…with unexpected help. And he'd dedicated his life to bringing down the Empire that had decimated and enslaved his people. Staring at the behemoth before her, sensing the taint of death already about it, it was Leia who first thought to wonder whether it had been the firing of this monstrosity which had caused the sickening, twisted wave of raw anguish that had ripped out into the Force just weeks ago.

They'd watched in morbid fascination for long minutes, each lost in their own thoughts and fears and broken hopes before, on some unspoken cue, they'd stirred and pulled themselves back to the moment-and what they could do to change it.

"I say we go in," Leia said firmly, watching the massive frigate dock, dwarfed by the immense scale of the Death Star.

Beside her, Chewie didn't even hesitate before keening his approval.

"Indeed?" Obi-Wan's voice was that familiar mix of pacific patience, mild incredulity and private amusement.

"Yes!" Leia said, glancing to Chewie for support. "They have Biggs, and they have the plans we need-more so than ever, now."

"You believe that this is a fight we can win?" Obi-Wan asked, always pushing her to make her decisions wisely.

"I'm not going to leave Biggs-or the plans."

Beside her, Chewbacca turned half-round to bark his approval.

Obi-Wan studied them both for long seconds…then acquiesced with a tilt of his head. "Very well. But there are alternatives to fighting…"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Han walked briskly from the staff room in the palace, heading for the library where the kid was in lessons, reflecting how familiar this had all become in just six months. Not simply the palace in its significance and its dour, drab, intimidating scale, but the daily intricacies of life here, even at this level. The games that were played.

It had taken him awhile, for instance, to figure out just what exactly Therne Gorn's place was here. He had to admit that he'd initially wondered just what exactly Gorn did, that Indo had been so willing to extend his commission for yet another year. Not that he didn't like the guy; he had a kind of upbeat, flippant optimism that only youth could muster, and seemed to breeze through his working day with little or no interest in the concept of work, per se. In fact, Han had to question whether the admittedly affable and undeniably sociable young man did anything at all, because to the untrained observer, it seemed pretty much like he either lounged around in the staff office and commed people a lot, or disappeared for hours with a datapad and some vague excuse under his arm, servicing the huge network of acquaintances he seemed to have built up, rather than actually working—or even interacting with the kid that much.

It had been a good while before Han had put together Gorn's apparently endless fascination with the minutiae of everyone's business inside the palace, no matter how insignificant, with his extended commission. Because the fact was, Gorn was the guy who put all the gossip together and knew something on everyone. Gorn, Han had slowly realized, was the palace mole.

If there was information to be had, Gorn would dig it up. He was their eyes and ears on the ground; grassroots knowledge gained from countless other aides and assistants, who often knew more about their seniors' private dealings than any complex automated observation system could hope to gather in this hotbed of high-end surveillance and counter-surveillance.

And while it was mostly the kind of stuff that made their daily life just a little easier, occasionally, just occasionally, he came up trumps.

Han walked into the library with only a brief token knock, not pausing despite the fact that a lesson was in progress.

"You're gonna love this," he said with relish.

The tutor stuttered to a halt as Luke looked up through the desktop holo he'd been studying, where a series of tactical pointers were arranged around two planets within some system, with a time stamp ticking in the corner.

To the rear of the room, Indo stood, voice raised. "Lieutenant Solo! If you have something you need to bring to my attention then you will wait until..."

"Yours? No," Han said simply, continuing forward.

He and Indo had hardly seen eye to eye over the last few days. They hadn't even gotten back to Coruscant before Indo had pulled Han to one side and basically ordered him to stop making the kid dwell on Toprawa. Han had no idea if Luke had told Indo the truth about Bria Tharen, but either way, Indo knew something was going on and he didn't like it. Didn't like that Luke was, for probably the first time, actually seeing the repercussions of his actions at the Emperor's command. Han had to wonder how carefully both Palpatine and, at his directive, Indo, had insulated the kid from such effects, so that he'd do exactly as he was told without question.

He wasn't particularly interested in buying into that game, and had told the viscount so in no uncertain terms.

It didn't exactly go down well. Han was very much aware that though they tried to hold it together in front of the kid, he and the viscount were pretty much at loggerheads. And it didn't help that Luke was beginning to seek out Han's opinion occasionally these days, firstly 'cos Indo was used to ruling the roost, and secondly because it seemed like whatever the subject, Han's opinion on it was almost always the polar opposite of Indo's. But this one surely had to get everyone on the same side.

"Go on?" Luke stared expectantly, his small frame swamped by the huge proportions of the cluttered library desk.

Indo stepped immediately forward. "This will wait until your lessons are over and…"

"No." The kid didn't turn, his voice quiet. "I want to hear it."

Han flashed a brief, self-righteous grin at Indo before turning back to the kid, who had nodded at his tutor. The man left in tactful silence, and he'd barely closed the door before Han spoke.

"Apparently there was a transmission that went through Intel between the Devastator and the 501st, and Gorn has a friend of a friend who works in comms—surprise, surprise. Seems like after an extensive search, a certain set of plans weren't onboard the Tantive."

"How were the plans not onboard?"

"Well, apparently they had been there," Han explained, repeating what Gorn had just told him, and Han had traded a four-hour shift to be the one to pass it on to the kid. "But when the Devastator locked tractor beams onto the Tantive, two X-wings and two heavy scoutships launched from its lower dock, using the Tantive's bulk to protect them from the tractor beams. One of them had the plans onboard."

"They didn't catch them?"

"They didn't know. All four took a straight course, using the Tantive as a sensor shadow. The moment they were clear of the tractor beam's range, they paired off into two elements of a scout and an X-wing, and jumped in opposite directions."

Luke frowned. "But the task force has been disassembled—that means its mission was considered complete."

"This is the great bit: Gorn doesn't think Vader's told the Emperor yet. The message to the 501st included the transmission frequency of our tagged X-wing. Their priority right now is to track it down, because it's the best lead they have to the others. That message went directly from theDevastatorto the 501st…there wasn't any addendum or copy to the palace."

Luke glanced to Indo, who stood in silence to the side of the drab room, taking the facts in.

"So one of the ships that made a break for it was our tagged X-wing," he reasoned. "You're sure Vader doesn't have the plans? He could simply be trying to track the X-wing back to the Liberty."

"He could," Han allowed. "But since his message to the palace confirmed the capture of the Tantive IV,and he then disassembled the task force, I'd say he's trying to put out the message that the plans are secure."

"And the Emperor doesn't know this yet?"

"Gorn's had a casual chat with his contact in the Emperor's Cabinet. They didn't receive a message from Vader in the last ten hours…the message to the 501st went out seven hours ago. Sounds to me like someone's jumped the gun in dismantling the task force, and is now trying to get it all back under control before he has to come clean to the old m—" Han cut himself off, remembering that Indo was there. "To the Emperor."

Luke set his head to one side, voice laced with laconic malice. "Well then, I feel it's my loyal duty to keep my Master informed."

Kid had been hurt as much as Han had by all that had happened, in his own way. Except that Han wasn't looking for someone to blame…and Luke was not only looking, he already had a target in mind, in the form of the man who'd ordered him to stay at Toprawa: Vader.

Indo moved slightly. "I'd advise caution."

