Kristyn K. Rose (c) 1996
Email: Glittrstm@aol.com (primary), krisrose@juno.com

CATHARSIS


CHAPTER 1

	Luke Skywalker awakened  slowly, allowing his senses to 
become aware in their own time.  Knowing only moments stood between 
him and another day of work, he nestled into the cool softness of the 
bedclothes and breathed a heavy sigh.  The usual scents of breakfast 
wafted through the portals of his bedroom.  He could hear Uncle Owen 
clinking around in the courtyard, probably retrieving the water from one 
of the vaporators.  He'd be calling for Luke soon.  Resolved to the 
inevitable, the boy opened his eyes and gazed into the gentle patterns 
of daylight that brightened the smooth ceiling.  Gentle for now, he 
thought, deadly heat elsewhere.  
	Sitting here, staring at the same old wall isn't going to change 
anything, he told himself, and rolled out of bed.  His bare feet gave thanks 
for the section of Bantha hide his Aunt Beru had found to spread across 
his little share of stone floor.  He slid into the non-descript clothing of 
Tatooine moisture farmers, wrestled briefly with his tall boots, then 
rustled his fingers through his mop of sunbleached blonde hair.  With 
a sense of resignation, he grabbed his utility belt, making sure the 
macrobinoculars remained fastened tight.  Never know when you'll need 
those things, he chanted in his silent routine.
	Stepping into the now-harsh sunlight in the courtyard, he 
squinted against the brief pain it cause in his eye sockets.  Uncle Owen 
had disappeared again, probably to the garage.  Just like every other day, 
he thought.  He struggled with a shadow in his memory.  Hadn't he had 
some idea for getting him off this rock?  What had it been?  He shook his 
head, but the haunting remained.  A grumbling in his stomach sent him 
bounding across the small, open yard to the galley doorway.  
	He watched his aunt for a moment.  She was a peaceful woman, 
with an easy smile.  She seemed content in her cluttered little domain.  As 
she pulled the dishes for breakfast from the cabinets, Luke listened the 
thrumming and whirring of the appliances that filled the diminutive space.  
The thrumming grew louder, beginning to ring in Luke's ears.  "Do you 
hear that?" he almost yelled to his aunt.  Beru gave him her patient smile 
and shook her head, seeming to laugh at him.  The sound now vibrated in 
his bones, rattling in his teeth.  Luke raised his hands to cover his ears 
and gaped in shock.  
	The thrumming only grew louder, emanating directly from his 
hands.  His right hand.  He studied it, moving his fingers like a child 
discovering his limbs for the first time.  The faint whir of servomotors 
whispered to him, oddly distinct among the din.
	"When are you submitting that application of yours to the 
Academy?" Uncle Owen asked a little too loudly.  Luke turned his 
gaping expression on his uncle, a sick feeling rising quickly from where 
the haunting had lurked.
	He awoke, wide-eyed and drenched in a cold sweat.  The 
thrumming ceased into the faint rumble of the frigate's engines.    The 
durasteel walls stared at him, cold and impersonal.  Luke sat up and 
swung his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing his hands to his damp 
face and hair.  He stopped them short, staring at his right hand.  It still felt 
odd to him, like waking to find a stranger living in your home.  Sliding 
carefully from the bed, he padded over to the dimly lit dressing area of the 
medic room, in which the Rebel Alliance doctors still had him under 
observation.  Crossing the cold durasteel of the floor, he felt a bittersweet 
longing for that Bantha hide of Aunt Beru's.  Leaning over a small basin, 
Luke delved his hands into the cool water, bringing refreshing splashes 
against his face.  Didn't help, he thought.  The dream still ran in his mind, 
tormenting him with emotions long stowed-away and new ones he'd 
rather not have, anyhow.
	Turning, he caught a glimpse of his bare torso in the mirror.  
Large, ugly bruises blotched most of his skin.  No way to treat your kid, 
if you ask me, his mind joked gruesomely.  "Not funny," he grumbled 
aloud in retort, turning abruptly away.
	No way, indeed, he thought grimly and stopped.  The rest of 
the ship would still be asleep, but he didn't dare go back to bed.  He spun 
slowly, but found no other seat in the room.  Great.  Discouraged, he 
dropped to sit on the floor where he stood.  I need some to talk to, he 
thought, but to whom can I possibly tell such a thing?  "Hey, guess 
what?  The horror of the galaxy is my father!  What does that make me?"
	Ben.  I need to talk to Ben, he thought, closing his eyes.  He 
slowed his breathing, concentrating on clearing his mind, which seemed 
a monstrous task at the moment.  He focused his senses, but could feel 
nothing of the Jedi Master's presence.  Why Ben? he thought fervently, 
Why did you lie to me?  I know the truth now, just explain it to me!  
Silence hung in the awful stillness.  Luke slumped dejectedly.
	Once, he had dreamt of his father as a glorious hero.  A pilot 
of unequaled skill.  A Jedi Knight of unequaled bravery.  Tragically, 
betrayed and murdered by the Dark Sith Lord Darth Vader before he could 
see his only child born.  Then, Yoda had commented that Luke had much 
anger in him, just like his father.  Anger?  What had Anakin Skywalker 
been so angry about?  Had that anger driven him to the Dark Side?  
Enough to abandon his pregnant wife, too.
	When had he discovered he had a son, anyhow?  Luke's mood 
grew darker as he followed the string of conclusions.  Maybe he had 
known all along and abandoned me, too.  An empty pit formed somewhere 
in his heart.  It had been easier being an orphan, confined to the 
monotonous life of a moisture farmer.  He had not understood how good 
it had been.  Uncle Owen had tried to teach him, but Luke always had his 
head in the stars.  "He has too much of his father in him," Aunt Beru 
would say to Owen when they thought Luke couldn't hear them.  Then, 
the phrase had thrilled him to the core.  Now, it filled him with a hard 
foreboding.
	Suddenly, the dream returned to him, flashing a picture in his 
mind of Beru's kind smile.  He missed his aunt and uncle deeply.  Aunt 
and uncle.  Luke ruffled his hair in frustration, suddenly fearing that he'd 
never actually known them.  Was his entire life a lie?
	No, he insisted to himself as he grasped for some thread of 
reality.  Owen and Beru may not have really been family, but they had 
loved him.  They gave him a good life as the only parents he had ever 
known.  Well, known enough to recall.  Still, Luke couldn't help but 
wonder who they had truly been.  How had he become their charge?  
So much of his own life's story now had gaping holes in it, with the pieces 
still well beyond his reach.
	Well, if Ben wouldn't help him, he'd have to do some of his own 
investigating.  Yoda had said he could see the past as well as the future 
through the Force.  Luke concentrated again, breathing deeply.  The 
disorientation that began his meditation trance swam through his head, 
becoming more familiar.  Time fell away from him, playing its images 
before him with incomprehensible speed.  He focused again, plunging 
through the montage.  
	He forced memories of his life on Tatooine to the forefront.  The 
images seemed to change direction, then slowed like scenery through the 
window of a repulsor car.  The back of his head hurt as he crashed into a 
table at the Mos Eisley Cantina, pushed by a grotesque-looking man with 
an Aqualish.  Before Ben could pull his lightsaber, the scene shifted.  
There was his friend Camie, laughing hysterically at the gift of silken 
men's underwear she had given him as a joke.  His cheeks grew hot with 
the boyish embarrassment of those days.  His heart clinched with grief as 
he gazed again at Biggs Darklighter's wide grin of pure, golden friendship.  
No one seemed to understand their uncanny bond, but Aunt Beru had 
once called them kindred spirits, a term Luke cherished.  "Don't go, 
Biggs," he whispered as his dear friend gave way to a brilliantly lit image. 
	Luke strained to see through the almost blinding brightness.  
The heady scent of rich flora and fauna filled his senses.  A garden, 
obviously of someone quite wealthy.  A woman sat towards one end of it, 
her shoulders shuddering with sobs.  A curtain of dark blonde hair hung 
over her bowed face.  "I'm sorry, Lady Skywalker," a voice was saying, 
"but there is no other way."  The voice sounded muffled, but Luke would 
have known it anywhere.  Ben's voice.  "I know," she answered lifting her 
face towards him, "I just can't believe it has come to this.  How could 
he...." She bit off her words, shaking her head in disbelief instead.  As her 
hair swayed with her movements, Luke could see the faint outline of 
something -- an infant? -- in her arms.  Her voice choked as she reached 
a hand towards Luke, her dark eyes pleading understanding, and 
forgiveness, from him.  She said something to him, but it faded with 
the rest of his trance as his mind returned to the present.  
	Luke wiped warm tears from his eyes.  At least he had found 
something.  His mother.  He had seen his mother.  Not well, but enough.  
Her eyes hung with him, much like the dream of Owen and Beru.  They 
seemed disturbingly familiar to him, yet so comforting in that familiarity.  
Maybe he did remember her, after all, but somehow that didn't ring totally 
true with his senses.  The sensation reminded him much of how Dagobah 
made him feel, like treading on the paths of your own dreams.
	Quickly, he stood and grabbed at a tunic that closely resembled 
his old desert garb, but in much better condition.  His hand stopped short.  
Maybe that wasn't such a good choice.  From the small closet, he 
retrieved a non-descript pullover shirt and his boots.  He lugged each 
of them swiftly on, then exited the austere room.  The corridor buzzed with 
the delicate atmosphere of a community asleep.  His footfalls resounded 
against the low drumming of the engines.  Normally, R2D2 would have 
been trundling dutifully behind his master.  Then, Luke had decided the 
little astromech droid would be of more service to Leia and the numerous 
duties that hurled themselves at his friend.  Besides, he knew R2 and 
C3PO had plenty of catching up to do themselves.  
	He smiled, thinking of his mechanical friends.  On Tatooine, he 
hadn't thought too much about droids having individual personalities.  
Most of them didn't, due to routine memory wipes being performed as 
they should.  Somehow, R2 and 3PO had escaped those formalities and 
kept their highly individual idiosyncrasies.  Luke certainly appreciated 
whoever had allowed such a wondrous oversight to occur for so 
blessedly long.
	A young officer on night sentry duty strode towards him from 
around the next turn in the corridor.  He made a move to salute 
Commander Skywalker, but Luke flashed him a warm smile and a nod, 
belaying the formality.  "Good evening, sir," he addressed Luke instead, 
"Is there anything I can assist you with at this hour?"  Luke extended his 
senses, a practice that was quickly becoming second nature, and sensed 
the man's unspoken questions.  He shook his head casually, saying 
reassuringly, "Just some trouble sleeping, Treq."  Now, he sensed 
concern.  Inwardly, he frowned, wondering what rumors had made their 
troublesome swirl through the ranks.  Outwardly, he smiled pleasantly and 
gave a laugh, "Guess I've been laid up a bit too much lately for my liking."  
Treq nodded and returned the laugh, "I understand, sir.  I'm on duty 
through the duration of the sleep cycle should you need assistance.  
Have a good night."  Luke nodded his thanks and each continued on 
his meandering path.
	His senses still alert, Luke allowed the Force impressions of the 
slumbering lives he passed to filter through his mind.  Walls offered little 
barrier to him these days, as he used each moment as a tool for teaching 
himself more about the Force.  Yoda had given him so many keys, but he 
still felt as thought the universe were a great unopened archive for him in 
assembling the skills of a Jedi.  Assembling, he frowned.  I need a new 
lightsaber, he thought, unconsciously flexing his foreign hand again.  A 
presence brushed through his mind, causing a welcome break in his 
thoughts.  His friend Wedge Antilles bunked nearby with the X-Wing 
squadrons.  
	For a moment, Luke felt a tugging, a desire to be one among 
those ranks, with no worries except watching his tail in the next dogfight.  
He had been there, but much too briefly.  His steps faltered as his memory 
swooped him into the Death Star trench.  The chaotically patterned walls 
of the manmade cavern whizzed by and he could once again hear the 
comparatively calm sounds of his X-Wing's control surfaces within the 
cockpit.  Vader's deadly Tie Fighter closed in behind him.  My father 
murdered Biggs, he realized as his heart clinched with a convoluted grief.  
How would his comrades in arms feel towards him, if they had known 
whose own son marred their ranks?
	Luke turned, looking to where the sentry had addressed him only 
moments before.  He shut his eyes tight and leaned back against the wall 
to think.

