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Chapter Text

The massive grand doors to the Emperor’s chamber slowly closed behind him with the ominous sound of rock grating on rock. Vader kept his eyes straight and his mind guarded, squaring his shoulders as he entered the room with all the confidence that he dared. 

The room was grand; designed to make the owner feel powerful and all others who entered to feel small and insignificant. At another time, it would have showcased the world outside and the opulence that was Coruscant as a whole. But the sun had set hours ago and the world was dark now, with only the city lights and flying vehicles to illuminate the city skyline. The throne room itself was dimly lit - and even if it were not, there was a different kind of darkness that lingered in the air and created dark shadows in the corners of the room. 

The darkness congregated from the throne itself, where Sidious sat on his throne. 

He was not alone today. 

The Inquisitors were here too, those of them that were left, and they were kneeling respectfully on either side of the throne in two rows of four. Their thoughts were all carefully guarded, as they did their best to temper and control their emotions. It was a wasted effort; Vader could sense that they were excited about something. Gleeful, almost. 

It set him on edge. 

Vader knelt down at the appropriate distance, dropping his head and keeping his eyes trained on the ground in front of him. The darkness shifted somewhat and seemed to move like a slow fog in the air, curling around him like a viper that intended to strike. If it was pain that Sidious intended to inflict on him, then there was no choice but to endure it. 

If his heart pounded a little faster in anticipation, then at least it did not outwardly show.

“Thank you for coming, Lord Vader.”

As if he had a choice in the matter. When Sidious called, Vader came. It didn’t matter if he wanted to or not and they both knew it. 

Vader only tilted his head forward slightly. “Of course, my Master.” 

In a smooth motion which belied the frail appearance that he enjoyed putting on for the public, Sidious stood up, leaning on his glossy black cane. The darkness in the air stirred with him and the Force faintly whispered danger. 

With a calm gesture, Sidious granted the Inquisitors the right to stand, leaving Vader kneeling on the floor. The significance of it all was not lost on anyone and a distinct feeling of betrayal hung heavy in the air.

“My friends,” Sidious addressed them, his yellow eyes bright and dangerous from the shadows of his hood. “You have your assignment. I trust that you will not fail me.”

“No, Your Majesty.” they agreed as one. 

“Then go.” He waved a hand, granting them permission to leave. 

Assignment. 

What assignment? 

And what was the purpose in allowing him to hear the end of this conversation? Sidious never did anything by accident; he enjoyed his games and he was always thinking several steps ahead. The Inquisitors squad had largely belonged to him - Sidious had rarely dealt with them and if there had ever been assignments handed to them from the Emperor himself, then Vader had always been the mediator to deliver the message.

He was forced to remain kneeling as the Grand Doors closed behind them but it did not stop him from reaching out towards the Grand Inquisitor. His connection to the Pau'an was stronger than his connection to the others. He attacked quickly, ripping into his mind through the fragile Force bond that lay between them. The Grand Inquisitor must have been expecting it because his shields were up and in a gesture of unexpected defiance that solidified his suspicions of betrayal, he tried forcing Vader out. 

The Grand Inquisitor was powerful but he was nothing but dirt under Vader's boot - he sunk his mental fingers in deep and hissed show me, ripping at the most guarded part of his mind. 

It was numbers. 

Coordinates, Vader realized, trying to memorize them quickly as the Emperor finally stirred in front of him for the first time in several minutes. He loosened his grip on the Grand Inquisitor, bringing his attention back where immediate danger lied.

"Lord Vader," Sidious said. "I suppose you must be wondering why I have summoned you."

He wasn't being invited to his feet yet. Not uncommon. But it was a vulnerable position to be in and he felt hyperaware of the Force whispering danger once again. 

"Master, I am ever at your service."

"I am pleased to hear it. But first, tell me...."

Meaningless questions. All of them. Work and Empire related. Status on the Death Star. Rumors that were circulating. It felt like small talk except that Sidious had never had the inclination to engage in small talk. Everything was done with a purpose. He was stalling. The minutes passed by in agonizing slowness and there was nothing that he could do except play along and see where it all took him. Vader sensed when the Inquisitors left the planet.

"You seem distracted, my friend." 

"Forgive me, Master."

The Emperor hummed and a short silence followed. Vader's stumps were beginning to ache. 

“I have foreseen a great threat in our future.” Sidious finally said quietly. Vader dared to look up at last and met the Emperor's cold stare. “Anakin Skywalker’s son will not turn. He is useless to us.”

My son. Vader seethed inwardly. Luke is my son. 

And he was anything but useless. 

“He is just a boy - ” Vader tried to start but he was quickly silenced by the mere sight of his Master lifting a hand.

“No. I have seen it. Luke Skywalker will be the end of the Empire. The end of the Sith, even.”

Vader blinked and felt the first stirrings of unease begin to settle in his stomach. That was… that was not good. His whole plan hinged on the idea that Sidious would view Luke as someone who was useful to him - Vader knew Luke was powerful; he knew how much light and power lay inside his son and didn’t doubt for a moment that what Sidious said could be true… but Luke could turn, with the right prompting and circumstances to facilitate his fall. 