Luke turned. "Because?"

"Think carefully; doing this now places you in direct contention with Lord Vader. The Emperor won't protect the source of this information."

The kid straightened in his chair. "I'm not afraid of Vader."

"You've done this once before—taken information about Lord Vader's dealings to the Emperor—and Vader came after you with a vengeance. You were younger then. You're not a child anymore, Luke, you're already a threat to Vader. You do this, and you make yourself a target."

Kid glanced away. "I'm already a target, don't you always say that?"

"This is an openly hostile move. You're not ready yet."

"The opportunity is now."

"And the fact is that if the message travelled between two ships of the fleet, then the Emperor probably knows."

"Which doesn't invalidate my bringing it to him publicly, so he can act on it."

"You don't need to redress your actions with the prisoner Odom." Indo glanced briefly to Han, who lifted his chin as the Viscount continued. "A lot has happened since then, and despite what others may tell you, you conducted yourself well at Toprawa. You're presently in a position of strength."

"I'm returning from what turns out to be a failed mission."

"Which you weren't aware of, having been left to deal with Toprawa. Vader was in charge of retrieving the plans."

"All the more reason to clarify what's happened and give the Emperor justification to act against him. I'm not going to be put in that situation again—when I'm answering to Vader in a campaign that should have been mine. And I'm sure as hell not holding back information about Vader's mistakes."

Palpatine settled into his chair as the towering double-doors to the Cabinet were opened and the boy,Antilles, walked through, his sense a bright flare of anticipation. Behind him, Viscount Indo and the Corellian stepped quietly into the otherwise empty room, all those who would generally be in attendance dismissed. The boy never sought him out unless he had something of relevance to say, Palpatine knew, and it was seldom the kind of discussion to be shared openly.

He considered that fact, as the boy walked forward…boy; he was almost a man now. Still slim and slight, which could easily have been the end result of Palpatine's decision to repeatedly deprive him of the essentials of life in those early years. But the child had needed to be taught somehow, and basic lessons required basic methods.

Antillesslowed just slightly, perhaps sensing the play of his Master's thoughts, but he didn't break stride, walking forward alone with just the barest edge of unease—which was a good thing. Every moment of their interaction was an object lesson for the boy and he knew it; one should never let one's guard down in the presence of a Sith Master.

He'd never intended to teach the boy this much; had originally thought to train him as a Hand and use him as he had others. But they had formed a certain bond in those early years, himself and the child, and perhaps that too had been of Palpatine's doing; his amusement at Vader's expense, his appreciation of his own private ploy. But the recreation had become a reformation of sorts, as he'd taken ever more interest in a child so clearly capable of so much. And children, they were so very unburdened by the detritus of customary moral codes—or at least, such things were fresh, and therefore easy to dismantle. Given the right circumstances, they learned with impressive speed—and the boy showed his knowledge now, stopping exactly three steps from his Master and stepping down without hesitation onto one knee, head bowed.

"And what do you have to say, child, that you come to me with such anticipation?"

The boy stood but kept his head down though his sense, if not his tone, was wily. "I came for clarification, Master."

"Regarding?"

"The ongoing mission, following Toprawa."

He had done well at Toprawa; Palpatine had listened with interest to the standard recordings taken on the bridge of any Destroyer in a battle situation, and had been pleased with the boy's decisive actions when he had been given the task of suppressing the incursion there—sufficiently so that his chastisement for earlier mistakes had been, if not overlooked, then at least mitigated. Palpatine knew, of course, of the disruption that had followed. Viscount Indo had provided his usual succinct report in which, without ever being so impolitic as to mention it outright, he had nonetheless implicated the Corellian's undesirable influence. As astute as he was, the Viscount rather failed to see the point, Palpatine suspected.

"Toprawa is a closed mission, child."

The boy straightened. "Then Lord Vader continues to look for the plans alone?"

"The plans have been…" Palpatine paused, knowing as he spoke thatAntilleshad more. "Go on?"

"The Devastator and the 501st are still trying to track down the Death Star plans, lost during their mishandled capture of the Tantive. The only lead they have is the code to a transmitter which I placed on a Rebel X-wing, intending to follow it back to its home base. I provided Lord Vader with the transmitter code over Toprawa, but he refused me permission to pursue it."

Palpatine leaned slowly back with sufficient force that the heavy chair creaked beneath him. "Yet Vader dismantled the task force."

"Hence my confusion, Master."

He should have realized, of course, Palpatine reflected. The boy should have been the key to unlocking the truth without his having needed to come here with facts, for the simple reason that Lord Vader had not yet returned to the palace. He had, theoretically, completed a successful task—one that had been removed from the boy's control and handed very specifically over to him. For Vader not to return immediately and use that fact to usurp the boy further should have been reason in itself for Palpatine to wonder.

"I will speak with Lord Vader," he stated portentously at last. The boy radiated a buzz of silent pleasure at having scored a strike against his longstanding opponent, bringing Palpatine's attention to him. "You did well to bring this to me."

"I did my duty, Master."

"Really? Or did you take the opportunity to discredit Lord Vader."

"You know I'd do either without hesitation, Master." The boy's pale eyes were fired by sparking malice. "In this instance, can I not do both?"

Palpatine grinned as he settled back; when the mood was on him, the boy could be both amusing and useful. "We will speak again shortly."

Recognizing his dismissal,Antillesbowed again and backstepped before turning to leave. Palpatine waited until they were at the door before saying casually, "Viscount Indo."

.

.

Indo held back as the doors closed, then turned and walked forward to bow low, deferential as ever. It was a trait that had made him of great value over the years, so Palpatine didn't resent the occasional reassurance—as long as the man remained of value.

"You are…worried about Lieutenant Solo's influence on the boy," he intoned solemnly.

Some sense of protection smoldered in the man, though it could easily be of his investment, rather than the boy himself. Past experience had proven that Indo was more than willing to cede to the Emperor's will in all things—which was why he remained here, and he knew it—so it was his hard-won rapport with his charge that Indo generally sought to preserve, rather than some perceived closeness to the boy himself. There had always been a danger that Indo would, in time, come to replace his lost son with the boy he had been charged to rear—to a certain extent, it was inevitable, as it should have been. But Palpatine had chosen with care, and Indo, hardly close to his own son despite his ambitions for the boy, had maintained a discrete distance between himself and his new charge. Still, to have that rapport—and so his status—threatened by an outsider would be intolerable for the viscount.

It would have been interesting to play the two against each other for a while, the viscount and the Corellian, particularly as Solo came to understand the viscount's methods. Indo was of the kind who categorized his view of the galaxy into neat and tidy boxes based on strong and deeply-seated views with no allowances made, ever. He cared fastidiously for the boy and yet, as he had with his own son, Indo had made an art out of dismissing or wilfully ignoring anything as awkward or inconvenient as to hamper or compromise those neatly organized goals and ambitions on another's behalf.

The spice, or the boy's constant illicit excursions from the palace, were perfect examples. According to Palpatine's sources Indo had at first ignored, then banned, and eventually, weighing his personal distaste against their apparently stabilizing effects, had sought to manage such things rather than have to deal with the upheaval and discord which would accompany their removal. They were inconvenient truths, but their removal may derail the boy's ongoing progress and stability, and so they were integrated and tolerated, albeit behind closed doors. Such facts were never mentioned in the viscount's general reports, of course, but would be disclosed in the most coded of terms upon a direct query from the Emperor himself.

