Luke was already losing what little adrenaline had sustained him this far, his breathing ragged, his path weaving as he used the wall for support every few steps, aware that he was losing the battle to stay upright, to stay conscious, and all the while he was waiting for the slave chip to trigger.

Didn't matter—it didn't matter any more. He needed to take out as many ysalamiri as possible and disguise that fact beneath general chaos and darkened corridors with shot-out lights, then cross the ship and double back on himself from a loop corridor so that he'd be in a Force-infused area by the time they caught up with him—and he needed Madine to be there when they did, so having them know roughly where he was because the ship-wide security lenses were going down wasn't a problem. It didn't matter how many soldiers Madine had with him then, men who were willing to kill on command. Who had made Luke's life hell and watched him slowly crumble.

Beneath the single tone that still sounded in his muted hearing, Luke began to hear muffled shouting; soldiers, closing in…

Gunfire…was that gunfire? Who was shooting? He staggered on away from the noise, turning a corner and shooting out the next lens, needing seven shots this time, breathless and unsteady, unable to keep the blaster level. Didn't matter. Just get to Madine...for Mara. Just that; they could trigger the chip when he'd had Mara's revenge.

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Running down the port corridor, Leia flinched as the shipwide alert blared out, then recoiled again as Nathan, just behind her and holding the ghost box, clearly jumped so much he triggered the blaster he was holding in his other hand, shooting a hole in the scuffed floor.

She turned, but Nathan was way ahead of her, "I think it'd probably be better if maybe I run ahead of you," he said diplomatically.

Leia pulled out her comlink, pressing for the open channel they were all using as she picked up her pace again. "Han, did you trigger that?"

The earbud crackled to life in Leia's ear. "No, we thought it was you."

Mara had supplied the earbud from what Han had already come to call her 'bag of tricks', though she'd been right in pointing out that they'd enable everyone to monitor the open channel with their comlinks silent, thus not giving away their positions in a stealth operation…which seemed a bit academic now, Leia reflected.

Karrde's voice cut in, typically droll, "I'm confused; weren't we supposed to be doing this quietly?"

"Yeah," Han replied, "change of plan...apparently."

The next second Leia heard blaster fire over the open link as Han shouted out. She and Nathan came to a halt, watching each-other, eyes wide.

The earbud registered the scuffle of boots and fabric then more shots…the high-pitched whine of ricochets; jarring backfeed as the comlink hit something.

"Han...Han!"

"We're fine…" Leia breathed again at the sound of Han's voice. "We're good here—all good. Brief disruption, sorted now."

Nathan leaned in, "Is Mara okay?"

"Yeah, aside from being annoyed—at you that is, not the guys who were shooting at her, for some reason…wait..." He paused, and the comlink went to distant talk between the two of them, then, "Okay, we need to spread out. Karrde? Stay forward of the main hold and keep moving. We'll start heading back from there."

Leia scowled, "Wait, Luke's cell is in the main hold."

"I'm sure it is Sweetheart, but we just picked up a comlink that one of Madine's lackeys won't be needing any more, and word on their frequency is that Luke's on walkabout already."

The alarm, Leia realized.

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Luke backed quickly up the side corridor, hand about the soldier's mouth as he fired three fast shots into his back. The man slumped back and down and Luke grabbed him by the scruff to pull him back further, dragging him into a side-room…just in time. Another group of six soldiers ran down the main loop corridor ten paces away as Luke remained crouched in the dark room of the side-corridor, not risking standing to close the door.

They passed and he remained still, huddled down on the floor for long seconds, trying to get his breath back. He needed to get moving. He couldn't afford to stay in one place, it was too easy to get hemmed in. He frisked the body, briefly considering taking the guard's clothes to buy him a second of anonymity, but in the end settled for the stiletto knife the soldier had in a sheath at his hip…

Luke remained still, head down, chest rising in labored breaths. Up, get up.

Too hard—he was running on empty, completely drained. The immense urge to just lay on the floor where he was in the shadows of the room was overwhelming, dragging him unstoppably down on reflex to repair a failing body, his muscles loosening, succumbing physically even as he fought it mentally.

Get up…

It was the shipwide alarm which finally brought him to his feet, glancing about, staggering forward a step to hold onto the doorframe as he cursed. He stepped out into the side-corridor…and stopped dead as five guards ran down the main loop corridor which joined with his side-corridor just paces away, backstepping at speed to press himself against the wall, the claxon drowning out what little he could hear of their passing between the decompression damage and its droning tone.

They ran on as a close group, not even bothering to check the darkened doorways of the side-corridor, attention ahead as Luke held to the shadows.

He breathed again as they passed, lightheaded, waiting long seconds before he pushed himself off, checking both ways down the dark, empty side-corridor.

Keep moving; get back onto the loop corridor and double back, heading aft…

Hand to the wall for support, Luke shouldered his blaster and turned into the main loop corridor, stumbling instantly into a soldier coming the other way, running to catch up to his companions. The soldier's blaster lifted, swinging round for a body shot as Luke looked into his face…it was Tam. Tam, taking a breath in, pulling his blaster round…

Luke was close enough to reach out and bat the blaster muzzle aside, "Don't! Don't shout…"

But Tam was already turning to look ahead, lungs full—

Trained endlessly in close-quarters combat by Mara, Luke reached out, hand wrapping about the back of Tam's neck to yank him in and bury his face quickly into the joining of Luke's shoulder and neck to muffle the cry, the knife in Luke's hand coming unerringly up to embed just below Tam's ribs, pushing high into his chest cavity with deadly force, the rasping drag of the blade offering little resistance against the power of the blow. Tam's body stiffened as he made a pitiful yelp, blaster clattering to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Luke whispered, still holding the dying man's face to him to muffle his shocked cry as he slipped slowly to the ground, limbs falling loose, a last rattling gasp escaping him. "I'm so sorry."

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Mara and Han were running at full-tilt through the Wasp, Han carrying only his blaster, Mara with her rifle shouldered and an Imperial standard-issue E-11 cradled in her grip, safety off, her lightsaber bumping at her hip as she ran.

The trouble was, they had no specific place to run. They should have been heading for Luke's cell located in the main hold to the center of the sizeable cargo freighter, but their first run-in with Madine's troops—already armed and on alert—had already proved that pointless.

So now they were just running, equally pointless to Mara's mind, unless you counted the six or eight Special Ops troopers who were on their tail after the amount of noise they'd made bringing down that first surprise group. But until they could get a fix on Luke, they had nothing else to do.

They seemed to be moving in and out of the ysalamiri's influence, so that Mara could sense the Force in brief, disconcerting waves, like coming up from water and being doused beneath it again, each one a brief shock to the system, her senses flaring and fading in quick succession.

In the brief time she'd been training with Luke, she'd constantly pressed him to coach her further with the lightsaber he'd built for her, and he'd always refused; she could already use a lightsaber, he'd told her—she should train her mind first, then they'd go back to the saber. Instead he'd spent hours simply teaching her to open her mind to the Force in any situation, learning to trust and listen to her background awareness of its presence, even under stress. At the time, she'd thought it a waste; now, she blessed its value. Running full-tilt down the corridor, attention split, eyes on every door and corner and wary for traps, she could still sense its intermittent influence…but she couldn't yet sense Luke.

It hadn't helped that the groups of soldiers they'd run into always had at least one ysalamiri with them, but on the plus side, if Mara knew that a bubble would mean soldiers…

She let out a gasp, stopping so suddenly that Solo nearly barreled into her from behind, barely aware of the curse he uttered in Corellian.

Turning quickly around she stumbled into him as he backstepped, indignant.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"The bubbles!" Mara said into Solo's obvious confusion.

"Bubbles?"

"Rifts—rifts in the Force caused by the ysalamiri—we need to follow them."

"Wait a minute, that's towards the soldiers," Han said doubtfully.

"Yes! And where are the soldiers with ysalamiri going?"

A slow smile spread across Solo's face, "Towards Luke—they're taking the ysalamiri towards Luke."

As long as she could detect the massed bubbles, as long as she stayed close to the main concentration, chances were, they were running towards Luke. "The gaps are at the front of the ship and the ysalamiri bubbles are towards the rear."

"How the hell do…" Han's narrowed eyes returned to the lightsaber Mara wore at her belt, suspicious. "Now wait just one minute, Red…"

But Mara was already running, "You coming or not?"

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Han stared after her a second, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath, "Great; there's three of 'em in the whole damn galaxy and I know 'em all personally."

He set off at a fast pace, running to catch up.

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Leia came up slowly on the closed door she remembered as the observation room when she'd last been taken through the Wasp. Backing off to the far side of the corridor to get a clear line of sight, she nodded for Hallin to press the door release.

Already wary from the alarm, the two soldiers within turned immediately, reaching or holstered firearms.

Leia dropped the first man instantly, though their alertness meant that the second had drawn his blaster and picked off two fast shots before she brought him down. Her eyes went immediately to Hallin, who had doubled over, crying out as the shots fired.

"Nathan, are you okay?!"

"Fine, I'm fine." He was shaking his hand as if to regain feeling, studying it closely, though Leia could see no mark. "It glanced off the edge of the doorframe—I thought it had clipped me, that's all."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Leia had to smile. "Believe me, if you get even a glancing blow from a blaster, you'll know about it."

He grinned, reaching out to retrieve his blaster and the ghost box, both dropped in the shock of the moment, "Well this is my first—you know—front-line experience. I mean, I'm not entirely new to the whole action thing—I have known Luke for seven years now," he added this as if it were explanation enough in itself—which actually, to Leia, it was. "But I tend to be the one who listens to what happened afterwards rather than, you know, be in it."

"No, really?" Leia helped him up, glancing both ways down the corridor, eager to get out of sight and trying hard to keep the wry amusement from her voice. "I'd never have guessed."

Bundled into the room, Nathan stopped dead almost immediately, eyes locked on the two bodies, so that Leia had to step round him to get in, shooting out the surveillance lens before she even closed the door.

She glanced round the empty room at three two-D viewscreens, only one active and showing a view of Luke's empty cell. It looked like Han was right; the heavy bunk and table Leia remembered from her brief visit were on their sides against the far wall, the cell door open.

Leia turned away, eyes scanning the observation room…and to the far end, hard-wired into the console itself, stood the small, square emitter-box, a keypad set into its upper surface above a single light, glowing steady green.

Right where it should be—how often did that happen? She smiled, walking quickly toward it, "Nathan, give me the ghost box… Nathan?"

Nathan glanced up quickly from the two dead guards as if suddenly realizing Leia was speaking to him. Taking a wide arc around the bodies, his eyes remaining on them until he reached the console, Nathan finally pulled himself together as he placed the box on the surface, close to the original. "Okay, red light…"

As Nathan pressed the switch and they both watched the red light, Leia realized she had no idea how long it would take for the ghost box to sample the signal from the original. Was it seconds or minutes? She glanced to the door then back to the box—

"Wait," Nathan said quietly, "shouldn't it have three lights lit?"

Leia felt the breath leave her in a gasp, "Why is there only one?"

"The blaster shot," Nathan's voice rose in panic. "I told you I felt a shock!"

"It hit the box?"

"I don't know."

Leia abandoned her blaster to pick the box up, turning it over to look for damage, frantic. Nothing was visible. Putting it beside the original emitter, she pressed the button again at the same time as she lifted her comlink, heart in her throat. "Karrde? Karrde, come in."

The hushed hiss as the door slid unexpectedly open turned them both about, Leia scrabbling for her blaster as Nathan brought his to bear…

His shot went wide—Leia had no idea whether it was by mistake or on purpose—exploding into the doorframe beside the soldier and making him flinch away.

"Stop!" Nathan shouted, his yell somewhere between demand and outright panic.

The big, heavy-set soldier froze, hand lifting away from the sidearm he'd been reaching for.

Leia had her blaster by now, stepping clear of Nathan. "In. Close the door and lock it, then move back against the wall."

The big man backed slowly up in silence, sharp eyes flicking between Leia and Nathan, face calm and collected; a professional soldier sizing up the threat.

"Nathan, take his gun."

Nathan stepped forward and reached for the sidearm at full-stretch, Leia having to step deftly to the side when the medic accidentally put his own body between herself and the soldier. Keeping her gun trained, Leia silently cursed the medic for not taking the shot when he had it, because she couldn't bring herself to do it now, when the man was unarmed. Which left them in a small room with what was clearly a very capable soldier. His shrewd gaze moved from Leia to the viewscreen of the empty cell, then to the ghost box on the console, taking everything in.

Realization of Karrde's voice in her ear divided Leia's attention. "Watch him," she said as Nathan backed up, placing the seized blaster on the console behind her. "If he moves, shoot him—and make sure it's him, this time."

Leia fumbled along the console without risking looking away until her hand hit her comlink. "Karrde? We have a problem. The ghost box took a glancing hit—there's no visible damage but two of the status lights are out. Something's shorted."

Karrde's voice was reassuringly unflustered, "Hold on, I'll patch you through to Ghent."

"Han," Leia tried. "Do you have a position on Luke?"

"Nobody has a position on Luke." Han sounded as frustrated as she felt right now. "We think they're talking about him being near the main loop corridor, but they've designated areas and corridors by numbers, so they could be talkin' about anywhere."

A single pip indicated another speaker and Leia changed the channel,

"Um…hi?" Ghent's voice bought Leia's absolute attention.

"Ghent! The box took a shot and we can't sample the original emitter's frequency. There's only one light and it's red."

"One? Which one?"

Leia glanced to the box, "First one."

"Okay, you have power, that's all…turn the box upside-down. You see the inset slide-switch?"

"Yes."

"That's power—turn it off and restart it."

"That's it?!" Leia almost yelled. "Restart it? That's the best you have?"

Karrde's voice cut in across the open channel, taking charge. "I'm dropping back to pick up Ghent—we'll be on our way to you within minutes."

"Hurry; we need to get this thing working."

"Sooner than you think." The soldier's low voice turned Leia around, and he tilted his head, his hands still held up. "If he crosses the boundaries and he's dead. That's—"

Leia leveled her blaster, "Shut up!"

The big soldier jerked just slightly, clearly having already marked Leia as the greater threat.

Nathan's attention was on the box, which he'd deactivated then reset, "Still one light—something's fried. It must have taken the hit."

Leia half-turned, her own voice tightening, "You take the chip out surgically then."

"I can't do that, not without the code to deactivate it first. It'll trigger."

"We have to do something!"

"As long as we're in here, no-one else can get to the box to trigger it," Nathan reassured.

"And if Luke's already out and running, he could step out of the ninety meter radius at any time! We need the code now!"

"Four three nine, zero zero six three two." The soldier's voice was quiet and composed.

Leia turned, "What?"

"The deactivation code; it's four three nine, zero zero six three two."

Nathan turned immediately to the emitter.

Wait!" Leia said, hand out. "It could be the activation code to blow the chip."

"No," the big soldier said simply. "I left my post and came here to enter it and disable the slave-chip."

Leia shook her head, "Why should we trust you?"

"You're running out of time," the soldier said coolly. "The chip has a ninety meter radius, you know that. I can tell you for a fact that's the center-line of the fore and aft docking bays, 'cos I'm the one who measured it out. If Skywalker's heading there and he crosses either bay, he's dead."

"So we just blindly put in any code you give us?"

"Wait," Nathan took a half-step forward, eyes on the soldier whose bulk dwarfed him. "...Skywalker?"

The man pursed narrow lips as he nodded, "I know who he is—was. Still is, maybe, underneath it all. Y'know, I'm here because I figured I'd got a pretty good idea of where the galaxy should be heading... Thing is, the more I've seen in the last two weeks, the less I think Madine's the one who'll get it there…and, Force help me, the more I think maybe Skywalker is. That's why I came to deactivate the slave-chip."

Leia wavered, aware of all this man had already done on the strength of his loyalty to Madine, of the leap of faith he was making here—if he was telling the truth.

Could she do the same? At the end of the day, they were both Rebel soldiers, and they were both fighting for the same thing...

She turned to Nathan, heart in her mouth. "Put the code in."

He didn't need telling twice. Still, Leia held her breath as he did so…

The original emitter's steady green light blinked three times…then turned to red.

"You can turn it off now," the soldier said levelly. "Myself, I'd open it up and trash it, just to make sure."

Nathan turned, face still pale, "Thank you...?"

"Kalter," the soldier said, straightening. "My name's Nilo Kalter."

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Madine was passing orders by comlink as he walked purposely forward, blaster rifle shouldered, the distant sound of a firefight rolling down the corridors. "How many intruders?"

Whoever they were, they'd split up into small groups to come in at several different points, forcing Madine to split his own forces to deal with them, when he should have everyone committed to tracking Skywalker down right now.

"Which corridors are down?" Madine asked of the ever-increasing gap in surveillance. "Start shutting down bulkhead doors from sixteen aft and don't release them until you have all-clears from the forward units. Keep the skirmishes separate—don't let intruders get behind our position. And track down Tinel and Kalter—I want to know what the hell's going on!"

He had the option to detonate the slave-chip of course, but he didn't want to do that unless he had to. It'd be a waste when he'd gone to all to this trouble to advertise a firing squad and set the stage so perfectly. Still, if Skywalker did cross the slave-chip's boundary limits…

"Do we still have surveillance in the fore and aft bays? Enhance the image quality and set them to record. If we have to, we'll use that." He didn't particularly want to have to put out the image of the Emperor getting halfway across one of the bays then being brought down when the chip in his head blew, but he'd use it if it was all he had.

If he could just corral Skywalker into that rear bay, where everything was already prepared… All he had to do was keep the son of a Sith heading aft. "Ops, close the aft bay doors but don't lock them. If they open without my telling you it's us, let whoever's trying in there through, then lock 'em down."

This could work quite well. The more agitated Skywalker was when he got there the better. Make more of a spectacle if the Emperor was shouting and railing when they stood him up against the wall and turned their blaster sights and the HoloNet lenses on him.

Madine glanced to the soldiers moving in neat formation down the corridor ahead of him, slowly herding Skywalker toward that aft bay… six men, plus himself. Seven men was enough for a firing squad, right? Yes, this could work perfectly.

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In the surveillance room, Leia was grinning, laughing, dizzy almost, the relief was so great. "Han—Han, do you read me?"

"Yeah."

"Luke's—the chip's deactivated, the original box is disabled, it can't trigger."

"Yes!" Leia heard the yell from Mara, who must have heard the news in her own earpiece, the first time she remembered ever hearing her in high spirits—and she had to smile, because it was so clearly the exact same outburst of feeling that Leia felt every time Han made it back to land his A-Wing on the hangar-bay floor after a combat sortie. Just who did Jade think she was fooling with her whole bodyguard routine?

Han's voice came back on, his own grin obvious, "You got the ghost box working?"

"No we…we had a little help here. Lieutenant Kalter gave us the code."

Han paused just slightly, "One of Madine's men? Cos if it is, ask him about the damn corridor codes."

Nathan turned to the soldier, who was stood like a sentinel at the back of the room. "You know the codes, don't you—the corridor numbers?"

Kalter lifted his chin but remained silent, and Leia stepped forward, fierce and desperate, "You said yourself that you'd come up here to deactivate the slave-chip, that you believe Luke—well then help him. You're a member of the Rebel Alliance—we don't just stand by, we fight for what we believe in!"

Kalter turned those shrewd eyes to Leia, studying her closely, his voice quiet and steady. "Tell me this; you know who he really is, don't you Ma'am? All of it."

Leia hesitated...

It was Nathan who spoke; "Yes, yes we do."

The man nodded slowly, "And Madine...he knows the truth too, doesn't he? He always did."

Nathan nodded, "Yes, he always did."

The burly soldier shook his head slowly, lips pursing as he let out a brief, dry laugh. Leia watched him tensely as he stared at the monitor of Luke's empty cell, considering…

Then those wide shoulders loosened slightly, as if finally at ease with the hard decision he'd made, and Kalter stepped forward, keying the console and bringing the other two screens online.

"We can patch into Madine's comms from the main ops room from here. Skyw…the Emperor's close to the main loop corridor, we think. He's been shooting out the security lenses in a large area just aft of the central bay since he got out. Madine's trying to close off the ship in sections, and bring all the ysalamiri back to his position."

Leia was already leaning in, studying the blueprint Kalter was pointing to. "What about Karrde—our people at the front of the Wasp?"

"They're keeping two units busy. One unit's already engaged your second group—"

"Mara and Han," Nathan supplied, glancing to Leia.

Kalter nodded, "Well another unit's moving in on their position. Troops are out in units of six. There're two units still on Skywalker's tail."

"We need to get Han and Mara past those three units to Luke." Leia said. "Do you have a location on him?"

Kalter paused, listening to the comm chatter. "Not specifically. We can guess, 'cos of the surveillance lenses, but he's doubled back a few times already, and he's using surveillance-free side-corridors a lot."

"Wait," Nathan said. "You said they were closing down parts of the freighter. Do you have any access to the doors they're opening and closing from here?"

Kalter's eyes went to the console, pulling up new screens, "Some, not all. Emergency bulkheads mostly, starboard side."

"Which side do we think Luke on?" Leia asked breathlessly.

Kalter nodded, "Starboard."

"Can we keep the troops off his back and keep him heading aft?"

Kalter was already working on the keyboard, the Wasp's blueprint now highlighting a smattering of doors red or green along its starboard length. "Maybe…if he stays on the main loop corridor."

Leia was already lifting her comlink, "Han, you need to head aft as quickly as you can. Be aware, you have three units in your way—stay on the outer port side corridors and you'll go round them, then come in on the aft bay from there."

"We're on our way already," Han assured, his voice hitching as he ran.

"We're going to try to herd Luke towards that aft bay. He's on the other side of the ship to you, we think, but we have access to some of the bulkhead doors. We'll try to guide him in and keep the troops off his back."

"You know where Madine is?" Han asked.

Leia glanced to Kalter, who pursed his lips, eyes on the blueprint as he listened to the stream of information from the console. "He's with Unit Two—that's the closest unit, coming in straight through the blind-spot Skywalker made in surveillance. Skywalker doesn't seem too eager to get anywhere, he's just…sticking to the same area, crisscrossing the ship."

Leia frowned, studying the images, "Why would he do that?"

"I dunno, but he's got six men coming up the main loop corridor and six more just off it coming in from port-side. They close that net whilst he's in one of the linking cross-corridors and he's trapped between them."

Nathan leaned in, "Can we close any doors, shut them off?"

"We can close off the cross-corridors, seal out the unit coming in from port-side."

"And Madine's group?" Leia asked.

The big soldier pursed his lips, shaking his head. He didn't need to speak.

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Luke turned the corner and into an outside corridor, the narrow misted plexiglass viewpanes giving broken, hazy views of a red dust landscape below; absolute night with no flicker of diffraction; no atmosphere then. No trying for an airlock and drawing Madine out.

Heading back cross-ship towards the area he knew he'd already cleared of ysalamiri, Luke faltered, his legs crumpling beneath him in shock as a mass of long-dulled senses flared into being, his hands going to his temples at the overload of information coursing through him, even though it was an isolated sliver of contact—the space between voids, a crack in the blanketing influence of the ysalamiri.

He must be on the edge of the space he'd already cleared. Until now, the ysalamiri had always been overlapped, so that even shooting them down, because he was always moving Luke had never been outside of their influence—now, he'd taken so many out that he must have finally doubled back onto the very edge of the area he'd emptied, probably separated by a single wall from the corridors he'd already cleared.

Even here, in this locked-in pocket of insight, he sensed soldiers close by, just within his perceptions. Conscious minds came into razor-sharp clarity as he focused, old habit coming instantly to the fore; a mass of thoughts, feelings and intentions; resolute, unyielding, tense—

Then just as suddenly they were gone, and Luke knelt huddled and blind in a void, cold realization knifing up his spine; because he hadn't moved. He hadn't moved into the bubble, the bubble had moved over him—which mean they knew where he was…and they were bringing ysalamiri with them. And they were very close.

He needed to back up further into the area he'd already emptied, find a larger clear spot where he'd have access to the Force to hold his ground. The next cross-corridor was long enough and he knew it was clear—if he waited in the middle, the soldiers carrying ysalamiri would be visible to either end before Luke was within their influence—he'd have a clear shot to take them out.

Forcing himself up, Luke staggered round the curve to the longer cross-corridor he knew he'd already cleared of ysalamiri… Quickly; one chance…

He rounded the curve…to see the blast door to the cross-corridor come slamming down.

"No!" Luke brought his blaster up, putting four fast shots into the door panel…and only one fired. He glanced down; the blaster was empty.

It was empty, and he was facing a locked door to the corridor he knew he'd cleared! He leaned on the door, looking through the small viewport to the safety that was just feet away and now completely unreachable. He would have had them—he would have been in the ysalamiri-cleared area and had them!

He leaned into the corner, chest heaving, taking his weight on the wall to keep himself upright as he tried to see the mechanism behind the access panel his first shot had blasted free, but they were too close; he couldn't waste time trying, and he knew it. He had to move on—find another way to double back. A few shots sounded, and Luke frowned, deranged mind struggling to work out why, then he pushed himself off again. Another way; keep heading aft and try to find another way back to the area he'd cleared.

He set off at a slow stagger, one arm to the wall, abandoning the empty blaster fall to the floor unheeded.

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"Back, back, back!" Mara was backpedaling wildly as Han opened up with his blaster, picking off one of the six soldiers they'd run into in the winding corridors, all reduced to darkness in this stretch, random shots seeming to have been fired into walls and floors already, debris everywhere.

A volley of shots splashed off the far wall as he backed round a corner and out of the line of fire, a flare of blinding light in the darkness as he flinched back further, trying not to look.

"You know, you don't have to keep repeating it." He half-yelled to be heard over the noise of the gunfire in the enclosed space. "Once would have done. In fact, the guys shooting at us pretty much did the trick."

"Well you didn't seem to be moving very quickly." Jade said dryly as the gunfire intensified.

"We got round the corner in one piece, didn't we?"

Jade leaned back against the wall a moment, her attitude one of concentration, "No ysalamiri here."

"What?"

"No ysalamiri."

"Well that's great," Han deadpanned. "I gotta say, their absence is more than made up for by the angry guys with the blaster rifles."

Jade's head was tipped forward, eyes closed. "I can't sense Luke."

"Could you maybe do this after we've dealt with the guys with the blasters?"

Leia's voice came over his earpiece, "Han?"

"Yeah?"

"You need to get to the aft bay and cut across it to get starboard, where Luke is. We've locked down the cross-corridors to keep Madine's men back, but they've just locked the console we were using out of the system. We have no control over the doors and no access to surveillance any more. We're out of the loop, you're on your own."

"You okay?"

"We're fine, but we're bugging out of here. We'll head aft to your location."

"Okay, we're close to the bay."

"Han, there's still one unit of soldiers right on Luke's tail; Madine and six others, all armed."

"We'll get to him, don't worry."

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Luke leaned against the doorframe to the aft bay as it opened, chest heaving. Pushing himself off, he made it five or six steps into the main bay before the doors he'd just come through closed down, the panel beside them flashing red. Luke glanced quickly to the doors to the port-side of the wide bay, but even if they'd been open he wouldn't have been able to run for them, and already they were slamming down, their status light flicking from green to red, locking him in. They'd trapped him in here…with ysalamiri. No Force here.

Glancing about the bay he was another step forward before he realized what he was looking at.

To one side of the wide hangar, the wall and floor had been painted white, large arc-lights stood on tall mounts and connected to portable generators, facing the whitewashed wall.

Stood at regular intervals, pointing towards the makeshift setting, were three tripod-mounted lenses.

For long seconds Luke stared, knowing what this was…then he blinked, turning away and pushing the image from his thoughts with a quick shake of his head—

And the bay door behind him cycled to green and opened.

They came in without pause, in practiced configuration; Madine and six soldiers, blasters raised. Backing up, he stepped towards the centre of the bay as they advanced, widening into a loose semi-circle and moving to one side, clearly trying to herd him towards that whitewashed wall.

Gritting his jaw, Luke stopped and held his ground; if they wanted him in front of that wall then they'd have to drag his carcass there.

Madine took a step forward and for a scarlet second Luke seriously considered running for him…but he wouldn't make it; wouldn't get close. He sighed, but tired as he was, he straightened before them, knowing this was as far as he got.

This was it, end of the line.

.

Luke backed up another two steps…

"Stop!" Madine froze, hands splayed out.

Luke broke pace, uncertain.