That was what he had to keep reminding the Emperor. Seduce him with the idea and promise of owning Luke’s vast power for himself and make the reward worth the risks. It was the only reason he tolerated Vader’s search for Luke now as it was. A necessary ruse, to buy him time. If Vader had his way, then Sidious would never lay a hand on his son or have the opportunity to lay claim to him in the way that he wanted to; he would be dead before that was ever an option. 

But if his Master signed the execution order for Luke now, if Vader was no longer allowed to look for him then… it would change everything. 

It meant that there was no more time.

Danger, the Force whispered again, just as dread began to replace his unease. Danger. 

“Then he must die.” Vader said slowly, even as his mind began racing. 

“Yes, he must,” Sidious agreed. His expression remained flat but… but there was something accusing, something hateful behind his eyes as he glared down at him. A cold feeling ran down Vader’s spine. The Force whispered danger again and it took every ounce of self control that he had in him to not stiffen or move. “But not by your hand.”

No. 

An unfamiliar feeling came over Vader - something not unlike horror - as understanding came in a fell swoop.

The Inquisitors. Their assignment. Coordinates. 

Vader had taken everything from the Inquisitors. Their families, their freedom, anything and everything that had ever mattered to them. Even their names. And if he was right… then they had just been given a grand opportunity to make him suffer for everything that he’d ever done to them. 

Flickers, images - of Sidious’ gruesome plan were being forced in front of his eyes and he couldn’t - he couldn’t not see it. 

Luke, dead. 

Hollow eyed and lifeless. 

Tortured to insanity and slaughtered like an animal. 

Beheaded. 

Thrown into the fires of Mustafar and left there to suffer and die.

Down on his knees before Sidious’ throne, forced to grovel as he begged for mercy, for death - for an end to his suffering - broken and torn apart and rebuilt until there was almost nothing left -

“They will deal with young Skywalker. You trained them well, Lord Vader.”

“Thank you, Master.” 

It was a rote response. He said it without even thinking but the words felt and tasted like bitter ash on his tongue. 

Luke, suffering on an operating table, being torn apart and rebuilt, screaming in agony and pain.  

“I do believe they will be successful.” 

Vader lifted his eyes once more and met Sidious’ cool, mocking glare. 

He knew. 

He knew. 

“I think I’ll mount your sons head on my wall,” Sidious sneered, even as Vader felt his rage grow inside him. “The last Jedi. A fitting trophy and end to my conquest, I should say. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Vader didn’t think - he only reacted, blind with anger and hatred as he reached for his lightsaber at the same time that he tried to surge to his feet and put an end to all of this - 

Sidious was faster. Lightning crackled and burned, ruthlessly tearing through him and it was agony. He was burning, melting, dying - he couldn’t breathe - 

It ended. 

Vader sucked in a desperate gasp of air and it felt like breathing in fire. 

“I know what you have been planning.” Sidious hissed, standing up at last to tower over him. Vader tried to push himself backwards and lightning sparked in his Masters fingertips before all encompassing pain overcame him once again. “You think that you can usurp me? You worm - you are nothing. You mean nothing and you always have! ” 

More flickers. 

Images.

The dreams that he had done all within his power to keep secret for almost four years; a recent one, of his killing Palpatine, with Luke at his side. An old dream, of ruling the Empire with Padme and his son. Of the future he had wanted and the one that had burned into ashes the same way that Anakin had that day on the lava banks of Mustafar. His dreams of Luke, standing by his side, a different future but the one that may still be possible, without Padme, but still worth living for. 

The pain ended and he was gasping, trembling, shaking on the ground and Sidious was moving closer, spitting words that Vader couldn’t quite hear yet  - 

Everything was spinning and his eyes were blurry and it hurt to breathe. 

“ - think that that wretch would rule the Empire with you?” His Master was sneering at him and there was so much anger on his face and in his eyes. “That he might care? Who would care about you after all you’ve done? You’re weak and pathetic and you are mine!”

Lighting crackled again and he was screaming and the sound was tortured even to his ears. Alarms were blaring - systems in his suit failing and sparking out and all the while, Sidious was still hissing his threats, forcing Vader to hear all of them even when he shouldn’t be able to. 

“…kill - your son and I will force you to watch… you miserable -“

His son. 

Luke.  

He wasn’t supposed to die. Not him. 

The lightning stopped once again but he was still in agony, trying to ride out the aftershocks, barely able to see anything at all. All he knew was that his Master was close - he pushed himself backwards, trying in vain to put distance between them, not proud or strong or able to endure - just brought down to the very base instinct of the man he had once been, trying to survive. It hurt to breathe and it dawned on him that he wasn’t getting enough air. 

But… Luke. 

Luke. 

Vader had killed everyone that had dared threaten his son over the last few years; it didn't matter who or where or when. He had taken care of the problem, ensuring that Luke would survive for a little while longer, until they could join forces together. His master was always the threat that he had feared the most but as long as Sidious had viewed Luke as someone who would be useful … then he was, at the very least, a delayed threat. A future one. Killing him outright… it hadn’t ever come to that point. 

Until now. 

…did he even dare?

Lightning crackled and sound came as though from a great distance as pain tore him apart once again, contorting what was left of his ruined body in a painful and gruesome way as lightning ripped through him. Burning, burning, burning - 

If you die now, so will Luke. The Force whispered, echoing loudly over the sounds of his own pain and anguish.