The viscount would, simply put, do all that was necessary to fulfil his ambitions without compunction…but with a good deal of discretion and diplomacy. He would be, in equal parts, loyal to, ambitious for, and coolly ruthless with the boy…the perfect tutor for any child.

But a growing child needed to be exposed to new influences, and so came the stout and stalwart Lieutenant Solo. So Palpatine smiled into the viscount's unease at the arrival of someone who could not be fitted into one of his neat compartments; that was, after all, Solo's value.

"You have no reason to worry, Viscount. Rest assured that Lieutenant Solo's views and actions have already singled him out in my attention, and he is well on his way to becoming another object lesson for my young advocate on the inadvisability of forming attachments."

The viscount's unspoken relief streamed silently out into the Force as Palpatine continued.

"We have created a glorious hothouse flower, my friend. It's time to harden it for its life beyond these walls. We cannot be there every second of every day to monitor every miscreant and malcontent that the boy comes into contact with, and I need to know that I can trust my new Hand to hold faith in such circumstances. Better that he be open to such a test now, and learn the inadvisability of listening while he is here in a controlled environment, where any misstep on his part can be corrected, than to risk his coming into close contact with such undesirable elements and concepts for the first time in a situation beyond my immediate control. So you see, even Lieutenant Solo has his uses…however brief. Let the boy become attached, let him listen. Let him be taken in by claims of amity and loose promises of friendship—Solo is nothing if not charismatic. I'm aware of his influence in recent matters, but the boy needs to learn to dismiss such things, and not stumble in his duty or resolve. I could not—will not—tolerate such a thing. You may rest easy, my friend." Palpatine proffered another empty smile. "This is simply one more lesson. It will be over soon enough."

The viscount calmed, though Palpatine told him no more—nor would he wish to know it. He was well aware that he returned to a charge who read minds as others read the screen of a datapad, and genuinely worked hard to remain always trustworthy in the boy's eyes. He'd learned long ago that the less he knew, the less he could be perceived of as being involved in, by the boy.

And for himself, the Emperor had long since realized that to give the boy one very carefully chosen ally was a useful thing indeed. Indo was the constant who had invested the time and methods necessary to make the child of use after Palpatine had ensured his loyalty, and he'd done so without ever overstepping his mark. Though even such props as this had to be removed eventually…

Palpatine broadened his smile, and put such thoughts away for later consideration. "In the meantime, the boy's education continues apace. Tell me more of Toprawa."

.

.

.

The summons to return to the Emperor's presence came as dusk was slowly settling, lighting the evening with hazy bands of red and amber which painted the Capital's buildings in warm hues.

In the soaring splendour of the somber palace, things weren't moving to that same stately pace. With Indo still nowhere to be seen, Han had set out alone with the kid to reach the massive outer hall of the Cabinet, now devoid of people. Those who actually implemented the day-to-day governing of the vast Empire were already gone, while those who came simply to curry and barter power in the cut-throat arena of Court were not yet admitted. But the immense, dark chamber that had once seemed so daunting to Han was now little more than a passing impression of echoing footsteps and deep shadows; simply a space to cross on their journey to a far less abstract menace.

Saté Pestage, the ever-present keeper of the gate, was the only presence here, and he nodded in a half-bow, eyes briefly on the kid—Han had always been below his notice—as the great double-doors slid smoothly back.

Han was three steps into the Audience Chamber before he noticed Indo standing to one side of the vast hall, almost level with the dais. Uncertain whether he'd been here for the entire afternoon, Han walked to join him, noting that the usual glare of open aversion he received from the viscount was replaced today by a brief self-satisfied stare. Instead, Indo kept his attention on the kid, nodding approvingly as Luke glanced over without slowing, continuing to hold a center line in the dim hall as he walked to the cowled figure who sat on the raised dais to the far side of the vast chamber. That darkening sky bled a shuttered amber glow across the polished floor, uncut by artificial light.

"What's goin' on?" Han murmured to Indo, only to be shushed to instant silence.

Luke reached Palpatine and dropped to one knee, something that always unsettled Han; Courtiers bowed and military men snapped a smart salute, but only the kid seemed to be expected to kneel.

The Emperor's grating voice was without discernible intent, either good or bad. "I have listened to the recordings from the Immortal's bridge during the skirmish at Toprawa, and read the logs of those present. Do you believe your actions were fitting to the situation?"

Han saw the kid's shoulders square slightly, though he remained on one knee. "I believe we didn't need to lose the plans."

"And what would you have done?"

"I would have destroyed them, rather than lose them."

"And my military complex with them?"

"…Yes, Master."

"Tell me Lord Vader's error?"

"The task force's directive was to secure the Death Star plans—that was their priority. I understand that the Liberty is an ongoing target, but two Destroyers wouldn't have reliably brought her down, whereas they would have had a guaranteed effect on the battle to protect the plans."

"I understand that you considered using the Command Protocol?"

Han frowned, glancing briefly to Indo, not knowing what it was or remembering its mention. It occurred to him as he looked to the viscount, who stared resolutely ahead, that if he hadn't heard its mention, then the kid must have spoken privately to Indo about it…and that Indo had clearly informed the Emperor. He looked back as the kid answered, his tone gaining a wary edge.

"Yes, Master."

"You chose not to."

"Yes."

"Because events overtook you?"

"No, Master. I believe I could have engaged the protocol in good time, but I had insufficient reliable personnel to control a Star Destroyer in a combat situation, and if I was unable to achieve that goal, then to reveal the existence of the code seemed…inappropriate."

"The boy learns!" Palpatine said—as near to praise as Han had ever heard from the old man. "Stand, child." The Emperor made a loose gesture with one pale hand. "You would have disobeyed Lord Vader's command?"

"I didn't believe Lord Vader's directive was in your interest, Master—and yours is the only command that's incontestable."

Han stared, not knowing if Luke was saying what he knew the old man wanted to hear, or what he believed—because he heard not a shadow of doubt in the kid's steadfast voice. What had it been at Toprawa then, when the kid had hunched beside him and recited the names of those he'd killed on the old man's command? Because they couldn't both be real. Or was that what this was all about—was that why the kid was so messed up? Was he torn between ingrained loyalty, and a conscience that fired in brief broken sparks, before it was beaten down beneath an absolute iron will which demanded no less than total, unconditional obedience.

If it was true, then the old man seemed supremely confident that he could maintain his hold. He leaned back, the shadow he cast stretching out across the room as he paused in consideration. Finally he seemed to come to some decision, which changed his voice to a more businesslike tone.

"The Devastator is en-route to the Death Star. Grand Moff Tarkin informs me that a frigate in service with the 501st arrived there today with a single prisoner, and a Rebel X-wing in tow."

The kid's voice sharpened. "They've caught Darklighter?"

"Darklighter?"

"The Rebel pilot. He was present at the Cron Drift skirmish, which was where I attached the tracker to his X-wing. He was identified there by voice wave, because he's an ex-Imperial pilot, Master. He trained at aSectorNavalAcademy"

"You're well informed with the facts of this matter."