CHAPTER 2

	The great man sighed heavily in frustration.  His meditations 
proved unsuccessful once again, disturbed by the very thoughts that 
should guide them.  Entire worlds shuddered to their very core at the 
mere idea of frustrating the Dark Lord.  In the truth of solitude, he simply 
leaned wearily against the inner walls of his technological sanctuary.  
That cursed Death Star trench rumbled through his mind incessantly, as 
though to taunt his short-sightedness.  How did I miss it then?  He 
remembered targeting the small fighter, then hesitating at the uncanny 
ripples in the Force caused by its pilot.  Hadn't it spoken to him at that 
moment?  Whispers of something he should recognize, someone he 
should know?
	A son.  His own son.  His scarred chin raised a degree in pride.  
The son of one of the most powerful Jedi the galaxy has known.  
Searching his memory, he had understood something of the boy then, but 
that confounded pirate had interrupted the moment.  Yes, that was it.  Han 
Solo had blasted his wingman and destroyed it all.  Well, he had been 
justly rewarded, Lord Vader thought, smiling wickedly to himself.
	The smile melted from his eyes as an unwelcome memory 
traipsed into view.  The expression on the Princess Leia's usually 
determined face as Solo had been hustled to the carbon freeze platform.  
Vader knew that expression too well; it haunted him from across the 
decades, appearing in the strangest of times.  He banished the train of 
thought, but not before the unwelcome flash of his own wife's face took 
the place of the Princess's.  The last look he had known from her before 
she had vanished from his life.  You were dead to me, he thought bitterly 
at the memory.  Now, he understood more of what lived in that horrid 
expression on her beautiful face and it angered him beyond belief.  "You 
are indeed fortunate to already be dead, Obi Wan," he addressed the 
silence, his ominous tones carrying a foreboding weight even with no 
one to hear him.
	He hauled his tall bulk upright again, grunting at the myriad of 
pains that asserted themselves as he moved.  Closing his eyes, he washed 
the Force through his wrecked body, temporarily silencing its complaints.  
He smiled grimly, thankful for the artificial parts of his mortal self, for they 
gave him no pain.  He wondered how Luke would be adjusting to a 
cybernetic hand right now.  Do you curse me for taking your flesh? he 
thought.  Well, you have taken mine, too, as it were.  The thought was 
rewarded with another taunt, from his first confrontation with Luke on 
Mimban.  He had missed that opportunity at recognition, too.  He had not 
even recognized his own, old lightsaber in the duel.
	That lightsaber.  The hand.  He had dutifully delivered both to 
his Master upon his return from Bespin.  He knew the Emperor would be 
pleased, but studying the dismembered piece of his son, floating in a 
preserving containment field, had been disconcerting to the normally 
unshakable Lord Vader.  A piece of his son.  A piece of himself.  A living 
testament to a time when Darth Vader had not even existed.  His training 
said that Anakin Skywalker no longer lived in any form, but he could still 
feel him there as a specter in his core.  Vader had spent decades hiding his 
failure to banish the small bit of his former self.  Not even his Master 
knew.  But in the solitude, when the weariness and pain of late allowed his 
mind to wander, he would remember who he had been.  It angered him.  
Perhaps Luke's very existence in the Force had prevented those former 
passages from being shut away.  A Force-strong father would have to 
share some sort of bond with his equally strong son, wouldn't he?
	"This is your doing, Obi-Wan," he said evenly into the silence.  
The soft whirrs and clicks of the machines that maintained his protective 
environment offered the only reply.  "You forced her to choose.  She 
could have come with me, joined Palpatine, and we would have had our 
family together."  His words melted into the cold durasteel.  Who knows 
where we would be now.  We might have ruled the galaxy, with such a 
powerful heir. 
	Vader knew the mere thought could bring cries of treachery from 
his Master, but he allowed himself a mere peek into the fantasy.  But, as it 
had done before, the peek broadened of its own volition.  He could rule, 
with Luke.  They could end this annoying struggle, combining their vast 
powers as father and son.  Palpatine grew weak, Vader knew.  Many of his 
efforts of late proved inaccurate, making it necessary for Vader to assume 
much more in his duties.  Luke was young and, despite his obvious talent, 
mostly untapped in the depth of his strength.
	Another portion of his complex mind slammed through his 
thoughts.  Join a Rebel?  Are you mad?!  The son of Skywalker is wasting 
his life as a two-bit terrorist.  You sit alone, fantasizing of seizing rule.  
You are becoming on of them.  You are a Rebel.
	He arose deliberately and strode to the specially-designed 
bedchamber.  Vader frowned, noting how everything in his life seemed 
to be specially-designed.  Usually, he enjoyed it and the accompanying 
sense of power and importance in the universe.  Some moments, he 
longed to be nondescript.  Able to stride through an open-air market 
without a confounded mask between himself and the grand pleasures 
only one's true senses could bring.  The ringing in your ears as you pass 
a shouting merchant, smiling openly at his outrageous claims.  Breathing 
deeply of sweet, unfiltered air and the divine mixture of scents that wafted 
through your nostrils.  The luxurious feel of rich fabrics of buttery 
brocades and creamy silks hungrily offered at the tailor's booth.
	Such things had long ago been banished from Vader's life, 
and for eternity.  New anger began to burn in him, a feeling he found 
comforting.  Wasting his life.  Stupid boy, what hold could the Rebellion 
possibly have on him?  Especially since he now knew the status he could 
have with the Empire.  He searched the angles, trying to find what of 
interest there was for a Skywalker in the Rebel Alliance.  No power.  No 
status.  No material rewards.  Not even a home.  What kind of a life....  
Then, he remembered.  The Princess.  He stopped, concentrating for a 
moment on when he had seen the two together.  Somehow, he felt his 
quick assessment to be not quite accurate.  Yes, Luke certainly shared 
a bond with the young woman, but romantic love?  Not exactly.  He shook 
his head and turned to the sensitive cushions of his bed.  A question he 
would have to address in meditation, he supposed.
	Besides, Princess Leia had obviously given her favor to the 
smuggler Solo.  As he settled into sleep, he allowed himself a crooked 
grin, twisted by sarcasm.  The Princess of Alderaan taken with a pirate.  
Her father would be so proud.