Shmi. Padme. Luke. 

The bastard had promised him his family’s survival. He had lied. About everything - had used him and manipulated him and now he wanted to kill his son, strip him of the very last thing that had any meaning to him at all.

Luke was the only thing he was living for now.

He was the only one that mattered. 

And it… it didn’t matter if Luke cared about him in return; he didn’t need to. Vader cared and while there was no way he could ever atone for all the things that he had done over the years (Sidious wasn’t wrong about that), he could still get this one thing right. Having Luke might have been the very last good thing he had ever done and Vader wasn’t going to let him die. 

Not now. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Which meant he had to get out of here.

Sidious advanced him and it struck him then that he had groveled enough. He had been on his knees, doing the will of one master or another for almost his entire life… and he wasn’t going to do it ever again.

“Nothing to say?” Sidious hissed furiously. “Treacherous - “

The Dark Side slowly gathered around him like a dark storm of hatred. Vader pulled on the Dark Side, gathering it around him and threw it at his Master with all the fury that he had inside of him. It knocked Sidious off balance and Vader dared to think that he hadn’t expected his servant to muster up the courage to actually attack him outright… but it was not enough to kill him. 

He pulled himself to his feet at last and drew his lightsaber in time to block the next blast of lightning. Pain exploded in his limbs, lighting them on fire - but he could do this. He would. Sheer force of will and his own determined strength in the Force kept his ruined body from falling apart.

Sidious screeched in rage, blackness and evil surrounding him in the Force and projecting itself outwards like a massive swarm of flies that had set out to consume everything in their path. Disbelief shot between the thread of evil that had been tied around Vader’s throat like a leash for the last twenty-three years.

Twenty-three years of rage and hatred and suffering. 

He had had enough and he had experienced more than enough pain in his lifetime to fuel his power for as long as he needed. He forced his suit to work, just as he had when Cylo had bragged about the kill switch so many years ago - to obey his will and function as it should. 

“If you thought for one second that I would ever let you kill my son - ” Vader raged, swinging his blade and cutting one of the observation stands intended for the Red Guard or Imperial troops to use while standing guard in half and sending the two pieces veering off to the side - they hit the windows with such force that the nearly impenetrable glass cracked, the breaks spider-webbing their way up from top to bottom.

The darkness surrounded him, trying to force him back to his knees but never again - never again, never again. Vader strained heart pounding with the effort that it took to hold Sidious and his vast power back. He straightened his spine and locked his knees, refusing to be put down on the ground as rage and love became a turbulent storm inside of him. 

“The boy is nothing!” 

He was everything. 

“Luke is mine!" Vader roared, his power exploding outwards; the sheer force of it sent Sidious reeling for the first time, throwing him mercilessly through the air. He hit the massive glass window and the cracks lengthened. 

Sidious did not stay down long. He stood up, throwing off the top layer of his robes, chest heaving. The red blade of his lightsaber came to life as he advanced on Vader with murder in his eyes. Vader flexed his fingers and tightened his grip, stepping forward to meet him. 

Their blades crossed and the duel began.

Vader could not remember the last time he had fought someone so fiercely - perhaps on Mustafar or perhaps on that nameless moon near Jabiim, where he and Obi-Wan had met once more so many years ago now.

This was similar but different. The rage was the same. The hatred he felt in his heart for one that had betrayed him was the same. It was the desperation that was different - on Mustafar… some part of him had wanted to die. On that moon, with Obi-Wan, he had had nothing except his anger. He had been empty and dead inside, until Luke’s very existence had given him something to live for.

He blocked and parried, feeling more in tune with the Force than he’d ever been in his life - and it was barely enough. Sidious' rage was equal to his own and he fought with a murderous ferocity.

An opening - Vader swung and Sidious deflected, side-stepping around him and throwing him off-balance and forwards. He caught himself and turned, curling a fist and latching on to him in the Force. It felt like holding a hot, writhing fistful of maggots - the Emperor's Force presence was gross and evil and he threw Sidious to the side, slamming him into the wall. 

Immediately, a dark presence latched onto him in return, stalling his lungs and turning his vision black. He fought to to break the iron-clad hold, needing air to breathe. He felt more than saw the Emperor's advancement towards him and threw off his Dark presence in time to deflect a blow that would have taken his arm off. Their blades locked together and they pressed against each other, struggling to regain the advantage. 

With a shout, Vader threw a massive wave of power at Sidious, trying to Force him backwards and used the brief distraction to pull down one of the massive standing pillars towards them. Sidious jumped backwards to avoid being hit and it collapsed to the ground, cracking the floor with its immense weight. The room trembled and shook with the force of the impact. Vader picked up a massive broken piece of the pillar and immediately threw it at the massive circular window directly behind Sidious’ throne. It shattered the glass and then there was a wild, ferocious wind whipping through the room, howling and screeching like a wild animal and tearing at everything it could and the noise was so loud -

The heavy, richly adorned and expensive curtains were ripped from their rods and other things with them, and sucked out the broken window and into the night and Vader didn't waste a second of Sidious’ distraction; he threw another wave of power at him, like a tsunami of hatred. Sidious reacted and deflected it, shattering another window entirely; blue lightning followed but Vader ducked and the bastard missed and the lights on the far side of the room went out as the electricity crackled and burned - 

Sidious was screeching, trapped in a moment of madness and rage, either not noticing or caring that he had not hit his intended target. Vader waved a hand a knocked him sideways and out the window entirely. Sidious caught himself at the last moment, clinging to a bent and broken piece of metal as he fought against the fierce winds - it was far too much for anyone to hope that the Emperor would be blown out the window and fall to his death. 