"It was my mission—and on track, before Lord Vader lost the plans…and ruined any chance at tracing the Liberty."

The old man leaned back, amused. "Indeed…then perhaps you should retake command, child. I return your assignment to you…along with a further directive. You will travel to the Death Star in my name, holding a personal mandate from myself which will put you above all others. I want the stolen plans in my hands, I want the Rebel pilot dead, I want any fallout dealt with, and I want this matter put to rest. I hereby grant you any and all authority necessary to achieve that."

Luke's voice faltered. "Me?"

"You have brought this information to me…and as you continually assert, you're not a child anymore. I'm most pleased with your efforts, now and at Toprawa, so I will award you this opportunity. Or would you prefer to remain here, whilst I send someone more…experienced?"

The kid paused, and if the Emperor couldn't detect the wariness in his voice, Han sure as hell could. "No, Master."

"Very well then," Palpatine said expectantly.

Luke clicked his heels in a military salute as he bowed from the neck, then turned to leave. To the side of the hall Han straightened, eager to do the same—

"Wait." The Emperor's sharp command stopped both Han and Luke dead.

Han watched the kid's shoulders brace as he turned about, though this time the Emperor tipped his head in a condescending smile. "There will be a new commission waiting for you before you leave. I can hardly send a lieutenant commander to do the Emperor's bidding, can I?"

"Thank you, Master." The kid's voice was perfectly level, no hint of pleasure expressed.

"Remember when you step onboard the Death Star that you do so with my mandate, and comport yourself accordingly. In the future, an extended period of command there may be an advantageous experience. You may view it as a future goal as your rank increases, should you continue to please."

Luke glanced down in silence, and the Emperor's tone changed, all indulgence instantly gone. "You don't wish such an accolade?"

The kid hesitated, searching for his words. "I think the Death Star would be better suited to another, Master."

"And why would that be?"

"I'll do as you command, of course."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed. "It's a little late to offer platitudes, child."

"It's not what I trained for, which—"

"Your future will take the pathIdictate. You will serve in whichever way I see fit." The Emperor's voice was cooling by degrees as his hands tightened like claws on the heavily-carved chair arms.

"Yes, Master."

Palpatine remained silent for long seconds, still leaning forward as he had done to deliver his last words…then slowly he straightened and settled, one curved fingernail tapping on the chair arm. "You cannot take one single commendation without turning it into a dispute, ungrateful creature that you are. If I assign you to the Death Star, you will remain there and fulfil your duties until you are released from them."

"Yes, Master."

"If I order you to remain here by my side until the end of your days, you will do so without opposition, do you understand?"

The kid's shoulders tensed involuntarily, but he kept his eyes down and his voice quiet. "Yes, Master."

"…Or would you perhaps prefer to serve as Lord Vader's aide?"

His head rose at that. "No, Master."

"I have given you a task under my direct mandate, which puts you above even him, and I have done this for no other reason than your accomplishments at Toprawa. Do you now refuse it, because the Death Star offends your sensibilities?"

"No, Master, I only m—"

"You had best grow used to the influence that the Death Star's implementation has on the Force, child. It is not the only such project, you know that. Nor will I hesitate to use it in consideration of your susceptibility—or do you expect me to do just that?"

"No, Master."

Palpatine settled back, mollified, and the kid remained still beneath his study for an uncomfortably long time, the only remaining sound that of the Emperor's long fingernail tapping against the chair arm…

"Come here," he said at last, voice calm as he pointed to the dais at his feet.

Luke stepped instantly forward and came to rest with one knee on the edge of the dais where the Emperor had indicated, the other still on the ground, as if ready to flee a any time. Palpatine leaned forward to take the boy's chin in his hand, eye to eye now. "You are young, child. You are raw and untested and know so little." He paused, the barest allowance softening his gravelly tones, his voice barely audible to Han, still standing to the side of the hall. "There is reason in everything I do, remember that. Time spent onboard should be viewed as an opportunity to learn to shield yourself against its effects…there is no better way to learn to swim than in deep water. I will not have you hold a weakness, and I will not have you nurse petty reluctances like an infant—or do you think that Lord Vader would ever flinch from his duty, wherever I send him."

"That's of no value if he fails in it, Master, as he did with the Tantive."

The Emperor smiled, voice dropping lower at the heat of the accusation. "Do you want his head?"

Han saw the kid's back straighten as he lifted his chin, and Palpatine's smile broadened to show stained and wasted teeth as he moved his hand to cup the boy's cheek, voice dripping indulgent affection. "Then do as I tell you, and grow powerful. And remember always that your first and only loyalty is to me. There is no other—ever…say it."

The kid didn't even pause. "There's no other, Master. My loyalty will always be here."

The Emperor smiled munificently, pale hand still pressed to the kid's cheek. "What would you do at my command?"

"All that you ask."

Palpatine leaned forward. "If I asked you to sacrifice…would you?"

Luke moved uneasily. "Master?"

The old man leaned back, speaking a summons without looking from the kid. "Viscount Indo?"

Han watched as the Viscount set silently forward, bowing before he stepped up to the dais, and handed something to the Emperor. Han squinted from his place at the wall, trying to see what it was as Indo returned to stand beside him without meeting his eye.

The old man held out his hand, voice terse, giving nothing. "Take the blade."

Only now did Han recognize the kid's lightsaber hilt. Luke glanced down to take it, and the gaunt hand that had rested against his cheek slid subtly behind his neck. Palpatine didn't loose his hold on the hilt either, so that the kid's hand enclosed the hilt just below his…and Han felt his own unease begin to rise in the tightening of his chest.

The old man's words were a half-heard whisper as he glanced to the carved arm of his grand chair. "Put your other hand there."

Already half-knelt on the dais, Luke tensed just slightly—but brought his left hand up to rest it flat on the carved chair arm, fingers outstretched. Immediately, Palpatine pulled the hilt they both held across, to press its blade cowl against the back of the kid's hand, and Han felt his throat constrict as the old man leaned forward again, voice husky as he repeated, "If I asked you to sacrifice…would you?"

The kid tensed as the air left him. It was long seconds before he spoke, his words almost lost within a shallow breath. "…..Yes, Master."

A smile creased the lines of Palpatine's face as he leaned closer. "Do it…because I ask it."

Held by the hand which had threaded through the hair at the back of his head, Luke stared for long seconds at the unlit hilt pressed to the back of his hand… Then he braced, thumb sliding to rest against the activation toggle…

—and pursing his lips as he flinched, he pressed it.

The rasping thrum that Han anticipated didn't come. The blade didn't burst into being and pierce the kid's hand, though clearly he'd expected it to. He stared in dazed bewilderment, letting out a short gasp at the reprieve, chest rising and falling visibly in short, broken breaths.

And Palpatine smiled—smiled into the boy's breathless confusion as he pulled Luke's tensed head forward to place a brief kiss on his temple. "You are a good child," he murmured, as Luke stared without seeing, still coming back from the edge. "Take the saber."

The Emperor straightened to settle back onto his chair as Luke dropped back to rest on his heel, unable in that moment to do more. Slowly he pulled back the hand that the hilt had pressed against, flexing it as if to reassure himself that it was still intact.