CHAPTER 3

	Soft hooting inquired from the corner of the small room, where 
the databank access ports sat silently waiting among the soft whirring 
and clicking of the working computers.  "No, I know we're on a sleep shift, 
R2," Luke grinned in reply, "But I've had enough of that lately."  He 
squinted at the coded displays near his little droid friend.  Another 
intelligence report from Tatooine, where Lando and Chewie worked to 
find where Boba Fett had taken Han Solo.  Briefly, he wondered how 
aware Han could be mentally, frozen in the carbonite.  He shook his head 
to escape the rising guilt he felt each time Han crossed his mind.
	"Looks like they've almost pinned down Jabba's base," he 
commented off-handedly.  R2 
warbled a reply, still sounding sad for the plight of his human friends.  
C3PO sat nearby, golden body drooping slightly in his shutdown mode.  
"Internal checks?" Luke asked R2, who let loose a comical-sounding 
string of whistles.  Luke could guess what he meant and laughed softly.  
Crouching, he sat on a low stool someone had been using to read one of 
the upper gauges.  He slumped back into the recessed space, designed for 
several R2 units to plug-in at once without blocking the foot traffic.
	Luke sighed heavily and R2 uttered a soft inquiry.  "R2...I'm in a 
mess," he started, 
wanting to confide in someone.  Unconsciously, he ran a hand through 
his hair, feeling mentally exhausted.  For a moment, he let his gaze linger 
thoughtfully on the droid.  R2D2 had stayed with him throughout the 
worst of times and, besides, would not tell Luke's secret if ordered to 
retain it.  "Give this a code clearance, R2" he finally said quietly, "Alpha 
13 -- on recognition of my voice pattern."  Luke glanced at the little droid 
as he beeped an affirmative.  If R2 had had ears, they would have been 
standing at attention with curiosity.
	Now that he could actually voice his thoughts, Luke found his 
words stagnated.  Don't say it, a part of him argued.  If you say it, it 
becomes real.  He looked to R2's "face", seeing in him all the brash 
innocence Luke had learned to attach to the droid.  "There's no easy way 
to say this," he said resignedly, turning his face away, "R2, I have found 
my father.  He is not dead.  He's --"
	"Luke Skywalker, what are you doing in here at this hour?" 
demanded a sudden voice from the entry.  Startled, Luke leapt to his feet, 
colliding solidly with the top of the droid alcove.  Rubbing his throbbing 
skull, he carefully ducked out and looked to the door.  Leia stood against 
the stark white background, still managing to look formidable in the pale 
nightrobe she wore tightly bound around her.
	"Actually," she added more softly, but with the same authority, 
"what are you doing in here at all?  You are suppose to be recuperating."
	Luke grinned slightly, knowing the genuineness of her concern 
for him.  Especially now, he found it comforting.  For a moment, the bond 
between them felt like a tether to him, grounding him in sanity.  "I was 
just...," he started, gesturing towards R2 and realizing how ridiculous the 
idea of him conversing with the droid would sound.  "I was just getting a 
little stir crazy, sitting in that med unit for so long," he said without really 
lying to her, "I wanted to check on Lando and Chewie's progress."  
	Leia crossed to him and peered at the report readouts, nodding.  
"Lando," she repeated quietly, a momentary frown crossing her soft 
features.  Luke sensed her inner debate, but refused to probe further 
through the Force.  Using his talents on Leia seemed like a terrible 
intrusion to him.  Secretly, he suspected that he'd already caused her 
enough trouble in that respect.
	Well, there was always the old-fashioned way.  "I saw that," he 
commented and she threw a glance back at him, "What's the problem?"  
Actually, he didn't know Lando that well, but, from what he knew of the 
events that transpired on Bespin, he could understand Leia's feelings.  
Leia watched him thoughtfully for a moment, then examined the space in 
which they stood.
	"There's a replicator in my quarters," she said finally, "Care for 
a snack?"  Luke looked back at R2, then answered, "Sure, just let me wrap 
up what I was doing."  Leia nodded and headed for her rooms.  Luke 
stooped down by R2 and said quietly, "Retain that dialog and clearance 
code for later R2.  Apply all restrictions." He patted the little droid's dome 
as he stood, then followed the path Leia had taken.
	There had been a time, not too long ago, when such an invitation 
from Leia would have sent his pulse racing.  He smiled, recalling the 
schoolboy feelings she had stirred in him at their first meeting.  Those 
feelings had deepened into something beyond that initial infatuation, 
something beyond affection and respect, something beyond friendship.  
Luke no longer yearned for romantic love between himself and the stately 
Princess.  He would always adore Leia, but his devotion to her had 
changed.  Matured maybe? he asked himself and smiled again.  Probably.  
Yoda would like to hear that, he felt sure.  
	His mind clouded for a moment thinking of his mentor and how 
he had left Dagobah.  But how would things have turned out if he had 
stayed?  Vader could have tracked him down and destroyed Yoda, too.  
Or...well, that wasn't worth thinking about, Luke chided himself.  All of 
that was history now.  No changing it.
	"Come on in," Leia said as the door slid open before him.  
Industrial hues of gray and white formed the small rooms.  Leia had been 
granted this extra space for the after-hours work she so diligently 
performed on the ship.  Luke suspected that she worked to escape her 
longing for Han, but had not dared to ask if the tactic worked.  As he 
watched Leia now, he felt he knew that answer.
	She stared out a long viewport along one wall.  Already, she had 
placed small dishes of a purplish, leafy vegetable and a spicy white sauce 
on a small bar.  Luke picked up a pitcher and poured a malty-smelling, 
creamy beverage into a short receptacle.  Leia snapped her attention away 
from the starfield and half-smiled to Luke.  "Make yourself comfortable," 
she insisted, waving to a grouping of soft self-conforming chairs beside 
him.  She picked up the tray of refreshments and set them on a table 
among the chairs, choosing on for herself.
	Luke sat, watching her as she unceremoniously scooped some 
of the food onto a small plate for herself.  He did likewise and settled back.  
"So," he started, "What's the problem with Lando?"  He took a bite of the 
saucy dish and quickly downed some of his drink.
	Chewing, she gave him a narrowed gaze.  "You're changing, 
Luke," she commented, "You sure don't beat around the bush any longer.  
Don't ask me how you've changed, but something has happened."  She 
stopped, studying him.  Do I pursue that topic? Leia asked herself.  Luke 
had left so many questions in her mind lately.  So many that she felt she 
needed to have answered.
	"Lando," he laughed lightly, wanting to avoid any conversation 
in which he had to discuss himself, "We were talking about our friend 
Lando."  She dropped her train of thought long enough to give another 
frown.  Luke had known that would get her.  "Friend," she repeated, 
"That's where I have my problem."
	"Still don't trust him?" Luke asked.  Everyone else, even Chewie, 
seemed to have forgiven him well enough to hand this mission to him.  
But Luke knew Leia to be exceedingly intuitive.  Where they missing 
something?
	She studied her plate for a moment, swallowing slowly.  "He all 
but killed Han," she said, just above a whisper, "How do I know he won't 
betray us all again?  If the deal suits him?"  Leia turned a bold, almost 
challenging gaze upon Luke.  As always, her eyes seemed to command 
him to answer her call.  He tried his best to return the stare.  "You don't 
know that, Leia," he finally looked away, "All I can say is that I have felt 
no deception from him."
	The frown returned.  Luke's abilities were still a matter that Leia 
had not come to understand.  He knew she tried, but the concept still felt 
so oddly disconcerting  to her.  "You've felt nothing yet," she 
emphasized, "I still feel like he needs to be double checked in everything."  
She shook her head in her unsurety, "At least Chewie is with him."
	Luke nodded his agreement.  "Chewie's loyalty is absolute," he 
added, "And he's no fool.  He'll watch Lando, you can be sure."  He took 
another bite, realizing that he actually liked the soft burning that the 
strange sauce left in his mouth.  He noticed that it didn't seem to phase 
Leia one bit.  At the moment, she toyed thoughtfully with the rim of her 
cup.
	"I have these dreams," she started in an even tone, "Where all I 
can hear is Vader's voice, speaking of Han -- of all of us -- as though we 
were just another herd of Banthas to be slaughtered."  At the mention of 
Vader, Luke stopped abruptly, placing his plate and cup back on the table.  
His own emotions rushed to the surface, where he quietly struggled to 
squelch them.  No...Leia must not know.
	It's too much, he thought desperately, squeezing his eyes shut.  
He fought one battle after another with himself, finally losing one.  "It's all 
my fault," he said plainly as his eyes opened.  "If I had just given myself 
over...."
	Leia's brown eyes flared, "You would have been destroyed.  I 
would have been.  We'd all be dead and Han would be in carbonite for 
eternity."  She set aside her refreshments as well, reaching over to grasp 
Luke's arm.  Obi-Wan's voice hung in the back of his head.  "You would 
have been killed, too," he had said when Luke found his aunt and uncle 
murdered.  He had felt these regrets then, too.  I'm weary with regrets, 
Luke thought.
	"Luke," Leia repeated, "Listen to me.  This power of yours is not 
something you asked for.  It's your birthright and it must be valuable if the 
Emperor wants it.  You are what this rebellion is about.  You are a Jedi; 
you are the Republic."
	"I'm not a Jedi, Leia," Luke protested, "I have learned so much, 
but I feel like so much more waits for me.  I'm just sorry it ever had to hurt 
anyone else, especially you and Han...."  He trailed off, afraid to say much 
more.  Leia studied him yet again, as she had done so often lately.  Luke 
had sustained astounding injuries during his confrontation with Vader.  
She could see those healing, though.  What continued to worry her were 
the injuries her eyes would never see.  As she watched her dear friend, 
she had the impression she could almost feel his pain, touch his emotions.  
A strange fear grasped at her.  What had Vader really done to Luke?  
What could he have done that Luke so blatantly refused to share with 
another soul?
	"You didn't hurt us, Luke," Leia commented quietly, "Vader did.  
The Emperor did.  Not you.  I know you'd never do anything to endanger 
any one of us."  Luke remained quiet, tossing a single fleeting glance to 
her.  That would be the end of that, she knew.  Since Bespin, Luke had 
erected a wall that no one could scale.  He needs to rest, she decided, 
then changed the subject.
	Settling back into her chair, Leia allowed her thoughts to romp 
along the pleasantries of her past.  "Sometimes, I wish we could all just 
hop a freighter to Alderaan," she said with a deep sigh of longing.  Luke 
looked to her curiously.  She shrugged at him in return, "At least we could 
feel some peace there.  Recharge ourselves."
	"The Empire would still be out there, though," Luke reminded 
her.  She nodded, "Oh, I know that, but Alderaan was always an ...," she 
stretched for the right word, "an oasis.  A place where you could get clear 
of the stresses and have a clear head about things."
	"That would definitely be nice," Luke commented, in a low voice.  
He could really use a clear head about now.  Leia's tone grew wistful, her 
gaze distant.  "I remember one particular spot," she began, drawing Luke's 
imagination into her memories, "It was our garden and always my refuge.  
I often retreated there when I was a young girl, whenever I felt out of 
place.  I don't think I ever met my aunts' expectation of what a proper 
Princess should be."
	Luke smiled, knowing exactly what his friend meant, even if his 
details were a bit different.  He never met Uncle Owen's expectations of 
what a moisture farmer should be.
	Leia continued in her reverie, "You would have like it, Luke.  It 
was set in a quiet sector of the palace.  The walls were a brilliant white, so 
bright they seemed to glow."  Here eyes twinkled with the cherished 
memory.  "Oh, and the scent of the flowers ...." Her voice trailed into the 
distance as Luke's own mind froze with a terrible chill of recognition.  The 
more details Leia spoke, the more he knew he had seen this beloved place 
from her childhood.
	She described a place from his own visions of the past.  Delving 
into his insight, he knew with a surety that she told of the very garden in 
which he had seen his own mother weeping.  His mother had been on 
Alderaan.  Now, he wondered, with a grievous clinching of his heart, had 
she really died long ago or had she perished like Leia's family when Tarkin 
destroyed the peaceful planet?
	Luke turned a strange gaze on Leia.  Could she have known his 
mother?  If she had fled to the Alderaanian royal house, then could she 
have stayed there?  Questions upon questions swarmed into his head, 
filling his thoughts with a maddening cacophony.  Bound by the 
necessity for silence, he covered his face with his hands and simply 
breathed.
	Leia stopped talking, noticing the change in Luke's demeanor.  
She smiled sympathetically.  "That's enough for tonight," she 
pronounced, "You need to get back to recuperating."  She unraveled her 
small frame from within the soft confines of her chair, then extended her 
hand.  He looked up at her, took her hand and stood.  For a long moment, 
he just looked at her incandescent face and streams of chocolate brown 
hair.  "Goodnight, Leia," he said simply, returning her compassionate hug, 
"It'll be all right.  Don't worry."  Leia watched him disappear down the hall 
and wondered again what wound caused his soul to bleed so silently.