But it would buy him a few minutes. 

Vader turned and ran, using the Force to push the massive doors to the inner sanctum open with a bang and then immediately began to tear down the massive granite pillars that stood just outside - two, three… four of them. The sound of them crashing to the floor was like the boom of thunder and the feeling of their fall reverberated throughout the entire section of the old temple. 

He flew through the hall, pushing his body past its limits, and didn’t bother to wait for the elevator - he tore the double doors open and ripped a hole into the floor before jumping down into the shaft itself. He let himself freefall, metal and cables passing by in a wild blur. He stretched out into the Force to count the number of floors that he was passing. As he got closer to the ground floor, he reached out and braced his hands against the walls, using them to slow his descent, gritting his teeth from the pain. The metal of his prosthetics heated up and would have broken entirely if he had not forced them to hold their shape. 

Vader let go and bent his knees at the last possible second, hitting the ground with a thud, the duracrete cracking underneath him. In an instant, he ripped the doors off their hinges and forced his way through the jagged metal opening - 

Entire squadrons were already lined up and waiting for him. He had never been supposed to leave the Palace, Vader realized. One very brave and very stupid captain stepped forward in front of the others, armed with nothing more than a high tech blaster rifle which would be more than effective against a large number of people but would be very ineffective against him.

“Lord Vader, you are under arrest by order of - " 

A series of sickening snaps sounded loud as Vader snapped his neck completely in half and twisted it around in a horribly gruesome way so that it faced the men standing behind him. Shards of bone and blood shot outwards through his skin, splattering on the ground before his body slumped to the floor in a boneless heap, the rifle clattering to the ground beside him.

Without a word and in one perfectly smooth motion, Vader pulled his lightsaber from his belt and lit the blade. 

“Open fire!”

And then he was blocking, twisting, turning, and killing. 

Killing, killing, killing - every swing of his blade was a killing blow, necks were broken, hearts were burst - he cared nothing for any of them. They were simply in the way and Vader killed with the kind of ferocity and bloodlust that had not possessed him in a long, long time.

Men were screaming and alarms were blaring all around him as he cut his way through the troopers and the sound of it all was a battle drum in his ears; a few blaster shots found their way through his defenses but it was nothing compared to the pain he had already endured and it would not stop him now. Vader could sense the rest of the palace’s forces continuing to gather, attempting to scramble themselves together so that they could confront him. Some small part of him imagined that this was what the Jedi had been feeling all those years ago, when the Temple had been stormed by the 501st. 

There was no army that he wouldn’t confront or tear his way through in order to get to his son - but his suit was compromised. Badly. 

He needed to get out of here. 

He needed to fix it and more importantly, he had to find Luke before the Inquisitors did. 

When the last man was dead, cleaved in two and left to rot on the floor, Vader looked around to quickly reorient himself and then he took off again, trying to ignore the black storm of hatred and anger thundering and raging in the back of his mind.

Sidious was furious. As angry as Vader had ever known him to be and he knew, with perfect clarity, that if he allowed himself to get overtaken, then he would die here. There would be no other opportunity to escape. 

In the midst of that certainty… Vader spared a brief thought to wonder if this was what freedom felt like. He had broken his chains and this - this was his run. 

May the Desert and her Suns bless him on his path, he thought distantly, almost wildly, from a lifetime ago. 

It might have felt liberating except that the Force was on fire. Whispers, flickering whispers and images of all the Jedi that had been slaughtered here twenty-three years ago - they were all stirring at once, more alive then they’d been in years. 

Vader had sensed them often enough throughout the years; they were usually distant and muted, shrinking away from him and all his rage or otherwise whispering their anger and pain. He had always ignored them, his own apathy for anything and everything making it easy to tune them out. 

He tried to tune them out now, hissing at them to leave him be. They were persistent though and their words got through for the first time in a long time. 

Get rid of the Sith Lord, they seemed to whisper and they weren’t talking about him. Kill him. Cast him out of our temple. 

Not without Luke, Vader snapped back at them. He couldn’t do it without Luke and he certainly couldn't do it in the shape that he was currently in. He had barely gotten away as it was. Sidious would need to wait - his death was coming but Vader had to get to Luke. 

Cast the Sith Lord out. Kill him. Kill him now. 

It was too loud. They were crowding in on him - Minas Velti, Jaro Tapal, Plo Koon, Huulik, Mace Windu, Shaak Ti, and others - so many others… and… and - something - someone - faint but… familiar flickered in the Force. It was quieter than the others, and somehow, all the louder for it. Vader would know the Force signature anywhere, at any time, the same as he had known it on the Death Star. 

Go left, Anakin. 

It was Obi-Wan. 

Vader paused for the first time in several minutes, his breathing strained and harsh. He still wasn’t getting enough oxygen and he needed to fix it but not here; there wasn’t enough time. Instead, he drew on the Dark Side, using it to bolster him up, forcing the systems which had kept him alive for so long to keep working; with the Force, nothing was impossible and this grotesque machine was nothing in comparison to his power. It would obey his will.