Han too took the first breath in what seemed like an age, only now becoming aware that he was two steps from the wall with Indo's hand about his arm, holding him tight. When he'd made to move he didn't know.

The Emperor continued as if nothing had happened. "It is yours now, always. Stand up."

Still reeling, the kid pushed himself up and straightened, and Palpatine nodded, his tone approving. "I give you the right to carry this blade at all times, in my presence and beyond. Whenever you wield it, know that you do so at my command and to my advantage. Nothing else is justifiable."

Indo straightened proudly beside him as Han yanked his arm free, reminded once again of the limits of thecarethat Indo afforded the kid. Had he known—had he known what the Emperor was going to do? Han didn't know which was worse—that Indo had known and said nothing, or that he'd been unaware, and would have let the kid light the blade.

Palpatine's eyes remained on Luke, tone taking on its familiar critical edge. "Know, however, that you remain less than I wish you to be. I have trained a Sith; a blue-eyed boy is of no use to me. You must move beyond the limits you so clearly hold. If you do not, then remember that I am more than willing to do the deed for you."

The kid's head tilted slightly as he almost glanced to Han, but he stopped himself and looked down, disquieted. He mumbled an uneasy acknowledgment, hand tightening about the hilt as the Emperor continued.

"Hold to these tenets, and all that I have taught you…and one day, when I think you are ready, I will give you the opportunity to face your rival. Now go." Palpatine leaned back, flicking a hand dismissively. "Go and do as I command, and take pleasure in knowing that the authority you carry with you into your next meeting with Vader could be yours permanently…at my mandate. I have given you a great honor, child…try to live up to it."

Han turned to walk level with the kid as they left, passing through a hall now heaving with dignitaries and lackeys, their eyes turning to take in those who had favor enough to deserve a private audience with the Emperor himself. Luke, Han noticed, had dropped his arm to his side, holding his saber hilt upright and sliding it within his sleeve so that it was barely visible. Indo, he'd also noticed, had remained behind.

"You okay?" Han murmured.

"I'm fine." Luke answered without turning, tone perfectly level.

Having learned to be cautious, Han let them get a good thirty paces from the crowded outer hall before he spoke again. "He sure as hell wanted to make sure he had his claws in you before he handed over that lightsaber."

"He had every right to."

"Like that?"

Luke glanced once to the hilt in his hand, but said nothing. Seeing that he wasn't gonna get anywhere with that one, Han was left to grope for a safer subject. "Did he just promote you?"

Even if he wasn't about to denigrate Palpatine, then the kid was still willing to tell it like it was, voice dryly disparaging. "Please. He gave something with one hand which he just can't wait to take back with the other if I don't do this right. If I get it wrong he'll turn on me like a krayt dragon…and if I get it right, Vader will—and Tarkin."

"Tarkin?"

"I told you, Tarkin destroyed Despayre without consulting the Emperor."

Han blinked; that had been weeks ago. Seemed the old man liked to wait for his moment to pass out the knuckle raps. "You think he would have forbidden it?"

"No, not at all. But he didn't like not knowing what was going on. He sensed that moment just like I did, but he didn't have an explanation for it, and he doesn't like that. He doesn't like being in the dark about anything. This is just a timely reminder to Tarkin of that fact. Vader aside, I'm holding the Emperor's mandate and walking into a project that Tarkin's spent years developing for his own advancement. Palpatine's giving me sufficient authority that when I arrive it'll be, to all intents and purposes, to take it over—visibly—if only for a short time. Otherwise he wouldn't have granted the mandate. Whether I go in there quietly or not, it's still at the Emperor's behest, and the comm that's being sent to Tarkin right now will make that very clear, I promise you. How do you think Tarkin's going to take to that?" Luke half-turned as they walked down the long run of lofty corridors, footsteps echoing off hard granite floors. " 'Cos I'm guessing, not well."

"So he's putting you up against Tarkin?" Han said. "Why?"

"I just told you why. This is a public upbraiding for the Emperor's new Grand Moff. A clarification that his remit doesn't extend quite as far as making unilateral decisions to destroy planets without his Emperor's approval."

Which made sense, Han reflected. What better way to hack off a Grand Moff, than to send a kid to take over his position, if only for a few days. "It's gonna put a bit of a bone of contention between you and Tarkin."

"Immaterial," Luke said, lifting the saber that Palpatine had given him to stare at it, now that they'd left the crowds behind. "I do as I'm ordered, and as I've told you before, I'm not looking to make friends. And I'd've thought by now you'd know that Palpatine doesn't like his senior staff fraternizing—it makes for all kinds of unknown pacts."

"So he keeps playin' them against each other?" Han asked. The kid knew Palpatine too well. He nodded briefly to the hilt in Luke's hand. "What about that?"

"The lightsaber? This is for Vader."

" 'Cos Vader hacked him off in not retrieving the Death Star plans, and then not admitting to the fact," Han reasoned. "And because he wants to keep that contention going between Vader and you, right? Reward you when he punishes Vader, and he puts fuel on that fire."

"Welcome to the palace."

"You could just not wear it," Han said.

"I won't…visibly. No Hands wear them visibly. But I'll carry it, and Vader will know that. He'll know within the hour anyway, I'm sure."

Han straightened. "Ashtor."

"Ashtor," the kid acknowledged. "If he hasn't worked it out already, he will within minutes of our getting back."

"Why?"

Luke grinned, moving the unactivated saber hilt in a complex swing of twists and turns which looped it once around his body, swapping hands at the small of his back to bring it to a ready-position center front, horizontal and level with his shoulders, one hand about the hilt, the other used to stop it dead before it hit his body. "Because I'll tell him."

They walked on a way in silence, before Han turned again. "What was that stuff about…blue-eyed…" Han hesitated, not wanting to say 'boy,' knowing it had been levelled as barely more than an insult—that Palpatine had said it before, on the same terms.

The kid shrugged, studying the scratched and pitted lightsaber again. "A Sith's eyes change color…mine never have."

"To what?"

"Yellow, red. Amber, sometimes."

Han thought of the Emperor's pale ochre eyes, narrowed in malice. He couldn't imagine that of the kid—not even in his worst moments. "Always?"

"Always."

"And if they don't?"

"They do."

The kid fell to pensive silence, and Han remembered again the endless, obsessive drawings scrawled and scratched across the walls of his room. "What about if you don't want them to?" Luke glanced up quizzically, and Han shook his head, slowing to a halt. "You're not like him," he said, very sure.

"No?" Luke asked at last, face impassive.

"No."

The kid reached out, using the saber hilt to tap against Han's chest, touching exactly the spot where, in his inside pocket, Han still kept the sketch of Bria Tharen. "Tell her that."

.

.

.

.

.

.

It was late by the time Indo returned to Luke's apartments with the promised commission to the rank of Commander. He'd expected to find Luke already gone—which he would normally have been annoyed at, but the day had gone too well to mar it now—and with Gorn and Solo's duty shifts long finished, only Ashtor on duty at this time of night.

Instead, as he walked through the darkened enfilade towards the Red Room, intending to leave the commission there, he noticed Luke sitting in one of the huge, little-used chairs, feet stretched out on a low polished pewter table before him, head back, eyes closed.