"Listen to me, don't step back. You step past the red line on the floor and you're dead, understand?"

Uncertain, Luke glanced down—and just as it had been in his cell, there was a rough red line painted across the landing-bay floor.

"You step beyond that and you're dead. You have a slave-chip up against your skull and that's the limit of its boundary. Go past the line and it triggers." Madine took another step, hand out, in some twisted travesty of concern. "Just come forward towards me."

Luke glanced to the side, to the whitewashed wall prepared for an execution. "And to that? I don't think so."

"That's a possibility. You cross that red line and it's fact—you're dead."

"You've gone to an awful lot of trouble for a possibility." Luke took a staggered half-step back, more out of exhaustion than choice, his heel to the line.

"It was a threat, nothing more. I wouldn't have done it."

"Please."

"You know I wouldn't. I still want those codes."

"So what you're actually saying is, 'Step forward and I'll take you back to your cell'?'"

"Skywalker…"

"No. No, this game's over."

.

He had nothing left to fight for any more, no reason to care—but he'd be damned if he'd die on Madine's terms.

Heel to the line, he let out a slow breath…and stepped back.

.

Stood stock still, chest heaving, every muscle adrenaline-wired for the blazing flare of death that didn't come, Luke stared at Madine…

And stared.

He took another step back…then another, eyes still fixed on Madine's face, on the shock and the confusion which twisted it, unchecked, a mirror of Luke's own turmoil.

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Mara fell against the controls for the aft bay, knowing already that they were locked, the status light glowing red.

"Come on!" she slapped uselessly at the locked-out controls, fear and fury rising.

They'd come back into ysalamiri-blanked corridors not soon after they'd cleared the last soldiers from their tails, the corridors here unmarred, but Mara's brief excitement at seeing the bay door was quickly crushed.

Solo came up beside her, breathing heavily. "Locked?"

"Locked down and locked out. We're not getting in from here." Mara glanced up, remembering the upper bay, knowing it would take too long to backtrack to a point where they could get up a level and to an entry that would probably be locked down anyway. The memory of her own escape last time burned in her mind, "I'm not leaving you here."

She remembered climbing the narrow access ladder to the overhead hatch between the two bays, losing sight of Luke in the tangle of criss-crossed tracks and gantreys at ceiling-level… Gantreys!

The jumble of track systems at ceiling height came abruptly to mind, tracks for the bay's automated cargo crane. And where there was an automated system, there was an access hatch for repairs. Mara backstepped, scanning the corridor at roof level, setting down the corridor at a jog.

"What?" Han was staring at her.

"Access—look for the access hatch for an automated cargo crane."

"Right!" He set off in the other direction, eyes flicking between the ceiling level and the corridors ahead, watching for more soldiers. "Here! I got it!"

Mara came running back, following Han's gaze to an inset hatch almost at ceiling level. "Give me a boost."

Han was still glancing about, "There should be a…here!" he pushed against an inset panel and a series of slits pulled back in the wall paneling, creating a basic ladder.

Mara glanced to him, nodding her approval, and he winked, "Not my first stock freighter—or my first rescue."

She was already up the ladder, pressing for the latch release, "It's locked."

"Move back, I'll shoot it out."

Mara half turned, "No, if Madine's in there with Luke …"

He pursed his lips, "Fine, get out of the way, I'll hotwire it."

Mara looked dubious, "You can hotwire it?"

"I can hotwire anything sweetheart - if it's got wires, I can strip em and rip 'em."

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Mind numb, still reeling from the simple fact that he was still alive, Luke tried to drag some kind of composure from the shock, thoughts coming back from the edge, racing on adrenaline.

He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead, and all that meant was that that he'd die in a few minutes time on someone else's terms, not his own.

The braced soldiers straightened as Madine pulled his lip back in fury—

All that was left to Luke was a bluff… Luke forced himself straight, feigned his voice steel, wondering if they would hear the tremor beneath it. "Look at that—didn't work. Did you think it would—did you seriously think I'd back over the line if I didn't have access to the Force?"

Madine glanced up to the distant ceiling of the hangar, and Luke knew instantly what he was looking to; the ysalamiri. The cage must be high in the ceiling space…well out of Luke's reach.

A gun…he needed a gun—but the only seven in this bay were pointing at him right now. The only seven…

"Get your hands up," Madine growled, blaster leveled.

Luke tilted his head in open threat, pushing the bluff. "Don't. Don't make me attack because if you do I'll kill you all, understand? No holding back; it doesn't work that way. You know what I can do—what I'm capable of—and believe me you have nothing that can stop me. If I let it loose, if I give it the power it needs, I don't control it; it controls me. The first man who pulls their trigger seals all your fates. He kills you all."

"He's lying," Madine said. "He can't do anything…look at him—he's just flesh and blood. You've seen your Sith Emperor bleed—now you'll see him die."

"Don't be a fool Madine. It's over—just walk away."

"I will—when this is done. You sure as hell won't."

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Balancing on the narrow inset rungs of the high ladder, Han worked feverishly, baring wires and twisting them back, sparks flaring occasionally as he crossed-wired.

"Would you get out of the way!" Mara rasped from below, impatient.

"Listen doll, I was hotwiring these things when you were still in nappies."

"Yeah, well obviously they've gotten a bit more sophisticated since then," Mara retorted—just as the small hatch finally slid back.

She was up the ladder in seconds, Han leaning to the side and ducking back, shushing her as she finally leaned into the bay. Beyond, bolted to the bay ceiling in a maze of crossing tracks, was the crane gantry, as she'd expected. She was already edging out when, with a brief jolt of recognition, she heard voices below. Mara slid into a crouch, taking Han down by his wrist.

Far below was a grim standoff; Luke, his hand out in warning to seven soldiers, all armed, all their blasters pointing at him.

She glanced up and about, "No Force," she whispered urgently. "No contact anywhere here."

Han leaned out, his own voice no more than a hoarse whisper. "Madine's with them—that's bad."

Madine! Mara inched forward, balancing the length of her body along the high tracks to look down, pulling her rifle from her back. This was it, this was her chance, her shot…she edged further out, laying flat on her stomach and lining him up in the crosshairs, then reluctantly pulling away to briefly skim the rifle's sight across the other men far below. "They're not wearing ysalamiri frames… they're somewhere around here though."

Using the rifle sight as binoculars, Mara panned across the bay at ceiling level, searching the endless projections along the roof, the distant corners, the upper walls, the outcrops and complex support struts for the crane tracks, and all the time something was niggling at the back of her thoughts, something that wouldn't cut through her suppressed panic.

Solo grabbed her ankle and yanked her nearly off-balance, and Mara was about to turn on him when he shushed her, freezing. Far below, Madine glanced up, looking not to the shadows where they were hidden but to the center of the wide ceiling…before looking back down again, his words lost over the distance though his dismissive tone remained.

"We'll never take 'em all down if they start shooting," Solo whispered. "If you take one shot with that rifle it'll set 'em all off."

"Sniper rifle," Mara murmured distantly, eyes roving the massive space. "Remember?"

"Yeah, it doesn't matter what you hit 'em with, they still fall over and die. That's always somethin' of a giveaway. As soon as the first guy goes down, the other six start shootin'—and they got just one target."

Seven… Mara frowned, frustrated, struggling to lock down that feeling, to remember the significance…

Seven men…

It hit her like a broadside, like a physical blow; Seven men; Luke's vision—the one that had unsettled him so completely in the dead of a Coruscant night, months earlier.

Seven men he'd said; a vision of seven men behind him with rifles aimed… He'd seen his own future—his own…

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"This is private revenge Madine," Luke levelled the accusation for everyone to hear. "This is you wanting to hurt someone because they hurt you—and everyone here knows it."

Stung by the accusation, Madine turned just slightly, "Lift your damned blasters! That's an order!"

"Is this your Alliance?" Luke glanced to the assembled soldiers, "Is this really what you're fighting for? Is this your justice—to seize, to torture, to condemn without trial…to shoot an unarmed man?"

"This is justice." Madine growled.

"Your justice, your way…well let's see just what that justice really is." Luke turned deliberately round, every muscle taught, putting his back to them, eyes on the far hangar door.

"Turn back." Madine warned.

"No. If you want to shoot me, you'll shoot me in the back…or rather you'll try."

"Don't think I won't."

"I told you, this game is over, Madine. I'm leaving." Luke took a single step to the far hangar doors…and the sound of a firing pin locking open tripped every nerve in his body, halting him. "You do this and you kill them all, Madine. I can't misfire that many blasters and I can't pull that many hands free in time—that's not how it works, you know that. All I can do is stop the men behind them. Permanently. You kill them, not me. Your choice."

"Fine, go ahead, right now." Madine goaded to Luke's back. "…No? You have no power here and I know it—nothing."

Nothing…the memory, the vision, came back to him...

.

Trapped within that empty bubble in which the Force simply didn't exist—and everything was still, like time itself had stopped, reality clambering at its edges, distant and obtuse.
All that was within the still silence of the bubble was Luke…and the throne.

.

"A prophesy," Palpatine's words seven years ago. "Carved into the throne is the key to a power capable of changing the course of the galaxy."
Seven years ago…

.

"Do you believe in destiny, Jedi?"
"No… The future's undecided."
"Some things are fluid—but some are locked in. Inescapable."
"Nothing is inevitable."
"Is that what you believe—or what you hope?"
Seven years ago…

.

Seven… Seven men, weapons drawn. Seven minds impenetrable in the still bubble, their very existence blanked in a Force-empty void.
A shout, the word a burst of barbed hate, filling the void completely, the bubble shattering, Luke jerking back as the word became action;

"Fire!"

That first shot coming towards him, the searing, shattering jolt…

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"Turn around." Madine's voice pulled him back to the moment, and Luke stared ahead, transfixed, as memories of the vision were made real.

"Take aim." Madine yelled, incensed. "Lift your blasters and take aim!"

In ones and two's they did, the metallic clack of the safety's releasing reverberating around the silent hangar…

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High above, Mara watched Luke backstep, his eyes on Madine as he spoke.

"We've go to do something! Seven men… this is it—this is Luke's vision."

Solo frowned, shaking his head, "What?!"

"He saw a vision—in the Force. Seven men, he said; seven men behind him…and then they opened fire!"

Don't let it be this… Don't let her have come this far, strived and struggled and got so very close just to watch him die!

"Three each," she murmured to Solo, sniper rifle trained. "You start in from the left, I'll take Madine, then go to his right, understand?"

"… okay."

They wouldn't do it; Solo knew that as well as she did. They wouldn't bring them all down in time.

Desperate, her searching eyes caught the very edge of a clear bubble at ceiling level, obscured by heavy crane beams; there! The ysalamiri were there!

She didn't hesitate, didn't bother to explain, already inching along the narrow gantry, her rifle out before her. Scowling, Han hunched down at the edge of the gantry where he had a clear shot of the soldiers below.

Mara was halfway along the crane track, still looking for that clear shot of the nutrient frame holding the ysalamiri, when Madine let out a yell, lifting his blaster to Luke. She swung her range rifle quickly round, pulling a bearing on him, hunching down to the sight.

Others in the loose semicircle about Luke were also lifting their blasters towards him. Mara froze, finger resting on the trigger as she held her breath, knowing she couldn't take them all down.

Madine's gun arm lifted higher as he spoke and Mara's finger twitched against the trigger, the urge to take the shot almost overwhelming. The man who was responsible for the injuries she could so clearly see crippled Luke right now, and she had him in her sights—in her sights! One shot…

But too many other blasters were pointed at Luke, and she knew damn well she wouldn't get them all in time. She held Madine in the crosshairs a second longer, finger resting loosely against the trigger…

Far below, Luke turned away from the seven men, his back to them now—and Mara felt a scarlet surge of panic flood her mind; hadn't Luke said that—hadn't he said in his dream that he turned his back to the men who shot him?

Before this greater fear, the overwhelming desire to take out Madine fell to nothing as she glanced away, cursing under her breath, pushing it from her thoughts. The partially-hidden ysalamiri cage; she had to go for that…but to do so she'd have to move beyond her line of sight on Luke's attackers. She'd have to leave him on his own.

It was phenomenally difficult to hunch past her line of sight of the group below, knowing that if they started firing now she wouldn't even be able to help Luke—but this was the better odds. Even with a rifle, Mara could take one man down, maybe two, before they started firing; Solo probably the same…this would give Luke the chance he needed—if she could do it in time.

Her earbud crackled into life. "Jade? What the hell shot are you takin'—can you even see 'em from that angle?"

"No, but I can see something better—I can see the ysalamiri."

"Seriously?! You got seven soldiers down there with itchy trigger fingers, Red. You waste your one chance at surprise just to take a shot at that thing and they're all gonna pull the trigger."

"It's a stealth sniper. I'll set the focus of the beam inside the glass sphere. It'll take the creatures out, not the frame."

"Well then how the hell will Luke know?"

Mara nodded, steadying herself; this was what she did. It was a while since she'd been in the field, but she shook her shoulders loose, settling for the shot, forcing her breathing to a regular pace. "Oh, he'll know. And you don't have to worry about the soldiers; Luke will take them. All of them."

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.

Every muscle tense, Luke started walking mechanically toward the exit and for several paces everyone remained stock-still, caught in the standoff…

In the brittle silence he heard Madine take the breath to shout out the order, and tensed, knowing the shot would follow…

.

High above, the nutrient cage which supported the three ysalamiri at the hangar's ceiling rocked almost imperceptibly—

Luke faltered, hunching over as he gasped, hands to his head—

"Fire!" with the yell, Madine pulled the trigger.

.

Time slowed to treacle as the Force rushed in about Luke, a deluge of perceptions, a surge of power which turned awareness inside-out, opening up about him with flawless, razor-sharp clarity, every instinct expanding and exploding in a blaze of awareness, crippling in its intensity, a fraction of a second which stretched for eons, pain and lucidity tearing through him-

Behind him, infinitely slowly within the stretched awareness of the Force, the soldiers braced to take the shot, minds grim with intent, crystal clear in the Force—

Instinct took over, firing old pathways long-since branded into his consciousness by Palpatine. A shattering, blind dislocation of action from conscious choice, ripping through him like fury, tearing out, looking to ground. Absolute power, heartbeat striking like thunder against his ribs, blood singing his through his ears with a pure note of caustic, chaotic adrenaline.

Centered within this immense storm of power Luke spun about to bat the laser bolt from the air, yelling out as he threw a wrenching Force-blow at Madine with enough power to break his wrists about his gun with a wet, brittle snap, the pain collapsing his legs beneath him as his blaster tumbled uselessly away—

In that same instant, before Madine had even begun to drop his blaster, fingers tightened on triggers in slow-motion. Six other muzzles aimed, the soldiers about Luke already tensed at Madine's order as Luke opened his hand, bringing it out before him in a wide arc, fingers spread. He didn't look, didn't need to; sight was a waste, a draw on his attention, the light that carried the image to his eyes too slow—instead he closed them and gave himself to the Force as it blazed out about him, self-preservation lighting the fuse, igniting the volatile time-bomb that Palpatine had spent so long carving into his fallen Jedi—

An instant, a moment, a single, stretched heartbeat lost back in that cell beneath the Palace, only one answer to the threat—

Six bodies fragmented and atomized in a scarlet surge, its leading edge dissolving matter into a chaos of vibrant color and scattering it in an ever-expanding swell.

.

By the time Madine's knees had hit the hard bay floor everyone about him was dead, a misted haze of warm crimson still settling out of the air, like copper and salt in the back of his throat. Scarlet-soaked strips of shredded rags still floated down, nothing more left, as if a silent explosion had just detonated, ripping through every man there.

Except Madine.

Only Luke and Madine…staring at each-other across the blood and bone-spattered bay.

Madine scrambled uselessly for his blaster as Luke's reflexes paced back to reality and his head came up, set to one side just slightly, eyes hard and remorseless as he watched his tormentor panic, thoughts not yet fully disconnected from the Sith Palpatine had created, connections not yet locked down, intentions and awareness narrowed to a single thought.

This moment—this moment, for Mara…

.

He stalked forward, slowing to a halt before Madine to watch him struggle uselessly, trying to lift the gun.

"No, not you." Luke crouched with icy calm onto his haunches in front of Madine, arms resting on his knees. "You don't get the easy death. You get a few minutes longer. You I want to savor—you live long enough to think on this. This was on your head, not mine—this was your choice, you made that call. Everyone here died because of you…and you can take that to the grave."

His eyes remained flint-hard, nothing given away, though his words spoke volumes; of bitter memories, unsettled scores and decisive retribution—for Mara. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Madine yelled out in frustration, fingers on the blaster rifle but unable to lift it, frantic…and Luke watched; just watched for long moments, letting him try—then without a sound, without a gesture, he collapsed the gun, compressing it in a spray of sparks, instantly doused.

Luke's fingers twitched and Madine doubled over, his long cry turning into a wracked gasp as Luke simply watched, emotionless, attention pinpoint-focused.

"I'm thinking about Mara—about everything that she could have been until you…"

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"Luke!"

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That voice…

Luke turned, senses expanding, opening out—a wave of joy, of pure elation, rolled out to envelop him, heated and vibrant.

"M…" he couldn't even speak her name, daren't, for fear it would break the spell, shatter this moment of desperate hope—

She was across the gantry in seconds, sliding down the edges of the ladder and running across the bay…and Luke stood and stared, just stared, breathless and bewildered...

Onslaught of feelings, his own and hers as an unchecked tangle of emotions mingled and jumbled, nothing withheld. Two minds, one certainty, mirrored and magnified—

Mara ran forward, her eyes blurring, desperate to hold him, to make this real. Then she was there and he was pulling her to him, whispering her name—

"I thought you were dead, I thought you were…" He couldn't say it, euphoria overtaking every thought. He collapsed down on his knees and she fell with him, her arms wrapped about him. He would have kept on falling had she not held him, supporting the body that fell lax in her arms—

Mara held him, her eyes stinging with tears even as she laughed aloud, crushing against him as he pulled her in, his arms about her. He kissed her passionately, release of relief, pulled her close to laugh into her hair as she held him, alive and safe, the man she loved, the man she needed—

Needed—he needed her. Luke knew that now; knew what darkness was. Needed her like oxygen, like blood, like the beat of his heart.

"I love you," he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I…" it was easy, so incredibly easy to say, the words lost in laughter, in euphoria…in pitch-perfect resonance.

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CHAPTER 46

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Luke drifted in and out of consciousness on the trip back to the Falcon, Mara staying with him as the freighter took off, the Rebel ships Zephyr and Sol having finally arrived and landed shuttles, their soldiers taking over the fight.

Nathan fussed around him as they laid him on the narrow medi-bunk onboard the Falcon, grumbling at the old instruments and faulty scanners and bemoaning the lack of IV fluids, completely in his element.

Han and Leia set off for the cockpit and as Nathan finally settled down, it was the Wookie, Chewbacca, who surprised Mara by remaining behind for long moments to lean in and gently rub his leathery knuckles down the back of Luke's cheek, whuffing unknown words to him, though Luke remained unconscious.

By the time they were airborne, Mara had dragged the only moving chair across the hold to sit beside Luke. Every time he woke he would drift for a second then jolt awake, eyes wide, searching for her, and Mara would squeeze his hand, smiling and murmuring reassurances as she watched the strange sight of a smile gracing his battered face when he saw her and listened to her, knowing she was real, drifting again almost instantly.

It was the two glancing heavy-weapons shots to the Falcon's shields which pulled him back to real consciousness, Mara standing at the same time, glancing about…the next second the Falcon lurched awkwardly to the side, atrificial gravity only just keeping pace.

Luke was already pushing himself up, "That was weapons-fire."

"Stay there," Mara said, already heading out of the hold, "I mean it! Nathan?"

"We're staying right here."

She reached the cockpit in seconds, Han and Chewie both at the helm, Leia leaning forward over the cockpit com desk. The visible beam of another heavy-weapons laser seared across dark space before them, lighting the cockpit momentarily as everyone within flinched.

"What the hell's going on?" Mara yelled.

"Three Star Destroyers just came out of hyperspace and ordered the Sol and the Zephyr to heave-to," Leia said, half-turning. "The Captain of the Rebel ship Sol opened fire on your Destroyer Tempest, and it just returned fire. I'm trying to raise the Sol now."

Another wide beam flashed past the Falcon, making Mara flinch. "Why did they fire on us? Aren't we transmitting Karrde's code?"

"Yeah." Solo answered casually without turning round. "We just got in the way."

"Is the Sol transmitting the code?"

"It wasn't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because there were no Star Destroyers here when they arrived." Han's tone summed up his opinion of the Sol's reasoning.

Mara leaned back to touch Leia's shoulder, "Don't let them put the code out now. If they do, the ISD Tempest will assume it's a ruse and fire on us too."

"I can't get through to them," Leia said. "They're not acknowledging our hail."

Another barrage came from the Tempest, rocking the distant Rebel ship.

"That was a direct hit," Han said gravely, leaning forward. "This is turning into a firefight."

.

"Then someone should stop it."

Everyone turned to see Luke leaning hunched against the cockpit's doorframe, pale and drained.

Mara gave Nathan a withering look, and he shrugged helplessly from behind Luke's shoulder. Luke stepped shakily to the com console as Leia gave up the seat, letting him collapse down into it. Reaching over the controls, he flicked the switches with old familiarity.

"ISD Tempest, this is the freighter Millenium Falcon transmitting a security protocol. Our recognition code is four-nine-nine-five-three. Come in?"

Pausing for a response, Luke realized that everyone was staring and glanced about, his eyes finally resting on Han, "What?"

Han grinned inanely, glib melodrama hiding genuine pleasure. "Just, y'know…good to see you back at the controls."

Luke glanced away, uncomfortable even with this, Mara noticed. To hide it, he toggled the sticky transmit switch several times, "I can't believe you haven't fixed this yet."

"Hey, you had her three years junior," Han accused indulgently.

"She's not my ship," Luke replied in kind.

"Millenium Flacon, this is ISD Tempest. Please transmit that code again?"

Luke turned, all business, "I repeat, the security protocol is four-nine-nine-five-three. Put me through to the Captain—now."

The line cut and silence fell again. Always one to break it, it was Han who leaned back in his chair again, voice cagey, "So uh…can I quote that recognition code too?"

Luke didn't turn, "Are you Emperor?"

"…No…but I know his code now."

The com crackled to life again, "Millenium Falcon, this is Captain Murai of the Imperial Star Destroyer Tempest. I don't know where you got that code but you're ordered to stand down shields and weapons immediately, kill your engines and prepare to be boarded. Consider yourself under arrest for treason."

"Treason…" Luke leaned in, voice gaining some authority now. "I'm not sure that's even possible."

"Wh…Who am I speaking to?" The officer had lost none of his bluster.

Luke's own voice cooled by degrees. "You are speaking to the Emperor, Captain Murai, and I'm ordering you to stand down and disengage. Recognition code is Braxant-Raioballa-Atrivis-Lahara, voice sample is, 'meus vox vocis est meus key—agnosco mihi."

There was the briefest pause as the codes and Luke's voiceprint were verified, and this time when the Imperial Officer's voice came back on, it couldn't have been more accommodating, tinged with a satisfying edge of bewildered, alarm. "Excellency! I had no idea that… Sir, do you require assistance?"

"I have all the assistance I need thank you Captain. The Sol and the Zephyr were already in attendance when you opened fire on them."

"Sir, I had no idea! I apolo…"

"I will be boarding the Sol very shortly Captain, and I don't expect to be under fire from my own navy at the time. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Excellency!"

Luke shut down the link, rising as he turned to Leia, his voice already losing power. "You might want to tell the Sol to stand down too."

Leia stared, uncertain, "You're still boarding the Sol? But you have three Star Destroyers here now. Their facilities are…"

"It has to be a Rebel ship." He let out a brief half-smile, exhaustion already beginning to overtake him again. "I want this to be seen to be a joint operation, the Alliance have to be involved, especially now."

As he spoke, Luke's hand went to the console, then he collapsed back into the co-pilots chair, skin waxen.

Mara crouched beside him, seeing him fade, "Luke?"

"Whatever happens, I leave here on a Rebel ship, okay? I just need to..rest a..."

She smiled as his eyes fluttered closed; still fighting to the very last second.

Nathan was instantly there to check, settling back to his usual over-attentive self with Luke's return, and since Nathan wasn't panicking, then Mara knew Luke must be okay.

He glanced up. "Let's get him to your medi-bunk…and get the Falcon to the Sol, or there'll be ructions on when he wakes up."

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Leia stood in the small medi-bay onboard the Sol, staring at her brother, still unconscious but stable. The gruff-voiced Mon Calamari medic had ordered everyone from the room early on, only Hallin remaining, even Leia bundled into the corridor beyond.

Leia had been dragged to the bridge almost immediately to oversee the capture of the Wasp when Madine's soldiers had finally rallied, and the news wasn't good, but she was back down at the medi-bay the moment it had subsided. Now she was alone with the Sol's Mon Cal' medic, the room quiet, Luke pale and drawn, finally hooked up to the fluids he'd needed.

"Exhaustion, dehydration, and some serious cocktails of drugs," the Sol's medic said soberly. "Plus he's faced some heavy physical punishment, but he's young and he's fit—nothing that won't mend."

Though he'd obviously recognized who he was treating, the medic had said nothing, rotating huge eyes and glancing once to Leia, then going stoically on with his work.

"He's been sedated—give his body time to rest and repair a little—but…I'm moved to wonder what we'll be doing with him when he comes round, because I'd rather he wasn't marched down to the detention centre."

"We'll be handing him back to his own people," Leia said firmly. "We don't kidnap leaders we're trying to negotiate with, we don't treat any prisoner like this and we certainly don't organize public executions. None of this is our doing, and I won't have the Alliance connected to it."

The medic nodded, letting out a rough breath, seeming more reassured than anything else—which was good; she knew she could trust him.

"If that's the case then there's something else you should probably know about…this particular patient," the Mon Cal' stated, voice neutral. "I have another list here—a separate one."

Leia frowned, uncertain what the medic was getting at but knowing from his tone that this was important. "Go on." she invited.

"I did a full-range scan." The medic turned glassy eyes down to the automemo he was holding. "This lists the injuries sustained during the last seven years or so, discounting the present ones I just mentioned. All these occurred three to seven years ago, though I'd estimate the majority are between five and seven years old."

He held her eye for a short while before looking back down to his automemo, voice grave. "Both his clavicle—his collarbones—have been fractured at separate times, the left twice. His jaw's been dislocated twice and broken once. His right eye socket has been shattered and repaired. His left shoulder has been dislocated more than once causing deep tissue, nerve, muscle and ligament damage. He's had compound fractures to the ulna of his left arm and repeated dislocations to his left wrist. Most of the bones of his left hand have been broken—carpals, metacarpals and phalanges, some repeatedly over the several year time period, as have many of his ribs. He has damage to five vertebrae, all of which have been treated, but well after the fact. There are hairline cracks to the tibia and fibula of his right leg, inflicted at different times, and his left ankle has been dislocated, probably twice. The left fibula has incurred a severe compound fracture at some point- it's been pinned and the bone laminated to repair it, the damage was so severe. He's had repeated lacerations over the whole of his body with dermal, sub-dermal and deep-muscle damage; some were sutured and repaired, many simply left. Deeper scans show he also has scarring from several internal injuries, most of which are concurrent with violent trauma, as well as calcification of bone marrow, probably attributable to a high-energy current being passed through his body."

The Mon Cal' paused, looking to Leia for long seconds, then turned his eyes down again, "As I said, time-point scans show that these injuries are clustered time wise—so he probably went six months with no injuries at all, then many were inflicted at once over a very short period—a few weeks perhaps, we can't be more specific than that. But they're always clustered in this way. The injuries are very easy for us to trace because most weren't dealt with at the time of injury. There's evidence that bone-knitters were used on the fractures and sutures on the worst of the wounds, but judging from the repair, I'd say it was many days after the injuries actually occurred."

As he doled out this shocking liturgy, the medic reached out and lifted Luke's cover down to his waist—and Leia inhaled, hand to her mouth, appalled at the heavy scars which criss-crossed his flesh, some deep, some raised, all pale with age.

So many. Too many to count.

"Luke…" she whispered, dismayed. So many scars.