After a few seconds, air seemed to flow into his ruined lungs with a little more ease. It was enough for now and he cast his eyes about, sensing in the Force that the entire Imperial Guard were gathering themselves. He needed an easy way out - a fast one, so he could get off the planet. 

Left. Go left. Hurry.

Gritting his teeth, Vader turned left. 

Whole squadrons of Tie-fighters departed from the Imperial Palace, the sound of their roaring engines catching the attention of some few people that were passing by, who stopped to watch them as they rose in the air and began making their way up so that they could depart the atmosphere. 

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight though the sheer numbers and speed of their departure was certainly out of character; just enough to draw attention. 

Once they departed, all was quiet again. Calm. Almost peaceful. Only those with the mind to pay any special sort of attention might have realized that it was a farce. Inside the Palace itself, forces were gathering in preparation, lining themselves up, armed to the teeth, blocking and barricading the exits, guarding the landing pads and all other areas of potential escape. 

The silence and preparations continued for nearly an hour and then… in one moment, everything changed. A distant sound of what seemed to be a loud clap of thunder erupted in the cloudless night sky and dark smoke began seeping out of the central spire of the Palace. Everyone in the immediate vicinity and those afar off in buildings watching from the windows stopped in their tracks and turned their heads to watch. 

It continued, and bright blue flashes of lightning lit up the night from up in the spire until the massive glass windows shattered with another explosion and it all seemed to stop as quickly as it had begun. 

Nevertheless, civilians began hurrying away, ushering children and friends and family across streets and into traffic to put distance between them and the palace all the same. Cameras and news anchors tuned it, speculations and rumors running wild in only minutes. 

The faint, distant sound of screaming and shooting came from somewhere inside the walls. There were more explosions and thundering's and then, more half an hour from the start of it all, Lord Vader stumbled out of the grand doors, staggering slightly and bracing himself against the wall as dark smoke poured out and into the evening air. 

From inside the palace itself, the blaring of klaxon alarms were sounding and faint hints of fire could be seen through the smoke. Soldiers and security passing by stood stunned for several seconds before coming to themselves and leaping into action, calling into their radios and shouting orders as they prepared to deal with the situation, whatever it may be. 

One lone security guard whose job was merely to stand outside at the top of the staircase gawked at the sight and then stepped forward into action, rushing towards the Sith Lord. 

“Lord Vader, sir! Are you - ?”  

The guard never finished. His head rolled as his body dropped to the ground and then Vader was moving again, down the main entry staircase, his black cape flaring out behind him. The second he hit Processional Way, he took off running - actually running - in the direction of the shuttle landing bay faster than any suspected human had the right to run.

Vader ran, pushing his body faster than he ever had before and feeling the whole time that it still wasn’t fast enough. The presence of Obi-Wan sat heavy in his senses; neither a source of strength nor a horrible distraction from what Vader was doing - the old master was simply there, watching or maybe even guarding in whatever fashion it was that he could. 

It wasn’t enough to absolve him, if that was what the old fool was hoping for. Not even close. 

Obi-Wan had abandoned him years ago. He hadn’t been there when it had mattered and being here now when it was already too late, wasn’t going to fix anything either. Vader threw the thought at him, angry and bitter, just to see what would happen. 

The old man didn’t waver in the slightest, his presence remaining steady. 

Keep going, Obi-Wan whispered instead. Run, Anakin. Run. 

Vader turned the engine of the shuttle on from fifty paces away, preparing it for take-off. He knew that there was a good chance that the planet’s protective forcefield would be engaged in order to keep him on Coruscant and he needed to beat it before it did. The ramp slowly began to lower and the inner lights flickered to life. 

He was almost there. 

He was so close. 

From somewhere behind him, blaster fire sounded and he skidded to a halt, turning and immediately sweeping his hand out, throwing entire squadrons of men that were gathering out of the way and breaking the necks of others. They collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap, their dead bodies a sickening series of thumps.

There was a hiss and a hum and then the red glow of his lightsaber appeared in the dark haze of night once more. 

Feelings of fear and terror mixed with stoic determination fluttered around him. The men of the Empire were a different breed of people, Vader thought coldly. Another time, he might have even been proud. Tonight, they were nothing but fools and dead men. 

“Lord Vader, you are under arrest! By order of the Emperor, we command you to drop your weapon and surrender!” 

Killing them all would waste precious time - and he didn’t have anymore time to waste. It had already taken him too long to get out of the temple itself and the longer he was delayed here, the harder it was going to be to get to Luke on time. 

“Never,” Vader declared coldly. He stood tall and erect, every bit as imposing as he ever was. The only indication that there was something wrong with him at all was the strained sound of his respirator. “It is you who will surrender to me. Surrender or die but know that I will get off this planet. I do not care how many lives it costs.”

“The Emperor - ”

“Is a traitor and a liar,” Vader snapped fiercely. “And he has been the source of war and strife and conflict in this galaxy for decades. He cares nothing for anyone. You, his foot soldiers, least of all. I will give you one opportunity to save yourselves - let me pass.”

No one moved. 