"Keep walking," Luke said without opening his eyes, but Indo had already slowed to a stop.

"Congratulations, Commander," he said, holding out the commission documents.

Luke opened one eye momentarily. "Thanks, just what I've always wanted…or is it just what you've always wanted?"

It was only now, as Indo's eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, that he noticed the burned out stump of a spice stick in Luke's loose hand. He stepped forward and placed the commission on the low table at the boy's feet, before taking the spent stub from his hand. "I've asked you not to smoke these here."

"Where do you want me to smoke them?"

Indo straightened, letting the comment pass, noting too, the half-empty glass of water on the edge of the table as he sat, meaning that Ashtor had already brought Luke his nightly tablets, which explained his drowsiness now, if he'd taken them and then been smoking spice.

"When did you know?" Luke asked without opening his eyes.

"Know?"

"You already had my lightsaber when I came back into the Emperor's presence—you knew what he was going to do."

There was neither accusation nor betrayal in the flat statement, quietly spoken. But then one of the Emperor's earliest lessons to the boy had been that no one could be depended on to protect or shield him, and Indo saw no reason to soften an important truth with hollow pretense. Still, he had no desire to seem as if he'd withheld the facts, either. "I didn't know what the Emperor was going to do. I was simply commanded to bring your lightsaber."

"But you knew he'd taken the power cell out."

Indo paused fractionally. "No."

The boy glanced to him just for a second, then looked away without comment.

"Instead of sitting in the dark and stewing on the negative, you should look at all that you've gained today," Indo said briskly.

"A commission that'll put me in control of an installation that I don't even what to be onboard?"

It had been somewhat reassuring that the Corellian's advice to take the facts about Vader to the Emperor had at least partly failed; Indo knew of Luke's private dislike of the Death Star, even before its effect in the Force had quite literally knocked him from his feet, so to have the outcome of Solo's advice be that Luke was sent there had been an unexpected boon.

"You were granted the trust to administer the Emperor's will at the very highest level," Indo corrected. "An opportunity to prove yourself."

"I'll never prove myself with him. All I'll ever do is fail."

"That's not true. You should consider yourself fortunate that the Emperor considered your actions at Toprawa sufficient to offset the earlier incident with the insurrectionist."

"Odom?"

Indo shook his head. "I still have no idea what you were thinking…but then it wasn't you, was it?"

Luke glanced away. "He was just trying to help."

"Help you do what, Luke? Defy Palpatine? You could have faced serious repercussions, and you know it. If that's all Solo canhelpyou with, then you'd do well to back away. If the Emperor finds out about the Rebel woman…"

Luke's head lifted, the threat in his voice undisguised. "He won't."

Indo sighed, looking down. He'd never be so foolish as to risk a rift between himself and the boy by directly revealing such a thing to the Emperor, but he also didn't want to see Luke lose favor by becoming entangled in Solo's misdemeanours, either. Not when he was finally gaining status. "Luke, you can't protect Solo forever—nor should you need to. He's becoming a danger to have close, and you'll pay the penalty as much as him, because the Emperor will know that you knew his past. He's already watching Solo."

Luke straightened in the chair. "Did you tell him? You told him about the Command Protocol…did you tell him about Solo and Tharen?"

"No, I didn't tell him. I told him about the Command Protocol because you made the right decision under pressure and you're entitled to have that acknowledged. Do you seriously think the Emperor would have tolerated Solo's presence here for one more minute if I'd told him about Tharen? His situation is precarious enough."

Luke lifted his chin, words laced with fire and determination. "I won't have my whole life controlled by Palpatine."

Indo stared, stunned at the words. Because as much as Luke had rebelled and defied and plain disobeyed over the years, it had always been against the rules—the abstract—never Palpatine himself. This was the first time ever that the boy had spoken out against him.

"Luke," he said gently, "you're talking about the Emperor—the Emperor himself. What you're saying places you in direct contention with him—is that really what you want?"

"No, but…" Luke trailed off, and Indo silently cursed Solo for making his role here even a fraction harder than it needed to be.

"Well then, what are you saying?"

"I don't know…nothing." He slumped back into the chair, uncertainty audible in his voice. "What if I'm not meant for this? Toprawa was…"

"It will get easier, Luke. I promise you that."

The boy looked down, a pensive frown darkening youthful features. "What if I don't want it to?"

Indo sighed, wondering whether the faces of Tharen and her comrades had already been added to the scratched and scribbled sketches on the walls of the boy's room. "Luke, this is a momentary thing…let it fade. Tomorrow…"

"Tomorrow we set off for the Death Star," Luke said tiredly.

"And in a week's time you'll be back, and you'll still have the commission of Commander, and you'll still be one of the dozen or so men entitled to carry a weapon in the presence of the Emperor himself." As he spoke, Indo reached out to take the lightsaber from where it rested on the table and hold it out…

Luke stared without taking it. "Why does he have to make everything so hard?"

"Because that's how we learn."

"No, that's how I learn, with him. That's how I've always learned with him."

"You're tired." Indo placed the saber down, and as he brought his hand back he almost—almost—patted the boy's leg in reassurance...then caught himself and instead tapped the table, straightening briskly. "Go to bed and rest."

"I'm sleeping here tonight."

Indo hesitated, about to argue the point, but after four years incarcerated in the vast empty Throne Room on Palpatine's command, the boy could sleep almost anywhere. And Indo knew that at times, among the faces he constantly drew and re-drew in the room where he slept, there were those same few who held far too much accusation in the dark of the night.

So he nodded, taking a few minutes to go to the bedroom and bring a blanket back to Luke, whose head had lolled to the side, eyes closed.

Indo straightened for a few moments to watch him, reflecting on the day. Even now it was easy, as it always was, to convince himself that everything was essentially fine, and this would pass.

Yes, he reflected, as he turned and left the rooms in silence, allowing his own reassurance to wash over the boy's words tonight; this was just a momentary aberration. A brief flare of doubt fed by tiredness and the guilt that Solo had somehow managed to instill—probably because the boy was susceptible to such anyway; the walls of the room he was so reluctant to retire to were proof of that.

It had always been a weakness which the Emperor had fed in some ways and sought to obliterate in others. Certainly any sense of guilt at executing an order from the Emperor—any order, no matter what it was—had been always dissuaded or dismissed. Guilt implied wrongdoing, and wrongdoing implied that a command given by the Emperor could be inappropriate or flawed, and as with everything else concerning the boy, Palpatine had always taken great care that his own commands and requirements stood above all else, including the boy's own sensibilities.

Did Luke resent it? Perhaps sometimes, just slightly, as any young man of his age would. But it was individual commands rather than their source; his loyalty to the Emperor was never in doubt. Palpatine had invested hugely in that whilst the boy was still young, and now, as he grew, it was so ingrained as to be absolute.

Certainly the Emperor had been jealously possessive in those early years, allowing no one else near the child. Any attempt to talk to or in any way acknowledge the boy had been ruthlessly dealt with, both the perpetrator and the boy himself being punished, the former often by expulsion from Court, the latter by far more direct means.