"They cover his whole body," the medic said grimly. "As I said, they're grouped to separate, brief time periods over several years, as far as I can tell. No particular reason—they're not medical and they follow no pattern, so they weren't made on purpose. This is heavy scarring from severe injuries—the lesser ones will have faded long ago. I've…seen this kind of thing before of course, though this is unusual in its extended time period." He set his head to one side, some allowance made in his voice now, "You understand what I'm saying—that I believe this was...punishment, torture perhaps."

The power of the word forced the breath from Leia's lungs. This was what haunted him—this was what she saw in the shadows of his eyes—how could it not?

.

She was in the corridor before she's realized what she was doing, taking Jade by the arm and forcibly pulling her away around the corner. Jade twisted free, scowling.

"What the hell?"

"Luke," Leia said. "The medic just told me what happened to Luke."

"Is he alright?"

"In the past—I'm talking about the past—five years ago, maybe seven."

Mara's chin rose a fraction, mouth hardening, and Leia felt her anger rising, "You know don't you—you know what they did."

"So now suddenly you're outraged. You, who left him there in the first place—just abandoned someone who bought your freedom with his own. You, who leads the rebellion that tried to assassinate him. Do you want me to go on—because I've got more. How about your going into that last meeting knowing you were handing him over to Madine? You didn't seem so very outraged at that."

"I want you to tell me the truth," Leia said, holding her anger in check. "I've just been given the facts, now I want to know the whole truth."

Mara glanced away, suddenly subdued. "You have no concept of what he endured to keep this much of himself."

"I'm beginning to understand," Leia said quietly.

"No, you don't," Mara said unequivocally. "Nobody does. Until you've faced Palpatine head-on, you have no idea of just how punishing that can be, mentally and physically. Palpatine took him apart more than once. Took him to pieces, you understand?"

"Palpatine? I thought… I thought it was his father."

"No, Vader tried to protect Luke…in his own way, I suppose." Mara allowed.

Leia's anger cooled several notches as she considered this, for the first time finding something in the wraith that had been her father that she could actually understand. But she couldn't forgive—not yet. "Well then he didn't try hard enough."

"I've told you," Mara said, shaking her head, "you didn't know Palpatine. You don't know the power he held, his willingness to use it. That close to him…everything, everything went exactly to his command. Everyone followed it to the letter, without hesitation. How do you think you can stand against that? You all spent your lives hiding out here in the Rim Systems, running from place to place, always on the moving, always underground, an endless effort to stay ahead of him and he still dominated your daily existence. Whether through his military or his influence in the Royal Houses or his civilian governors or his control of the banks or of free passage… Borders, taxes, you name it, he controlled it—completely.
"Now imagine standing next to him—imagine having all that power and all that authority and all that strength of will turned on you and you have nowhere you can run. There's nowhere you can hide—he'll come for you and he'll drag you back and I promise you he'll make you wish you'd never been born. And in the end, you'll do what he ordered you to anyway, one way or another. Vader couldn't protect Luke—nobody could, Luke knew that," Mara paused, as if studying her own words as she spoke them. "He did what he had to just to survive… And you of all people should be grateful that he did, because if he hadn't you'd have been long dead and your rebellion would still be some insignificant justification for Palpatine, an excuse for him to put more and more laws into effect in the name of the public protection."

"I fought Palpatine all my life."

"And yet you still needed Luke to remove him—or do you seriously think you could have managed that otherwise. And you did your fighting with an army at your back; Luke had no-one, and he knew it. Every single time he faced Palpatine, every time he argued or questioned or challenged, he did it alone. I couldn't help him…nobody could. Every step he took, it was absolutely alone. That's what you're seeing when you look at those scars; you're seeing Luke Skywalker breaking through the surface of Palpatine's Sith. You're seeing a battle fought because he couldn't—wouldn't—quite let Luke Skywalker go. And then you actually had the gall to stand in front of him and question his commitment, his motives… You have no idea what he's already given to get it this far."

Leia glanced down, genuinely chagrined. "I want to believe in him it's just…every time I see him, I get some sense of… I think he believes in what he wants to do, I really do…"

"He does."

"I just…sometimes I don't think he believes in himself—in his own motives."

"Because of Palpatine! Palpatine indoctrinated and controlled him for five long years, manipulated and dictated to him, and I can tell you from personal experience, that's a hard thing to climb out from under—more so for Luke, because Palpatine had to control him completely."

"Do you think that Luke can step back…from what he's become?"

Mara sighed, glancing down, all bluster lost. "I don't know. But I do know that Luke's not the thing that Palpatine wanted him to be… He never was—that's why he has those scars."

.

.

.

.

Returning to the silence of the still-darkened medi-bay, Leia wrapped her arms wrapped around herself as she watched her brother sleep, alternately trying so hard to forget the sight of those scars, then forcing herself to remember; to incorporate it into her concept of all that he'd become. All that he'd dealt with alone and tried to overcome. Memories made into nightmares; harsh, brutal, biting. Devastating.

She remained as the night wore on, watching her brother as Nathan Hallin and the Sol's Mon Cal' medic buzzed in and out constantly, and Mara Jade never strayed further than the corridor outside. But occasionally Leia had time to herself to simply stand and look at her brother, and internalize everything that had happened.

She knew of course, what had transpired in the hold of the Wasp; Han had told her in broken, incredulous words what Luke had done, and she'd sent troops back to the commandeered Wasp to retrieve the security images, guided by the medic, Kalter. Seen for herself what her brother could do. What happened when Palpatine's Sith wolf broke through all of Luke's painstakingly-created shields. Was that why he has them, she wondered? Was that why he maintained that distance, that detachment—was that what held the wolf at bay?

Because she knew now what Luke had warned her of.

But she also knew now what Palpatine had done, to create the black wolf which prowled her dreams.

She was still stood like that, still trying to sort through the knot of feelings that welled inside her, when a long slice of light cut a strip in the darkness as the medi-bay door slid aside and Han entered. He walked up beside her without a word and wrapped his arm reassuringly about her, pulling her close. She leaned into his silent strength for a few seconds before straightening, her hand resting on Luke's arm as she turned to Han, eyes glassy with tears at the mass of emotions which tangled within her.

"Han Solo," she said, smiling, "I'd like you to meet my brother."

Han let out a quiet laugh. "You think he's gonna lamp me for leadin' his sister astray?"

Leia smiled, eyes remaining on Luke, "I'll put in a good word for you."

They were silent again for a few moments, both staring at the battered, sleeping man before them, Leia lost in long-gone memories. It was Han who broke the silence, shuffling uncomfortably, "Did you see the images from the Wasp?"

"Yes." What else could she say?

"You know they were gonna kill him."

Leia sighed, the scene running again in her head; incredible, unfathomable…deeply disturbing. "He did what he had to, just to survive." Jade's words a few hours earlier.

"Do you think he could have stopped them all like he stopped Madine?"

"I dunno. I do know that when I was running through that ship myself, I wasn't aiming to wing any armed soldiers I met…were you?"

Leia remained silent, that macabre confrontation replaying again; living, breathing men atomized in a single, scarlet instant.

She remembered the moment when it had occurred to her onboard the Wasp to question whether the Emperor she now negotiated with had actually been Luke Skywalker—the Luke Skywalker she knew—once. If that barely-grown, good-natured, easygoing man she'd know from Tatooine had been real, and had been forced to endure all that had happened during the last seven years.

What would it have done to Luke Skywalker, to have lived this life…faced these trials?

She'd known even then that it wouldn't have broken him, not Luke. But it would have changed him, she knew. Forced him, just as Mara had claimed, to become something else, simply to survive.

Was that what Leia was looking at now? Or was she simply letting her heart rule her head?

All she knew was that something whispered as it always had. Something warmed her soul and froze her heart in the same instant, wrapped about by the abiding recognition that long before she'd known the truth, she'd held a deeper knowledge that they were bound together somehow, she and the wolf.

"C'mon," Han squeezed Leia's shoulder as he guided her away from her vigil, but she leaned back against his pull, unwilling to leave.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to get somethin' to eat—I don't want your brother getting' at me for that as well."

"I'll eat here."

"You know you're hoggin' him, don't you?" Han said good-naturedly. "Mara 'I'm just a bodyguard and if you try to say any different I'll floor you' Jade has been waiting with varying degrees of impatience out in that corridor for the last two hours. I can actually see smoke startin' to come out of her ears."

"I'm his sister!"

"I know sweetheart," Han said in sympathetic tones as he turned her smoothly about. "And Force help him, 'cos already you're tryin' to dictate his life and he's not even awake yet."

.

.

.

.

It was the early hours of the morning and everyone slept, the events of the last week catching up on them all now their adrenaline was spent. Only Mara remained in the still silence of the darkened medi-bay, nursing a swell of silent contentment as she watched Luke's eyes flicker in sleep, sensing the undercurrent of his presence within the Force, soothing and diffuse.

Even Nathan had left to get a few hours sleep, though not before he and Mara had quietly discussed how exactly they were going to bring Luke up to speed without his immediately wanting to get up and do something about it.

The way Mara saw it, there were three sticking points; firstly, the fact that around a dozen of Madine's soldiers had managed to liberate him and make it across the landing bay to board the Wasp's shuttle and burst free, escaping to hyperspace. Secondly, how exactly were they going to broach the whole subject of Kiria D'Arca arresting Nathan and intending to arrest Mara, and thirdly… well, she'd have that conversation on her own with Luke, Mara supposed, nerves fluttering in her stomach at the thought.

The force quivered in a subtle shift which brought Mara back to the moment as Luke's eyes fluttered open. He glanced quickly about, tensing to rise in the same instant as Mara stood, and she watched his shoulders slacken again as he saw her, and felt her own smile radiate through her entire being.

"Welcome aboard the Sol," she said, knowing it would be the first thing he asked.

He glanced about again, blinking slowly, pulling his thoughts together, "Are we guests, or…"

"Well we're not in the brig and the ceasefire's holding. And we now have nine Destroyers in close proximity and more on the way."

He slumped back. "No, you were right to only bring three—order the others away for now."

"Well I can try," Mara said, standing and slipping out of her boots as she lifted the blanket of his high medi-bunk, suddenly feeling she wasn't nearly close enough to him, shaking her head as he looked quizzically to her. "Long, long story. Move over."

Luke glanced to the corner of the ceiling, eyes remaining on the lens there as he spoke. "You know they have security surveillance in here, don't you?"

Mara didn't even slow down, "You know I learned how to deactivate those systems when I was twelve, don't you."

"Now that is an education." Luke grinned tiredly, He smiled slightly, the sight macabre on so beaten a face, as Mara climbed into the narrow medical bunk beside him.

"Anyway, they've run a tracer over you, because you're sending half the medical sensors haywire—apparently at some point you swallowed some kind of scrambler and it's cutting out all the medical gear and the surveillance near you. I'm assuming it's the one that Leia says she gave you."

"That's where that went!"

"Yeah, you'll be seeing it again in three to five days. Why did you have it in your mouth?"

"Long story."

Mara settled against him—and paused as he tensed, hands to his stomach, worried she'd hurt him. "What's sore?"

"Nothing," he dismissed too quickly. "I don't care."

They lay for long moments in contented silence, Mara making the most of the lull before whatever the hell the next storm would be, because with Skywalker, she knew it couldn't be that far away. She leaned back again, voice dry.

"You know, I know that you like playing sabacc, but if you could use something other than your own damn neck occasionally…"

Luke managed a half-smile, "Well if you played sabacc with me more often over a table, maybe I wouldn't feel the need to play it big-scale like this."

"Yeah, nice try flyboy. I'm still not spending the one quiet evening in every blue moon that we get together letting you fleece me out of more credits with sabacc."

He shrugged, "Well at least now you'd have an even chance…"

Mara frowned, then her eyes widened in realization as she straightened slightly to look at him, "You said you didn't use the Force!"

He grinned, blue eyes bright against the deep bruises beneath them. "I know. I can't believe you bought that."

"You are so very lucky you already have broken ribs right now." Mara growled in mock indignation, settling against him again.

They fell back into that comfortable silence, Mara beginning to drift in the soothing darkness…

.

"Have you contacted the Patriot yet?" Luke murmured at last.

"Wow, you sure know how to sweet-talk a girl," she uttered wryly.

"I need to make arrangements for the HoloNet to be there for the handover and for Home One to…"

"You've been awake three minutes—don't start jumping back into it all already, Skywalker, " Mara scolded lightly. "We've managed just fine for the last two weeks. One more day won't make any difference."

"I just need to organize a few things, get them underway. I need to make sure that the Rebel ships get safe passage—but you can do that—and we need to choose a hand-over point for…why aren't you in the Patriot anyway?"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He hesitated a second then let it go, tensing against some unknown ache before continuing. "I need to see Leia—Home One should be there at the hand-over. That could mean a few days wait, right? Where are we? You need to move the main fleet out of the…"

"Okay, maybe we do need to talk about that a bit," Mara allowed. "I'm not presently in command of…well, anything."

She felt the bristles of his chin brush against her hair as he looked down, "You're…what?"

"I left Coruscant to… Look, it's a long story, all right? Suffice it to say, Kiria D'Arca is Empress in more than title right now."

She felt Luke's head fall back, his voice conveying that something had just come clear, "Kiria was Empress."

"Not my best decision, I know, but…"

He straightened slightly to look at her, "Wait a minute, she's Regent right now? I thought Kiria… I thought the Empress was dead?"

"Dead? No, why would she be dead?" Mara sat up a little, "What, did you think I'd just eliminate her the moment you were gone? I'm insulted!"

"No, Madine said…" Luke collapsed back down, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter—it doesn't matter."

They were silent for a few moments, though this close to him Mara could sense his thoughts buzzing now, tired as he was. Eventually he could resist no longer, "No wait, it does matter. Why aren't you Regent—are you saying Kiria is?"

"Kiria is, I'm not. I handed power over to her to come after you when we saw…the images. I didn't know she'd just turn around and arrest Nathan."

Luke tensed beside her, sitting up as his voice rose, "She what?!"

"Okay, I meant to ease you into that a little gentler…"

Luke was already throwing the blanket aside.

"Wait," Mara grabbed at his arm, pulling him easily back, so weak was he still, his arms wrapped about his stomach. "What exactly do you think you're going to do about it from here?"

"I'll see what comes to mind between here and the comms room."

"Luke, seriously—are you going to have that conversation on a Rebel comlink? Besides, the comms room is all the way over on the other side of the ship, and frankly I don't think you'd make it that far," she added dryly.

Luke let himself be pulled back, his flare of anger already subsiding—though having already endured repeated lectures by Nathan on the inadvisability of going off to secret meetings with insufficient bodyguards every single time he'd opened his eyes onboard the Falcon probably also helped, Mara reflected.

"Seriously, she arrested him?" Luke repeated, though his voice had more amusement than fire now. "For what?"

"You know I'm not entirely sure. The specifics didn't really come up when I was busy trying to bust him out of his locked apartment."

They settled again, Mara listening to the sound of his breathing, feeling the pulse in his neck beat against her cheek.

"So how are you feeling?" Luke asked at last, eliciting a quiet laugh from Mara. "What?"

"Only you could lay in a medical bay, in this state, and ask someone else how they were feeling, Skywalker."

"I mean…you know, weird eating habits, that kinda stuff."

Mara was silent for a few seconds, "When did you work it out?"

"About a week before Kwenn."

"Thanks for passing that on."

"I thought you knew and weren't telling me."

"Why would I not tell you?"

"I don't know—maybe you were waiting for your moment, maybe you were trying to decide…if it was the right thing."

"Do you think it's the right thing?"

"I think…" he paused, searching for words, and Mara held her breath. "I think it's amazing and incredible and…admittedly a little surprising…but I can't tell you how much it means to me—or how much you do, for that matter."

"You didn't always think that about it," she said knowingly. "Otherwise you would have said something."

"I do now," he said earnestly.

.

"So…" Mara said after another long pause, "where exactly does that leave things?"

"What things exactly?"

"You and me things…you, me and junior things. You, me, junior and Kiria D'Arca things."

Luke sighed, "You tell me?"

"Nobody tells you anything Luke Skywalker," Mara said knowingly, "so spit it out."

He paused, clearly playing things through in his mind, "Does Kiria know I'm here?"

"You spoke to the Captain of the ISD Tempest, remember? Half the fleet's turning in our direction right now."

"But is it public?"

"… No. What are you thinking?"

"I need to speak to Leia. Ask her to contact Kiria directly and make her an offer."

"To do what?"

"Get rid of me. Kill me, in exchange for concessions from the new Empress. If Kiria's really looking to secure her own rule, I'm an impediment she'll want to get rid of."

Mara leaned back slightly, "You want try to make her to condemn herself by her own actions?"

"It has to play it this way, Mara. If Kiria accepts and we hold proof, then I have a legitimate case against her without losing too much support from the Royal Houses—I hope. This has to be on lawful, justifiable grounds—reasons the Royal Houses would accept. If I lose that support, even temporarily, this could all still collapse like a house of cards."

Mara remained silent for long seconds, thinking; "That makes perfect sense," she allowed, "and not a word of it is true, is it?"

"What?"

"That's my yardstick with you, Skywalker, you know that? If it's all perfectly rational and reasonable, then it's not what you're really thinking."

Luke gave the barest of amused smiles, "You're saying I'm neither rational nor reasonable?"

"No, and you're getting off the subject. Nathan pointed that handy little fact out to me; that if you don't want to answer something, you always come back with a question."

"So now suddenly Nathan's your guru?"

"You did it again."

"I…" Luke paused, then seemed to relent slightly, his head falling tiredly back onto his pillow. "I've forgotten the question now."

"Nice try. I was saying that your method for dealing with Kiria was too perfect—so spill it."

Luke sighed, "I have to give her this chance Mara. I have to give her the benefit of the doubt."

"You remember that she arrested Nathan, right? A minute ago you were apparently willing to walk back to Coruscant—in a medical gown, I might add—just to face her down."

"Did she actually have him marched down to the detention center—did she have the arraign read to him?"

"Brace yourself, but I don't think she feels any particular need to be as legally correct as you are."

"Because it sounded to me like you said she confined him to his quarters."

"With guards outside."

"Seriously, tell me what she's done wrong—tell me one thing that would even begin to form a legal case against her?"

"While I might just give her that locking Nathan up would always help any situation..." Mara paused—but the fact was that D'Arca hadn't put a step wrong. She hadn't—ever. Even now, Admiral Joss had said the main fleet was already being reassigned along the Perlemian Trade Route in the Mid Rim, though there were, as yet, no reasons given as to why.

She'd performed flawlessly when the chips were down and Luke was in trouble; enough so that Mara had been willing to hand the Empire over to her—all be it temporarily—because she'd known that…dammit; she'd known that Kiria would do that right thing. She'd rallied the Royal Houses, she'd held the Empire together… yes Mara didn't like the woman personally, but…

"Mara, Kiria knows the Royal Houses better than anyone else. She knows the mood on the ground, she knows how they'll react because she'd do the same. She knows what they need to keep them willing, to move them forward with the new regime, and she's willing to use all that in our favor. I need that… So I guess the question is, can you live with it"

"You're asking me?"

"Yes."

Mara thought again on Luke's ring; that was pretty inspired. She narrowed her eyes, "Are you asking me if she can stay—or are you asking me if she can stay with you?"

"With me? There never was a with me, Mara. There never will be."

"You're sure?"

"Aren't you?"

"You're doing it again."

Luke grinned this time, tipping his head in acknowledgment. "It's a habit, that's all. You get habits like that when people take every passing answer you ever give and translate it on a galactic scale."

Mara nodded as her own lips crooked into a knowing smile, "I think I actually know what you mean… Scary isn't it?"

"You get used to it." Luke said sagely, the tired allowance in his voice hinting at his realization that Mara had now experienced, however briefly, what it was to rule.

"Well, having gotten used to one facet of how you think, let's go for the hat-trick shall we?" Mara tried. "Tell me what you're really thinking about Kiria D'Arca."

"What I'm really thinking?" Luke sighed as if bracing himself. "Okay, firstly I'm thinking that Kiria will turn Leia down…or I'd be very surprised if she didn't. But if she does turn Leia down, I'm hoping that'll set your mind at rest."

Mara smiled, though he couldn't see. "So you're just doing this to help me sleep at night?"

"And me," he leaned back slightly to look at her, "since I'm assuming we'll both be in the same bed."

Now that really made her smile.

Luke dropped back onto the pillow, "Secondly…I know that I need Kiria to make this work, for all the reasons I've already said. I can't tell you how integral that ability to tap into the Royal Houses is right now, to everything. Changes are picking up momentum and this little episode may well be nothing compared to those we have in store. Kiria can hold the Royal Houses steady..."

"You have the military to control the Royal Houses."

"Mara, half the military and practically all of the Regional Governors are the Royal Houses. Most of the ranking military Officers and Moffs come from that strata of society. I simply don't have a big enough pool of officers or diplomats who've made it on their own merit to change the system yet, and I'm not gonna just exchange one bad system for another. Better the devil you know—and can control. Kiria gives me a huge advantage in terms of influencing the Royal Houses and therefore a good portion of the military, and that's one huge, great big headache less to worry about. Now's not the time for any change that isn't absolutely necessary. And she and I both know exactly where we stand with each-other, we always have. I need her, and she needs me—politically."

"Politics," Mara growled. "Why can't someone else do the damn politics for a while."

"I'm working on it," Luke said. "And if it makes you feel any better, I'm guessing that Kiria will be panicking big-time right about now because of what she did to Nath. Knowing Kiria, she'll be working very hard to translate it into a trade-off, if she thinks she can buy your continued silence."

"Wait, why would she think I wouldn't have told you already?"

"Because she's a political animal. She'd assume you'd be holding that kind of knowledge in reserve to see what it's worth, as she would."

Mara smiled, knowing that having arrested Nathan was only half of that particular headache for Kiria D'Arca. "And you're going to keep quiet about knowing because as long as she thinks you don't know, she's still in a corner, right? See now this sounds like fun."

"Welcome to politics." Luke said dryly—then his voice turned serious. "Mara, I think we have the opportunity to push things forward so much on the back of all this—and for that I still need Kiria. So you see we're back to that same question… Where exactly does that leave things? You tell me?"

Mara stilled to silent consideration, "I suppose to get rid of her now, after all this, would admittedly be a little ungracious in the public's eye, especially for the Emperor who they think can do no wrong right now."

She heard Luke's teasing smile in his voice, "Do no wrong, huh?"

"In the public eye," Mara underlined dryly.

"Strictly public, then?" Luke asked in kind. "Well, if I stated the fact that yes, I am sure that there never was or ever will be a with me in regards to Kiria D'Arca—does that earn me a few points in Mara Jade's books too?"

"I'll think about it," Mara said. "Besides, if you need someone in the Royal Houses that much you'd just have to replace her anyway, wouldn't you? Even if you got rid of her, you'd be going shopping when we get back to Coruscant."

"I'd…find a way to work round it somehow."

"Please—come to think of it, the moment it got out that you were back on the market we'd have every frip and airhead with a drip of blue blood hanging round the Imperial Palace again. I gotta give D'Arca that: she keeps the boards clear, doesn't tolerate any gold-diggers."

"You're all heart."

Mara shrugged elaborately, "Credit where it's due. And that sassy little cheerleader from the Inigo family has been particularly persistent. She so very has her eyes on you."

"Which one is she?"

"She's the one who was trying her best to cut an inroad actually on your wedding day. I was watching her on security footage."

"No, don't remember."

"Green dress."

"No."

"Grief, how can you not remember, she was barely in it!"

"Oh wait, I remember her!"

Mara had already half-turned before she realized he was teasing her.

"You know, you've got to have a little faith Mara. I can't stop speaking to every female member of every race just 'cos it makes you antsy."

"In my defense, you did marry the last one you got speaking to."

"Touché," he said easily—then his tone turned serious again. "Tell me you can't live with Kiria being there. Tell me it means that much to you and she's gone."

"It means that much to me."

Luke sighed just once, but his voice was committed, "Then she's gone."

Mara blinked, surprised, pushing up onto one elbow to look him in the face. "Really? I thought you said you couldn't do this without her?"

"I can't…but I can do it without you even less. So she's gone. My word."

Mara stared for long seconds…then pursed her lips, resigned. "… Fine, she can stay."

"No, it's okay, really—"

"Don't start, otherwise I might just change my mind."

"… Sure?"

"Whatever. Greater good and all that," Mara said more deadpan than she really felt, as she settled back down against him. Suddenly suspicious, she glanced up to his battered face, "You are the most… Did you do that on purpose?"

"No, I'd've asked her to leave."

"You just said you needed her to stay."

He shrugged, wincing slightly as his battered body complaining even at this. "Calculated risk."

Mara glanced away as she pressed closer to him, smiling in spite of herself, "Fine, all right, we will play more sabacc, okay? On the condition that you stop playing it big-scale… Are you happy now?"

"..Yeah…" Luke paused just slightly, a slow smile creeping across his tired face, "…yeah, I think I am. You?"

"I think I can live with that." Mara nodded slowly, thoughts going back to Kiria—to General Arco's communiqué saying that the Empress had been given the opportunity to arrest both Mara and Nathan when their shuttle had been spotted just two days out of Coruscant… Yet she'd given the order to let them pass, unopposed. "And anyway, we had words when you were gone—quite a few, in fact. I'd say we've come to our own particular arrangement, D'Arca and I. Doesn't always work, but when it does, it gets results."

Luke nodded, eyes closing as he let his head drop back…then frowned, looking quickly to Mara, "Wait, you had words?"

"Yeah."

"You and Kiria?"

"Yeah."

"About me?"

"You came up in the conversation," Mara grinned. "Worried?"

The man who had dueled Darth Vader, faced down Palpatine, ruled an Empire, and was now working to broker peace on a galactic scale nodded without hesitation, "Yeah, very."

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"Good morning."

Still muzzy, Luke opened his eyes at the greeting to see Nathan hovering over him, staring solicitously.

"You nose is broken."

"Yeah I know," Luke said, easing up and squinting in the painfully bright light. "I was there when they did it."

"You also have…"

"Wait, don't tell me," Luke said quickly. "I seriously don't want to know. Tell me what's happening outside."

"Well, Mara's gone to find the mess, but…"

"No, I mean the galaxy, Nath. Big picture."

"Oh, I think Organa's been putting together a summary for you—you know, she's as bad as you when it comes to never turning off. I don't think you two should work together, you'll just egg each other on. I can't imagine what you'd do between you if you got started. Oh, she sent that offer to Kiria D'Arca as you asked last night, on the frequency you gave her. Put forward that rather…interesting proposal to remove you entirely. Why are you squinting?"

"Planet-sized headache," Luke dismissed. "Any reply?"

"Not yet. But Admiral Joss tells me that the main fleet received new orders a few hours ago. Their mandate's to converge on the Tholatin System and blockade it so nothing gets in or out. They've been ordered to identify and detain a Rebel freighter named Sol—though ever the politician, she apparently used the word, safeguard."

"So she'll send her reply when she's sure she has the system locked down."

"Perhaps you should board the Tempest now—it's still off our bow."

"No, I'm staying right here."

"Is this a bad time for me to point out that the last time you boarded a Rebel freighter without sufficient security they did this to you?"

Luke couldn't help but smile. "It hasn't stopped you the other dozen times, Nath. Can we turn the lights down in here?"

Nathan backed up to lower the lights, "Do you need a painkiller? They haven't given you anything because…well, you have so many other drugs still in your system."

"Painkiller would be good," Luke admitted uncharacteristically. "And something for nausea."

"I'll speak to them."

"Thanks. Then you need to get onboard the Tempest and head out to meet the Patriot."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I need you onboard the Patriot by the time Leia returns to Home One."

"Leave?" Nathan's eyes widened. "Do you know how long it took me to find you?"

"For once in your life could you just…" Luke broke off, doubling over as his stomach cramped painfully.

Nathan stepped quickly forward to rest one hand on his shoulder, "What's wrong, what's hurting?"

"Nothing, just cramps."

"I'm not going anywhere—I'm your physician and you need me here."

Luke shook his head, "Nath, listen to me, because I'll tell you this as many times as I have to until you understand: I don't need a physician. I need a Chancellor I can depend on. One I'd trust implicitly because I know that he knows my mind and what my choices would be."

"Send Mara—she's a Senior Aide too."

"You're saying if something goes wrong onboard the Sol, you're gonna be more useful here than Mara?"

"…Possibly…"

"And I can tell her you said that?"

"…no…"

"Nath, I need you onboard the Patriot far more than I need you here, I promise you. And I need you there under an official diplomatic banner." Luke tried his most persuasive smile. "Even I need friends in high places sometimes."