Wide eyes stared, glancing between Vader and each other. None of them knew what to do but where the Emperor was a distant, untouchable figure of the government, often hidden away in his palace where he was undisturbed, Vader was a known figure, on and off the battlefield. In some ways, though not all, he had been made the face of the Empire. 

When the silence stretched, he took one step backwards and then another and another. Then Vader turned and ran and not a single shot was fired after him.

The bystanders watching the events taking place at the Imperial Palace were stunned into silence. 

They watched as a lone black shuttle lifted off the ground from one of the massive landing pads and took off, speeding away at a high rate of speed. It didn’t take long for other spacecraft to appear, taking off after the shuttle, firing weapons and creating an impressive lightshow in the sky. The shuttle twisted and dodged, performing a stunning display of insane acrobatics which should have been impossible for a ship of that particular design to accomplish. 

Other bystanding spacecraft were caught in the resulting crossfire and exploded in massive balls of fire, raining death and debris onto the unfortunate people down below and into the buildings closest to them. It was something out of a warzone. 

People kept watching right up until the second the shuttle cleared the atmosphere. Then it jumped into hyperspace and disappeared. 

The Bridge was quiet. 

Admiral Firmus Piett walked along the upper portion of the bridge, surveying the men and women who were working in the Pits, and felt pleased with the productivity that he was witnessing. The crew of the Executor was the finest in the galaxy - not without its faults, certainly. But sometimes, it was damn near perfect.

Everything was the way that it should be.

The commlink on his belt vibrated and Piett pulled it off and answered it promptly once he saw who it was.

“Lord Vader - ”

“Admiral,” Lord Vader interrupted. His voice was harsh and strained, an audible wheezing sound coming through the comm. “Black Fire.”

Piett was stunned for about a second and a half before he pulled himself together. 

Black Fire.

He knew what that meant. 

“Do you copy - ”

One of the monitor screens turned on and it was set to one of the galactic news channels; the Imperial Palace seemed to be up in flames and there was a camera tracking a familiar SD-321 in a mad flight through the air. 

“Understood, Sir.” Piett said with forced calm, tracking the events on the screen and reading the news speculations that appeared on the bottom of the screen as fast as he could. Vader disconnected almost instantly before he could ask if he needed any assistance. He looked away from the screen and stared at the commlink in his hand, feeling his heart begin to pound. 

Black Fire. 

Then he released a slow breath, turning to face the Bridge crew, who were all staring at him with wide eyes. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. 

“Captain, get in touch with the Devastator, Accuser, and the Destroyer. Inform their leadership that Operation Black Fire is a go and to disengage immediately from the Imperial Fleet.”

Vader entered in the coordinates that he had ripped from the Grand Inquisitors mind and then immediately set his shuttle to autopilot the second that he made it into hyperspace. He stood up, stumbling out of the cockpit. There was a smaller version of his meditation pod in this particular shuttle of his and it could repair some of the damage to his suit while two of his medical droids fixed the rest of it. 

The small chamber opened, almost entirely unused until this point. He slumped into the black leather chair and closed the pod, chest heaving. His vision blurred and white spots danced in the corners of his eyes. The second that the air pressurized, he engaged the mechanisms that would start getting him out of his suit, and used the Force to activate the medical droids.

His bare flesh - what remained of it - was raw and strips of it tore as his suit was removed. It stung fiercely, forcing him to grit his teeth. A few blaster shots had slipped past his defenses and found their target and his raw flesh was peppered with holes that were torn, ragged and bleeding.

“Fix it,” Vader hissed, dropping his head back.  

“Of course, Sir.” The droid said in a voice that was cold and unfeeling. They were programmed to cause him pain and not to care. The clinking of tools being gathered sounded in his ears and Vader closed his eyes, trying to quickly sink into some form of meditation in order to prepare himself to block out the worst of the pain as his insides and outsides were sewn back together. 

It couldn’t be worse than what he had already endured tonight. 

He allowed his mind to sink, going deeper and deeper as the droids began their work; he focused instead on the Force bond connecting him to Luke that was always there - a bright, shining star of light kept safe and hidden in the back of his mind. He reached for it now, searching along the intertwining strings of his and Luke’s individual Force signatures. 

He knew that he wouldn’t find Luke first. Getting off Coruscant had taken too long and he wasn’t entirely certain how long he’d suffered under Sidious’ torture for. The Inquisitors had a clear head start and their own eagerness to cause Vader pain would have pushed them into fast action, the same way that his desire to protect Luke was pushing him past his limits. His son was not trained enough to handle all the Inquisitors sent to kill him, but he could at least try and warn Luke to be ready. 

Luke’s end of the bond felt muted. His shields were up, the way that they almost always were. Occasionally, Vader had felt Luke’s attention turn to it. Just quick, fleeting glances that were prompted by curiosity, wariness, and on one occasion, even concern. 

It was different this time though. 

It was quiet. Fuzzy and unattended, a sort of drifting quality to it.

Wherever Luke was, he was deeply asleep. 

The Inquisitors had more than an hour head start on him. They would get to where Luke was hiding out with the Rebel Alliance long before Vader would. 

Luke, Vader whispered, tugging sharply on their bond. Wake up. Luke. LUKE.