CHAPTER 4

	Treq Colbert watched Commander Skywalker wander past him for 
the second time that evening.  Luke's gaze snapped up from the floor for 
only a brief moment, to acknowledge Treq's presence along his path.  
Small flickering of recognition passed through the piercing blue eyes, but 
a look of brooding crowded it out in one swift motion.  Watching the 
young commander's back as he returned to the med unit, Treq smiled 
slightly.  Go ahead and brood, Skywalker, he thought, the Emperor will 
have you soon, no matter what you do.
	The aspiring Jedi had been easy enough to fool earlier that 
evening, but soon his abilities would far surpass Treq's.  No more mental 
tricks, he thought.  It's getting too risky.
	Treq turned in the opposite direction and continued his watch.  
So much information, he thought, I have so much.  I must be meticulous in 
taking care how I use it.  He felt it coming, the end of his time as a spy 
within the Rebel ranks.  I won't be assigned to some backwater, hole-in-
the-galaxy world, either, he insisted to himself as he had billions of times.  
If I use everything I have, I can finally get a spot among the Royal Guards 
themselves.  His pulse quickened at the mere thought of donning the rich 
scarlet robes.  I deserve it, he said silently, and I will have it soon enough.
	He turned another corner and paused to watch the stars move 
slowly past the large viewport.  He had been stationed with the Rebels 
long enough.  Just the smell of their ships were enough to make his 
stomach lurch.  Treq wanted to scream in rage every time he heard one 
of those blasted pilots recant his point-of-view of the destruction of the 
Death Star.  The murder of Tarkin, he corrected.  Stupid scum, he mentally 
spat.
	Then, fortune had indeed smiled upon him when he had been 
placed so near to Skywalker.  Eagerly, he had reported their whereabouts 
and waited for the blessed vision of Imperial ships bearing down on this 
band to destroy them once and for all.  He watched the black horizon, if 
there could be one in open space, but no ships slammed out of 
hyperspace to confront them.  No alerts sounded as unexpected fighters 
swarmed upon them.  Forced to keep his anger and confusion silent 
among these small-minded Rebels, Treq had literally ached with 
disappointment and wondered if his beloved Emperor had abandoned 
him.
	News of Skywalker's unbelievable confrontation on Bespin 
began to trickle through the ranks.  At last, Treq's intellect found a 
satisfactory answer to this enigma.  His reports went to Vader himself 
before reaching the Emperor.  Vader could have easily destroyed one of 
the Rebellion's most pivotal leaders, yet he had not.  Obviously, the Dark 
Lord also refrained from attacking this Rebel fleet to avoid the risk of 
losing the unassuming young man in battle.
	Can't blame him, Treq shrugged, with all the foul-ups at Hoth, 
Vader probably withheld his trust from even his most sure-footed 
commanders.  For some reason, Vader wished to deal with Skywalker 
personally.  Treq did not envy Luke's position, but could not help but 
wonder why this moisture farmer could be so vitally important to the great 
Lord Darth Vader.  Even more astounding was the fact the Emperor 
Palpatine seemed to be allowing Vader such a great measure of control in 
the hunt for Luke Skywalker.  The young man must be vitally important to 
the Emperor, too.  For that, Treq did envy Luke.
	"Finished your rounds, Lieutenant?" Major Derlin's voice jarred 
into Treq's thoughts.  He snapped a quick salute, "Yessir, and I believe 
the next watch is due to report."  Derlin nodded curtly with a quick study 
of his datapad, "You are correct.  They have checked in.  You are relieved 
for the night."  For a moment, the Major's eyes tracked the tiny points of 
light beyond the viewport, where Treq had been staring.  He laid a hand 
on the young man's shoulder.  "Don't worry, son," he said in a softer 
tone, fully misinterpreting Treq's thoughts, "We'll take care of the 
Imperials once and for all ... and soon.  We'll avenge the death of your 
world."  Treq lowered his gaze, responding  with the appropriate measure 
of grief in his voice.  "Yessir," he managed in a low whisper.
	Derlin, clapped him on the shoulder once and continued on his 
way.  Treq watched after him, glowering.  Fool, he thought venomously, 
Alderaan deserved to perish.