"So does that mean that if I become a Chancellor, there's a chance that you might listen to me occasionally?"

"That's why they call them chancellors, Nath." Luke caved a little at Nathan's pointed lack of amusement. "Anyway, I always listen to you."

"But is there any chance that you might listen to me and actually take my advice."

"Possibly, some of it…there's always that chance," Luke said gamely. "I guess you'll have to try it to see."

"If I go—if…you need to promise me you'll not try to push yourself, and you'll do as the medic here says."

"I promise."

"And mean it."

"Fine whatever, Nath."

"And don't try that, I'm indestructible tone on me," Nathan chided good-naturedly. "It looses a little of its impact when it's accompanied by two black eyes and a broken nose."

Luke smiled weakly as he collapsed back. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You are an impossible man," Nathan said wryly, "and it's good to see you in one piece, my friend. After…Wez…"

"I'm sorry Nath—sorry I couldn't tell you."

Nathan shook his head in dismissal, clearly not yet able to talk about Wez's betrayal. "Why did you let it go ahead?"

"I needed to be sure. I needed you to be sure…I couldn't lose you as well as Wez."

"Mara told me you knew when you went to Kwenn station that something was wrong."

Luke glanced up, "You and Mara are talking way too much."

Nathan grinned, but only briefly. "I should have known. You were like a caged nek all that morning—and you didn't want Mara to go… I talked you into that, didn't I?"

"Don't flatter yourself Nath," Luke quickly dismissed Nathan's guilt, knowing he'd dwell on it otherwise. "I changed my mind, that's all."

"And you couldn't have changed it to not going at all?" Nathan asked wryly.

"I had to be sure—I had to give Wez every chance to back out." Luke shrugged, trying to make light of it at Nathan's guilty face, "Hey, if I'd've known Madine was involved, I might not have been as willing to spring the trap."

"No, you might not," Nathan said. "But you'd have done it just the same, wouldn't you?"

Luke didn't reply—but Nathan knew him well enough to know that this was an answer in itself.

"Thank you," Nathan said simply at last. "You take insane risks, you know that?"

Luke smiled, easing himself to a more comfortable position, his whole body aching. "I prefer to call them calculated."

"Yes, I think you got the figures a little out on that last one."

"Hey, I didn't say I was good at the math."

"Perhaps you should let me calculate the odds of this new little diversion then? Particularly since I'm apparently a Chancellor now."

Luke opened his eyes, "Does that mean you'll take it?"

"Do I get a larger apartment?"

"You can have mine if you'll take the damn job."

"I think something a little less ostentatious in the South Tower will be fine… Plus an explanation of just what you need me to do so very much."

"I need you to go out to meet Kiria. She'll be coming in on the Patriot by now, I'm guessing."

"She hasn't sent her answer to Leia Organa yet."

"Because she's nervous about Leia following through on her threat and killing me." Luke dropped back onto his pillow, tired and dizzy, the room spinning slowly, reminding him all too vividly of the cell onboard the Wasp. "She'll want to buy as much time as possible to get Destroyers in position and interdict the system before she answers."

"Maybe she has a point."

Luke sighed, running out of steam to argue, "Nath, I've spent the last year and a half working to persuade everyone that the Rebel Alliance aren't so very different from us and angling to reintegrate them, and I'm not loosing all that work because of Crix Madine. If we do a public transfer from a Rebel vessel to an Imperial one—if people see that because the Holo-press are in attendance, I think it'll diffuse a lot of the damage he's done."

"I hope you know what you're doing; they're not all as amenable as Organa."

"They're not all Crix Madine either. Kiria D'Arca's useful because she knows the Royal Houses…well Luke Skywalker's useful because he knows the Alliance—and I'm telling you can use this…they will return me, and this may even get them to talks with your help."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I'll travel to the nearest planet on the Sol. I want you to board the Patriot and liaise between Leia and the Empire—that's something I can't trust Kiria to do. Confirm a date and place, and make sure that Home One attends—and that the Holo-press are there." Luke smiled wickedly, "All those restrictions lifting—let's actually give them something to report."

Nathan hesitated, "You should probably know; last time we met, Kiria arrested me for treason."

Luke leaned back, exhausted but still smiling, eyes closed. "Well then feel free to gloat a little—you're officially pardoned and you've been promoted to Chancellor. Tell her if she wants it in writing I'll come and scrawl it in indelible ink all over that damn marble receiving room she has in her apartments that she loves so much."

Nathan smiled, "Maybe I'll paraphrase that to, 'He seemed somewhat displeased at certain of your actions', if you don't mind."

"I think mine sounded better, but whatever." Luke stiffened, hands going again to his cramping stomach, though he tried hard to hide it, aware that he still looked like hell, and Nath, ever the medic, wouldn't leave if...

He glanced up quickly as Nathan stepped closer. "Close the door, Nath. Is this scrambler still working?"

Nathan did as he was asked, nodding as he returned to the bed. "Yes, it is."

"I need you to do something for me…without arguing."

"What?"

Luke brought his hands up to rub his face and drag them back through his hair, aware of how badly they were shaking. "On the Wasp…one of the drugs they were using with the SKX that Reece had given them was Frost."

Nathan's expression harden in disgust, "Fralodiost, yes. There were still traces of both, as well as traces of amo-tricliptidine, in your bloodstream when we got you here—and in your liver and kidneys."

"They used it a lot…" Luke hesitated. "Nath, I need something to counter this withdrawal—just for now. Would the medi-centre have any?"

"No they'd never stock a…" Nathan halted, realizing. "You want me to give you a highly addictive narcotic?"

"No, I want you to buy me three days, until I get back to the Patriot. I need that time, Nath—I can't deal with this now, not with everything else that's happening."

Nathan shook his head, "I'm not… I really don't know. Luke, I can't give you fralodiost, it's highly addictive and injurious."

"Until I get back to Coruscant, that's all."

Nathan sighed, deeply worried. "How often did they give it to you?"

"Often enough that I need it now. I really need it. I have done since the first time I woke."

"Do you know how much?"

"No, it was mixed with the SKX. I think Madine said that combined, it was forty milliliters to start…by the end, I think it was eighty."

Nathan let out a low breath, shaking his head, "If it was even half fralodiost…"

"Three days…I need to buy three days, you know that. Three days will see this done." Luke shook his head, "I can't stop yet, not when I'm this close. Nath, I need those three days."

Deeply unsure, Nathan relented. "I can synthesize something from medicinal ryll and co-fralodistillate which will dampen withdrawal and control the cravings with…minimal effects. Take it last thing at night and you can sleep through the symptoms." Nathan's face became serious, stern lines etching his brow. "I'll give you enough to last until you come back onboard the Patriot; one dose a day, no more."

Luke nodded, letting out a breath before looking back to Nathan, "And no-one knows—and I mean no-one. Not Leia, not Mara, no-one."

"I understand."

"Can you get the drugs without anyone knowing?"

"Yes, I think so."

Luke sighed, dragging his hands through his hair again. "…I should rephrase that—after a day and a half without anything, can you get the drugs right now without anyone knowing?"

Nathan straightened, "I'm sorry, yes…I'll get on it."

Luke nodded once, "Then you need to get onboard the Tempest and get to the Patriot as soon as you can."

"I'm on my way—as long as you promise to remain in the medi-center, do as you're told, and rest."

Luke let his head drop back onto the pillow, the room still spinning. "Deal."

Nathan turned to go. At the door he paused, turning back in wry realization. "You have no intention of keeping that promise, do you?"

Eyes still closed, Luke's smile turned into an easy grin, "Welcome to the wonderful world of politics, Chancellor."

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When Leia entered the medi-bay late that afternoon, Luke was sat upright, the Mon Cal' medic leaning over his back, pulling sutures free. Immediately on seeing her, Luke straightened, uncomfortable.

Leia waited in silence until the medic had finished, gathering his apparatus to leave quickly without comment. Alone now, she offered the obvious, hoping to set this to rest by referring to it openly. "I've seen the scars—all of them. I know what they are; Mara told me."

Luke shrugged the medical sleep-shirt they'd given him back on in silence, resigned rather than embarrassed or defensive. But then what could he say, Leia supposed?

Seeing him struggle to pull the shirt back over stiff shoulders Leia stepped quickly forward, but he shook his head, "I'm fine. I don't need help."

Pale, mismatched eyes glanced quickly to her then away, the deep bruises beneath making them seem impossibly blue. Memories of their escape from Bespin fired for Leia, when she'd tended a bruised and battered Luke after his ordeal with Vader…though at the time Luke's trials had only just begun; she knew that now. She was struck quite suddenly by how easily she could go back to that moment and that mindset. By how similar he looked, hardly a day older though it seemed that centuries had passed.

Quite suddenly her eyes were blurred by tears at the ache within her for the friend she'd lost; a place in her soul that no-one else could fill.

He glanced to her, clearly uncertain whether his words had caused this. "Leia?"

"Do you…remember in the medi-bunk onboard the Falcon at Bespin?"

His voice was quiet, still weak from exhaustion and injury…but something more was there; some openness of his own. "I remember."

"Do you…think we could pick up from that point again?" Leia asked tentatively, "just…pretend everything in between never happened?"

He was silent just for a moment, and Leia held her breath, clinging to the hope that…

"No," he said at last, the word broken by regret. "No, that man's gone. I'm sorry."

Leia shook her head, stepping closer, "I don't believe that—I don't believe he's gone, just…lost. Broken perhaps. We can find him, fix him again, make him whole."

"I don't think so. He lost too many pieces along the way." Again that momentary silence, his voice laced with regret but more sure now. "You can't rebuild what's gone forever."

He looked to her, and in that moment—just for a few seconds—all those shields fell and Leia saw in his eyes the man she'd known; the same insecurities and doubts and hopes and…no.

No, it wasn't the same—and he was right; it never would be.

His face turned down, and when he spoke his composure had returned, only the slightest sigh beneath his words hinting at his true emotions, "You want something that doesn't exist any more."

Leia hesitated, not willing to give up so easily, "……don't you?" When he didn't reply, she stepped closer, "Hope is the …"

"Hope is the first thing you lose," he said quietly across her words, the honesty in his voice reaching deep inside her, touching her soul in a way that made it bleed for him. "Hope is the first thing they take."

A slight, self-depreciating smile touched the corners of those scarred lips, though he wouldn't meet her eye. "Trust…trust and faith you give away. You give it to those you value and you hope they'll give it to you in return."

He shrugged, and as suddenly as it had materialized, his momentary vulnerability dissolved again, locked away behind those shields… But she knew now why those shields were there; what unhealed wounds they protected as he spoke again.

"But like hope, they're finite…and when you have none left, then you've learned your lesson."

He didn't say more, didn't need to. Leia had taken her share of both from him, she knew; exacted her own price.

"I'm so sorry." It was all she could find to voice her regrets, pitifully inadequate before the depth of emotion which moved her.

"For what?" he said easily, tone that perfect facsimile of dismissive amusement, even now, as he began to tire. "For making me Emperor?"

Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them away, making him glance uneasily to her. "Don't—don't make light of this. I have…no idea what to say." It was all she could offer before this truth.

Luke looked away, "There's nothing to say. It was a long time ago."

"But you carry it with you every day." How could he not?

He smiled slightly, though he was clearly fading as his head fell back onto his pillow. "Of all the things I carry with me, that, I promise you, is the lightest."

"You could have told me," Leia said quietly, but he didn't speak, eyes closed now, still exhausted. "I was just trying to do the right thing," she added softly. "To look at the greater implications."

He laughed just slightly, "Following your head instead of your heart."

Leia frowned—because wasn't that just exactly what she'd been worrying that morning—that she was letting her heart rule her head? "Is that so wrong?"

"No, it's just…something I read once," he murmured. " 'She balances the fate of worlds whilst head and heart make war'."

Leia frowned, not understanding, either his words or the wry amusement beneath them. "Poetry?"

"Prophesy." He shrugged at Leia's unspoken skepticism, "I don't believe them either…or I won't be bound by them, at any rate. I have my own intentions." He opened his eyes suddenly, looking to Leia, "I need you to do something for me."

"Go on?"

"Home One has to be there when I return to the Empire, it has to be seen."

Leia glanced down, "Home One…it'll be hard to convince them if there are Imperial Destroyers there."

"Go back—persuade them. Tell them I'll personally guarantee their safety. They'll need to do this when the talks begin anyway and if they do it now, it's a public statement of shared intent. You need to distance the Alliance from Madine's actions—this is how you can do it."

"Let me tell them who you are, who you were—the truth." He was already shaking his head, but Leia pushed on. "Luke, what do you have to hide any more? The real truth would be a huge incentive to sway the Alliance."

"But it would lose me the Empire. Completely. We'd be back to square one, only worse, because there'd be a huge power struggle to gain control, maybe even a knee-jerk response against the Alliance."

"You don't know that."

"I hold power in the Empire by being what they believe me to be, I hold it together on the strength of what they think that I am—Palpatine's heir. Do you seriously think that anything less would keep the military together, hold them back—contain them through the change? You think the military would fight to keep an ex-Rebel in power when the challengers to all this change start speaking out? You think the Royal Houses who stood behind Palpatine for three decades would stand for that? Everything that I've built, I'd lose."

"At least take your own name back. Luke, there's nothing left—there's nothing left of your past anywhere. No-one would know who you were based on your name anymore, so few remember you. Take it back; take your name back."

Luke shook his head. "I don't care if they know who I am, it doesn't matter any more. It doesn't even matter if they understand why I'm doing this. What matters is that somebody does it."

And how could these be the words of a Sith, Leia thought? How could he believe himself to be so, listening to his own words.

"And they can never know that we're brother and sister," he warned, voice hard. "Ever. If they did, you'd lose the respect and the support of your people and the power base you've built. Everyone would believe that we were only ever setting up a dynasty to rule, one way or another. That it was all political games."

Leia sighed, looking down, "Maybe I don't care."

"Yes you do—because it'd take apart everything we've worked so long to build, and that's bigger. I won't give Madine that. I won't give him the means to rip it all apart. We know—that's enough." He smiled, "and anyway, I need you. I need you to fight me. Every step of the way, every single day, I need you to fight me and question me, if only on the political stage. I need you to do what I know I'd never let anyone else even attempt—what I'd take them apart for trying. I need you to push me, I need you to challenge me. Make me do the right thing. I need you to be my conscience.

"You don't need my conscience, you have your own—that's what's got us both to this point."

"My Master used to say conscience was a weakness to be used in others and conquered within myself. And I did so—because I wouldn't let him keep on using me."

Leia frowned. "Your Master?"

"Palpatine." There was no hint of apology in his voice, "Because he was my Master…he made me what I am, good and bad—and if you don't want to believe that, then answer this…did you trust the wolf in your dreams, before you realized it was me?"

Leia remained silent, knowing the truth, and when Luke looked quickly down, she wasn't sure if it was victory or disappointment she saw in his face. "I told you before, don't deceive yourself. Don't for a moment think this will be easy, or that I'll simply give you what you want, or agree with anything you say on how to move forward. There's too much of Palpatine's wolf here. You ask me if I can go back—you don't understand how well he taught his lessons…there's nothing left to go back to."

"You're not a wolf." Leia said categorically. "And you're certainly not Palpatine's wolf, no matter what he did or didn't do."

"You're not looking closely enough," he said dismissively. "I'm seldom as obvious as I was onboard the Wasp."

Leia glanced momentarily away; did he know she'd seen the images?

She looked back to coolly calculating eyes. "You told me once that for a wolf I rarely bared my teeth. That doesn't change the nature of the beast."

"I also said that you do only what you perceive of as necessary."

"You're right; and I always will—that makes me the most dangerous wolf of all."

Leia held her ground unfazed, becoming more used to these quicksilver changes in temperament now, a method to push others back to a safe distance, whether he knew it or not. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You want to understand me? That's who I am—that's what Palpatine made me. I will always be the wolf to some degree… I can control it, most of the time. I can turn it to my own use…but not every time. You need to know that."

"Mara trusts you." Leia said.

"Mara's…selective in what she chooses to see,"

Leia lifted her chin, fiery as ever. "Mara may see what she wants to see but you now damn well that I don't. I weigh up the facts and I make my own decisions and come to my own conclusions based on them, and I'll tell you this—you're not Sith. Or do you think for one moment that I'd have come back to that table and tried to negotiate with a Sith? You once said to me that our meeting would never have happened in Palpatine's reign, and you're right. But that's not only because he never would have initiated it. The fact is, I never would have gone back to that table a second time because I never would have believed it could have worked—not with him. With you, I did. I still do. And I'm not talking about all this—everything that we know now. We didn't know it then, and yet we both came back to that table."

"I sat at that table trying to decide whether to destroy you or not." Luke said with raw honesty.

"I'm sure you did, and you know I did the same…but you didn't do it, did you? That's the fact; you didn't do it."

"That doesn't change what I am."

"No, only you can do that. And don't tell me that you don't want to, because I won't believe you." She stepped forward, her voice softening slightly, "Luke, you said you were so far from the light that you didn't know where to turn to look for it… Don't you realize—you've already started walking towards it…and I won't let you turn away."

He shook his head, "Don't—don't trust. I don't want blind trust—that's no use to me."

"Then what do you want?"

"I told you, I need a conscience, someone with the same end goal as I have, but who'll question my motives and my actions every step of the way. Someone with the nerve and the power to challenge me, to hold the wolf in check."

"And you think that's me. Why?"

"Because you're my sister—you have the same abilities I have…you just need to learn to use them."

"No," Leia shook her head. "More basic than that."

Luke frowned, "What?"

"You came to me. You could have chosen anyone but you came to me, long before you knew what we were to each other. Why? Because you trusted me. You believed in me, in my judgment, that's the fact, isn't it?

He took a breath to speak, but Leia was on full form now, shaking her head, "Well then have faith in it now. Have faith in my convictions about the man that I believe in, and because of them, maybe have a little faith in yourself. Yes, I saw the images in the Wasp's hold—I ran them back a little earlier too…I watched you back over that center line believing you would die, for no other reason than because you didn't want to give Madine what he wanted—the means to start a war. Isn't that the truth?

"You're the same man you always were, Luke Skywalker, and I know it. I believe it. Otherwise why would you bother with all this, when you already have power, why put that on the line? You're still trying to get that peace you were fighting for when you were eighteen, aren't you? You're still willing to give up everything for that greater cause, one which always looked outwards, to others. You're trying to do what you believe is right—you always were. You removed an Emperor who ruled by force and you're slowly dragging his Empire back to a democracy, giving freedom and rights back to the people. That's what is at the core of you, when all else is stripped away, and that's who I believe in." Leia paused, quoting again the words that Luke had challenged her with on their first meeting, " 'It's not what you call us and it's not where we stand. It's what we do which defines us'. If you're going to brood on something, brood on that."

She leaned forward, hand reaching out to gently brush the long, loosely curled hair from his forehead. He leaned back, disconcerted rather than offended, but she smiled, voice turning gentle, "And then get some sleep."

She turned, wanting to give him the rest he so clearly needed, but paused to glance back from the door, "Perhaps you're not Luke Skywalker any more, but I can tell you this, Excellency—Luke Skywalker would have been proud of you."

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With time to consider for the very first time, Luke pondered his sister's words, her every existence the one proof that overrode all others; Leia was his sister. The blood in his veins, the inheritance, the legacy…all this he shared with her.

Was that why he'd found it so necessary over the years to keep her in his life in one way or another, some distant empathy sounding that pitch-perfect refrain at the very edge of his consciousness?

His sister, his twin. She was a part of this heritage and she was just and fair and good…and so he'd held that potential too, however twisted by Palpatine. He'd held that potential… and so therefore, did his unborn son. By her very existence Leia had ensured that his son had, as every child born, the same limitless scope of every possible future. And that was good enough for Luke. That was everything.

For his son…

For himself… Luke thought back to that moment on the Wasp, to the way that he'd killed the soldiers about Madine, the men who had tormented and tortured at Madine's command.

It wasn't until he saw Han's face as he came down into th hold, sensed his hidden wonder and uneasy edge, that Luke had even bothered to think about what he'd done to Madine's men, realizing that he'd killed them in the same way he'd killed the guards who had tormented him on Palpatine's behest when he'd first turned to the Dark Side—ripped them to shreds in the blink of an eye, in the speed of the thought.

Then the action had seemed so momentous—a life-changing act. Now it seemed nothing at all, dismissed already. He pondered this for a long time, studying it dispassionately against Leia's claims… wondering again how far he had fallen without even realizing it, remembering his drug-induced admission to the medic: "The one thing I really fear, that demon in the darkness, is myself…"

It was his burden to carry, the result of Palpatine's flawlessly-executed work. No matter what anyone else believed, he still knew the truth. But he wouldn't be bound by it; would push the wolf back down to walk in his shadow once more. Staring out of the medi-bay's small viewscreen, he watched the dawn race across the surface of the distant rust-red moon where he'd so nearly lost everything, bright light chasing back the darkness but only ever holding it at bay. Perfect night and pristine light. He smiled slightly, realization granting a strange kind of calm acceptance; that was where he lived his life now, he knew, balancing always on that knife-edge at the very brink of the dawn and the darkness.

If that meant he had to learn to deal with the wolf, to fulfill the oath he swore in rejection of a vindictive old man's ceaseless ambitions, then he would. He could. Maybe there was a wolf in his shadow…but it would damn well learn to walk to heel.

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Luke was sat up in the medi-bunk when Mara entered, after breakfast. He still looked like hell, but was starting to make the effort to hide the fact, which meant that he was on the way to mending, she knew.

"Well, Kiria's come back with her reply, and it's a pretty categorical no." Mara said, much as it pained her. "And just to clarify that, it arrived with nine more Star Destroyers and two Interdictors. Leia's passed on the fact that she made the offer at your behest, and the codes you gave her, as well as the planet you want the actual transfer to go ahead on. Arco's already contacted me to say that preparations are underway for the fleet to converge on Serenno for your return. The Scarlet Empress has, once again, managed to come out whiter than white."

"Disappointed?"

Mara shrugged, climbing onto the bunk but sitting on top of the sheets. "Maybe a little."

"Did she ask to speak to you?"

"No, why?"

"She will do," Luke said confidently. "She's not gonna stay very whiter than white if it gets out that she tried to arrest Nathan, and she knows it."

Mara nodded, wondering privately why she hadn't yet admitted that D'Arca had been about to arrest her too. But she didn't want to be the one to load anything more onto Luke right now. Sat up, his arm around her now as she leaned in to him, he seemed to be improving, but she'd also seen his frailty when he tried to walk more than a few steps, the stiffness and obvious pain which slowed his every movement…and those were the injuries she could see. He remained, as ever, one of the most resilient people she'd ever met—and she had to wonder what that cost him, deep down.

He squeezed her gently, breaking her line of thought, "I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't. I did, however, promise Nathan that I'd make sure you kept your end of his bargain."

"You know, I'm not sure I like this two-prong attack you pair have going."

"Learn to live with it," Mara smiled. "Leia said she'd stop in before she and Han set off back to Home One."

"Good."

"Han didn't want to go. He made the very good point that if you're determined to have Home One at the handover, we could all travel back to Home One onboard the Sol, then go on to the handover point."

"He already told me, but I don't want to arrive at Home One on a Rebel vessel with no autonomy…let's not tempt providence too much," Luke added wryly. "We'll stay onboard the Sol to travel to Serenno and meet the Patriot and our fleet there."

"They're already arguing about how many ships each side can have in orbit and planet-side," Mara said. "I'm not happy about this at all."

"About what?"

"Han and Leia leaving. Have you spoken to the Captain of the Sol yet?"

"No."

"And you don't think that's odd? Convention aside, the Captain of some third-rate Rebel freighter has the Emperor onboard and she doesn't even bother to come down here to speak to you."

"Well, I'm kinda still her sworn enemy."

"Oh you remember that, do you?" Mara raised an eyebrow, half-turning to him. "Only I wasn't entirely sure any more."

"But that's what the talks are for," Luke continued, his only acknowledgment of Mara's words a sideways glance to her.

"Yes, but the talks haven't happened yet—forget happened, forget even started—no-one even knows about them yet. Which means as far as Captain Varo is concerned, you're still her enemy."

"Well then that's what I have you for,"

Mara turned to glare for a few seconds, but Luke only smiled, and she knew there was nothing she could say that would dissuade him. "You're missing a tooth, you know that?"

"Can you tell when I talk?"

"No, not really, it's too far back. Only when you smile." Mara shook her head wryly, leaning back against him again. "Seriously, you're worried about a tooth? Have you seen what you look like?"

He moved against her, and she heard the rasp as he rubbed at the stubble on his chin, "I know I need a shave."

Mara settled again, shaking her head at his subtle shift of subject, "Yeah, 'cos that'll sort it out."

She paused…but she may as well get it over with, whilst he seemed in an amenable mood. "And speaking of sorting things out, when were you going to tell me about your sister?"

Luke tensed slightly against her, though when he spoke, the exasperation in his voice was clearly feigned. "People are talking way too much around here!"

"Actually she didn't tell me," Mara said. "I worked it out. The holo on your desk…it's your mother, isn't it?"

Luke looked away. Even now, with her, he still avoided intimacy, instead deflecting it with humor, "I hope between all your rummaging through my personal holo's…"

"You have one."

"You only found one?" Luke feigned surprise, and Mara nudged him. He grinned, returning to the point, "So in between not finding all my personal holo's…"

"One of them'd better be of me."

"In between that, did you actually open up that document I told you to?"

"You know, I can't help but reflect on how typical it is that you're more willing to talk about State secrets than you are about your personal holo collection."

"I was just wondering how you knew about the talks with the Alliance."

Mara shrugged, "You were already talking to Leia, and that whole 'Lead the Rebel leaders into a trap' thing is way too neat and logical. I just reapplied 'Luke-logic' to it. That, and the fact that Leia told Nathan."

"So you didn't open the file?"

Luke held her eye and Mara glanced away, uncomfortable, "You said open it if something happened to you…well you're still here."

"You're telling me you didn't read it when I'd given you the code?"

"Did you really think I would?"

He turned slightly against her, "Mara Jade, did you not read it because you were getting superstitious?"

"No!" she let out the word in a rough, dismissive laugh.

"You did!"

"Hey, I'm pregnant! I'm allowed leeway!"

He settled back again, "Okay, I'll give you that one."

"One? I get to use that for the next six months."

"Yeah..." he said, apprehensively.

Mara turned slightly, "Worried?"

"No…" He smiled at his own bravado. "Yes. Just…you know, the fatherhood stuff— worried about whether I'll be a good role model."

"Role model?" Mara laughed, "Luke, you're the Emperor!"

"I didn't mean that," he dismissed out of hand. "I mean…as a father."

"For him, you will be."

He looked away, "You don't know that."

"I do," she said, absolutely sure, "because I know you—and so does your sister. Leia said…"

"She's wrong," Luke said categorically, clearly with more force that he'd meant. He sighed, looking down, "I can't change what I am Mara."

"People can change—I did. Or do you think I'm the same woman who would back Palpatine now?"

"No. But then, I think you always were this person. You didn't change, you just had to…find yourself."

"Well maybe you've always been Luke Skywalker. Palpatine didn't change you Luke, you just have to…"

"Find that out again." He smiled at her tenacity—but sher saw the brittleness behind it, the weariness as he prepared to throw himself back into the fray again.

He was, as ever, that same complex contradiction of inconceivable power and genuine conscience, Mara knew. But he was balancing on a knife-edge; a position he couldn't possibly maintain. Something had to change—something had to give. It had always been Luke, Mara realized—she'd always expected it to be. Ever since that hotheaded Rebel pilot had arrived on Coruscant, she'd continually expected him to simply adapt to his new life. But then he seemed always so fluid, so capable, so resilient.

Well now it was her turn, and when it came right down to it, it wasn't hard at all. What had he said to her once? That it was all about recognizing what you wanted—what really mattered to you—and accepting what you had to do to gain it.

Because if she said this, she had to mean it, Mara knew; she had to absolutely be prepared to back up her words…and she finally was. The last few weeks had clarified for Mara what was truly important; had taken all those ambitions and expectations which were left over from a past before she'd ever even known Luke, and percolated and clarified them with devastating effect.

And so she truly, truly meant it:

"Let's leave. Let's just leave now. Nathan's already gone, Leia and Han will be gone in another hour—we could just take a shuttle and head for open space. The hell with the Empire. Leave it. Give it to Leia Organa if that's what you want. Give it to Kiria D'Arca. I don't care anymore."