Chapter Text

22:17 Hours, Galactic Standard Time

The Senaste Rebel Base on Jomea  

Jomea was a hostile world. It could sustain life on its surface but it was the definition of the “survival of the fittest”. Only the strongest and most determined survived here. It was cold and dark and rarely experienced sunlight due to the near constant cloud coverage and especially prone to violent storms that could last for days and even weeks at a time. 

After their experience on Hoth, Wedge couldn’t even begin to imagine what had prompted the Rebellion to organize another base on such a miserable and dangerous planet - sure, there were some advantages to it, but there were a lot more obvious disadvantages to the decision if anything were to go wrong. 

Although, that wasn’t entirely true. There were a lot of theories as to how they had been discovered on Hoth in the first place but it was only semi-recently that they had been given information about the Viper probe droids that had been scattered throughout the galaxy by the Empire. Clever, really. Annoyingly so - it had given the Empire the opportunity to search a much greater range of territory in a far shorter amount of time. Once they had gotten the information they needed, all they had to do was respond, which was exactly what had happened. 

The Rebellion had taken that information into consideration when planning their next move and here they were - on a planet so hostile that probe droids had about a .00569% chance of surviving the atmosphere alone. Easy enough for more advanced spacecraft to get through, even in a real nasty storm. But nearly impossible for something smaller that was designed for stealth and recon to navigate without getting completely destroyed. 

So… Wedge understood. 

He did. 

He just really wasn’t enjoying this particular base. It didn’t agree with him and while he’d never been particularly prone to seasonal mood changes, after four straight weeks of not seeing any real sunlight… it was starting to get to him. Living on a world that was perpetually dark and gray with the exception of indoor lighting systems was putting him in a testy mood and making it difficult to sleep consistently through the night. 

Fortunately, Wedge wasn’t the only one who was suffering with insomnia. It was affecting a good portion of the men and since no one really wanted to be on sleeping aids when they could get attacked or be called to action at any given point, they had taken to spending their night time hours playing pool, Sabaac, and various other card games in the rec room for much needed downtime until they could sleep. 

It worked. It took some effort but whatever it took to sleep was well worth it in his humble opinion. Besides, it had been a good way to bond with not just his own men, but the other flight squads as well. Drinking and friendly competition seemed to be the trick to lasting friendships. 

It was nearing midnight right now and there was a massive storm raging outside the base that was severe enough that everything beyond the most basic patrols along their border had been called off. It meant that the rec room was much more crowded than usual and it was turning out to be a rather lively event. Some members of Blue squadron had showed up with booze and music and it was some of the most fun that Wedge could remember having in a long while.

Wedge liked pool quite a bit. It had always seemed suave and cool to him and he’d been practicing his trick shots lately with all the time he’d had to kill and was getting pretty good at them. Having an audience to witness and cheer him on was a nice ego boost as well. Derek Klivian was his partner for this round and he was a self-proclaimed pro at the game. They were both playing against two guys from another squadron. Neither of those two were particularly skilled but everyone was having fun all the same.

“Come on, Wedge,” Derek urged right in his ear as Wedge carefully lined up his next shot. Thunder boomed outside, shaking the base a little and the lights inside flickered momentarily. “Just three more.”

“Derek, you’re my friend and I’d do anything for you - but shut up and let me focus.”

“Just don’t blow this for me -”

“Dude!” Wedge pulled his stick back a little so he wouldn’t hit the Q ball by accident and dropped his head into his arm. “Take a shot of something and chill, man.”

“I’m just trying to help - I put credits down on this game, you know!”

“You’ve only mentioned it like, twelve times, and trust me, you are not helping! Don’t make me make it an order.” 

Derek stepped back, lifting his hands and some of the other guys laughed. Wedge didn’t care what anyone thought - pulling rank in a game of pool was absolutely justified. What was the point of promoting if it didn’t have at least some benefits beyond an increase of paperwork and responsibilities.

Wedge shook his head. Focus. 

The game was all about geometry and focus.  

Releasing a slow breath, Wedge made his next shot and sank the number seven and the number four balls with relative ease. Just one more. He circled the table, looking for the right spot. The other two guys hadn’t sunk as many balls as he and Derek had and they were now obstacles in the way of his last shot to victory. 

On the other side of the table, Derek was bouncing his leg anxiously and probably praying to a deity that he didn’t lose all his credits. Wedge did his best to ignore him and everyone else that was paying attention to the game found a decent spot to line up his shot. He’d have to bounce the ball off the side of the table to sink it but it shouldn’t be too hard. Just tune everything out… breathe… relax…

The volume for the flat screen holo on the wall suddenly went up, startling him. 

“Turn the volume down, Ross!” Pepper - a new guy on the squad but who had a lot of great potential - chided in annoyance. 

Jackasses. 

“No, no guys - you need to see this,” someone said with a strange tone. He glanced to the side but couldn't see through the small crowd of people gathering around the screen. 

“Hang on,” Wedge said dismissively, returning his attention to the game and carefully lining up his next shot with a critical eye. “I’m about to win this thing."

A hand closed around his pool stick, pulling it to the side. Wedge dropped it in a flash of anger, standing up straight, glaring at Simon from Blue Squadron. “What the hell man?” he demanded. 

“Wedge,” Simon wasn’t even looking at him. “Look.”

Wedge huffed in annoyance, turning to look and see what was so important. In an instant, his irritation was gone entirely. 