	"What?!" Leia yelled as she came suddenly, fully awake.  Her 
eyes flew open, finding herself already sitting bolt upright on her sleeping 
palate.  Breathing hard, she consciously slowed her thundering heartbeat.  
In the near-silence of her chambers, her other senses strained for some 
clue as to what she had heard.  Either someone lurked in the darkness 
near her or she had just had another one of those horrificly real dreams.
	Looks like the dreams win again, she thought, relaxing her white-
knuckled grip on the thin, thermal blanket.  With a sigh, she swing her feet 
over the edge, not minding the comfortingly real touch of the cool, 
smooth flooring.  Stepping to the refresher in one corner, Leia dampened 
a small cloth and dabbed at her sweat-streaked face.  No-no, she heard her 
aunt's long-ago correcting voice chime, ladies do not sweat, dear; they 
perspire.  With a half-grin, Leia neatly laid aside the cloth.  What assuring, 
but otherwise meaningless, platitudes would her aunt have chanted for 
her now?  So much fuel for that in my life now, Leia thought, that I'd rather 
not know.
	Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she picked her way to the 
front sitting area.  Retrieving a cold glass of simulated Corellian tea, she 
dropped rather unceremoniously into one of the plush chairs.  These 
dreams had to stop.  But were they truly dreams? Leia wondered.  Each 
seemed so incredibly vivid, as though the voice spoke to her from her 
bedside.  Different voices each time, too.  Only once had it been unclear.  
Luke's voice had come to her once, but she could not hear his words.  He 
sounded as though he were shouting to her through a swirling storm, his 
words carried away on the sweeping winds.  Leia had awakened herself, 
trying to call to him through the gale.
	Feeling strained, she rubbed at her brow.  Now, this new voice, 
insulting her homeworld, her beloved Alderaan.  Could these be some 
convoluted sort of messages?  Some puzzle her subconscious had solved, 
and desperately tried to give her the answer?  Luke, she thought with 
resolve.  I must ask Luke.  The image of him that come to mind brought 
her reassurance.  His calm surety.  His solid look of quiet wisdom that 
seemed to ground those around him, as they instinctively gave him their 
trust.  
	Leia had to smile.  Could he possibly be the same boy who had 
rushed into her cell on the Death Star, momentarily forgetting that he was 
in disguise?  She laughed out loud, remembering the wide-eyed dreamer 
who had quickly endeared himself to her more than he'd ever know.  
Sipping, she pondered her memories.  No, he was not the same.  But more 
than maturity had altered him; his new training as a Jedi brought fresh 
growth and changes to him almost daily.  Secretly, Leia feared for him, 
also.
	The smile disappeared from her face as her thoughts touched 
a rock-hard, black spot within her heart.  Darth Vader had caused her the 
most profound of pains and now she had to watch Luke suffer at his 
hands, also.  She knew Vader and Luke had dueled viciously, but what 
could Vader have done to Luke's psyche to make him retreat as he had?  
Luke's body appeared to heal, but he had other, open wounds that 
seemingly no one could tend.  What could Vader have possibly said 
or done to cause Luke to torture himself like this?
	In Leia's case, the weapon had been sickeningly simple, but no 
less harmful.  He and Tarkin had destroyed her world, her family, and 
nearly her very life.  They had obliterated all that she held most 
precious...and forced her to watch.  Her thoughts were assaulted by the 
harsh light of Alderaan's fireball and they pain flared again, renewed.  
Grief like she had never thought possible filled her heart, made her body 
ache.  For the sake of the Rebellion, she vanquished it for more private 
moments.  
	For the Rebellion's sake? her conscience inquired.  Leia hung her 
head.  All right, for the sake of her only hope for revenge, too.  As Leia 
discovered, vengeance did not soothe the anguish of grief.  It simply fed 
hate.  To break her thoughts, Leia studied the differing shades of 
darkness that played on the room's furniture.  The only light came from 
a bright line, like a tiny saber, along the bottom edge of her door.
	The ray of light turned her thoughts back to Luke once again.  
At their first meeting, she had felt something special about him, 
something quite different.  At first, she had wondered if she shared a 
romantic connection with the young man.  Now, those thoughts seemed 
totally askew.  Leia almost laughed, thinking of herself married to Luke.  
Definitely wrong, now.  Her expression grew suddenly serious.  But I 
heard him, didn't I?  He memory played in her mind yet again.  As she 
piloted the Falcon away from Cloud City, she felt something open in her 
mind.  A portal?  No, not quite.  It was more like that little ray of light 
beneath her door, piercing into her awareness.  Luke had needed her help 
and she had heard his call as clearly as she would hear his voice as he 
speaks.
	If they were not joined as those who are intended to spend 
eternity together, then what explanation could exist?  I don't have any 
Force sensitivity.... her thoughts began, then trailed away as words 
spoken in an empty hall.  A chill lit her spine.  I could be Force sensitive, 
couldn't I?  The thrill lasted for a microsecond before the image of Luke, 
as he lay injured at Vader's hands, pushed it aside.  Darth Vader would do 
that to you, then...or worse.  Fiercely, she cut off the thought before it 
could hardly begin.  Impossible.  I am a diplomat.  I am no Jedi.
	A shadow passed the door, finally breaking the light and, just 
as quickly, restoring it.  How long had she been staring at the little beam?  
Finally, she thought, I feel like I can sleep.  She drained the last of her 
beverage and returned to her palate.  As she snuggled the cover under 
her chin, she made her ritual vow.  Goodnight, Han, she thought across 
the chasm of distance, we will be together soon.

	Darth Vader swept through the passageways of his flagship, 
each step ringing with fearsome authority in the bones of those he 
passed.  Once, he had taken notice of the officers who scrambled to let 
even the flowing edge of his cape pass unhindered.  Once, he had 
stoically reveled in the pride their desperate retreats stirred behind his 
shelled exterior.  Now, the scuttle of their movement seemed little more 
than part of the normal operations of his ship.  Today, he barely noticed.
	An odd feeling of detachment had overcome the Dark Lord, 
gradually increasing as the days passed.  Officially, the directive from his 
Emperor stood as it had on Bespin, to find the young Skywalker and his 
Rebel friends.  Vader's particular commandment was to apprehend his son 
before he became a full-fledged Jedi, so that Palpatine himself could 
complete his training.  Personally, Vader felt a deep-seated determination 
to know his own child.  This boy who should have been the closest 
person in the galaxy to him, but who he actually knew as little more than 
a total stranger.  He smiled ironically.  I've known him as a thorn in the 
Empire's side.
	He carries so much of me, Vader knew instinctively as he held 
a picture of Luke in his mind.  Luke.  A strong name, that one.  She chose 
well, he thought.  A fresh pride swept over Vader; his son's spirit held 
strong to the Force, as had his father's.  He remembered how easily he had 
first felt it flow through him, under his own direction.  The thrill of raw 
power in his grasp.  Vader breathed a great sigh, remembering long ago 
times, almost forgotten.  But those are the memories of another man, he 
admonished his wandering psyche.  A man, his brain echoed.  As his 
thickly-gloved fingers strayed over the switches that controlled his very 
life, he wondered, am  I a man at all anymore?
	As he entered his meditation chambers, new and worrisome 
thoughts crept into the long-accustomed darkness of his mind.  Are you 
as strong as your own offspring?  I was on Bespin, he returned the 
argument.  Yes, came the retort, but he was raw then.  Once he holds the 
Force in his mighty grip, will you be able to meet his challenge?  Vader 
waited.  No rebuttal came.
	The chamber sealed itself with small hisses and clicks.  With the 
perfect timing of a well-executed maneuver, servos overhead whirred into 
their chore of removing his stifling helmet.  The exposure once made him 
feel vulnerable, but now he welcomed the tiny bit of freedom it opened for 
his near-dead body.  What would I be without these machines that tend 
to me?  You are the machines, came the whisper.  True to form, the 
whispers angered him and he hastily banished them.
	Again, the Dark Lord breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, not 
sure which part of his mind to cleanse first.  Too many questions roamed 
the multitude of corridors in his advanced brain.  They ducked and 
swayed, as if daring him to chase them.  Resignedly, he realized their 
taunts would haunt his psyche until he could answer them.  He decided 
to cleanse the anger first.
	For the billionth time in his tortured life, the Sith Lord closed his 
eyes and waited for the tide of his world to ebb away.  As the clattering 
waters receded from his psyche, the noise of his daily life faded.  Vader's 
mind became more sharp, focused.  He grasped at the hot anger he felt 
gnawing at his weary innards and grappled it into the spotlight of his 
mind.  You will be gone, he insisted mentally as he wrestled it's face into 
the cleansing light.
	As the practiced brightness splashed over it's dark ridges and 
crevasses, Vader gasped.  Not a small gasp, but a shocked, physical gasp.  
His anger indeed had a face.  Inside, he tried to turn away from the stark 
reality brought forth by his own traitorous meditations.  Yet the image 
held him fast, forcing him to see what he'd become.  
	His anger had a face.  The twisted, dry face of Palpatine.
	Calm yourself, Vader thought, studying more closely the problem 
the Force had brought to his feet.  He felt the cold realization at the base of 
his heart.  My Emperor, he thought, My Master.  How I do hate you.
	You promised me power beyond what Kenobi and Yoda could 
ever teach me, and you were right.  You set the asking price as that of my 
soul.  Truly, I have had fearsome power, but you have held my life in your 
crooked little fingers ever since.
	Outwardly, Vader nodded in answer to his own question.  Yes, I 
willingly have paid that price.  But now I see that the pot grew, as I 
basked in the easy glory I discovered.  Your shortcomings cannot be 
blamed on the old man, the whispers argued.  This time a retort came 
swiftly, with venom.  They can't? Vader asked in return.  They are.


CHAPTER 5

	I'm so tired of hurting, Luke sighed to himself, laying back on his 
palate.  As Leia spoke to him this evening, he felt a profoundly endless pit 
opening deep within his very being.  I want to much to tell her, Luke 
thought for the millionth time, but that is impossible.  She hates him so 
very much, how could she ever look at me again without her vision being 
tainted by his past evils?  Beyond that, she'd never understand why I 
cannot manage malice towards him.
	Fear, yes, Luke conceded none too proudly.  Malice, no.  For 
stars' sake, he's my father!  I cannot hate my own father.  Realizations 
poured into Luke's mind, tumbling one upon another.  On Bespin, Vader 
had challenged him to his limits.  Was I tested for the Emperor's sake or to 
satisfy Vader's own curiosity?  He wondered exactly what his father knew 
about him and how he had discovered it.  From the untouched wells of 
emotion within him, Luke felt one prevailing thought boiling it's way to 
the top.  At first, he resisted it as an impossible notion.  Then, he relented, 
allowing himself to feel it.  It's true, he decided, I want to know my father.
	A dangerous idea, he knew.  What if Vader only wished to see 
his Jedi blood shed as those who had come before him?  That's not right, 
Luke reacted immediately, mostly on instinct rather than logic.  In his 
mind's eye, their confrontation in Cloud City replayed in his mind.  
Moments passed through his awareness when he knew he felt the touch 
of Vader's mind with his own.  Anger, even resentment, prevailed, but 
glaring instances touched Luke again.  At the time, he had misread the 
pride, he knew now.  Feeling it again, it was not Vader's pride in himself, 
but glimmers of pride in his Force-strong son.  As he pleaded with Luke to 
come off of his precarious perch, Vader exuded an undercurrent of 
profound longing.
	Suddenly, Luke awoke with a start.  When had he slipped into 
the meditation trance?  His mind had gone so easily, allowing him to relive 
those crucial moments during his duel with Vader.  Fringes of the trance 
clung to his awareness.  As it dripped away as the dew running from the 
morning leaves on Yavin 4, Luke felt another dark presence near to him.  
Too near, he thought guardedly. 
	As he tried to get a solid Force-grip on the evil mind, it shrank 
away from him, retreating.  The being quickly masked himself, blending in 
Luke's awareness with the other presences aboard the ship.  He knows I 
found him, Luke realized.  The next realization filled him with momentary 
panic; in order to hide, this person had to be Force-talented, too.  Now, 
Luke wondered, what do I do about a Force-strong traitor in our midst?