She felt his chin move slightly from where it rested against her temple, the stubble sharp and gritty and wonderfully reassuring in its reality.

"And leave everything behind?"

"Everything. We don't need it."

"Your past, your Palace…your Emperor?"

She shook her head, completely, utterly sure, "It's just stuff. Just baggage. It's not you. You're what I want—to hell with the rest."

A slow, gentle calm roll over him like a heatwave, warming him clean down to his bones as tense muscles relaxed against her, the quiet peace radiating from him wonderfully infectious to Mara's senses. She smiled as she wrapped her arms and her thoughts tightly around him—and it felt so very right. Nothing was worth more to her—nothing.

"Look at that," she smiled, eyes blurring with tears which she blinked away. "Still growing."

"Still crazy," he murmured, but she could hear the joy in his words.

"Whatever."

He squeezed her again and she leaned into his embrace, holding tight. Which was just as well, because his next words would have floored her.

"I think maybe we should stay a while yet. I'm not done being Emperor."

She leaned back, shocked. "Stay?"

He shrugged, a shadow of a smile on his lips, "Why would I leave now—it's just getting interesting. Let's see where we can take it."

Mara sniffed away her tears, suddenly suspicious, "What do you mean… You're going to use this aren't you—that's what this whole Serenno transfer this is. You want to use it to push change through."

"I can't do it without you, Mara. You're my cornerstone—you're my strength."

Mara arched her eyebrows, "Oh, you have your own strength, Luke Skywalker."

He shrugged, "I trust yours more."

Trust; Mara felt the smile come to her lips at that; felt it settle like an embrace about her. Funny; he still had the capacity to throw her—somehow that was incredibly appealing.

He grinned, and when he spoke it was with that soft Rimworld accent that she loved, "I'm gonna change the galaxy Mara—and you're gonna help me."

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CHAPTER 47

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The detention center onboard the Patriot was clean and functional and blank, like a thousand others in the fleet, Nathan supposed. The door to the interview cell was marked by two guards, who stood to attention as he neared, his heart pounding, suddenly uncertain if he could do this. The last time he'd halted at his point, unable to go through with it, but this would be his last opportunity, one way or another, and Nathan knew he couldn't leave it like this.

Still, it was cripplingly hard to move forward as the cell door slid silently open.

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Sat to a small metal-topped table in the interview cell, Wez Reece lifted his head, eyes betraying a brief moment of surprise, though his tone when he spoke was loud and full of bravado. "I wondered when you'd wring up the guts to come down here, Nathan."

Hovering close to the entrance, Nathan remained tense and silent, suddenly breathless.

"Well come in—or do you think I'll make a lunge at you?"

Squaring his jaw, Nathan nodded once to the guard, who turned to leave them alone, then walked forward with exaggerated calm and sat at the far side of the table, finally lifting his head to look Reece in the eye. "I've come to tell you what's happening, Wez. You were brought back onboard the Patriot because we're on way out to Serenno. Tomorrow, we take a small contingent down to the planet to formally receive the Emperor back on board. You didn't kill him. You changed nothing. I wanted you to know that too."

Wez shook his head, completely unrepentant, eyes tracing the surface of the nondescript table which stood between them, lost in thought. "I keep looking for the point when I should have realized. I keep looking back for something…and you know, a single moment keeps on coming back to mind so perfectly that I keep wondering if he planted it there just knowing this day would eventually come…

Nathan paused; he didn't want to be drawn in, but he waited…

" 'What will I do without you,' That's what he said to me." Wez gave a brief nod of his head as he relaxed back into his chair. "Five months ago, that's what Skywalker said to me. I remember it exactly…I hadn't even handed the first set of stolen files over." He laughed, momentarily trailing off, lost in his own thoughts, then glanced sharply back to Nathan. "So you see you're blaming me, and Skywalker could have stopped it all… He could have stopped it all there and then."

Nathan shook his head, "He shouldn't have needed to."

"But he could have stopped it."

"So could you."

Reece laughed again, but it had that agitated edge. "It was always me or him, wasn't it Nathan? I gave you every chance to help me, every chance to admit Skywalker was wrong—that he was out of control. But I always knew it would come back to that; me or him… And I always knew which way you'd jump."

"In view of your actions, I find myself very proud of your certainty about that."

Reece lifted his chin, "I've done nothing I'm ashamed of. I regret only that I didn't succeed."

"Wez…"

"He's not what you think he is." The warning was undisguised, urgent almost.

"Perhaps not, but…"

"You listen to me," Wez straightened quickly enough to make Nathan jump, his voice deadly serious. "He's not what you think he is. He's a dangerous man in a position of power, because you will never contain him. Nobody will."

"By contain, I presume you mean control?"

"You think I did this because I wanted power?" Reece rubbed at his eyes, tired and irritated.

"Didn't you?"

"No! I did it because I wanted to see power in the right hands."

"By right you mean those that you personally approved of?"

"Yes! The biggest mistake Palpatine ever made was to teach Skywalker how to rule—how to use and wield power to his own ends…his own. If no-one else was guarding the tenets of the Empire, then it was my duty to do so. I did this for what I believe in."

"And what was that, Wez?"

"The Empire! The real Empire, not this—this weak, half-hearted collective where we negotiate with Rebels to…"

"And what were you doing, in passing information to Madine?!"

"I was using them! Using them—that's all."

"To do what?"

"To remove an Emperor who was flawed."

"Flawed?"

"Yes! Nathan, he's dismantling the Empire a piece at a time—he's giving away every strength and advantage we had."

Nathan was appalled more than anything, "He's reinstating freedoms that never should have been revoked."

"He's taking apart all that made us great—knowingly. Intentionally." Wez shook his head, dismissive. "I didn't want power, I never once wanted that. But I wanted to see someone in power who would maintain the Empire as it should be."

"So you were removing him to put Mara on the throne? She was the next in line…"

"Yes! I was putting a staunch Imperialist on the throne—someone who had already proved their worth, who had dedicated her life to upholding the values of the true Empire. Someone who had the drive to maintain it as it was at its height and a reason to turn on the Rebels…"

"You thought…" Nathan sagged in realization—it all made a terrible, sick sense. "you thought that if you sold Luke to the Rebels and they killed him she'd turn on them. That's why you gave him over to Madine, because you knew Madine would kill him outright when Leia Organa probably wouldn't."

"She followed Skywalker because she was a loyal Imperial, like me, but she'd soon have realized; she would have known with a soldier's eye that Skywalker's actions could only ever weakened the Empire—would have had that fact propoved to her by his death. There'd be no treaties, no dividing of power or diluting of tenets. She would have reversed its slow corruption, she would have listened to me."

Nathan shook his head, "And what when she stopped listening? What when she started to follow her own choices, what when her decisions failed to live up to your exacting standards, Wez? Would you have removed her too, just as coldly?"

Wez glanced down, mouth a hard line, "There are others…those who still have that purity of vision, who truly understand the institution that the Empire embodies, the importance of that authority and stability, and what's necessary to maintain it. Ideals worth following."

Nathan shook his head, "Don't you see Wez; you're still trying to take power, you're simply trying to do it from behind the throne. You're putting the person you want on the throne…the person who fulfills your personal idea of…"

"The person the Empire needs!"

"No, you're wrong. You're so wrong. This is just your own misguided little power trip—this is a way to hold power but still be safe, because if it goes wrong, if it doesn't live up to your expectations exactly, then it's not your fault. It's never your fault, is it? No-one will ever add up and be perfect for you but you never have to take that responsibility yourself, so you can keep on blaming someone else for your own unrealistic expectations. That Empire doesn't exist Wez…and I don't think I'd like it if it did. I don't think I'd even be here…and I hate to disappoint you, but I don't think you would either. You said yourself that Luke knew, and you're right, he did—he'd known for months, but he did nothing because he wanted to give you every chance to redeem yourself. He wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. Do you think Palpatine would have done that? Do you think any leader who was driven enough to lead your ideal Empire would have given you that continued opportunity?"

"I would never have renounced an Emperor that strong," Reece said stonily. "If the true Empire still existed..."

"Your Empire never existed Wez; it never could. It was too dependent on the foibles of Palpatine. You saw some ideal that never existed."

"It existed in the glory days, in the height of-"

"No, it never did, except in your head. If Palpatine's totalitarian Empire was so perfect, then why did you help depose him, tell me that?"

"Palpatine was old, he'd lost his way, he no longer upheld the values he'd sustained at his height. That didn't mean the theory of his Empire was unsound."

"Palpatine's Empire was a dictatorship; absolute, divine rule based on some twisted concept of Blood Royal—did you uphold that?!" Nathan heard his own voice rising in frustration, though Wez held firm.

"Yes!"

"Yet you helped depose the Emperor!"

"He was flawed, not his ideal! Not his bloodline."

"So how does Mara represent your autocracy?"

"There is no true heir—no Blood Royal. But Jade was still an Emperor's hand; she had Sith blood! If you'd let me, I would have put another worthy on the throne. Skywalker has no more right to rule than her, no greater claim. At least Jade understands the necessity for strong leadership. She had as much of a right to sit on Palpatine's throne as Skywalker ever did."

Nathan hesitated for long seconds, his voice quiet and controlled now. "Blood Royal, Wez."

"What?" Wez snapped.

"Blood Royal; the right to rule by bloodline; by heritage. You just said you believed that principle."

"Palpatine had no heir—he named Skywalker because he was Sith, not because he was Blood Royal."

"You want the truth Wez? You want a real secret to take to the grave?" Nathan met Wez's eyes, deadly serious. "If you uphold Palpatine's rule of birthright by bloodline then Luke's claim, like his connection to the Force, ran in his blood."

Reece quietened, his question unspoken...and for the first time, Nathan dared to say it aloud. Spoke the secret he'd carried alone for so long to the ears of a man he knew would be dead by morning. At least half of it Wez already knew; he had, after all, been there at the time.

"The day Palpatine died…you remember, it was absolute chaos. Luke was brought in for major surgery, you were trying to get reliable stormtroopers down from the Patriot and to remove potential threats; trying to distance any overly-loyal Red Guard and to freeze the security and information system lockouts. You also had to hide the evidence of the duel—and Palpatine's body. That came to the only reliable place that we could store it for disposal—my medical centre, remember? When I came out from Luke's surgery Palpatine's body had been removed… But you see, by then I'd already done as Luke had always ordered me to, should the opportunity ever arise; I'd taken samples—genetic samples."

Nathan shrugged beneath Wez's complete, reluctant attention, continuing without mercy. "He'd given the order years before, to check for any patrilineal link. Years earlier Palpatine had told Luke that they shared a blood connection and Luke had never repeated it because he didn't believe it…didn't want to. Was horrified by the concept. By the fear that if he was of that bloodline, he'd be tainted by it. He told me just once—within days of Palpatine telling him—then he never spoke of it again." Nath paused, studying his own hands, tightly wrapped about each-other. "Time passed…events…overtook him. Luke would never acknowledge that line of descent without proof, and with Palpatine dead and his body cremated, he believed there would never be proof. But you see, I did do the tests…and then I destroyed the data and all the samples; that was my decision. Rightly or wrongly, I made that choice. Luke was about to come to the throne, and he was already paralyzed by self-doubt at the thought that he might be Palpatine's genetic heir—and so…I took it upon myself to make sure that he never had to deal with a hard truth which I truly believe would have destroyed him."

Wez was already recoiling, knowing what was coming, when Nathan lifted his eyes to him. "You see, there is a direct, traceable patrilineal line between Luke and Palpatine. How that's possible, given what he told me, I cannot tell you—but then I can't explain so many aspects of the Force. This is just one more, both fascinating and disturbing. I could, however, predict exactly how Luke would have taken this news—and it would not have been well."

Wez shook his head in denial, voice no more than a whisper, "Skywalker was Vader's son."

"Yes he was. Palpatine, Vader and Luke were three generations of the same genetic line, Wez. Palpatine's vision was always to create an Empire with a single, uninterrupted lineage at its head; a dynasty. Not a Sith Dynasty, but his dynasty. That was what his Empire was truly about—his own petty little grasp at immortality—and I won't see Luke destroy himself or his future simply because he wants to thwart a malicious old man's obsessive ravings. Rightly or wrongly, I now hold that secret. I know that I have to trust that Luke will never think to seek it out within my mind, and if he did, I alone would have to answer for my transgression. But if he doesn't, I swear to you, I'll take to my grave without hesitation the fact that Luke is the true heir to the Empire, in every sense."

"Why didn't you tell me?" It was half accusation, half appeal.

"I might ask the same of all you held hidden," Nathan said, strangely removed from Wez's dismay now, so that when he continued it was almost an apology. "It's called the Hippocratic Oath Wez. A medic never divulges information regarding his patient; Luke's medical history was part of that."

"… Blood Royal..." It was all Wez could manage.

"So you see," Nathan said calmly, "by your own actions, you were taking apart the very essence of your true Empire."

Wez glanced down, bewildered, all his bravado spent, and Nathan felt some spark of pity for the man whose beliefs and allegiance were hopelessly irreconcilable at the realization of this one fact.

Feeling that he had to offer some kind of solace, even here, Nathan sighed, "But that line would, I suppose, have been ensured anyway, with a new generation."

Wez looked up, "D'Arca?"

Nathan frowned, "Mara…a boy, we think."

He waited in silence for a long time, but Wez seemed to have nothing more to say—and finally, Nathan knew he himself had only one thing left to voice.

"The Emperor will be back onboard nine hours from now. I…doubt he'll be very forgiving. Not only did you place him in the way of danger, you also involved Mara and their child." Nathan searched Wez's eyes as he lifted his head. "What I do in coming here…perhaps I do it for myself, for a past that I still need to believe existed, despite everything. Not because I condone what you did in any way; understand that. But I know Luke, and I know that when he gets back, he'll come for you…" Nathan glanced away, eyes suddenly glassy, "Time to go. When I see Luke tomorrow, I'll answer for my actions here tonight…but I can't answer for yours Wez. I thought if we spoke…" he looked down, shaking his head. "Goodbye Wez."

Nathan rose quickly, suddenly needing to be gone, aware of Wez's eyes on his back as he stared resolutely at the door waiting for it to be opened. He didn't once look back.

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With Nathan gone, Wez felt his shoulders slump, lowering his head as he ran his fingers through his hair—and something caught his eye on the table before him where Nathan's hand had been…

It was a single pill.

He didn't need to ask what it was for.

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"This is Commander Jade onboard the Rebel vessel Sol, come in please?"

Nothing…again. Mara turned to Luke, who was stood a few paces away wearing civilian clothes—white shirt, tan trousers and battered brown leather boots which buckled at the ankle and knee. It was, she realized, literally years since she'd seen him in pale colors…they suited him.

What they didn't do was disguise any of his frailness as he limped across the Sol's hold to drop down onto a packing crate as a chair, exhausted after only a few minutes of walking through the ship. His bruises were paling but still obvious, his skin ashen in the bright natural daylight which was flooding in through the Sol's lowered ramp from Serenno's sun, the freighter having been planetside for less than an hour.

It had all been arranged in the last two days whilst they had been en-route to Serenno; time, ships in orbit, troops in the area… Every detail had been argued and agreed and hastily arranged for the return of the Emperor from Rebel to Imperial hands, right down to the distance which would separate the two contingents on the ground, to either end of a wide landing strip in the commercial quarter…

And then about an hour ago it had all begun to fall apart.

Mara wasn't so much surprised as annoyed. Though all the details had been argued out on amicable terms by Rebel and Imperial teams led by Nathan and Leia Organa, it was still Kiria D'Arca who led the Empire, the Patriot already in orbit around Serenno for a full day by the time the Sol had arrived…and as ever, Kiria didn't travel light.

As agreed, the Imperial contingent had nine Destroyers in low orbit—a bit of a giveaway to the casual passer-by that something was happening, if you asked Mara. As agreed though, the Empire had only landed three Nubian diplomatic yachts and its main Consular Ship to the North side of the massive landing strip on Serenno, all very visibly bearing the Emperor's personal Seal, the Lorric—so called because Luke's emblem incorporated that well-recognized image of a lorric-willow wreath behind twin sabers—emblazoned across their polished hulls. Flags were raised, the area about the yachts carefully cordoned off with military precision…and all Mara could think as she stared at the distant encampment from the viewpane in the Sol's medi-bay was, Luke'll never walk that far.

With the yachts, as agreed, were two wings of I-TIE's, one wing airborn, the other in parade-ground assembly, one wing of blastboats, and a total of two hundred-sixty military personnel, also as agreed.

For the Empire, this was barely a presence—certainly a considerably restrained response to the safe return of their Emperor. Still, to the Sol, the only Rebel ship on the ground to the South side of the landing strip, and sporting a total of forty-six troopers and twenty-three staff, was probably feeling more than a little outgunned right now.

Captain Varo had been consistently less than cooperative since Leia's departure, and Luke had voiced his suspicion more than once that Varo and the Sol may have been sent by Alliance Council factions backing Madine, to ensure that he had support among those sent to deal with this spiraling incident when the Alliance had first gone looking for the Wasp. A few subtle questions on Mara's part had easily uncovered the fact that Madine's escape shuttle had chosen a route that took it nearer to the Sol than any other ship present—yet it hadn't been fired on.

Telling Luke that fact meant of course that it had all come out about Madine—that he wasn't in custody, either Rebel or Imperial. That he'd escaped with over a dozen men within an hour of the Falcon leaving the Wasp. If he hadn't been so weak, Mara suspected Luke would have commandeered a shuttle and gone after the General himself, so incensed was he. The only thing that allayed her worry was his admission that he'd seriously considered it already, and decided that it really wasn't the kind of diplomatic event he was working towards here.

Instead he'd made repeated requests to speak directly with Captain Varo, who'd adamantly refused—apparently she had problems with 'some Sith rummaging through my mind'. Mara had to admit she would've been insulted if it wasn't for the fact that it was exactly what Luke had intended to do.

So all in all, it was already a shaky situation.

Then as they made orbit at Serenno the first rumble got out onto the HoloNet—and the holo-press arrived…in force.

By the time they were cutting into the atmosphere above the agreed site, yachts belonging to the Great Houses of Serenno were dotting the sky…then those of the Royal Houses of Phindar and Gala, a few hours away on the Hydian Way hyperspace route, then Bandomeer, then Garos and Sundari, then Berusa and Chaila, Serenno in easy reaching-distance of them all.

By now, with Home One and the rest of the Alliance contingent still an hour away, and only the equally under-equipped Zephyr in orbit to back up the Sol, Captain Varo was past uncooperative and well on the way to panicking.

And the arguments had started. Mara hadn't been there to witness the minutiae, but she knew that Captain Varo had accused the Imperial contingent of political maneuvering. The Empire voiced its indignation…and so on.

They could, of course, leave any time, with or without Captain Varo's permission. Even in this state, Mara was pretty sure that Luke could have ramped it up sufficiently to get out of there at a push…but this was diplomacy, and apparently running roughshod over your deliverer's military protocols and the pre-arranged schedule was bad form, Mara reflected dryly.

Which didn't, as it turned out, stop Captain Varo changing things to her own choice.

A full three hours before the agreed time that Luke had been due to make the transfer, with Home One not even in orbit yet, Varo's Aide came down with a detail of four Rebel guards to tell them that they were to go now.

Which was why they were sat in the hold just out of view of anyone outside the ship, gazing out over the long strip of dark permacrete and preparing to make that long walk to the Imperial contingent—who, because Mara couldn't raise them on her comlink, had no idea they were even on their way.

Therefore no Imperial honor guard to accompany the Rebel soldiers, no crowd control and no protection. Just she and Luke…and those growing crowds outside, as word spread among the populous, though Sith knew how.

Commander Werth, the senior officer of the Sol's task force, was speaking quietly to the four armed soldiers who were clearly going to accompany them down the long walk across the landing strip, giving last-minute orders.

Mara walked casually over to the still-seated Luke, who was watching Werth just a little too closely.

"Varo wants us out now because she thinks she can control what's seen if she does," he murmured quietly, eyes still intent on the back of Commander Werth's head. "We get four armed guards."

"Barve." Mara sniped with feeling, glaring at Werth.

"No, he's just panicking because he's responsible for this and its getting out of hand. It's Varo who's changing things, as far as Werth sees it. She's the one looking to make us walk out alone down that landing strip, with armed Rebel soldiers to either side of us. I'm guessing she wants this to look like some kind of prisoner-handover, like the Alliance is making some kind of concession."

"With all that hardware in orbit and on the far side of the landing strip?" Mara asked, doubtful.

"Yeah, but no-one's gonna see that when they show the images of the Emperor walking alone down that permacrete runway. They're just gonna see a single man making a solitary walk down a wide, empty walkway. No honor-guard, no trappings, nothing."

Varo was, Mara realized, looking to undermine the unassailable office of Emperor, using the Holo-press images to reduce the Emperor to a very ordinary stature, injured, isolated and unsupported, surrounded by Rebel soldiers and marched across the landing strip like a prisoner.

"We could refuse to go?" she suggested, eyes on the ominously silent crowds, knowing damn well that Varo was intending to send the Emperor out there before his Imperial Guard could arrive—that was why her comlink was being blocked.

There was humor in Luke's quiet voice. "Yeah, 'cos getting physically turfed out onto the runway always looks good. That's the image we're going for here."

Mara smiled just slightly, looking back to her comlink, "Well let's see if we can at least get our own guards to meet us halfway, since they..."

"No wait," Luke reached out to push her hand down. "If we can't get them here for the beginning I'll do the walk with none at all."

Mara glanced quickly up, "Luke, this isn't Coruscant, we don't know what the crowd out there is like. It could get ugly very, very quickly this far out."

"It had to be this far out. If it had been closer to the Core Systems or the Colonies, people would have said it was a publicity stunt. It had to be a backwater world."

Mara frowned, still wary. "There are a lot of people out there, and you don't know how they'll react, or have any control over this situation. That's what Varo is banking on and you know it."

Luke shook his head, adamant. "One way or another, Varo's made sure we start this walk without them. If we have our own guards meet us halfway it looks like a prisoner handover, or like we were unprepared—or worse, that we're expecting trouble. I can't use any of that. I came here to say something, and I sure as hell aren't gonna be end-run and have that taken from me by some second-rate freighter Captain with a grudge to bear."

The Sol's remaining soldiers trooped through the hold on their way outside, sparing curious glances at Luke, who stood, not wanting to be perceived as weak, even here, Mara knew. She watched them step out into the bright sunlight and begin to spread out, and realized what they were doing—that the crowds had become so great that Werth had seen fit to use his men to try to keep them back. Squinting, Mara risked taking a step or two closer to the ramp, to see the crowds. There were twice as many as when they'd entered the hold, and she'd been worried at that number. More worryingly, they stood in unsettling silence, eyes on the freighter's open ramp.

Mara backed up, apprehensive "Seriously, I'm not sure we should…"

She broke off as a soldier ran forward across the bay, and Mara saw what had been holding this up; in his hand, he held a walking stick. Commander Werth took it and turned to the Emperor, seeming almost embarrassed as he held out the stick, "Uh…you..seem to have trouble walking…Sir."

Luke looked at the stick for long seconds, his voice cool. "I'm fine, thank you."

Mara knew why he wouldn't take it—but she also knew how weak he still was. "Luke…"

"No, absolutely not."

"You won't make that walk without it."

"I'll damn well walk out of here."

Werth squirmed. "Sir, I'm instructed not to let you leave the ship without it."

Scowling, Luke took the stick—and Mara couldn't believe that the man seriously thought that it would make it even as far as the end of the ramp in Luke's possession. Still, this was it. They were up and moving, their Rebel guards stepping out first and waiting expectantly.

Luke leaned in to Mara as he set forward, "When you get to the end of the ramp, slow down and hang back," he murmured. "Let's see how much we can spread our guards…make them seem a little less like..."

"Guards?" Mara asked dryly.

Then, with no ceremony whatsover, they were out, bright daylight warming her skin for the first time in weeks, making her flinch even as she tried to keep her eyes on the crowds, a mass ten deep of curious eyes and still faces—absolute silence.

She didn't even have a gun. If someone lunged forward from the crowd…

Her thoughts were brought back to the moment by the clatter of the walking cane Luke had been given falling away as he stepped out onto the ramp.

Watching those crowds, it was a hard thing to force herself to slow back out of reach of him, so that Luke walked alone down the wide walkway, struggling to suppress his limp. But the four soldiers, uncertain what to do, widened their positions in an effort to stay with them both.

They walked through the crowd in eerie silence, nobody moving or making a sound, Mara's heart pounding so loud that she was sure the hushed crowds could hear it. She looked down the long, wide strip of dark permacrete, mute faces leaning in. The distant Imperial ships were eight, maybe ten minutes walk…too far.

From the corner of her eye, Mara saw the small object thrown from somewhere near the back of the crowd towards Luke—

Reaching out with the Force, she almost made to deflect it, sensing a flare of focused power as Luke did the same…but just as Luke did, she stopped at the last moment as she recognized it, and it fell to the ground before his feet, drawing everyone's eye.

A single branch of lorric laurel lay bright green against the dark permacrete.

Surprised, Luke looked momentarily into the crowd, but walked on. Then another branch was thrown, landing on the permacrete before him…then another. Then a flower, intense yellow, fell on the dark ground of the wide path. The woman who threw it stood to the front of the barrier of Rebel soldiers and Mara watched, amazed, as Luke glanced to her, still walking slowly on. Staring in silence, she lowered her head just slightly in a half-bow. A second scarlet flower landed close by—then another lorric branch… Then, as Luke slowed to glance again into the crowd, someone began to clap.

Then another person, then another.

Then someone was bold enough to shout out their encouragement.

Slowly, as a tide turning, the crowd began to shout and cheer, and more and more lorric branches and flowers began to line the path as their Emperor walked slowly on, an intense perfusion of bright laurel green against the dull black permacrete, so many that they eventually began to cover the stark road…

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Home One came out of hyperspace close to the Serenno's high-orbit, the Rebel Alliance's leading Council, military and civilian, having gathered in the Council chamber in preparation to be shuttled down to the surface for the return of the Emperor to his own people in—Leia glanced to the chrono on the curved wall—two and three-quarter hours' time.

She turned to Han stood beside her, starched and smart in his best uniform. "We're late," she murmured, smoothing her own diplomatic gown.

Han turned to the chrono, "No, we're two and three-quarter hours early. Plus these things never start on time anyw…"

He never finished. Commander Sumar and Tag Massa came bursting into the room, Tag heading straight for the HoloNet link and activating it, Leia turning to Sumar, the Comm Chief, as he mouthed, breathless, "HoloNet…"

Everyone twisted about as the image flashed up in a flare of static.

"…repeat, you are seeing these images live from Serenno in the Outer Rim, where a massive Imperial presence is building up, both in orbit and planet-side, and we have sources saying that the Emperor is here…"

"Wait…what?!" Han said.

"Is this now?" Leia stuttered. "What's going on, is this now?"

Tag looked to Leia, "This is going out live over the HoloNet now…it's on twelve channels and rising."

"Get Captain Varo on the comm. Who's the ground officer?"

General Cotta spoke up, "Would that be Commander Werth—is he attached to the Sol?"

"Get him on a comlink."

"Look!" Han said, eyes still to the holo-link.

The remote lenses zoomed shakily in from an aerial view of the landing strip where the event was due to have taken place almost three hours from now…and emerging from the Sol, with just four soldiers about them, were two figures—a man followed closely by a woman…with a flare of copper-red hair.

"We think…can we get a confirmation on this? We're trying to get closer now. We actually think you're seeing live images of the Emperor, the first time he's been seen since his abduction…"

Beside Leia, Tag stiffened, "With you permission Ma'am, I'll take a detachment and head down to the Sol now."

"Quickly," Leia said, unable to take her eyes from the HoloNet images.

It was Han who voiced the question everyone was starting to wonder as he leaned in, trying to make sense of the slightly blurred images, "Why is the permacrete changing color? Is that…where are they getting the laurels from?"

"Does it matter?" Rieekan said.

Turning back tot he HoloNet, Leia suppressed a smile.

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Luke glanced to the side, realizing that the crowd were beginning to deepen as those whom he had first walked past outside the Sol began running along the back of the twenty-deep throng to keep pace, the surreal scene unfolding about him as he walked on slowly, his back beginning to straighten, gaining strength from the support of the crowd, in spirit if not in body. And still more flowers and laurels were being thrown, an ever-denser carpet of verdant color.