Within a year, it had become one of the basic rules which were quoted to any newcomer: Never be late. Never question or contradict. Never make any contact with the child who will be near the Emperor.

They were the most basic conventions of the Emperor's inner sanctum of Court, which all obeyed.

And it became easier not to see the child anyway. He expected no one to do so, and one could always assure one's self that it was in the boy's interest—he was only punished if one tried to help him.

So he had spiralled quietly down into his own bleak torment, becoming ever less responsive, ever more battered and gaunt, fed only occasionally, at the Emperor's whim.

Even Indo had ceased to see the bruises or to register when the boy disappeared for several days, knowing that he would be in the medi-center again; that he had somehow managed to incur Palpatine's fury one more time, and had paid the price. And anyway, Indo had his own concerns. His son had continued to excel, gaining a place at the prestigious J. Aubrey Academy, though Indo was sure that he could pull better yet from Dubrail, and continued to concentrate all of his attention and effort into ensuring that he did well, his future more secure than ever.

And the days had turned into months and the months had turned into years.

And slowly, very slowly, something in the child had changed. Now, any attention from strangers was rebuffed, everybody ignored but Palpatine. The boy remained close on his heel without a word from the Emperor, always listening for any order, alert for failure at every moment, knowing that still he would fail, but taking any punishment doled out without even a flinch any more.

And yet occasionally, for some inexplicable reason, the boy would still try to run. He was always locked into the Throne Room every night, whispered rumors among the guards attesting to the fact that he could be heard pacing just inside the locked doors like a caged animal, often for hours, so that occasionally when the silence was too great, they would open the tall double doors to find him gone, with no explanation as to how he had escaped.

Sometimes he would get quite a distance into the palace, sometimes not very far at all.

Always the outcome was the same. Retribution was swift and harsh and merciless. Such events incurred the most severe punishment of all, taking weeks, even months to recover from, in which time the boy remained weak and listless, though he never once sought anyone's help, and none was ever offered.

But no matter how harsh the punishment, sooner or later he would always try again. It was his only remaining defiance, and though he struggled violently when caught by guards, the moment he was in Palpatine's presence he would acquiesce, accepting whatever wildly vitriolic punishment Palpatine chose to deal out without ever pleading for or expecting any leniency.

And whatever Palpatine did, he eventually tried again.

Time passed...and under Palpatine's intense attention, the boy was carefully reshaped in mind and soul, though nobody realized at first. By now, Palpatine's control of the boy was total. Wildly unpredictable with anybody else, he was instantly obedient in the Emperor's presence, the subtlest gesture controlling him, the slightest whisper or look summoning him instantly across the crowded Throne Room.

And like everyone else, Indo had convinced himself that the boy was best left well alone. He had his own goals and objectives in Court, and his son, his brilliant son, shone brighter every day, his future ensured as long as Indo remained silent and continued to hover at the edge of the Emperor's retinue.

He remembered the day, the moment, in perfect clarity, when he realized what Palpatine had created.

It was a month before Luke's eleventh birthday, though Indo didn't know that at the time, of course. By that point, he doubted very much that the boy remembered either. A minor dignitary had been summoned to Palpatine's inner Court, always a bad sign, and this was no different. The man was a spy, passing information on to the Hutts, and had been caught.

There was no trial here anymore, no judge or jury. The Emperor was all these things, passing out sentences on the spot, the punishment always draconian.

The terrified man, whom Indo barely knew, had been dragged before the Emperor in binders to plea his case.

"Please, Majesty…I was only to…"

"How long?" Palpatine had ground out, voice low and accusing, as the Courtiers fell back in anticipation.

The man hadn't even hesitated. "Three times, Excellency, just…."

"You had the gall to remain in my palace, passing information to others on three separate occasions?" As he spoke the Emperor had slowly risen, stepping froward on the dais toward the petrified man, hands gradually rising.

"Please, Majesty…please..."

Palpatine had paused as a thought occurred, his face transforming from focused rage to something far colder and calmer. Amused, almost; pleased.

"Boy!"

The child had been there in an instant, limping quickly to his Master's side, his left arm held tight to his body.

Twelve days ago he had made yet another escape attempt, though these days he never seemed to go far, always being caught within the hour, often very close to the Throne Room as if, having escaped the vast, dour chamber which had become his whole life, he had no idea of what to do next.

This time Palpatine had lashed out with absolute frustrated fury. In every other way the silent boy was totally compliant, yet he still inexplicably did this, even knowing the consequences. Even now the boy was still almost unable to walk, his bruised face betraying the pain which no limp could ease.

He'd halted expectantly at the exact point which the Emperor had indicated, swaying slightly as he stood side on to the Emperor, eyes to the ground.

"Kill him," Palpatine had said simply, eyes never moving from the spy.

Without hesitation the boy made to move forward, but Palpatine had reached a grasping hand tight around the back of his neck, nails digging into flesh to hold him back. "Not like that. With the Force."

It had brought the boy's head around in momentary confusion, though he didn't speak.

Closer than most, standing almost side-on to the dais in the shadows of the vast room, Indo had heard the words which the Emperor made no move to hide, his voice casually dismissive.

"Crush his windpipe, break his neck, open the arteries in his brain. I don't care how—just kill him."

The boy had turned empty, emotionless eyes back to the bound man.

"Majesty, please…mercy?" he'd implored, backing up.

Palpatine only loosed a predatory smile as he rested pale hands on the boy's shoulders. "I'm afraid such a thing is no longer mine to grant."

The spy had realized immediately, turning his own attention to the child, bound hands held before him, palms out. "Please…have m—!"

His words were cut off as his head had jolted back. The sharp crack, muffled by tissue and skin, was still loud as a blaster shot in the expectant hush. The man had fallen to the ground instantly, deadweight, his final breath rattling from his lungs at the impact, shocked eyes wide and still.

It had happened so quickly that it took the fascinated crowd a moment to realize what had just taken place—and how.

A shared, shocked intake of breath went through the gathering as they'd hurriedly backed up further, all eyes on the corpse as the room fell into absolute, stunned silence.

The boy's hand remained outstretched, fingers splayed, as he stared at the corpse with empty eyes, no trace of remorse shadowing his battered face, no hint of compassion in those old eyes. But then why should there be, Indo had realized? In the Emperor's carefully controlled environment, the boy had been granted none by anyone in so very long that it was no longer a part of his vocabulary.

The child's bruised face had tensed into a momentary frown, but already the Emperor's hand on his shoulder was already guiding him away, to walk slowly to the back of the dais as guards rushed to remove the body, all eyes in the room finally turning to the child in stunned, silent realization as he was walked from view.

"Good, good," Palpatine had awarded, laughter in his quiet voice as he'd guided the limping child behind the throne with one gaunt hand to his shoulder, pushing him to the rear of the dais' gilded screens, and so beyond view of most of the room. From his vantage point at the very front and side of the huge Throne Room though, Indo could coincidentally see and hear the words quietly but harshly hissed once the boy was gone from general view. "But you were too slow. Far too slow."

Without warning Palpatine's hand had snapped from the boy's shoulder to the front of his neck, closing in a vicelike grip. The child's hand had moved instantly to rest over Palpatine's, though he'd made no effort to struggle or free himself, his pale, grazed hand tiny by comparison. He'd simply stared in silence as his Master leaned close.