	Treq Colbert breathed in a deep, cool breath.  As the trance 
broke, he felt the beads of sweat on his forehead.  The effort had been 
harder than he had anticipated.  Grabbing someone's thoughts tended 
to be that way.  Especially when the grab-ee came looking in return.
	Vader would have strangled him in an instant if he'd known that 
Treq had tampered with Skywalker.  Not much tolerance in that one, he 
thought of his Imperial commander.  There's an understatement! Treq 
laughed.  Then again, with power like that, who needs tolerance?  He 
smiled, thinking of what he'd just read from Luke's careless flow of 
thoughts.  No wonder he hadn't finished off the kid; this is his own kid.
	A knowing quirk lit Treq's grin.  Now I understand why Vader 
didn't touch this fleet when I reported our position.  The Dark Lord must 
know that his son still flies in combat.  Several missions ago, Luke had 
passed into the ranks of pilots flying on borrowed time.  Every time he 
climbed into that cockpit, he defied the X-Wing survival statistics.  Treq 
realized he'd been wrong in assuming Vader was simply protecting the 
Emperor's prize; Vader was keeping Junior safe and sound.  Still, the idea 
of the Dark Lord of the Sith actually having an emotional investment in 
Skywalker seemed incongruous.  Inside the blackness of that mechanized 
body, there simply could not be a heart.
	He wondered how long Luke had known this little detail of his 
family tree.  The Rebellion couldn't know, he decided, or Commander 
Skywalker wouldn't be a Commander.  A sly smile spread across his 
pinched face.  I wonder how far I could get with some blackmail for this?  
After toying with the idea for half a minute, he decided the answer would 
be disappointing.  Luke may not like his parentage, but he'd hardly sell-
out the Rebel Alliance for it.  Too many blasted principles, Treq frowned.
	If not blackmail, then how about a nice scandal? Treq asked 
himself.  Just hand this little tidbit to Mon Mothma and see the amazing 
Skywalker tumble into oblivion.  Then, Vader could get at him easily.  Treq 
shook his head.  Let's revisit reality, he scolded himself.  You're talking 
about a war hero here.  And not just any war hero, but the one who 
destroyed the Death Star.  Luke's worth, not mention loyalty, has been 
proven a hundred times over.  Then, Treq would have to reveal his 
sources and, as far as he was concerned, no one wanted that.
	A strong one Luke is, Treq reminded himself.  Stronger than Treq 
had ever dreamed of being.  A twinge of envy flitted through him, but he 
knew it's futility and forgot it.  He thought of Vader luring Luke to Bespin, 
using his own Force-strength against him.  Of course Luke would know 
his beloved friends were in danger.  And of course he would come 
running.  Predictable.  A simply beautiful plan.
	Now, one question remained for Treq.  Answer this and you just 
might flee this horrid charade.  Answer this and you can take your place 
among the elite, the Imperial Royal Guard.  In spite of himself, he almost 
salivated.
	From where had Luke come running?  Treq knew he had not 
rendezvoused with the rest of the fleet after the Battle of Hoth.  Also, 
where had he learned to duel well enough to avoid being crippled by 
Vader?  Someone had to teach him those skills.  Not just anyone, either, 
Treq knew.  He leaned back on his bunk and stared into the durasteel 
walls.  A Jedi Master lurked out there somewhere and Luke had found 
him.
	Now, the Empire had to find him.

	Luke returned to his room, newly preoccupied.  Mon Mothma 
had called an emergency briefing for the Rebel Commanders, to share 
some new information that trickled in from several spy sources.  Details 
were sketchy, but trouble of the greatest magnitude was definitely 
brewing.  
	As he entered his quarters and began to shed his uniform, he 
suddenly remembered the loyal little droid who trailed behind him.  
"Thanks for tagging along," he patted R2's dome with a smile.  R2 
twittered his reply, obviously waiting for his master's next command.  
The Rebellion would begin mustering their forces soon and much needed 
to be done.
	"We need to be battle-ready," he thought out loud, "R2, can you 
do a clean-up on my fighter's systems?  Don't wipe anything, just be sure 
we've retained any important data."  He didn't complete that thought, 
knowing that R2 would understand his purposes.  No reason to lose 
everything should the law of averages finally track me down.  R2 beeped 
an affirmative and rolled smoothly through the door, towards the fighter 
bays.
	As he tugged on his pilot's coverall, he frowned slightly at the 
stiffness that lingered in his joints.  That will have to go, he resolved.  I 
can't afford a bit of sluggishness now.  Not with a new Death Star floating 
around somewhere in the galaxy.  This would be a good time to test out a 
few more of those healing techniques Yoda taught me.  Impatiently, he 
pulled himself back into his bed and forced himself to relax.  His senses 
tingled with the scent of battle, mixed with the accustomed dread.  
	Breathe slowly, he commanded, consciously moving his mind 
into the Force trance.  Step-by-step he descended into the comforting 
depths.  He could feel each fiber of his body and methodically isolated 
each twinge.  Concentrating, he soothed each ache and imagined the 
injuries knitting back to normal health.  
	Suddenly, he became aware of another presence in his trance.  
No, not the traitor he decided; this one is too far away.  A fractional 
moment before he recognized the rumbling voice, the sound struck to 
the deepest parts of his soul.

	Standing in an isolated branch of his command ship's bridge, 
Vader cast his mind to the stars.  Luke is there, he knew.  The last of the 
Skywalkers.  "Hear me, son," he intoned.  A twinge of panic greeted him, 
then he felt his son bravely turn to him mentally.  He could almost picture 
Luke's icy eyes and his resolved courage as he faced him.
	What do you want with me? Luke asked.  Wasn't Bespin 
enough?  Vader felt the sting of regret at the words, but allowed it to pass 
between them unspoken.  "We are meant to be together," he stated 
simply.  
	"You will be brought to the Emperor.  It is foreseen."  Vader 
could feel Luke's presence silently rebel at that, but he said nothing.  "The 
question is, Luke, will you rule or be ruled?"
	Even in the mental realm, Luke managed to strike a him.  My 
mother was on Alderaan, he announced.  Did you know that when you 
helped destroy it?  
	Vader's control faltered, unable to stop the ripples of grief that 
seemed to leak from the deep, hidden parts of his heart.  Again, he let it 
go without comment.  Let the boy divine what he will from that.  He 
continued undaunted, "Listen to me, Luke.  The Emperor grows weak.  
Now is our time.  We can be together, son.  We can be together and be 
mighty."
	Not in the Dark Side, Luke retorted.  Vader felt frustrated at his 
child's stubbornness.  "You only know what Obi-Wan taught you," he 
snapped back, "And his dishonesty to you is obvious."  Silence.  Good, 
he thought, the boy is thinking.  "He never told you the truth about me," 
he pressed on, "He never told you the truth about much that you take as 
fact."
	He felt another question coming from Luke, but the young man's 
attention diverted abruptly.  "Wait!" Vader started, but he felt the trance 
break forcibly.  Regretting what he had not said, Vader hung his head.  
The words and emotions that passed between he and his son would have 
to do.  It remained to be seen if he would be able to join with Luke, or be 
left in the wake of his exceedingly-strong son.  His son the Jedi.