The Rebel soldiers who had been sent out in force from the Sol to control the crowds were struggling to hold them back now, people clapping and shouting, arms reaching out through the soldiers, jostling them forward.

And that carpet of fresh leaf green was spreading ten or more feet before them, scattered with bright flowers and the pale creamy blossoms of the lorric.

A woman leaned out, calling out to him but being held back by the struggling Rebel guards.

Luke slowed and turned as she held out a flowering lorric branch, smiling proudly, "Please, Excellency?"

Smaller than he, with short, auburn hair, she had a warmth to her smiling eyes which lit her whole face as he moved toward her, ignoring the soldiers entirely as he walked between them, his attention on her alone.

"What's your name?" Luke asked easily, his smile pulling at still-healing scars.

"Michele, Excellency. My name's Michele." She beamed as she said it, ducking her head slightly, no idea whether to bow or not, just excited; proud to be there, to be talking to him.

Luke took the branch, nodding, and as she reached tentatively out to him he smiled again, heartfelt and unguarded, as he took her hand in his. "Thank you Michele. I will always remember you."

The press auto-lenses swooped in, jostling for position as he enclosed her hand within both of his own for a moment, the image fed live onto the HoloNet.

Then the Rebel guards closed quickly and she was pushed back into the crowd, already lost…

"Excellency?" A soldier, one hand pressed over his ear to hold out the noise of the crowd as he listened to a com feed, held his hand out, indicating the lorric branch.

"It's just a laurel branch, do you really want to take it from me?" Luke asked easily. "Do you intend to start a riot over something this trivial?"

The soldier hesitated then held out his hand, face impassive, apologetic almost. "I'm sorry, Sir, I have my orders…if you please?"

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On Home One, surrounded by the Council, Leia was horrified; "No—who gave the order to take the laurel?"

General Dean, having finally gotten through to the Sol, sighed behind her. "Commander Werth told his soldiers not to let the Emperor take anything from anyone in the crowd."

"No!" Leia said again, shaking her head as other voices began to speak out around her, already realizing that this was turning into a media event. "Contact them now—tell them not to take it from him."

"This is bad…"

"Too late."

"Get him away from the crowd…"

On the live HoloNet image, shot by auto-lenses from almost above the crowd, the Emperor handed the branch over, head tilted to one side as if in amused allowance, then turned calmly away. The crowd hissed and boo'd at the guard's actions as the Emperor walked on, allowing himself to be politely but firmly encouraged to a central position away from the crowds by the Rebel soldiers. A second set were falling in on either side now, separating him from the swelling crowds completely, though he seemed oblivious to the mounting security. After a few moments, the Emperor lifted his hand slightly just level with his chest—and the crowd went wild.

There, being twisted between his fingers, was the flowering tip of the lorric branch he'd been given, broken off as he'd spoken with the guard.

The exultant cheers of approval echoed around the Council Room onboard Home One, everyone gathered about the HoloNet, their voices mingling in dismay behind Leia as she only half-listened, her attention on the live images.

She knew Luke…and as a member of a Royal House herself, she knew that anyone in his position would have long familiarity with this kind of massed crowd. She also knew his ability and willingness to manipulate his image to his own advantage. She'd warned them not to do this when it had been suggested early on in the negotiations by Commander Odig—not to try to use him. Warned them they were playing a master at his own game.

The HoloNet cut to an aerial view, the crowd surging forward, becoming harder and harder to hold back, so that what was once a wide, empty walkway probably intended by Captain Varo to emphasize the smallness and isolation of the Emperor, had become a narrow strip thick with thrown lorric and flowers in jewel hues, the hovering press lenses pulling back in order to show the heaving masses as they closed in behind the small entourage or ran to keep pace, their numbers increasing with every minute as anyone who could get there by any means seemed to be arriving, speeders and swoops taken close to the edge of the crowds then seeming to be simply abandoned by their occupants, skiprays and hoppers dotting the sky, the atmosphere energized.

"A hundred channels," Han said, grinning.

Leia half-turned, "What?"

"The live broadcast—Sumar just said it's being transmitted on over a hundred separate HoloNet channels now."

"What have we done?" Odig murmured, face in his hands.

"Congratulations, Commander," Leia stated dryly. "You've created the galaxy's first democratically-endorsed Emperor."

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Mara walked ten paces behind Luke, aware of the spontaneous excitement of the crowd, at once terrifying and exhilarating and awe-inspiring.

Despite his worsening limp, Luke walked with his head high and his back straight, taking his time. He played the game as he always had, responding to the crowds, putting forward the image they so wanted to see and he knew it. Despite everything, irrespective of his clothes and his limp, his battered face and his slow step, he was absolutely, unapologetically the Emperor and the crowd love him for it. Still, Mara was genuinely beginning to panic as the walkway before them narrowed to a green-carpeted path, the small contingent of Rebel guards from the Sol augmented by other, unknown soldiers in Rebel uniforms now forced to link arms to hold back the crowd, hard-pushed to keep the path open ahead as people surged closer, arms reaching out between the guards to brush at their Emperor's clothes as he passed.

Finally the Imperial encampment was in sight, the gleaming Nubian transports reflecting the sunlight, Luke's Imperial crest of lorric wreaths emblazoned on them, the beleaguered Rebel soldiers giving way to Imperial Guards, who formed an organized barrier three-deep, holding the crowds at bay up to the start of the fenced encampment.

No longer bothering to hide his limp, Luke quickened his pace just slightly to reach the Imperial enclave as the crowd became near-uncontrollable, Mara just passing through the perimeter gates as they closed completely, remote cameras pulling back to take in the massed scene, sending it to every planet in the Empire.

Now, safely through the crushing crowds, Luke paused for Mara to walk level with him. She shook her head once, infinitesimally; this was his moment and he should take it alone. He winked once at her, incredibly boyish and mischievous in the moment, as if his best trick was yet to come. Then he turned again to walk slowly and confidently through his guard, hastily assembled when the Imperial encampment had realized that their Emperor was already on his way.

Scarlet-clad Red Guard formed the front line of the huge honor-guard, ten-deep in stormtroopers. Further back behind the main Consular Ship were the Royal Yachts of any House close enough to attend the impromptu event, dozens more crowded into the sky above the cavalcade to show their support for their Emperor.

Nodding, Luke walked slowly through his own troops, giving them the same gracious attention he'd afforded the crowds, though Mara could see that his breath was shorter now, what reserves he'd had failing. Imperial representatives and members of the attending Royal Houses bowed low as their Emperor approached. From somewhere, an Aide appeared with a formal, styled jacket—one of Luke's own—and he shrugged it on, but didn't fasten it.

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Onboard Home One, many Counselors were not able to look anymore, turning away in dismay. Others were unable to turn, tied to the screens in morbid fascination, the sound of the crowd still deafening, so that excited local reporters—the only ones on hand for the event—had to shout to be heard.

"Get on the ship," someone whispered behind Leia, hurrying him on, "Get on the damn ship."

"He's not that stupid." General Hart said. "He'll milk this. Hell, I would."

Other Department Chiefs and Council members joined in now, voices low with apprehension.

"No…get on the ship."

"Can we stop him? Can we cut the broadcast?"

"Are you insane?!"

To the front of the Imperial enclave, before to the impressive backdrop of that massive Consular Ship and multiple Nubian yachts bearing the Emperor's insignia, a suspiciously-pre-prepared dais had been hastily assembled and Leia watched the Emperor pause as he stepped onto it, the crowds behind the barriers still cheering wildly as the remote news lenses zoomed in.

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Luke could hardly fail to miss Kiria D'Arca, dressed in a flowing white gown but with a long, crimson tabard of richly-embroidered velvet over it, the ruby encrusted coronet she'd worn at their wedding setting off her striking formal dress. She stood straight-backed and smiling proudly on the dais, a few dignitaries behind her; no military in the group, Luke noted as he stepped up.

He turned to look for Mara, glancing over the heads of the stormtroopers, and the crowds roared as he came into view again, the surge of noise amazing.

Kiria smiled just slightly and, to the cheer of the massed crowds, did nothing more formal than kiss the Emperor lightly on the cheek. As she leaned in, he heard her quiet whisper in his ear; "Speak to them…don't say this isn't what you wanted."

He glanced down as her hands, resting against his collar when she'd leaned in, clipped a tiny pick-up mic there. From within the ship a public address system had appeared, hurriedly activated.

Kiria smiled just slightly. 'I told you—perfect partners,' she mouthed without speaking, eyebrows raising expectantly over teasing eyes as she stepped back.

Luke turned and lifted his hands to speak, though in the moment, he was forced to begin three times before the crowds silenced, an expectant hush falling over attentive faces. Abruptly Madine's words came to mind, spoken with such contempt in the cell onboard the Wasp:

"Sticks and stones'll break my bones but words'll never hurt me. Let's try that out, shall we? You can have the words…I'll have the sticks and we'll see who bleeds first."

But it wasn't who bled first that counted—and Luke would take the words every time. Because he'd long since learned they had a power all their own.

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"I am indebted to you, every single one of you. You have restored my faith and my hope for the future… Today, I see free men of all beliefs stood together. I see Rebel soldiers who came to the aid of an Emperor—I see Imperial soldiers and citizens proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with them. You are all the Empire—this is the Empire you have created, the Empire you continue to create, and you should be justly proud of your efforts."

The tumult within the massed crowds rose in a swell, forcing Luke to pause again until it slowly subsided.

"Today begins a new era of tolerance. We are not so very unalike, those of us who stand here today. That my abduction incited outrage from both Rebel and Imperial viewpoints is a humbling notion, a reassuring one…an inspiring one. We are all members of the same galaxy; we believe in the same things, the same inalienable rights, the same unacceptable practices. We are all outraged by the fanaticism of the few, and encouraged by the tolerance of the many. If there is one thing we can all carry forward from this event, let it be that. Let it be the knowledge of our own diversity within our shared aspirations toward integrity, whoever we are and whatever we believe.

"Like the Empire, the Alliance is not the single entity the past would have us assume. Like the Empire, it is a collection of many views and tolerances. Many hopes. The treatment of one man, broadcast to many, clarified those beliefs and just what we were prepared to do to maintain them—and what not. It reminded us all what it is that we struggle toward…justice, compassion, tolerance—the very essence of freedom. At the end of the day…it was soldiers from the Rebel Alliance who reached me first. Soldiers from the Alliance who came to my aid, risking their lives in the true spirit of that which they believe; integrity, equality… true justice. Things they saw in this new Empire which were worth fighting for...a chance for change. Regardless of old enmities and past deeds, they came because they saw something in this evolving Empire that they were willing to give their lives to help perpetuate. They saw hope. They saw a future. One which we can all pass on to our children. One without war or divisions, one without past prejudice or future intolerance. They saw the Empire I am building—the Empire we all build, every hour of every day. The future that we have all laid the foundation for by our actions in the last weeks.

"Today is the culmination of months of negotiations between the Empire and the moderates of the Alliance. The clarification that even within the Rebel Alliance, the militant few cannot stamp out the voice of reason. I was abducted to derail those negotiations, to curtail the announcement of open talks between the Moderate Alliance and the Empire, and to induce yet another escalating cycle of hostility and bloodshed.

"But they did not stop it. They cannot stop it…because it is in the hearts and the hopes of everyone here… A united Empire, joined for a single purpose, looking toward a single goal. Democracy. I will call no man my enemy if his mind is open. I will call no man my enemy if he listens, and debates.

"To those among us who will claim that we are too different in our views, that we cannot work together and achieve anything, I have this to say: I am here today as proof that we can. I am here today because we already have. The differences we have are in our minds, not our hearts. The differences we have are an asset to be praised and the tolerance we show is the ultimate strength.

"We have, so many of us, lost so much to this war. Watched the future we were so sure was ours stolen away forever. We have cursed it and we have railed against it on both sides of the divide, though we knew deep down that we only fed the fire in doing so."

Luke shook his head, looking out into the massed crowds, "I will feed it no longer. In tribute to all those who have given so much, willingly or unknowingly, I will feed it no longer. I will not serve the ends of the zealous few, and I will ask no other to do it in my name.

"We have a long and hard path ahead of us in this quest, but I hope...I intend one day soon to stand before you announcing a new ethos, a new way. Self-rule, the innate right that you each have to determine those who will govern the Empire you help to build. I believe that you will make that possible. That we will all take that hope and shape it into reality.

"You have restored my faith when it faltered, and I thank you all for that. You should be justly proud of you actions—you should tell your children with pride of your part in the making of a free and just Empire."

He paused, the silence hanging in expectant anticipation.

"I will take forward with me the memory of this moment. Everything else pales into insignificance."

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The cheers of the crowd outside rolled in a swell through the hull and the corridors of the Rebel freighter Sol, still resting on the landing strip on Serenno, those gathered about the Ops room watching the live feed on the HoloNet, hearing that cheer all over again with a few second's delay as it was broadcast across the galaxy.

Having landed just minutes before with the Zephyr and the Paaliaq, Tag Massa had been too late to do anything but board the Sol and watch with the grouped senior officers, aware that she was seeing history in the making, close enough to be part of it yet still, ironically, gathered round the HoloNet projector with everyone else.

In the image, the Emperor bowed slightly but formally, before standing for a few moments in acknowledgement of the crowd, his ever-supportive wife beside him, a scarlet tabard covering the pure white which she'd claimed she would wear until his safe return.

Finally, he turned and walked into the consular ship, the perfect rows of Imperial troops filing in behind him, smaller fighters beginning to lift off to run cover as the heat-haze from the yacht's engines rippled the air.

In the Sol's Ops room, the officers about Captain Varo stood in mute silence, watching the images of the ships taking off in perfect parade-formation, intercut with long pans over the crowd who chanted and yelled, unwilling to disperse, still high on the massed atmosphere.

"Well that was a disaster which just kept gathering momentum," Varo said at last, disgusted.

Beside her, the blond-furred Caamasi Captain of the Paaliaq, Ateya, glanced briefly to her before turning to the other officers present as if she hadn't spoken. "Was he serious—the Emperor just made a very public offer to come to the table with the Alliance."

"Who exactly are the Moderate Alliance?" Commander Dietz asked.

"I would imagine that would be us, Sir," Tag supplied, offering subtle guidance as ever, quietly eager to circulate the facts as soon as possible. "A differentiation perhaps, between ourselves and General Madine's faction."

"Did we record that?" Ateya asked. "Go back—he said months of negotiations, didn't he?"

"I believe you may wish to speak to the Council about that, Sirs."

Everyone turned and Tag glanced down, the perfect picture of studied consideration and understated confidence, "Chief Organa has already had several meetings with the Emperor towards this goal, as the Council—and Captain Varo, I presume—are aware."

"…What?!" Shock gave Dietz's voice volume.

Tag turned coolly on him, neatly deflecting the blame, as it had always been her remit to do, from the woman who would lead the Alliance in this as no-one else could. "You should understand Sir, that I advised her against making the facts known too early, for obvious reasons. The decision was made on both sides to wait until some form of universal acknowledgement could be made. It seems the chair has been very publicly pulled out for us to sit."

Ateya raised his snout as he turned beady eyes on Tag, "How long have they been in talks?"

"Sufficient that I believe the Emperor is genuine in this offer Sir."

"This is outrageous," Varo declared tersely.

"Outrageous? This is surely what we've always sought, Ma'am—or am I wrong?"

"We're actually even considering speaking to him based on this…this publicity stunt?!"

"Is it though?" Ateya asked, always the voice of reason, as Caamasi so often were. "Remember at Fondor Shipyards…the release of all our troops? What did he claim at the time that it was?"

"A public statement of Imperial intent. That's what he said at the time," Commander Pierce said levelly, eyes remaining on the images, the noise of the nearby crowds still filtering through the ship. "I was there, listening, when he spoke to Chief Organa."

"Chief Organa had already spoken more than once to the Emperor by that point, on behalf of the Alliance. I suppose it does no harm now to tell you that Chief Organa had told him that she was looking for such a gesture, made in good faith. All things considered, I believe that it's our turn to provide such an undertaking now. Our turn to prove that we are more than blinkered extremists." Tag glanced to Varo, her inference clear.

"I say we should talk." Dietz said decisively.

Varo turned on him, "This is ridiculous—intolerable."

"What, the chance to end a three decade long civil war?" Pierce asked.

"The fact that a few smooth words and empty promises can turn your heads so easily."

"Words cost nothing," Captain Ateya said in agreement with Pierce. "Bearing that in mind, I think we should enter talks."

Tag watched in silence, knowing that this same discussion would be being echoed on every Rebel vessel in space right now, the news travelling like wildfire.

"I'll be damned if I'll negotiate with him—ever," Varo snapped, though she was clearly in the minority now.

"It's your right to say that Ma'am," Tag said levelly, laying the seeds of contention by dropping a public suggestion of the split which she knew the Emperor had always intended, stoking the fire that would instigate the separation of the tolerant many from the minority radicals. "It's also your right—and your duty—to step down if you find yourself unable to serve the views of the organization you supposedly represent."

Tag's comlink chose that moment to chime and she glanced at it, then back to the assembled officers, "Home One's just made geostationary orbit with Chief Organa presently aboard, Sirs—I'm sure she and the Council will field all questions, then we can do that for which we've always fought; we'll put it to the majority vote."

"Is there really anything to vote for," Ateya asked, looking round, "Isn't this what we've been fighting for all this time?"

Tag smiled just slightly, an elated buzz warming through her as she nodded her head. "I believe so Sir, I really do. But I know the Chief and I know she'll put it to the vote anyway…then we can begin preparations to enter into formal negotiations."

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In the safety of the Imperial Consular Ship, Luke leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, trembling with exhaustion. Medics rushed forward but he waved them away, leaning one hand on Mara's shoulder as he walked slowly toward the Medi-bay, Nathan closely attentive.

"How many, Nath?" He asked weakly without turning.

"I'm sorry?"

"How many—in the crowd?"

Nathan was silent for a moment then, "A dozen, all near the beginning. How did you know?"

Luke shrugged, "It was a little too perfect. It felt orchestrated."

"Only to you, I assure you," Nathan promised. "For the most part, it was spontaneous. We simply provided the impetus."

"And the foliage?" Luke asked wryly, leaning against the medi-bay examination bed, drained.

"We may have provided a few sellers," Kiria D'Arca said contentedly. "Local suppliers of course—just in case they check." She shrugged, ever the political animal, "I would."

Luke smiled as he finally dropped back onto the medical bed; it felt impossibly good. "Don't ever tell me you weren't born for politics, Nath."

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Mara was leant against the far wall in the dim outer room of the medi-bay, watching through the wide plexiglass screen as Luke slept in the darkened room beyond, his hair still slick from his overnight immersion in bacta. He hated the stuff, Mara knew, but Nathan had somehow persuaded him to acquiesce, though what bribery he'd used she couldn't imagine.

Maybe it was just his impressively dogged ability to wear people down, because the moment Luke was in bacta Nathan had turned his attentions back to Mara, scanning her then nagging her relentlessly until she'd let him give her a tonic shot, before ordering a 'balanced meal' delivered to her quarters and hustling her off there to rest.

Which she'd done for all of five hours…then she'd redressed and sneaked back into the medi-bay to watch Luke flinch and twitch to unknown dreams in the bacta, aware of those same smoky nightmares at the corners of her perceptions as never before, but unable quite to either see or disperse them.

Now though, he slept quietly, the bruises and countless nicks and cuts gone as if they'd never existed, only the deeper surgery scar from the removal of the slave-chip and the deep infection of his ankle remaining. Mara tilted her head as she watched him, a smile coming to her lips…then fading as she narrowed her eyes, turning to stare at the door into the main medi-bay just seconds before it opened.

Kiria D'Arca stepped into the room, her long ruby gown rustling in the silence, subtle flickers of rose gold within the embroidery catching briefly in the light from the corridor beyond.

She was two steps forward into the darkened room before she realized Mara's presence in the shadows, turning as she started.

Mara folded her arms, head tilting, "Come to arrest me?"

It took the Empress no more than a second to regain her poise, "Why, have you done something else?"

"I thought you weren't finished from last time."

Kiria's expression cooled, but she turned away, looking instead to Luke, "Has Hallin said when he'll wake?"

Mara's eyes stayed on Kiria for a few seconds more, then she turned back to Luke, "He says a while yet."

"He looked dreadful," Kiria said with feeling before turning to Mara, tone as uncompromising as ever, "You should have got him out sooner."

"He got himself out actually," Mara said coolly. "We just picked him up. And we would have been there a whole lot sooner if we'd been traveling with Star Destroyers, not avoiding them."

Kiria turned back to the sleeping figure, unmoved. "Perhaps you should remember that next time you choose to disobey a direct order from the Emperor."

"Perhaps I should remember it when I'm writing my report of this whole incident… What do you think, should I use obstruct, impede or just plain hinder? Or maybe all three."

In the low light, Mara actually thought she saw a slight smile from the Empress…even heard it in her voice when she spoke, "And so on, and so forth." Again Kiria was silent for a long time, her eyes never leaving Luke. When she spoke, there was rare allowance in her voice, "You did well to find him."

Mara straightened, uncomfortable. Having nothing to say to that, she finally settled back against the wall once more to watch Luke sleep for a while. When Kiria didn't leave, Mara finally allowed without turning. "I guess…the stuff you did today was…appropriate."

"Did you think I wouldn't?" Kiria said quietly. "Or did you simply hope it? I'm afraid you won't get rid of me that easily, Commander Jade. The Emperor is moving from strength to strength…and I intend to do so with him. I also intend not to add to his burden at this or any other time."

"Really," Mara said dryly, "so you're leaving then?"

"I'm speaking in terms of not wishing to bother the Emperor with the unimportant trivia of all that took place in his absence."

"Ah, is that what you're calling it now?"

"We could stand here and argue till dawn, Commander Jade, and it would only ever be dancing around the relevant discussion that must come eventually."

Mara tipped her head, "Go on?"

"The truce we have—I'm suggesting that it stays in place a little while longer."

"Interesting," Mara said vaguely, remembering Luke's confidence that this offer would come—he could be maddeningly right sometimes.

"I'm sure you'll agree that everything that's happened paves the way for a little…furthering of our entente cordiale." Kiria said smoothly.

"I thought the deal was, I got Luke back, you kept things ticking over, end of deal."

"I have a new deal—and frankly I don't think either of us can afford to pass it up." When Mara remained silent, Kiria continued. "What I'm saying, is this: we each have a secret about the other…I know about the vials, and you know about what I intended that day. There's an obvious solution here, don't you agree?"

"Hey, what I did was an error of judgment. You tried to arrest me!"

Kiria turned, those perfectly-arched eyebrows lifting, "And you have some proof of that fact? You know as well as I do that the Emperor will not act against an individual without tangible, legitimately binding proof. That is the Empire he's creating, and he's already illustrated just how much he is willing to suffer to uphold those values. And I'm not certain of course, but I believe that all of the guards who detained Nathan Hallin have coincidentally been reassigned far from Coruscant. Though I'm not sure of that fact—in all the upheaval, I understand certain guard rosters were lost."

Mara nodded, "How very fortunate."

"Isn't it?"

"I don't need proof. I can just…" Mara hesitated; she'd almost said 'look into your head', but stopped herself in time. D'Arca didn't need to know that. "I can tell Luke and he needs only to be near you to know the truth, you know that. If he asks you face to face, do you seriously think you can lie to him?"

"What I was doing, I believed was right for the Emperor. If he chose to look into my thoughts, he would realize that too. "

"Really?" Mara asked, looking to cut the Empress down a strip whether it was true or not. "Well then why are you so damn reluctant to tell him?"

"I told you, I wish to avoid troubling the Emperor unduly. All you would do in bringing this up is to place him in an untenable position, because the truth is that he still needs me."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?"

"As sure as I am that, for whatever reason, he has not grown bored of his little trinket yet. Though that may change if the ugly truth came out—because the whole truth would come out, I promise you. His little trinket wouldn't remain untarnished. And at the end of the day, all we would have succeeded in doing is alienating the Emperor on both our parts, providing one more proof that we're incapable of simple self-restraint—even when we're both aware that this is the most inopportune of times… Hardly a flattering image, I'm sure you'll agree."

"And Nathan?" Mara asked. "How exactly do you think Nathan will feel about this little…deal?"

"I have already spoken indirectly to Nathan Hallin of this, and I believe he understands the need for stability. He will, I'm sure, be quite the statesman, given time…and no matter what else, I'm beginning to realize that Nathan Hallin will always do whatever he believes is best for his Emperor."

Mara nodded, "A pity you didn't realize that before you arrested him."

Kiria ignored the bait, "I recognize in Hallin someone who is determined to be of use to his Emperor and to the society he is building. In you…I see a bodyguard, nothing more."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you must remain, then at least try to learn to be of value to him…whilst you are here. Learn how to play the game."

"I'm guessing that a rough translation of that is, keep my mouth shut, right?"

"A little…diplomacy wouldn't go amiss either."

"And you just happen to know that, right?"

Kiria raised perfectly-arched eyebrows, "If you think I'm interested in teaching you, then you're mistaken. I'm simply offering a method by which to ensure that your remaining time here will be minimally damaging on all sides. There is simply no need for either or both of us to go down in flames. Granted, there's every chance he'll eventually forgive us, but if there's one thing I've learned about our Emperor, it's that he doesn't trust easily—and if that trust is broken, it takes a long, long time to heal."

"You think you know all the angles, don't you? All those answers neatly in place."

"I think I know the society which I inhabit, Commander Jade."

"And of course, I don't?" Mara provided dryly. "It may interest you to know that whilst you were wafting around that society you place so much store in, if you'd've had the wherewithal to look around occasionally you might have seen me just quietly mingling. Because I didn't just grow up in that society, I grew up in the center of it—in the Imperial Palace itself. And brace yourself, but I happen to have friends in the Royal Houses too—ones I can actually trust. Ones who were brought up with and understand all the little powerplays that go on in your elite little clique. And speaking of tarnishing reputations, my friend, she tells me that you were warming up for a coup, with all your careful removal of any opposition."

Kiria shrugged, "I was placing certain insurances in position, yes. Anyone would have done the same, in any similar situation, to ensure the smooth continuity of the Empire. Interregnum's are dangerous things."

"Smooth continuity!" Mara scoffed. "With you at its head, no doubt."

"If needs be. Rather me than some unknown Moff—or worse, power struggles and civil war. I could ensure that continuity more than you realize."

Mara shook her head, "Well don't you just have an answer for everything."

Those perfect rosebud lips curled up at their edges. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

Mara's eyes narrowed, but she was tiring of this game, and the truth was, D'Arca had already conceded in putting the offer forward. "You want to compromise? You want some kind of insurance against this particular run of spectacularly bad decisions? Fine."

Kiria's eyes came momentarily to hers, and Mara shrugged. "Let's just say a lot of things have cleared up for me in the last few weeks—including my own future—and yours, as it happens. Luke says he needs you to hold the Royal Houses in line when the changes start happening, and if he thinks he needs you, then that's good enough for me—for now. As far as I'm concerned, you can stay."

Kiria arched one perfectly-manicured eyebrow, "How very gracious of you."

"But understand this—I'm watching you, and the moment I think you're no longer acting like the asset he believes he needs, this deal is over. Just remember that the next time you're working on that smooth continuity."

D'Arca wasn't in the slightest fazed. "Then we have an understanding?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Mara said dryly. "Compromise maybe."

Kiria turned to look again to Luke's sleeping form as he shifted slightly. "A very wise man once told me that compromise was good; compromise he understood."

Mara frowned for a few seconds before realizing who she was speaking of, and had to let out a quiet laugh. "This from the man who didn't like the way the galaxy was run, so decided to change it."

Kiria too smiled just slightly, "I suspect our idea of compromise may differ a little from his."

Mara nodded in wry agreement. "I deeply suspect his idea of compromise is, 'Everybody do what I think is best, and somehow I'll make you think it was what you wanted too'."

Kiria nodded, amused, and Mara wondered if they had just shared another like-minded moment; that made two in the last year—she was getting worried.

She shrugged, not wishing to think about that. "I guess a little informed compromise is warranted right now, huh?"

"This is so much more than that, Commander Jade—this is how affairs of state work. We each now have a vested interest in holding our silence… and a common link. Governments and social contracts are all well and good, but this is what holds and sustains those who dictate such things. This is what drives them."