"When I give you an order, you act without hesitation, do you understand?" The Emperor's voice was hard now, his eyes locked onto the child's.

Unable to draw in enough breath to speak the boy had nodded, mouth open as he struggled for air, though he kept his gaze on Palpatine.

The Emperor had continued to grip tightly against the boy's windpipe until his chest began to heave and his hand fell away, head rolling. Only then did he finally release him by pushing him into the wall, forcing the boy to catch his weight on his injured leg as he'd crumpled to the ground. An inarticulate sound had escaped him, half gasp, half moan, though he hadn't cried out, having learned long ago that the only result of such a weakness was to bring down further chastisement.

The Emperor had already turned and was walking away. As he'd reached the far side of the gilded screen in readiness to step out again, he'd paused, head turning just slightly as he pointed to his side.

It had taken the child several gasping breaths to gather himself together sufficiently to push up from the floor, but when he'd done so he set immediately toward his Master, back hunched against the pain, limp pronounced.

Palpatine had wheeled about, malevolent yellow eyes locking onto the child to freeze him where he stood.

"Stand straight!" he'd hissed. "You are Sith. Sith do not feel pain—they do not show weakness."

Without hesitation the boy had straightened, though the movement was jerky and obviously agonizing. He took four long, even steps to his Master, arms by his side, face pinched tight against the pain of doing so, his chest still heaving. But any trace of the limp had been removed by power of will alone.

Palpatine had turned without comment to walk back into view and settle into his throne, and slowly, Indo had become aware of the susurration of whispers which still travelled around the Emperor's inner circle with good reason. Like everyone else, he hadn't known that the boy was even Force-sensitive, let alone that Palpatine had been training him. Now, with hindsight, he realized what the Emperor had intended from that very first meeting. His endless harrying, his need to control the boy so completely which, like everyone else, Indo had assumed was more a private amusement than a premeditated path.

By now, Palpatine had long since let his own abilities be known. It wasn't common knowledge, of course, but here, in the halls of power, the term was whispered with nervous disquiet: Sith.

Indo was old enough to remember the ways of the Jedi, and everyone said that the Sith held to similar, if darker, traditions. And this Sith had wanted a new apprentice, it seemed. One who would be so completely conditioned to his Master's word being law that he would obey always, absolutely, and without question.

Aged only ten, the boy had walked to stand to the side of his Master's throne where Palpatine had indicated, his eyes low, his body motionless, waiting for the next command as the Emperor had turned to Pestage, clearly pleased with the way events had unfolded, not yet finished manipulating them for today. "Send the body back to the Hutts with my compliments. Do not tell them directly, but make sure they find out how this was done—and by whom. They will sell such information to those who have an interest, I have no doubt." He'd leaned back, tone expansive. "We should announce such an auspicious event as the accession of a new Sith…at least to those who need to see. The next move is theirs. "

The boy hadn't reacted at all to his Master placing him in the firing line when the vengeful Hutts found out the truth—or to the vaguer insinuation of greater, unknown threats. Didn't react to anything, his scarred face lowered, eyes fixed on the floor at the center of the room.

Following his gaze, Indo had noticed that it was fixed on a single spot of blood, all that was left of the act, glossy black in the low light of the Throne Room.

His intentions clearly fulfilled beyond even his expectations, the Emperor had departed, Court retiring. As ever, the boy had walked obediently behind him only to be told at the threshold to remain. His small body had slumped as the Emperor had disappeared from view, the weight lifted from his injured leg, his arm clutched awkwardly to himself again.

And as ever, the Courtiers had filed out around him as he'd stood motionless at the portal, gazing blankly at the tantalizing freedom just beyond.

But for the first time, nobody had jostled him; nobody had crowded or brushed him. For the first time he was given a respectful distance by the assembled Courtiers who filed warily around this unexpected new thing in their midst, a child with the power to kill by thought alone.

Indo had been one of the last to leave; why exactly he didn't know. But it had meant that as he slipped silently past the boy, they were momentarily alone.

"Indo… "

The word was whispered so quietly that Indo had been two paces past the boy before the shock of realization broke his stride. He'd turned just slightly back, not wishing to incriminate the boy with too obvious a reaction.

Luke had remained still, staring at the floor beyond the Throne Room, so that for a second Indo had wondered whether it had been his imagination… Then just for an instant, he'd lifted his battered face up to Indo, eyes bewildered and desperate…

The moment was broken as a guard passed between them, and the boy had turned slowly away to limp back towards the dais, disappearing into the shadows as the lights were dimmed and the huge, heavy doors locked down for the night.

Indo had remained still for several seconds, shaken by the intensity of it.

He'd remembered—the boy had remembered who Indo was.

Palpatine hadn't taken his past from him completely, no matter how the boy reacted when his Master was in the room. Somehow, he had kept some part of himself, some spark of self-identity, some memory of individuality. How, against the manipulative abilities of the Emperor, Indo couldn't imagine.

And he had done this alone.

A child, abandoned and isolated, trapped in the most hostile environment imaginable with no hope of reprieve or escape, and not even the strength yet to defend himself. But the slight, malnourished, mistreated boywassurviving, and doing so by strength of will alone.

Until today, Indo had realized…when all previous rules and boundaries had been irrevocably changed.

Young as he was, the boy was hardly naïve. He knew that this was now the end game, his last chance to retain some part of himself protected from the reality of his life slipping away.

Indo had turned mechanically, and walked without seeing down the long, austere halls, the immense slabs of stark stone which lined the dim, cavernous spaces closing in about him. Eventually he had slowed to a halt, the weight of regret settling heavy in his stomach.

It was, he knew, quite impossible to help the child.

He had been too long in the Emperor's hands. No matter how reluctantly, he had clearly learned his lessons well. They had been beaten into him with calculating, devastating effect.

Not realizing the relevance of his own actions, today the boy had done as he had been so casually instructed by his Master, something he had seen—perhaps sensed—his Master do without compassion or remorse many times. One more order in a life where defiance or even questions were severely punished, and refusal was simply not an option. Following what he had perceived in his damaged state to be just one more command, hardly different from any other, the boy had unwittingly sealed his own fate. Today, though still a child, he had proved himself capable not only of calling the Force to him, which Palpatine had clearly been teaching him for some time, but powerful and attuned enough to focus it on a single, deadly act, already capable of the fine precision necessary to kill cleanly.

And just as importantly, willing to do this on command, all conscience or ethics carefully stripped away in this ruthlessly controlled environment.

Slowly Indo had begun to walk again, the guilt easing a little as he had followed his thoughts to their logical conclusion. The boy was so damaged that he probably wasn't even truly aware that he had done anything wrong. He was Sith, raised by his own kind. He could have no other future. Better he accept his fate and bow to the Emperor's will, as everyone did here. In fact, for Indo to offer any hope of reprieve would be grossly unfair—a cruelty in itself.

He'd heard the rationalization and hated himself for it, but what could he do? What could anybody do, now that the boy had proved himself of such value? By killing on command, he had locked himself into his fate and bound himself irrevocably to the Emperor…and in doing so, placed himself beyond anyone's help.