	Luke almost leapt from his bed at the sound of R2's urgent 
twitters over the comlink.  Something was wrong.  Not just a little wrong, 
but terribly wrong.  Despite his pains, he sprinted down the corridor, 
dodging the crew who filtered along their own duties.  As his feet flew 
towards the fighter bay, his mind returned to the sobering encounter he 
had just had with Vader.  Anger swelled in him.  Should I even believe 
him?  His instincts told him he should.  The anger fell to a simmering 
undercurrent, giving way to the longing.  
	You are right, Father, he thought, we should be together.  But 
that will never happen in the Dark Side.  Again, his instincts served him 
well.  He knew with a rock-hard dread that the Dark Side would devour 
them both.  Bringing Vader back to the light would be their only hope 
of reuniting.
	Luke crashed into the far wall as he rounded the corner into the 
bay's entrance.  At the end of the first row of X-Wings, Luke could make 
out the nose of his own fighter.  Umbilicals connected it to a small 
diagnostics terminal.  R2 would be plugged into that, backing up the 
navigational memory.  As he neared R2's location, he could see that the 
little droid had company.  Unwelcome company, Luke surmised, from the 
angry sound of R2's bleeping.
	"Can I help you?" Luke called to the human.  The man turned 
to him, looking somewhat surprised.  But only somewhat, Luke noted.  
Suddenly, Luke recognized the man's grinning face.
	"Hello Luke," Treq called, surreptitiously removing something 
small from the databank's port and pocketing it, "I was just checking on 
this droid here.  Making sure he was authorized."
	Luke felt the lie, even before the words reached him.  "He's 
authorized," he said with a flat tone.  "So, what are you doing?" he asked 
pointedly, gesturing towards Treq's pocket, where the datacard was 
stowed.
	Treq fixed Luke with a level stare, unable to offer a quick 
explanation.  This gig is up, he swiftly realized.  All I can hope now is to 
buy some time.  Go for shock value, he decided, as he saw Luke's hand 
shoot for his pocket.  He caught Luke's wrist, coming almost nose-to-nose 
with the Commander.
	"I know who you really are, Skywalker," he growled into Luke's 
face.  Luke blinked, shoving down a flash of fear.  "I don't know what you 
mean," Luke shot back quickly.
	Treq laughed loudly and shoved Luke away from him.  "Quit the 
show," he said in a normal tone, "Tell me, is his real name Skywalker or is 
yours Vader?"
	That threw Luke off balance.  His mouth went dry.  Treq noticed 
him blanch.  "Your secret isn't so safe with me, either, Commander," he 
emphasized the last word, "One little whisper to Mon Mothma and...."
	"Where did you get your information?" Luke demanded, cutting 
off Treq's painful implications.  His mind worked quickly.  Only he and 
Vader knew the words that had passed between them.  Unless someone 
managed to eavesdrop on his trances, but only someone who was Force-
sensitive could do that.  With a flash of realization, he remembered the 
evil mind that he had sensed aboard the ship.  Again, his insight 
confirmed his worst fears.
	Instinctively, Luke's hand shot to where his blaster should be, 
but he'd left it behind in his quarters.  Treq saw the faint movement and 
chuckled again.  "Forgot your gear?" he taunted.  "Too bad.  And I've 
gone and cut off the bay's comm because that blasted droid hollered," he 
turned a glare on Artoo.  He shrugged in mock sympathy, "Now you'll 
have to go call security the old fashioned way."  He smiled and gestured 
towards the entry.
	Luke felt absolutely foolish.  No use beating myself over such a 
mistake, he thought with a frown.  He'd left himself no choice.  He dashed 
to the door, hitting the durasteel flooring already shouting an alarm.  As 
he ran, he heard Treq's footsteps retreating in the opposite direction.  
	Artoo chased after his master, twittering his own distress.  As 
the doors shut behind Luke, he heard what Artoo had been shouting 
about.  His ears pricked at the unmistakable hum of a small cargo shuttle 
firing up it's power cells.
	Blast, Luke thought, and grabbed the blaster the holster of one 
of the pilots who had stopped to help.  "No time to explain," Luke 
shouted over his shoulder, "We've got a spy on board!  Follow me!"  
They rushed into the bay and towards the small ship.  Luke knew it took 
some time to get those cells going.  He just hoped it took Treq longer 
enough for Luke to get there.
	Two of the men broke off and ran to their fighters.  Their 
converters are cold, Luke thought, they'll never make it.  The shuttle 
began to rise from the floor, already heading towards space.  Luke slowed 
his steps and watched helplessly as Treq hit hyperspace almost as soon 
as he'd cleared the ship.  Dangerous move, but he pulled it off.
	"It's too late," Luke breathed heavily, shaking his head, "He's 
gone.  Thanks for trying, guys."  He returned the borrowed blaster to its 
proper owner and sulked away.  Time to break the news to Mon Mothma.
	As he strode down the corridor, he rehearsed in his mind what 
he would report to Mon Mothma.  The story left many questions, he 
knew.  Ones he'd rather not answer.  What if he told Mon Mothma just 
that?  That these questions tied into his confrontation with Vader and his 
process of becoming a Jedi?  Again, he relied on his instinct for aid.
	She trusts you, he heard the answer whisper to him, so trust 
yourself.  Luke looked around him at the people he passed in the 
corridors.  They all trusted him, he knew.  And he realized that he would 
not let them down.  He would be a Jedi.  He would resurrect the Republic.
	Suddenly, he felt the Force flow through him with all the power 
that it brought with it.  For the first time in several days, Luke looked 
forward to his future in the Alliance.  Even if he had to confront Darth 
Vader again.  One way or another, Luke knew he would be reunited with 
his father.

	"How close are you to a solution on Tatooine?" Mon Mothma 
asked.  Leia laid aside her datapad, which looked like an insane labyrinth 
of statistics concerning the Alliance's fleet.  So much had to be done if 
they were to move against the new Death Star before its completion.  She 
sighed, shifting her posture slightly.  Mon Mothma had expressed her 
concern for Han generously enough, but Leia also realized that his rescue 
would have to occur before the fleet had completely gathered.  
	"Lando has begun a plan to infiltrate Jabba's palace," she 
reported, "Once he is within their confidence, I will have to go to Tatooine 
to assist.  As will R2D2 and C3PO...and Luke, if he is ready.  However, the 
plan of action still has several holes."
	Mon Mothma nodded knowingly.  "That brings up a new 
subject," she began, but the entrance chime interrupted.  Leia knew what 
concerns the Rebel leader had about her dear friend.  After all, she felt 
those same concerns quite often herself.  Mon Mothma quirked a brow at 
the image on her security viewscreen.
	"Well, he must be developing those Jedi skills quickly," she 
joked as she pressed the key that released the door lock.  The entrance 
slid open and Luke joined them.  Leia started to smile at him, then noticed 
his countenance.  Something serious must have happened.
	"Welcome, Luke," Mon Mothma greeted him gladly, "How may I 
be of assistance?"  Leia looked at her curiously, hearing her cheerful tone.  
Could she not see Luke's obvious distress?  She threw her attention back 
to Luke, wondering as the shadow of a memory hit her.  Luke did appear 
distressed, didn't he?
	With a growing uneasiness, Leia realized that Luke looked 
nothing less than confident.  Still, deep in her mind, she just knew that 
something was wrong.  Maybe I just know him too well, she decided.  
Certainly, they shared an uncommon bond.  In the moment it took for 
these thoughts to weave through her awareness, Luke threw her a 
questioning glance, then snapped his attention back to Mon Mothma as 
he spoke.
	"I do hope you'll excuse this interruption," he began in a strong 
voice, " But there has been a traitor among us."
	Both of the women momentarily lost their cool demeanor. 
"What?!" they exclaimed in unison.  Mon Mothma reached for the 
security call.  "Who is it and I will have them detained at once," she 
hurried.  He held up a hand to bring her attention back to him.
	"I am afraid he has escaped, Mon Mothma," he explained, "For 
that, I accept full responsibility.  It was Lieutenant Treq Colbert.  He and I 
had a slight, well, confrontation in the fighter bay."
	"You fought him?" Leia asked, surprised.  Luke shook his head, 
trying to reassure her worries for him.  "No, not like that," he said, "I was 
not armed.  It was a personal confrontation."
	Luke paused, then continued with his explanation.  "I believe he 
managed to access some data from my X-Wing, which means he probably 
was planted to gain information about my whereabouts for the Emperor," 
he paused again, taking a deep breath, "or for Darth Vader."  Mon 
Mothma's gaze narrowed as she analyzed the new information.
	"Do you think the fleet is in danger, then?" she asked cautiously.  
Luke shook his head, letting his gaze drift to the floor.  What 
is it you are afraid to speak? Leia asked mentally.  A hard resolve formed 
in her.  I know there's more to this, she determined, but  I cannot help 
much if he will not speak it.  Then, her eyes took in his calm confidence, 
his quiet assurance.  He may not need much of my help, she thought, but 
I will give him all I can.
	"Vader will not attack the fleet," he said firmly, "That I do know."  
Leia could not help but notice that he offered no source for this 
knowledge.  She knew Mon Mothma wouldn't have missed the omission, 
either.  She watched their leader fix Luke with a measuring gaze, weighing 
his words.
	Finally, she shrugged.  "I will trust your word, Luke," she 
decided, "The ways of the Jedi are not mine to question."  The underlying 
message hung in the air.  Luke had better be right.  With that, Luke took 
his leave and left the two of them alone with the news.
	Mon Mothma sat in contemplative silence for several moments.  
"I think our business is done," she finally said, "I will brief Admiral 
Ackbar on these developments.  Keep me posted about Tatooine."  Leia 
began gathering her materials and moved towards the door.
	"Mark my words, Leia," Mon Mothma said, stopping Leia before 
she exited, "There is much more to that young man than any of us have 
begun to guess.  He dons the cloak of greatness well."  Leia smiled and 
nodded her agreement, then began the short walk to her quarters.
	She recalled how Luke handled himself with Mon Mothma.  He 
has matured more than I realized.  Leia took great reassurance in seeing 
his head held high again and he strength in his voice.  A least he seemed 
to be recovering, she reminded herself without allowing the old wariness 
leave her.
	Treq Colbert, she thought.  How could an Alderaanian even 
think of following the Emperor?  Something definitely had to be wrong 
with that man's mind.  Well, the Empire did that to people, she reminded 
herself.
	Still, it explains her dream during the last sleep cycle.  Leia often 
met Lieutenant Colbert on her daily rounds.  She must have 
subconsciously known that something was wrong with him.  With 
Alderaan as common ground between them, her mind must have mutated 
that feeling into what she had heard in her sleep.  On the surface, she felt 
satisfied with that explanation.  
	In the dark recesses of her mind, where she hid unpleasant 
thoughts, she hoped she was right.