"I thought it was the common good?"

Kiria smiled, "Don't be naïve. Allies are seldom formed on such altruistic reasons as good will. But it can slowly become that way—when one feels one can trust one's...acquaintances."

"Let's not get carried away here, shall we?" Mara said dryly.

Kiria shrugged, "There's nothing cements any alliance like mutual reliance."

"Which we suddenly have, because if you rat on me, I get to rat on you, right?"

"Not exactly the words I would have used, but essentially, yes."

"And what phrase would you have used?" Mara asked.

Kiria's ruby lips lifted into the sweetest of smiles. "I would perhaps have said, welcome to the fascinating powerhouse of Palace politics, Commander Jade."

"Really?" Mara tilted her head. "I think it might be a short stay. In fact, I think that mutual truce might be over around about when I finish this sentence…I'm pregnant."

Kiria blinked slowly, and Mara had the satisfaction of seeing that perfect visage of serene beauty crack just slightly before she regained control.

"I see…and the Emperor..."

"Knows."

"I see."

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Watched by the Emperor's endlessly irascible mistress, Kiria's mind raced to process this fact; to analyze it past the momentary blinding burst of alarm, determined not to flounder before her adversary. Unthinkingly, she smoothed the folds of her gown, tucked a stray lock of hair back beneath the elaborate headdress she wore, all the while weighing unwelcome facts against her projected intentions…

And the game wasn't over—not yet.

The Emperor's trinket was bearing his child…an unfortunate circumstance, and since the Emperor knew, an essentially unchangeable one. But at the end of the day, she was only a mistress, and Kiria's position remained the same; she was Empress, which meant that if she bore a child, unless the Emperor specifically ruled otherwise, it would still be the legitimate heir. The whole galaxy had seen her step into her husband's role on the very day that his abduction had been made public. She was the one they had seen, not Jade, who had worked only ever out of sight and disappeared completely when the truth was out, unnoticed by all. Jade's child could even be publicly acknowledged—though she doubted the Emperor would do that—and it would still remain of lower hereditary status than any child Kiria bore as Empress, ensuring the continuity she intended, contrary to all that...

A thought occurred which prompted a small, dry laugh. "So Palpatine wins by default."

Jade frowned, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"It was what he always intended—didn't you know? He said I was the perfect Empress. For all the reasons I've always claimed and Luke acknowledged, I was the ideal Empress…but he said that the price for allowing that position would be that you bore the Heir."

Jade too laughed bitterly at Palpatine's achievement of his goals in maneuvering all concerned into his chosen line, even from the grave. "I think Luke may have a surprise or two left for the old man yet."

"The dissolution of autocracy? True, I don't think Palpatine planned for that," Kiria allowed, amused. "I admit, I didn't know myself immediately… Oh, I thought our fresh, young Emperor would make changes when he came to power—maybe even radical ones, increasing liberties and justice in the constitution, that kind of thing—but you'll notice I didn't look too surprised stood on that dais behind him today. You'd be amazed how quickly the greater picture becomes clear when you have access to that wonderful archive bank as de-facto Head of State—even for a short while. And if he wants to bring some petty little Rebellion into line rather than simply destroy them, then that's his prerogative, of course."

"So you're still…"

"Backing him? Yes."

Jade's voice lowered warily, "So, what, do you know something I don't?"

"Very probably." Kiria said easily. "I may even know something Luke hasn't considered, in this instance. I know it because I have lived my life here, among the echelons of power, and I know what changes with greater events—and what will not. You see, whether he holds the throne or not, Luke will remain at the head of one of the most significant Royal Houses ever created. I came into this marriage bringing loyalties and connections and affiliations and support, all of which were invaluable to Luke. What he doesn't realize is just how many connections and loyalties he himself commands—whether he is Emperor or not. His influence extends now to all the Royal Houses, the military…this fledgling government he seems intent on creating, even it will owe its very existence to him. In his resolve to create a stable platform from which to work, he has created the most powerful, influential, all-encompassing Royal House in existence. You are thinking in very narrow terms when you think of him as Emperor, Commander Jade. The dynasty and the legacy he has created will not cease to exist simply because he takes a step back—if that is even possible."

"I think he's pretty conclusively proved that if he says something's possible, it will become so—even if he has to make it so himself."

"For once, I think you're right. But I also look at what he's done, the choices he's made, the variables he's allowed for, the options he held in reserve but never played… And I know the man; I know that he is possessed of a determination that this will be a smooth transition from absolute rule to democracy. And if that's what he intends, it may not be nearly as easy to extricate himself from centre-stage as he thinks. No, I think I will be admiring the same magnificent view from the balcony of my apartments in the Imperial Palace for the foreseeable future."

"I think you'll be surprised," Jade held. "If Luke wants to step down, he'll step down."

"I think the relevant word in that sentence is if," Kiria said knowingly.

Jade's hand came to rest subconsciously on her stomach, and Kiria glanced down incrementally, long lashes a smoky line over almond eyes. "You're wondering where your child fits into all this? Then let me tell you: it doesn't. Oh, there's room in the legacy I've just described for a mistress—there are many hundreds of such through the history of most Royal Houses…though I couldn't tell you the name of any of them. They fall back into obscurity very quickly once a legitimate heir is born."

"You seriously think he'll..." Jade shook her head, amused. "You don't know him as well as you think."

Kiria smiled gracefully, dimples settling in delicately rouged cheeks, an imperfection which she always felt added a human touch to flawless beauty. "Perhaps—but I know myself."

Jade lifted her chin in defiance, every bit as fiery as her titian hair implied. "You're not the threat you think you are, Kiria D'Arca—not even nearly. You want your name in the history books? You want that title, that acknowledgment, that recognition? Take them. You want that damn precious coronet you're wearing? Fine have it. It's just a heavy collection of cold stones that catch the light and make people look occasionally. And the kind of people who are blinded by a little sparkle are not the kind that I'm interested in impressing. It's the man I want, not his position." Jade smiled, clearly taking great delight in throwing Kiria's words, from their very first meeting, back at her right now. "You can keep the title, Excellency, I have no need of it; I have the man."

She turned to stride from the room, head high—and paused, glancing back from the doorway. "That truce still in effect?"

Kiria flashed her most dazzling smile. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Because nothing had changed. Her Emperor was back in one piece. He still had his little trinket in tow—Jade may even have managed to secure a more solid standing and status than Kiria had intended—but Kiria had a truce in place now which would protect her own interests and ambitions...and she had every intention of changing that status-quo, given time.

"As I said earlier Commander Jade…welcome to Palace politics."

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The first thing which struck Luke when he woke was that nothing hurt. He would have remained like this, eyes blissfully closed, just savoring the moment, if he hadn't sensed Kiria's presence close by.

When he looked up she was stood attentively close, the deep ruby hue of her impeccably bias-cut gown striking in the calm, pale tones of the medi-bay.

"Welcome home," she smiled, voice velvet. "Or rather, to the Patriot—but then you've always considered the military more of a home than Coruscant anyway, haven't you?"

"Neither are, actually," Luke murmured, voice hoarse.

"Reticent as ever," Kiria smiled as she reached to the side table to pour him a glass of water. For a second she paused, and Luke thought she might try to hold it to his lips, so lifted himself quickly upright—too quickly as it happened, his head spinning.

He gritted his teeth, pressing the control to lift the bed behind him then holding out his hand for the glass. "News?" he prompted.

"As you hoped," Kiria said, taking her cue from his businesslike tone. "I'm sure you have your own sources who can give you more detailed accounts, but Intel have said its sources report that the Rebel Alliance is beginning to polarize, splitting off into moderates and militants as they prepare to vote. That is what that speech was intended to do, isn't it?"

"More or less," Luke admitted. He looked sharply to Kiria, "But I also meant it."

"I'm very glad you did," Kiria said smoothly, "otherwise your last year or so's work would have been rather…puzzling."

Luke kept his eyes on her, and she shrugged just slightly, "Hindsight—and a week's access to all those important documents—is a useful thing."

"And you're still here?" he said, to the point as ever.

She nodded just once, all the explanation he needed. "Why would I not be? I told you a long time ago that I would back you in your choices."

"And House D'Arca? I'm not sure your father will be quite so steadfast."

"My father has long since ceased to be the power behind the House D'Arca, and you well know it."

"Thank you," Luke said—it would have been petty not to.

His thoughts went briefly to Mara, curious as to whether Kiria had tried to strike a deal yet, though to ask her now would have been tantamount to an admission of knowledge which would have rendered the deal obsolete. Since it appeared to be keeping the peace right now, he felt no need to push it. It would come out eventually, he was sure, but meanwhile, he fully intended to savor the tranquility.

Glancing down, Luke noticed for the first time the ring on Kiria's finger. She looked down, following his gaze, and lifted her hand, rubbing her fingers over the ring. "You'd like this back, I suppose?"

"Yes." Mara had told him what D'Arca done when the ring had arrived, and all that it had achieved, and he didn't now want to seem ungrateful, but this was important. "The ring—it's Mara's, if it's not on my finger. You should know that."

Kiria lifted her chin, "She never asked for it."

"She shouldn't have had to."

Kiria tried a full-lipped pout, "And what do I get?"

"You get fifteen properties, including estates on Coruscant, Teyr and Commenor, staff to run them, protection, a generous annuity for life and my…undying gratitude."

Kiria lifted her hand to study the blue-stone, "But it is a very nice ring."

"Which isn't yours."

Smiling, Kiria slipped the ring from her finger. Still, when she handed it over, Luke could detect a trace of genuine reluctance. "I actually did like to wear it, you know."

He took the ring, returning it to his little finger, suddenly uncomfortable in all that he asked of her. "I know."

Kiria hesitated, "And I did miss you."

Luke's eye remained on the ring, deeply ill at ease, and seeing this, Kiria brightened with her usual indomitable manner. "I had no-one to buy jewels for me."

Luke laughed just slightly, aware of what she was doing. "I'm sure you can buy your own."

"But it's not nearly as much fun as when you give them to me," she teased lightly. "And besides, I happen to think I earn them. I look on them as tangible proof of trust."

"I wouldn't make that connection if I were you," Luke warned gamely. "You might find yourself with less that you imagine."

"I think you'll be surprised."

"I'd be very surprised," Luke said levelly. "I've never once trusted you in the past."

Kiria smiled, redoubtable, "A new start, then?"

Luke looked down, "It may not be the one you want…Mara's—"

"Yes, I know. She told me." Luke hesitated, and Kiria pushed on decisively. "You still need me."

"Yes I do," Luke agreed, meeting her eyes. "And you'll still stay because you think you can change me."

She flashed that perfect smile, ruby lips against caramel skin, "Perhaps I'll surprise you again."

She withdrew with her usual timely grace, leaving Luke alone to drop back onto his pillow, still exhausted, unthinkingly using his thumb to rotate his mother's ring about his finger as he'd always done, prizing the feeling of completeness now that he had it again.

Mara had explained already what it had gained for him, and…it would be nice to think that his mother had been watching over him through this. That in some way, her ring had helped protect him. Helped hold together the Empire that his father had created from the mire of civil war and given Luke the impetus to scour from it any hint of Palpatine's involvement.

Would she approve now, he wondered? Would she delight in watching the first steps of this fledgling Empire away from autocracy and toward democracy once again? Surely so. His thoughts went to the only holo he owned of her—to that cascade of walnut hair that her daughter had inherited, among other traits. His father had always held that Padmé had been a good and just person…and she was part of him, just as his father had said. Just as she was part of Leia, she was part of what had made him. She too was part of his legacy. She too had saved him, in the end.

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CHAPTER 48

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Leia stood on the wide terrazzo-marble balcony of the stately Imperial Palace, its pale honey hue reflecting the midday sunlight, a strong autumn breeze flicking stray strands of hair loose from the plaited and coiled formal style she wore, tiny seed-pearl pins holding it in place. She gazed out over the breathtaking vistas, head still spinning, as much from the fact that she could stand here at the seat of government once again without fear of persecution as from the dizzying views.

It was barely three months since Luke's grand vision had been made public, and today she and other moderate Rebels had been present when the Emperor had made his formal speech opening the Peace Summit—the first time in decades that diplomats faithful to the Old Republic had been legally present on Coruscant.

In it, he'd pledged a tract of land close to the Imperial Palace at the heart of Old Coruscant which had, for almost thirty years, been a massive military barracks compound. On the very first day of talks, Luke had opened with the announcement that this barracks complex would be dismantled to clear the ground for a new civic building. He'd gone on to both offer and demand concessions as a condition to talks, and to clarify the principles, conventions and agendas that would bind all present, before he closed by voicing the hope that by the time the building was complete, those who had attended these talks today would have the honor and the responsibility to both name and nurture it.

The site had, thirty years previously, been the location of the Old Republic Senate.

Leia allowed herself a wry private smile. Her brother, she had to admit, had a flair for the persuasively, inspirationally theatrical.

And the historically significant. Because today everyone knew that they had, in effect, witnessed the creation of the new Imperial Senate.

Imperial Senate…a contradiction in terms, she mused; but then no more so than the man who had instigated it.

He stood alone now, as she'd learned in the last three months that he often did, even when surrounded by people, remaining subtly apart from those present as he leaned on the carved marble balustrade of the balcony which led out from his private quarters. They had a few hours before the official inauguration dinner was to commence, members of all parties convening for the momentous event, and she and Han had been quietly approached by the newly-inaugurated Chancellor Hallin, with a very private invitation to the Emperor's residence.

Feeling slightly guilty at disturbing his privacy—he seemed, not surprisingly given his life, to have developed over the years the unique ability to emit an invisible 'leave me alone' signal—Leia nonetheless set forward to…to her brother.

As she came to a halt beside him, she noticed that he was staring thoughtfully at a small wooden box he held, plain and unadorned and no larger than a clenched fist.

Leia smiled, leaning against the cool stone balustrade, "What's that?"

He glanced up from his reverie as if only now realizing she was there, those mismatched eyes holding a startling intensity, his face, his whole demeanour dark and withdrawn…then in an instant it was gone, like a cloud passing over the sun, and he smiled—and was instantly the pilot she'd known so well.

"Nothing." He turned the small box over in his hands as he shrugged. "Nothing important."

Leia frowned, curious, eyes going back from Luke to the box, and he smiled again, loosing the tight lid with a grinding turn and handing it over to her.

She took it and peered within…but it contained nothing more than a fine grey ash. Leia looked back to him in wordless query, but he only shrugged.

"See—it's nothing at all."

"Then why do you keep it?"

He stared at the box for long moments, then nodded just slightly, as if some private decision had been reached, "You're right. Throw it away."

Leia frowned and glanced at the pale ash in the box once more, instinctively aware that something of great import was happening here, but unsure what it was. Watching him closely, she held it out over the edge of the balcony…

There was something in his eyes as he watched, something mischievous and hesitant and wicked and vulnerable all at the same time, so that Leia frowned, uncertain. "Are you sure?"

He nodded again, "Empty it."

Leia turned it upside down, the pale ashes tumbling free, a momentary cloud which instantly scattered, carried away on the high wind.

She watched them for an instant, but it was her brother who took her attention. Some deep change came over him, his gaze, his whole body and awareness following the path of the ashes as they dispersed, the wind whipping them instantly away though he remained attentive, staring in silence as if he could still see them as they scattered. For a long time he was still, eyes on the distant skyline as the wind whipped at his hair, that shadow coming over his face again, a melancholy quietness taking him…

Then he turned sharply, and Leia felt the box in her hand fragment and disintegrate as the wood collapsed into itself as if under massive pressure, the box reduced to dust and splinters in a single second though not one even scratched her skin, the power and energy of the act leaving them warm in her palm. Startled, she opened her hand—and the wind took the fragments, whipping them away, the pieces too fine to follow and gone in a blink of the eye.

She stared at Luke, sure now that something of great consequence had just happened but unable to fathom what. But he smiled, and it warmed his face and his sense—she felt it quite distinctly.

"It's nothing," he reassured again. "Nothing important. Not anymore."

He turned and paused, crooking his arm in invitation, and Leia didn't need to see the ever-attentive Mara Jade's surprise to let her know just how hard Luke was trying. Every now and then in brief, self-conscious bursts, he tried so hard to be what he once was. Not all the time, and not always successfully; he knew that as well as Leia did. But it didn't matter—she had enough faith for both of them, and for now that was enough. Maybe he was right and he would never again be the man that he'd been when Leia had lost him, but she knew absolutely that he would never again be the man that Palpatine had sought so hard to create. And that too, right now, was enough.

So she smiled as she stepped forward, slipping her arm into Luke's and allowing herself to be led back into the grand drawing room where Nathan, Han and a suspiciously loosely-dressed Mara stood in easy conversation. It was an open secret of course, though most seemed to think that the child was Nathan Hallin's. In fact Leia was pretty sure that the only people who knew the truth were the people in this room—and Han had now managed to go a whole forty minutes without making typically indiscreet mention of the fact. Leia was proud of him.

"Hey Kid," About as uncomfortable as any smuggler would be in a tailored military dress uniform, Han stepped to Leia's side, fingering his high collar as he glanced to the balcony where she'd just emptied the ashes, his words betraying his close attentiveness to…well, it could have been either of them, Leia reflected. "Puttin' out the trash there?"

Beside her, Luke seemed to allow himself a private smile at that. "Somebody had to."

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Once, just once more, Luke allowed himself to half-turn and glance back into the darkening sky where Palpatine's ashes had dispersed—at his sister's hand, not his own. A flash-image lit his thoughts—of the vow he'd made to Palpatine in that fateful duel, hurled with such desolate fury at his father's murderer."Luke Skywalker would have killed you, but that's not enough for me, not anymore—you taught me that. So when I take your power I'll dedicate it to removing every single trace that you ever existed... And then I'll take your ashes and scatter them to the winds....... All that work, all your ambitions, your power, your precious Sith dynasty, all reduced to nothing. Dust in the wind."

Dust in the wind. He should have felt something more perhaps, at this final achievement of all that he'd pushed toward for so long, the oath he'd made to Palpatine with every fiber of his being in retribution for his father's death… He wanted to feel more, some sense of completion, of finality, of triumph… But his thoughts were already elsewhere—on the future, and where he and Leia could take this fresh new hope, rather than the hollow fulfillment of that bitter oath. So in the end, the vow which had shaped and driven him for so long amounted to nothing more substantial than dust in the wind, scattered and diffuse and instantly gone.

Awareness of his sister's close attention pulled him back from darker thoughts and Luke smiled, his thoughts on Leia once more. "We should find you a residence on Coruscant," he said at last. "Something close to the new Senate, when it's made operational."

"We've only just started the summit and already you're planning a Senate," Leia said wryly.

Luke glanced down to the massed complex of barracks far below, where already the first heavy construction 'droids were being assembled in preparation to dismantle the heavily-fortified buildings. "I can see it exactly…from the main spire right down to the floor underfoot."

For some reason he didn't truly understand yet felt driven to do, Luke had ordered the two halves of the stone circle which had been beneath Palpatine's Sunburst Throne to be taken up and stored for transportation to the new Senate hall, in preparation to be relaid in the centre of the main Senate chamber, recombined into the single complete circle Luke had seen it as in that vision long ago in his Master's Throne Room.

It gave him immense pleasure to know that it would remain forever at the very centre of the Senate that Palpatine had devoted so much of his existence to destroying. Somehow, like the dark, rust red circle set within a pale cream ring, the act felt like the last circle combined and completed; the last of the prophesy fulfilled. He would, he knew, smile every time he saw it, knowing from where it had been removed. And he intended to see it a lot in the upcoming years as the fledgling Senate formed—and for Leia to do the same.

And she wouldn't be alone—other moderate members of the Alliance Council would be with her, others still of a more military bearing plucked from their present positions and placed in innocuous positions within the Imperial fleet. A few years to settle everyone to the notion, and he'd be able to quietly promote them to high-ranking positions—and in doing so of course, create the shortcut which would enable him to break the Royal Houses present stronghold on the upper echelons of the military.

Leia shrugged, leaning into him, "Oh it's fine—I don't intend staying on Coruscant that long."

"No," Luke said ruefully. "Neither did I."

She was always his key player. He'd always needed her. For himself, for the galaxy…for that damn prophesy to be finally put to rest. Luke felt a brief pang of regret that his father had fulfilled the prophesy and never known; had created that balance, that symmetry in his son and his daughter, twins, different aspects of the Force existing in equilibrium; dark and light, power and conscience.

But to complete the prophesy, Luke needed to activate that potential—needed to give Leia the same power as himself. All he had to do was train her, as Yoda trained him; as a Jedi. He could remember Master Yoda's lessons, could place himself back in that mindset, all be it temporarily. Give her the power to stand against him, personally and politically, to balance him.

He needed someone to counter his own abilities, and it couldn't and shouldn't be Mara; he didn't want to be placed in contention against her even once. As Nathan had so diplomatically pointed out, despite their combined efforts, they were explosive enough without any extra incentives.

So he'd needed another Force-sensitive—but not just any; another Sith couldn't do that…but a Jedi could, if they had more invested in maintaining this balancing act than simple friendship. Leia would have the strength and the inclination to counter him, and the commitment and the relationship never to try to overthrow him—not seriously, at least. And he knew that he would, in return, allow her more leeway than any other because of who she was. The temptation to eventually turn on anyone else would, sooner or later, come into play and he knew it. Whatever else he was, he was still the Emperor's wolf.

Would it be enough to counter all that Palpatine had carved into him? He doubted it—though Leia had already voiced her hope that it could. It was, Luke suspected, her main motivation in agreeing to be taught. Perhaps she was right…

Because for the first time he genuinely believed he had something to temper the darkness within, something to give him the confidence to act without Palpatine's shadow hanging over him, something to hold the wolf in check.

His sister would always balance him, as the prophesy had said; where he was power, she was compassion. She was the conscience to balance his temper, the restraint to balance his impatience. And he had the initiative to counter her doubts, the drive to balance her cautious reserve…if he gave her the power. If he taught her. And he would; had started already, because without it, he couldn't continue; without it, he would tear himself apart and he knew it. That was what the final vision of the throne had meant—the knowledge that if he sat on the throne, if he took the power alone, it would destroy him. He knew that now. But that natural balance was right here…it had been all along.

Let the Darkness sit in his shadow; he would have the light to keep it there.

And he had Mara…he looked across the airy, opulent room and she turned instantly from where she stood speaking with Nathan close to the door, ever the bodyguard, even now, despite the ambassadorial robes which both wore. He'd noticed that her clothing had changed again in the last few weeks, looser, less form-fitting pieces the order of the day—though he was pretty damn sure that she had at the very least one blaster concealed in their folds somewhere, and her lightsaber of course; strictly for sentimental value, she claimed.

She raised her eyebrows now as her head tilted in laconic question, but he only smiled slightly, admiring her, unabashed. Mara, whom he thought he could never trust again…and who, as it turned out, he'd trusted most of all. Mara, who'd been his strength even when he didn't realize it. He glanced down once to her stomach, and she ran her hand lightly across it, an unspoken language for a private passion. Where they went from here he didn't know—but he knew they'd travel together; they always had.

And his son—Leia had given his unborn son the most precious gift of all; choice. That alone would have bought her immunity even from his capricious nature. He would grow up to a whole galaxy of promise and possibilities, all the potential in the worlds, all the choice—and in a galaxy where everyone had those same freedoms. Between the people in this room, they would make sure of it.

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Just one day after the launch of the Peace Summit, the Emperor's plain-spoken opening address assuring his enduring status as the man of the hour and champion of the people, Talon Karrde stood before the bank of tall glass doors in the Emperor's private office within the Cabinet of the Imperial Palace, gazing out at the magnificent sight of the sleeping ecumenopolis. A cool, low Autumn mist laid between the blue tinged buildings in the early morning light, the tallest spires reaching through the still haze of an early frost.

It was, he had to admit, an inspiring view, seen from an extraordinary building.

Just for a second, he wondered what it must be like to look out from this palace and know that all that you can see, you possess. To stand here in the dead of night and look up at the stars and know that your word commanded them, every single one.

Would he trade places with the Emperor, given the chance?

Not for a second. Knowing the man, knowing the price he paid every single day, Karrde could safely say that he was grateful to the soles of his boots that in an hour or so's time, he would be able to turn around, walk out of here, and leave it all behind.

The Emperor however…could he ever walk away? Would it ever truly be possible, despite all of his carefully-laid plans?

He would—in an instant, if he could. Karrde had always seen that in the young man's eyes. It was one of the reasons he liked him. But deep in his heart of hearts, Karrde suspected that the Emperor would never get the opportunity he was working so diligently toward; and deep in his heart of hearts, Karrde suspected that Skywalker knew it too.

The door behind him slid open and the man himself walked through with an easy smile and, as ever, a hundred shields in place, visible in the fine lines to the edges of those distinctive mismatched eyes, and the tight set of his jaw, even when he spoke to those he trusted.

Karrde sketched a quarter-bow, never very comfortable with protocol, though the Emperor had never once called him on it.

Three months since his ordeal, he was fully recovered, though Karrde had heard that he'd apparently thrown himself back into the grind of governing his Empire on the very day he had returned, much to the exasperated frustration of his long-suffering medic, Nathan Hallin. Perhaps that was the reason why the man had taken up a change in vocation, to diplomacy, no less—one had to be pretty desperate to go into that, Karrde reflected ruefully. Then again, anyone who managed to retain their cool when dealing with someone as quietly stubborn and endlessly unpredictable as the Emperor would probably find diplomacy a step down in pressure, even now, with the Rebel Alliance on Coruscant and odds-on expectations that a real, working provisional Senate would actually be in existence by the turn of the year!

Comfortable enough to simply strike up a conversation with the man who was capable of pushing all this through by strength of will alone, Karrde gestured with a nod of his head back across the cityscape, "That's quite a view."

The Emperor glanced to the balcony, "Is it? I suppose so."

I seldom have time to look, was the casual inference. Still, the Emperor set forward onto the wide, marble-floored balcony and Karrde joined him, both men stopping at the carved balustrade to look out over the mist-wrapped city as the day crept over the broken horizon.

"I hear there are another series of reforms set to come into place—to go with your new legislative building, I presume." Karrde said into the silence.

"You hear too much."

"That's why you pay me so well." The mercenary pointed out easily, eyes still on the city.

"I'd offer you a staff position to see if it would cut my costs, but I doubt you'd take one."

Karrde smiled, glancing down the sheer drop to the lavish, white-frosted roof gardens of the main Palace far below, "You know me, stubbornly independent."

"Or just plain stubborn," the Emperor said without malice. "Fortunately I know where you're coming from on that one so I won't ask again—though the offer's always on the table, you know that?"

"Thank-you," Karrde replied and meant it. "I hope this won't interfere with our existing arrangement?"

The Emperor shook his head, turning again to the endless city about them, "Business as usual."

"I don't think it's ever that with you."

Skywalker half-turned, voicing mock offence, "What—I have a plan."

"Hardly the one everyone thought though, was it?"

A shade of a smile traced his lips. "Still isn't, just between you and me."

Karrde froze at that, a thousand potential possibilities coming to mind. "You, uh…wouldn't care to elucidate, would you?"

For long seconds the look in those mismatched eyes said that he just might… Then it melted easily into a teasing smile and he turned away, "I'll keep you updated."

"I'm sure." Karrde lifted up the lightweight folder he carried, holding it out to Luke. "I brought you a present—actually I brought you two, but this one's something and nothing, relatively speaking."

His words were dismissive, though his tone was anything but. The Emperor accepted it with obvious confusion, uncertain what it could be. Inside was a folded sheet of flimsiplast, dog-eared and ripped and yellowing with age, but obviously kept with care.

Charily opening the delicate, torn-edged sheet, looking suspiciously like he was defusing a bomb, the Emperor studied it…and stared in still silence.

Karrde watched his face closely, noting the slightest of momentary lines creasing that still-youthful forehead into a brief frown, though that was his only reaction and it lasted all of a second. Intensely aware of the uncanny, kinetic stillness which wrapped about the Emperor now, Karrde continued talking, wondering momentarily if he'd done the right thing.

"Ghent, my slicer, he follows swoop racing. Not the government-approved squeaky-clean version—no offence," Karrde added, knowing the Emperor would take none, particularly in view of what he was looking at right now. "He prefers the real thing—thrown together death-traps on out of the way Rim planets where they can pretty much get away with anything as long as they can clean the stains up afterwards."

Karrde gestured with his head, keeping his voice cool and casual, "He collects the vintage flimsiplast racing sheets too—the itinerary one-siders they used to post up on the day."

The Emperor glanced up at him and Karrde shook his head, rolling his eyes, "I have no idea why—don't ask me. I think he said he likes the old graphics. He has them on the walls of his quarters onboard the Wild Karrde. This one's almost twelve years old, from some Rim planet called Tatooine. He picks them up on the HoloNet…all those restrictions lifting." Karrde leaned over slightly as he gestured with a finger. "It caught my eye right…there. The list of swoop racers for the second session identifies a swoop owned by a mechanic named Laze 'Fixer' Loneozner……the pilot is listed as Luke Skywalker, from Anchorhead on Tatooine. Local boy, presumably."

Skywalker—and Karrde was pretty sure now that this was the same Skywalker—made no move, and in the high wind it was impossible to tell whether the stained old flimsyplast sheet trembled in the current of air or in the grip of its holder.

"I thought you might like it," Karrde said neutrally, certain that it was everything it appeared to be. "I'm sure Ghent won't miss it and you do pay his wages after all…in a roundabout way."

He'd expected the Emperor to rip it up; destroy it beyond recognition and scatter the pieces to the wind. In the event, he refolded the old flimsiplast sheet very carefully and replaced it in the folder without looking up.

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It had crossed Luke's mind to deny it—to say it was a coincidence and ask the mercenary whether, now that he thought he knew the Emperor's name, he was going to bring him every scrap of information with any vague similarity. He could quite easily reach into the Force and make the conviction stick; make sure Karrde believed it irrelevant. Could just as easily reach into the man's mind and remove any memory of the name entirely.

But it seemed petty and graceless after Karrde had gone to the effort of handing the sheet—the only reference to his old name and his old life that Luke had seen in almost a decade—over without conditions. The smuggler could easily have kept it; as a piece of the puzzle relating to the seemingly-unassailable Emperor's past, it would be incredibly valuable on the underground market.

"Thank-you," he said at last, words misting in the frosty air. "That's…very interesting."

They both turned to look out over the city again, frigid, frost-sharp shadows shrinking back before dawn's light, the endless buildings given jewel-bright embellishment from lights scattered across their hulking forms as the city woke.

"So, who was Fixer?" Karrde asked at last, his tone light.

Luke allowed the slightest of smiles to turn up the edges of his lips and sound in his quiet voice, knowing that the mercenary was just chancing his arm now out of curiosity. "I'm sure I have no idea."

"No," Karrde said mildly without turning. "Of course not."

"Though I'd like to think he's in a cantina somewhere in the back of beyond right now, buying a drink for Jorj Car'das."

Karrde tensed almost imperceptibly at the casual reference to his own very private past, a twitch of that thick black moustache giving away his hidden smile. "Yes…let's hope they get fall-down drunk and stay there, shall we?"

They remained in companionable silence for a minute or so, a new understanding reached and a few more shields dropped in comfortable response.

By both men—although each saw this only in the other.

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There was a polite knock at the door in the room behind them, then it slid aside, and Karrde watched the eternally-nervous adjutant Turis setting forward and bowing politely, a comlink in his hand. "Excuse me Excellency, Commander Clem is requesting a word?"

"Oh, that must be your second gift," Karrde said, turning to the Emperor in a perfect feint of nonchalant realization, though the man probably knew that it was the reason he'd come today. "I left it in the care of Clem; it's probably been transferred to the Palace by now."

Karrde smiled as the Emperor set his head on one side in question. "I'll leave you with this one," he said mysteriously, sketching another uneasy bow as he made his retreat.

Despite all of the Emperor's actions and intentions, the mercenary knew him well enough to know that whilst the second gift he had delivered today would be very much appreciated, it wouldn't enjoy the same gentle treatment accorded that old swooprace one-sheet from some remote Rim-world planet. Like the incomparable palace which stood with such formidable grandeur at the centre of the galaxy, for every elegant, accommodating façade and smooth, sophisticated front, there were still dark and dangerous shadows within the man who so seamlessly kept the palace, the galaxy, and very probably the fledgling Senate turning to his tune.

Let others run themselves ragged trying to separate and classify and convince themselves that he was this or the other. Like all of those in the Emperor's close entourage, Karrde knew that the man who owned the Empire was a complex, compound twist from circumstance to circumstance, moment to moment. In a way, curiosity prodded him to stay, to see just how vindictive the Emperor could truly be when he wished—and he would, when he saw Karrde's gift, obtained at great effort in a way that only an organization like Karrde's could do, as comfortable in the sewers of any city as it was in the spires.

Which was why he would never take up the Emperor's offer; an official position would negate all of that and he would essentially become nothing more than another advisor.

No, he was better off where he was, doing what he was best at. The second gift was proof of that.

And he shouldn't stay, not for this. This was a private matter.

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Luke stood, composed and impassive, in the ostentatious extravagance of the Grand Stateroom. It was a room he seldom used, representing the very apex of Imperial affluence and opulence, a no-expense-spared testament to the excesses of Palpatine's Empire, as only his old Master could demand. He'd chosen the room with great deliberation, intending to convey subtle messages even in this, wishing to uphold his visitor's opinion of him, however incorrect.

He shouldn't, of course; shouldn't play this particular game…

But the Darkness in his shadow whispered with his old Master's voice and he couldn't quite refrain, not every time.

He sighed deeply, and his breath misted against the cool of the early morning, the first trace of winter catching it as a pale haze on the cold of the transparisteel window pane he stood before, highlighted by the radiance from external arc-lights which illuminated the imposing hulk of the Imperial Palace for all to see from miles around.

On impulse, he stepped a little closer and let out another breath, misting the frigid pane before reaching up to scribe in the haze with his finger:

And he balances on the biting blade whilst devils and angels whisper.

Still in mind and body, he studied the words he remembered from the Seat of Prophesy as they faded to nothing… Then in a blur of motion, he turned about and quickly sat in the large, carved chair which faced away from the room as its tall doors slid back into their housings.

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His wrists bound, Crix Madine was dragged by scarlet-clad Palace guards into a cavernous room, luxuriantly furnished and hung with a magnificent run of complex, elaborate tapestries. A long bank of floor to ceiling windows inset with stained-glass and banded by delicate copper in fine, fluid lines, spilled wide blocks of artificial light into the room from an unknown source outside. It hit lustrous beaten palladium panels high in the ornately-coffered ceilings and mirrored in radiant refraction across the pale marble floor of the vast chamber, the polished stone reflecting it up so sharply that for several seconds, Madine failed to notice the dark-clothed man sat alone in one of the two upright, carved-arm chairs set before the bank of windows, gazing serenely out over the waking city.

He realized only when he was pulled almost level with him, and the man turned just slightly, level voice mild and amused.

"General Crix Madine. It's been a while."

Madine froze, held firmly in place by the guards, "Not nearly long enough."

"Oh I'll bet. Take a seat."

The Emperor gestured casually and Madine was manhandled partway to the opposite chair before his captor spoke out again quietly.

"No…he can sit on his own."

Madine twisted free as the guards' grips loosened, and for long seconds he stood stubbornly, eyes on Skywalker, who held his gaze unblinking. In the loaded silence, the only noise came from a quiet staccato as Skywalker's fingers tapped against the carved arm of the chair in which he lounged… Madine held out a few seconds more before, gritting his teeth, he sat in the ornate damask chair.

The Emperor nodded to the guards without looking then waited, eyes on Madine, until they had left. When Madine held his silence, Skywalker glanced just once to his creased and crumpled fatigues. "You look a little tired, Madine. Life on the run not to your liking? A little different, I know, abandoned out on a limb with no back-up and no-one left you can rely on."

"I have nothing to say to you," Madine replied coolly.

"Not true," the Emperor admonished gamely. "As I said before, I always thought we had so much in common, both having stood either side of the fence, as it were."

That touch of a smile pulled at the long scar down Skywalker's cheek, still filling Madine with a blush of pride that he had helped put it there—a permanent reminder that the Emperor's enemies had teeth. Madine turned icily away to stare out of the windows.

"Does it bring back old memories?" The Emperor asked, following Madine's gaze to glance out over the city. "I understand you spent a lot of time on Coruscant…gathering information to take with you when you defected to the Alliance, no doubt. I hope it was useful."

"It was very useful."

"Not useful enough, apparently—otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"You think that means you've won?" Madine sneered.

"Only the battle, not the war. But that's in hand."

"You'll never win."

"Thank-you for that considered advice. I think I'll continue with my plans anyway."

"What do you want?"

"Just to talk, no sticks or stones."

The slightest chink of confusion flashed across Madine's thoughts, and Skywalker smiled coolly.

"That first night on the Wasp: you said… 'Sticks and stones can break your bones but words can never hurt you.' Surely you remember? I do." Skywalker turned slowly away, voice quiet and even. "You were right, of course, with your sticks and stones. But what if…" Those uncanny, mismatched eyes came back to Madine, so intensely bright they seemed almost to glow in the dawn light. "What if words can break you too?"

"Only if I believe them—and I've never believed a word you said."

"Which is ironic, because I generally tell the truth. Lies are so…unnecessary. Though I did lie when I said there was no such thing as the doomsday code—but then you knew that."

"Care to tell me it now?"

Skywalker smiled dryly, "No, not particularly."

"So you only do the truth thing when it suits you."

"Extenuating circumstances. I'm sure you can understand that—or would you care to tell me the communication codes and whereabouts of the sad, ragged little mob of anarchists who still follow you?"

"I'm not telling you anything. You can go to hell and take your whole stinking Empire with you—may you all rot." Madine blurted the words as a curse.

"What an angry, narrow-minded, vengeful man you are," the Emperor observed dispassionately, voice tinged with amusement.

"And you?" Madine countered, refusing to be intimidated.

"I wouldn't say I was narrow-minded. Ruthless, when I have to be…explosive, so I'm told—but seldom narrow-minded. One loses one's way too quickly if one can't see every path. Besides, it negates the game."

"Is that what this is to you, a game?"

"Always," The Emperor said without hesitation. "Take it too seriously it'll destroy you, eat away at you and burn you up to fuel its fire."

"Did it still feel like a game on the Peerless, when the bomb went off? Did that amuse you? Or did it just plain hurt?"

Skywalker stared for long seconds before answering—but when he did, his voice was as calm and detached as ever. "Yes it did. Very much. But it hurt a great deal more that I lost forty-seven men in that explosion."

"I very much doubt that."

"Although it was a small consolation that you lost your infiltration team too. You should learn to take better care of your men, Madine, particularly since you have so few at your disposal now, Intel tells me. They rely on you—on your judgment. Place their lives in your hands. That's quite a responsibility to carry, the knowledge that their safety lies completely in your decisions."

Madine remained silent, not rising to the bait, knowing what Skywalker was talking about. That moment onboard the Wasp was burned into his memory and had razed through his nightmares too many times already.

Skywalker glanced casually away. "But then maybe you think agents are easy to come by."

"For me," Madine said confidently. "There are always people willing to fight, willing to inform on your Empire."

"I'm sure. Though I was talking for both sides of the divide."

"No—there was no-one in the Alliance."

"You know that's not true," Skywalker countered. "As to who…you'd be surprised. Aside from Leia of course. It's a pity you never went public with that. Don't get me wrong, it's a useful thing to have that much on your opponents, but now—now it's just another lost the chance."

"Maybe not. You might well get a shock when news of my death comes out…might want to think twice about making any rash decisions."

Skywalker's dry smile never touched those icy eyes. "If you're intending to make a threat like that, you'd better have something to back it up with—which you haven't. Never try to bluff a Sith, Madine…unless you have some handy ysalamiri hidden close by again? No? How unfortunate. Another secret I'll do my level best to make sure you take to the grave with you." Skywalker resettled, cold amusement in his voice. "So, aside from Leia: agents, past—those right under your nose... Funny, it's never who you think, is it? Well, it's never who you think, anyway."

"You don't know what I thought,"

"On the contrary, I know exactly who you thought was backing me. You told Tag Massa so often that it was Solo, she told me that in the end, she had to open an Intel file on him."

Madine gritted his teeth, well aware that Skywalker was now freely providing the kind of information he'd withheld at any cost onboard the Wasp, his blood boiling at the mention of Massa's true loyalties, and her part in his downfall. If he'd sent any other person to check on Organa's DNA test. But she'd always been so reliable, with an impeachable record long before her predecessor had…. He stopped dead, eyes widening at the full implications of Massa's betrayal.

"Odin Latt," he murmured of the Alliance's previous Intel Chief, whose untimely death had placed Massa in command—so she'd been Skywalker's agent even then.

"See, you can work it out—a little late, but still, you saw the link in the end."

"How did you get to her?"

"We ran quite a few missions together in the year or so following Yavin—before you'd even defected to the Alliance. The Rebellion was pretty scattered at that time, constantly on the run, lots of small units combined and separated according to the mission. So few records were kept—and what little there were could easily be accessed and altered at a later date, especially by a rising Intel Officer assigned to Home One and wanting to give themselves a spotless past." Skywalker set his head to one side. "C'mon Madine; you're the strategist and that is my style after all after all, to recruit people or place spies in positions of less intense scrutiny and leave them there unused for a while before I finally removed their superiors and—look at that—suddenly they're in a position of power…and value. I did it so often—with Leia, with Commanders and Moffs in the Emperor's fleet before I ousted him." He paused in mock consideration, "If you'd had a reliable Intel Chief, they might have told you that…but there's that stumbling block: you didn't."

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Muscles strung taught beneath his perfect facade of indifferent calm, Luke watched Madine boil at just how far the Alliance had been infiltrated for so long; how pointless all his efforts to find the renegade informer among them had been, hatched as they were by himself and the Alliance's own Intel Chief.

And here it was…everything that Luke had waited for.

Everything he'd wanted; needed. Because whatever else he was, he couldn't ever quite step free of the wolf Palpatine had invested so much in creating. Or perhaps he didn't want to—not when it felt this good.

"I had to have someone to look after my main player. I spent a great deal of time and effort getting Leia to the point where she would be of value—I did, after all, remove Mon Mothma to put her in power. You should know that I told you the truth when I said that I'd never have removed Mon if she hadn't signed the assassination order you proposed. Because of you, she died. No validations here, no chains at my wrist. I'm free to say exactly what I want—to tell all those hard truths…. Because of you, she died, Madine. Remember that."

"You're lying."

"I told you, I seldom lie. Leia was always my key, and Mon the obstruction that held me in check, until you…you flung the doors open wide and invited me in, Madine. You made it all possible—you made it easy. Leia on her own would never have been enough to achieve what was necessary, even with Mon dead. I needed something more, something with which I could rip your precious Rebellion in two and take only what I wanted. Only what I deemed worthy to survive… I needed something to unite my Empire and break apart the Rebel Alliance, and you…you handed it to me on that plate."

Luke shook his head disparagingly, his roguish smile carefully calculated, manipulating the truth just enough to feed all of Madine's fears and paranoia. And even now, even when Luke had admitted to him that he'd twist the truth to his own ends, Madine still gulped down every word, because it fed those expectations. And Luke kept on feeding them, because it still wasn't enough—not yet.

"An attack on the Imperial Sovereign? No-one would tolerate that, Madine. You made an attack on everything they knew…and you triggered the inevitable knee-jerk reaction. The inhabitants of a thousand planets saw their Emperor bleed. They watched him take the moral high ground in the face of outrageous provocation. Before, I was their Emperor…now I'm their leader. They'd follow me anywhere, thanks to you.

"You should be grateful Madine; if I'd wanted to, I could have used it to obliterate the Rebellion entirely. They would have had no place to run, no place to hide. But I needed them—some of them. I just needed them under control. I needed them, if not loyal then at least amenable, contrite…humiliated. And everything that you did took me one step closer to that."

Luke paused, allowing Madine the time to absorb this, and himself a moment of surprise at his own calculating rearrangement of fact and insinuation. How much was true and how much distorted or withheld just to see his enemy squirm? How much himself and how much Palpatine's wolf?

Because the man who had given Leia the authority she needed to counter him, and stood before the Peace Summit yesterday to give a speech pledging her Alliance and his own Empire the freedoms they so cherished was also Palpatine's Sith advocate. And that man was all too aware of how easily those same actions could still enable him to take complete power, even now. He stood as he always did, poised at the very brink between dawn and darkness. Balanced on the blade.

All he knew for sure was that in this moment, he needed this; for this moment at least, he slipped the wolf's leash free.

"…You're lying..." it was all Madine could muster in the face of crumbling certainty.

"I've told you, I have no need for lies, reality is so easy to manipulate…and so much more enjoyable." Luke smiled, feeling it pull at the familiar scar on his lip. He'd had more than a few inflicted by the man sat opposite him. It felt immeasurably good to give one back. "Funny…turns out that words can cause all kinds of damage too, doesn't it?"

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Madine stared, unable to muster any further anger against the sum of these damning claims. Had it all been manipulations? He'd always himself been the strategist, the master tactician who constantly led whilst others trailed behind. Had he failed so entirely to see this final play by Palpatine's savant? "You couldn't predict those responses…"

"It was so obvious. You didn't see it because you broke the golden rule Madine; you lost perspective. You made it personal—your claim, not mine."

The Emperor settled back into his stately chair, coolly impassive tone as sharp as any blade. "I wanted you to know that before you die—that it's all been for nothing, because I own your precious leadership. I own your Rebellion. I wanted you to understand that it was your own petty need for a very public revenge which gave me that victory. I wanted you to feel the ground crumble from beneath your feet and know that it was because of me. You see, this is revenge, Madine. Real revenge. Believe me, I know. I know what really hurts… I know every single lesson because I was taught by a master. Going after the individual, hurting them because they hurt you, wanting to draw blood publicly for all the galaxy to see, that's nothing; not an actual waste of time and energy but certainly an opportunity missed. Revenge—real revenge—is to take from your enemy what they value most and destroy it, break it apart a piece at a time and show them the shattered shards before you finally kill them. You came after me Madine, it was you who claimed this was personal…so now I take everything from you. Everything. And no-one else will ever know except you and I. Real revenge doesn't require an audience… My Master, he always thought that it did—I disagree. That's simple conceit; vanity—pride. Pointless emotions that nevertheless reveal to everyone just exactly what's going on in your head. No, I conduct my private life behind closed doors. I have nothing to prove and I certainly have nothing I intend to give away."

"And Mon Mothma?"

The Emperor shrugged, "Mothma's public execution was nothing to do with me. How Palpatine chose to mollify his own injured pride was his affair. But as I said, she did have one last use to serve, even in her removal; her capture bought me the freedom to go after the rest of her Rebellion." He leaned forward as if imparting advice. "Never waste your opportunities."

"Bastard." The word was from Madine's lips before he'd even thought it—but the Emperor only smiled, unoffended.

"At the very least."

"Someone will stop you—even Organa will turn on you, when she sees the truth."

For a second—for a split second, Madine saw that perfect façade crack just slightly, the Emperor's voice distant as he spoke. "Maybe. The truth is a slippery thing…sometimes I don't even know it myself anymore."

"That's because you use it so rarely."

Skywalker grinned, seeming to recover his poise in the face of familiar condemnations. "Perhaps she'll reform me; she seems to want to."

"You're way past any hope, Sith."

"That's what I told her too." He smiled as if in genuine agreement—then seemed to stumble again, considering. "But she has faith…which is a strange thing."

"Faith in someone like you, is,"

But as ever, it was hard to land an insult on someone who clearly thought so little of himself. Skywalker gave that easy, calculated smile, the one that made him appear so unassuming. "It is, isn't it—and with so much hard evidence to the contrary… Yet people still do it—I have no idea why. I have no such faith, it was beaten out of me a long time ago… I seldom miss it."

For a second he faltered, seeming lost, and Madine didn't even hesitate to strike, "I don't believe you ever had it—how could you…Vader's son."

That brought Skywalker's eyes up. "My father was at least trying to stabilize, to build…you know only how to destroy."

Madine lifted his chin, "And you?"

"I know how to do both very well."

"I hope you're proud of yourself," Madine growled. "I hope you can sleep at nights."

"Seldom." That roguish smile lit his face again. "But that doesn't seem to stop me."

"I should have killed you when I had a gun to your head."

"Yes, you should—I told you more than once to pull the trigger. But you just couldn't let it be over that easily, could you? You had to string it out for your own personal gratification. Myself, I would have pulled the trigger and walked away…and slept very well that particular night."

"No, you had the chance kill me and didn't."

"Timing, that's all. A trick of the fates." A cold, feral edge took Skywalker's expression from self-possessed to menacing in a single blink of mismatched eyes. "Be grateful—if I had taken that chance to kill the man who'd threatened the life of my son and his mother it would, I promise you, have been a slow and visceral affair."

Without warning Skywalker launched up and forward, a blur like a striking snake as Madine jerked back in shock, bound arms rising as Skywalker's hands hit the seat to either side of his head. A slow, sadistic smile came over Skywalker's face, voice little more than a whisper but easily heard, so close was he.

"You understand—the moment you did that, you were dead. But here's the thing—I'm not going to be the one to do it Madine. I know myself, and I know that if I so much as touch you, you're dead, because I won't hold back...I wouldn't be capable, simple as that. I'd turn you inside out, I'd take you limb from limb... I'd open up your ribcage and smear you all over that chair you're trying so hard to disappear into right now. I couldn't kill you fast enough...and I could never kill you as slowly as I'd want to."

In a single, fluid movement, he pushed off and withdrew to settle into his chair without once taking his eyes off Madine, composure perfectly reinstated as if it had never cracked. "But you see, unlike you I can still differentiate between personal indulgence and necessity. I need to know what you know. I need to know that every trap your little band of miscreats has laid centers on me, not my son or his mother…or the Empire I'm creating on the ashes of your sad little dreams… And I'm sure I'll read about it all eventually, when the interrogators have finished with you."

Madine shook his head, "I don't have the answers. I just give them what they ask for and send the units out."

"You don't care what damage they do."

"To your Empire, no—or your Empress."

Skywalker's chin lifted just slightly, "So you still determine the targets?"

"That's right—and she's still a viable target as far as I'm concerned. It's still two birds with one stone, and this is still a war."

"No, it's not—not any more. But I'm sure that wouldn't stop you sending your teams, would it? I doubt they'll be successful but if they are, we'll hang black pennants and fly the flags at half-mast, and people everywhere will feel justly outraged that their Emperor has lost the wife who fought so hard to gain his freedom, at the hands of the same anarchists who tried to murder him… But just to clarify—that would be only the one bird. And you would, in truth, be more than a little off-target."

Madine hesitated as Skywalker let that cold, confident smile widen. "You're going after the wrong woman, Madine...and you want to know the worst part? You had the real one stood in front of you...she was right there in the bay onboard the Wasp when you had a blaster in your hands."

Madine frowned, the ground pulled from under his feet again as his mind scrambled to remember, but the only woman he'd seen in the Wasp's hold was… He glanced up, eyes widening at Skywalker's taunting smile.

"You could have killed her—and you and I both know damn well that if you had, it would have stopped me dead... You were so close Madine—she was right there. All you had to do was be able to turn that gun away from me…but you couldn't do that, could you? You lost sight of the larger picture…" The Emperor paused just slightly, "So let me clarify it for you one last time… I have my Empire, I have the Alliance...and my son and his mother are safe and sound and, for now, completely anonymous."

Madine felt himself slowly collapse as Skywalker continued to taunt in amicable tones, as if this were some shared joke, all part of his game. "You know you could have lived out your sad little life believing you were fighting for some greater cause and I would never even have noticed you, Madine. But you were the one who proposed my assassination—then like a fool, you brought yourself to my attention all over again; imprisoned and interrogated me, threatened those close to me for your own petty, blinkered satisfaction. You made it personal…and I can't let that pass—as I said, we have so much in common. Except one thing, of course: I've won. You've lost—in every possible way, you've lost… You lost your way, you lost your status, you lost your reputation, you lost the game, you lost your war. So you tell me," those piercing, pitiless eyes sparked with barbed amusement. "Doesn't that just break you up inside, Madine—and not a stick or stone in sight."

He pressed a small, etched silver comm on the low table beside him, the far doors opening immediately for Palace Guards to march purposely forward as Madine stared ahead without seeing. He was barely aware of being hauled upright as Skywalker rose to leave, dismissive now, smoothing the line of his impeccably-fitted, high-collared jacket.

"You'll excuse me, but I have an Empire to command and a Rebellion to dismantle. And your misguided, tattered little band of anarchists won't simply run themselves into oblivion. You're small fry, Madine—that's all you ever were; unfinished business which dovetailed neatly into the larger picture. A minor amusement. I won't be there for your execution when they think they've dragged all the useful information they can from you, I'm afraid—I have more important things to do. But you can go to your death knowing that you entertained an Emperor for a full…" he glanced momentarily to the huge faceted chrono high on the wall, "what…ten minutes? So your life hasn't been a complete waste."

Skywalker passed him...and Madine launched forward with a wild yell, bound arms outstretched, fingers tensed to claws—

Palpatine's Wolf didn't shy back, didn't even flinch as the guards grabbed at Madine, grappling him to the ground so that his last view of his enemy was with the world on its side as he was held down, the Emperor not even bothering to glance back as he walked away.

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EPILOGUE

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I was there—I was there, on Home One, on the day it was announced.

A part of history, that's what the Emperor said in his speech at the opening of the Senate; that every single person who witnessed this was a part of history, part of one of the most momentous events in decades.

He was right. It was dizzying, it was exhilarating, it was inspiring.

It was freedom...the spark to ignite the flame.

One year to the day after he'd opened the Peace Summit, the Emperor reinstated the Imperial Senate after a decade of absence; almost three since the Old Republic Senate—the last truly autonomous Senate—had been disbanded. Although he still held ultimate power, in his inaugural speech to the newly-formed body, he cited a declaration that he would eventually hand that authority over to the fully-implemented Senate.

Meanwhile, the members of this newly-invested Senate were a revelation to everybody, even here, and word spread through the galaxy like wildfire, the now-unlocked HoloNet overloaded within the hour. It comprised scholars, academics, the Royal Houses, a smattering of military and political dignitaries…and members of the moderate wing of the previously outlawed Rebel Alliance.

We were pardoned, you see; we were all acquitted. In the space of one speech and by the power of one man, after decades of fighting we were acknowledged as a political and not a militant body. Those of us who'd stayed with Leia Organa and the more moderate Alliance were exonerated. Leia Organa herself was already emerging as one of the leading new Senators. Free to come and go as she wished, free to speak out without hindrance, as her conscience demanded.

That was their charge, he said; their duty—their burden. To speak out. To question, to mediate, to debate.

The first task assigned to the Emperor's new Senate was to plan for and hold open elections for Planetary and System officials to be included in an intended 'House of Representatives'.

Elections; representatives… Senate; we have a democracy. Inexperienced and untested and hopelessly unprepared—but we have a democracy.

They say that in the dark times—in Palpatine's reign—the bright light of freedom dwindled to a spark. Strange then, that this spark was held in the heart of our new Sith Emperor. It's rumoured that his father was the Old Republic Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, whispered that Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader.

Some say destiny will not be eluded or averted, no matter what events are played out before it. Some whisper of legends and prophesies handed down through the ages—The Son of Suns.

Some say the Force is like the swell of a river, that it will flow around any obstacle in its course to the sea.

One wonders how it could have been different. Whether the end would have been the same—whether it was always meant to be.

Myself, I like to believe we have a little room to manoeuvre. But I like to think that there is something helping us—some greater purpose that the exceptional few can hear and comprehend.

Some guiding Force.

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This is the way of things, the will of the Force;

Everything crumbles;
Intentions and Empires, Councils and kinships.
Aspiration to ambition to atrophy,
Desire to domination to dust.
Only the will of the Force remains.

Beginnings are bought at the cost of an end,
New Hope given life when all else is lost.
From darkness comes light; from destruction salvation
Son of Suns—the Force given form.

That which is fallen will rise to dominion,
That which is riven will heal the rift.
That which is tainted transcends every limit
The One who will falter will balance the way

It is shadows whose edge define the light
At the brink of the dawn and the darkness."

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The Son of Suns Prophesy,
(Jedi Master Egorin Dovas translation; 3/ 14,159 [-minus].)
Engraved into the Sunburst Throne (The Seat of Prophesy) circa 23,711 [-minus]

(Lost, presumed destroyed)

Fin.

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