	Treq dropped the little craft out of hyperspace a few short 
lightyears away from the Rebel fleet.  No need to go jumping through a 
star or something, he thought.  The Rebels have a lot of space to search, 
he thought, I'm safe for the moment.  A good, clean getaway, he gloated 
as he recalibrated the navicomputer.  
	Before making the final adjustments, Treq sent off his final report 
to Vader.  Attached to it was the data he had retrieved from the X-Wing's 
navigational memory.  He smirked, knowing that his slicer program would 
have covered its own tracks before that nasty little astromech could chase 
it.  
	He waited patiently as the navicomputer reset all the ship's 
systems for the jump to Coruscant.  In his report, Treq had not been shy 
in requesting he assignment he desired, as a reward for such a successful 
mission.  The reply should come quickly, he knew.  His information would 
indeed be invaluable to the Emperor.
	In the cargo area, Treq took a quick inventory of his supplies.  
Not the highest quality, he sniffed, but it'll get me through to Coruscant.  
His heart skipped.  Coruscant.  Just the name brought a thrill of adrenaline 
to him.  It will be good to be home, he smiled with self-satisfaction.  
	A bleeping from the cockpit interrupted his bliss.  Treq rushed 
forward, noting the time.  Two minutes to hyperspace.  Good, the Rebels 
would be getting nearer by now.  Then, he punched up the message and 
stopped the bleeping.
	The reply had been swift, indeed!  Vader expressed many 
congratulations on behalf of the Emperor himself.  Treq's heart leapt to 
his throat and he barely stifled a cry of glee.  His new assignment was 
being approved even as he read the message!  But wait .....  He grew 
serious and hurriedly searched for the navicomputer cutoff.  Drat.  
	He'd have to make another short jump and then reset the thing 
again.  The Emperor had ordered him to report to a totally different 
location to begin his new life as a Royal Guard.  Endor?  Never heard of it, 
Treq thought.  
	He shrugged, preparing for the next little hyperspace jump.  Just 
as well that it be a little-known planet to host the Emperor's new Death 
Star.
	Treq sighed as the stars streaked past him.  Coruscant would 
just have to wait.

	Alone in her quarters, Leia checked her trademark braids again.  
Assuring herself that even that bit of her appearance was in order, she 
turned to her dressing room mirror.  Everything in it's place, she frowned.  
Yet, she could not banish the feeling that something, somewhere was 
askew.  
	The vague impression hng in her senses, persisting ever since 
she had left her meeting with Mon Mothma.  Leaning back in her self-
conforming chair, she tried to rest her tired mind for a moment.  Those 
blasted dreams had denied her much sleep of late.  Much more than she 
could spare, given the tension level she seemed to constantly endure.
	The dreams.  Quickly, she opened her eyes and studied the 
thought.  An inner prodding confirmed that her nightmares were indeed 
connected to the uneasiness that now plagued her.  The Alderaanian, she 
shrugged, knowing he was a traitor has done this to me.  That's all it is.
	Consoling herself, she began to stand and go about her 
business.  Wait, Leia told herself, easing back into the soft chair.  The 
nagging unrest still nudged at her.  Not the Alderaanian, she frowned 
with more than a touch of disappointment.  She startled sharply as the 
comlink at her waist buzzed.  Composing herself, she grabbed it up, 
thankful that it wasn't a holo-transmission.
	"Yes?"  she inquired into the small mic.
	"Leia," came Luke's comforting voice, "I was just wondering if 
you were all right?  I had this feeling...."
	She smiled, as if trying to reassure the concern from his voice.  
"I'm fine, Luke.  Thanks.  I'm just not resting well," she explained.  Even to 
her own ears, it didn't sound even remotely true.  Luke must ahve known 
it, too.  He hesitated.
	"Leia," he finally said, "If you need something, anything, just 
give me a holler."
	"I will," she promised in earnest and the transmission broke.  
Immediately, the frown etched her expression again.  How had Luke 
known? she puzzled.  He's a Jedi, she explained and the inner nudging 
seemed to jump at her.  You know more, it demanded, find it.
	Leia mustered her formidable determination, closing her eyes in 
concentration.  The evidence, she began, would imply that Luke and I can 
hear each other's thoughts.  Times of duress seem to accentuate this, she 
thought clinically.  Luke uses the Force.  Therefore, do I use it, too?  Or is 
this some sort of connection between us that we have yet to understand?
	The prompting within her didn't seem to favor either response.  
Leia stood and began gathering her things for another meeting.  Agitation 
filled her countenance.  "This is very frustrating," she exclaimed to the 
empty room, railing against whatever prodded her mind.  
	She looked at the datapad in her hand.  The latest from Lando.  
One step closer to Han, she thought and her mind quieted.  She missed 
Han deeply and secretly loved him even deeper than that.  For a moment, 
Leia wondered if Luke knew her feelings about Han, too.
	"I love Luke, too," she whispered, feeling consoled, "But he is 
like a brother to me."  
	The small tinkling of a bell rang in her mind.  Leia resisted the 
rising frustration and, with an effort, shut it off as she moved to the door.  
 
	Vader sent the communication to his operative, then turned back 
to the data screen to study the new data.  So, Luke had been on Dagobah.  
Had Obi-Wan led him there to train?  Or had he found help?
	He must have found help, Vader decided.  After his failure with 
me, I'm sure he'd be hesitant to take on another Skywalker.  He thought for 
a moment, concentrating on he possibility of a Jedi Master actually 
surviving the Emperor's purge.  If one had survived, then it had to be 
someone Obi-Wan trusted without hesitation.  Who would possibly....
	His insight prickled.  Yoda.  Yoda survived, he knew without 
doubt.  Not for long, he resolved.  In the meantime, he would have to be 
careful not to let Luke know that his Master had been found.  No good 
having him interfere in that and getting himself destroyed.
	If Vader could have rubbed his forehead in exasperation, he 
would have.  Too many commitments.  Why can't the galaxy let me alone 
to be with my son? he wondered.  Palpatine had just summoned him to 
duty aboard the new Death Star.  It seemed that progress was not what 
the Emperor wished it to be.  Easily correct, he thought, just tedious work.
	He looked at the screen again, his eyes resting on Treq Colbert's 
name.  Obnoxious little mite, that one.  Still, he had force-talent and had to 
be monitored closely now that he knew how to use his talents.  Limited as 
they were, these things could not be let out-of-hand.  He smiled ironically, 
wondering if Yoda would look for another student among Imperial ranks 
as well.  
	Best to be safe, he decided again.  Keep Colbert close and under 
the Emperor's watchful eye.  What was that old saying?  Keep your 
friends close and your enemies closer.  Where had he heard that one?  It 
didn't really mater; he had no friends.  
	An assignment within the Imperial Royal Guards would suit 
Colbert perfectly.  He sniffed arrogantly.  How dare Colbert think the 
scarlet-coated soldiers were the pinnacle, especially for the Force-
sensitive.  What narrow vision.  Did he actually think the Emperor could 
not protect himself?
	Now, there was something to contemplate.  Luke would join him, 
one way or another, he knew with certainty.  Or would it be vice versa?  
The thought disturbed his darkest core. To do that would mean his 
destruction.  To accomplish such a feat, Luke would have to grow even 
stronger than the Emperor himself predicted.
	He let his gaze cross over the Imperial officers who labored on 
his bridge.  If they could know his thoughts, the entire foundation of their 
existence would shake.
	Join Luke, he thought, turning the idea over in his head.  
Palpatine must never know such possibilities ever entered his mind.  Still, 
the reality of it struck a chord in him.  The peace he found in the thought 
felt so foreign, yet so welcome.  
	Without a word to his officers, he strode to his quarters.  You 
know it, came the whispers, Luke will never abandon the Rebellion.  More 
accurately, he thought back, he will never abandon his friends.  They are 
his family now.  They are what I should have been.
	As the entrance to his chambers hissed shut behind him, he 
thought again of the family he could have had.  "Should have had," he 
emphasized to himself.  He tried to take the thought a step further and 
toss his anger at Obi Wan, but couldn't.
	The image of his wife's face still haunted him.  Why does it 
persist now? he wondered.  Why do I even recall her so clearly?  It was 
so long ago.  Ah yes, he remembered, Princess Leia -- again.  Why that 
woman continued to....
	He broke off the thought, a chill running through his veins.  
Leia's face shadowed the memories of his wife.  The eyes, they looked 
so....  He turned on his heel, breath coming quickly as he paced.  The 
same, he addmitted, they look the same.
	I need to meditate, he decided and started towards the chamber.  
No, you don't, came the whispers.  You are too strong in the Force to not 
know.  He drew himself up to his full height.  The Emperor must never, 
absolutely never, know this.  And Luke must not suspect that I know, or 
he will flee even further from me...and take her with him.
	Relaxing, Vader allowed himself to feel the reality of his 
discovery.  Rushing rapids of emotions roared through his entire being.  
My daughter is strong in the Force, too.  That is how she resisted all of 
my attempts at interrogation, he remembered.  
	He froze.  Interrogations.  Heavily, the great Dark Lord seated 
himself.  By the Force, the things I have done to her....  Her anger has a 
face, too, and it is mine.
	The black suit that hid the man creaked and moaned softly as 
Vader bent to put his masked head in his cybernetic hands.
	What have I done, he mourned.

************ The End *******************