The Imperial Palace was on fire. 

“What the… hell?” Wedge breathed, the game of pool completely forgotten now as he gave his full attention to the screen. “Did… did we do that?” He hadn’t heard of any unplanned attacks on Coruscant - going there and starting open warfare in their enemies homebase was a very bad idea. But who else would have…?

“No one said anything about an attack happening on Coruscant -”

“Is this in real time?”

"No, the timestamp is wrong -" 

Too many people began speaking at once, the energy in the room shifting from something relaxed and comfortable to tense and excited and confused within a minute.

Wedge kept his eyes on the screen, trying to figure out what had happened and who was responsible. It wasn't a live feed, he realized after some close scrutiny. Not completely anyways. The answer was revealed as the news station gave another update, the Aurebesh words appearing boldly across the screen.

BREAKING NEWS:

DARTH VADER ATTEMPTS TO KILL 

EMPEROR SHEEV PALPATINE

The room went dead silent as the new broadcast began dropping information, replaying video footage of a blue light show that had taken place on one of the top spires of the palace before jumping to another shot of Vader emerging from the front doors, smoke spilling out all around him. Flames and blaster fire were barely visible through the smoke and then the news camera was following Vader as he ran - literally ran - for the shuttle landing bay, taking down anyone that was in his path. There had been a confrontation with other Imperial soldiers but the standoff hadn't come to bloodshed. At least not with Vader. The footage continued until a group of Red Guard appeared on scene and without any warning at all, began open firing on the soldiers who Vader had passed. It cut off and redirected to a newscaster declaring that the situation of what happened inside the palace still wasn't entirely clear but that Darth Vader had been labeled a traitor to the Empire. 

Holy… shit. 

Whatever had happened to the guy - the few clips and stills that the news station was showing of Vader made it look like he was half dead. Wedge didn't know of anyone or anything that could do that kind of damage to the Supreme Commander. 

“Is Palpatine dead?” Someone dared to ask. 

“They haven’t announced that he is -”

“It says ‘attempts’ ,” someone else cut in. 

“- but what the kriff kind of falling out did those two have?”  

Thunder boomed once again outside and the lights and the holo screen flickered once again. It took several seconds for the screen to clear of static, much to their collective consternation. Someone raced to the screen and began adjusting it, trying to catch a better signal and they all piled closer, waiting anxiously. After a few seconds, it flickered back to life, little fuzzy lines of snow and static running through the picture - but the sound was coming through clear. 

“...disappeared into hyperspace… a full number of the deceased inside the palace has yet to be reported…”

Video images of Vader’s mad flight through Coruscant were being shown, as well as the damage that had been done. Apparently he had narrowly avoided the planet’s shield barrier being activated before he had exited the atmosphere and disappeared into hyperspace. 

“Alright, this… this might be a really dumb question… but are we supposed to be rooting for him?” Someone asked. “He just took out like, over half of the Imperial guard.”

“Yeah, but… why?”

Vader having a sudden change of heart in terms of his political stance seemed about as likely as Alderaan coming back from the cold depths of space. But what could have prompted him to go against the Emperor?

What the hell was happening?

All of it was playing on repeat, different news stations across the galaxy covering everything and already coming up with conspiracy theories and accusations. The health and wellbeing of the Emperor was in question - some people were saying that he couldn’t possibly be alive after an attack from Vader himself and others were saying that he hadn’t been killed and no one seemed to actually know anything for sure - 

“Someone needs to alert High Command and make sure that they know what is happening,” Wedge said in sudden realization, before spinning and pointing a finger at Derek. “Dude, you’re fast - take someone and run to headquarters and find out who is even here on site. If there’s a chance we can move on this somehow… we’ll have to do it fast.”

Even if there wasn’t any room for them to do… something, High Command still needed to be aware of the situation. It felt like the last time something this big had happened was the downfall of the Republic itself. Alderaan and Scarif. The destruction of the Death Star.

“Yeah… yeah, I got it -” Derek nodded to him, tapping one of his friends on the shoulder and together both of them sprinted out of the room, their feet pounding in the outside corridor and then fading away.

Wedge ran his hands through his hair, feeling adrenaline and some unnamable emotion pounding in his chest. This was huge. He turned and found a seat at one of the tables, watching everything with rapt attention. The idea of going to sleep at some point was long gone now. He was wide awake. 

“Guys! They’re reporting now that a couple of the Imperial warships vanished from the main fleet! One of them was the kriffing Executor.”

That was the flag ship. Vader’s ship. 

“Guys, what in the literal nine hells is happening?”

“Is the Empire splitting into factions?”

That… that was actually a good question. How would this split or divide in loyalties among Imperial citizens affect the Rebellion? Would it make it harder or easier for them to overwhelm the Empire and take back the Republic? Who would side with who? Palpatine was the Emperor but Vader was the force that protected everyone. Who would the everyday people support? Would their sponsors backtrack in their support if there were other political challenges to overcome?

So many questions. 

A short amount of time later, they were deep into their discussion about what this all might mean for the galaxy and for the Rebellion when the lights suddenly went out.

22:17 Hours, Galactic Standard Time

The Senaste Rebel Base on Jomea

Luke startled awake, sitting bolt upright and smacking his head on the bunk directly above his own, feeling his heart pounding a frantic beat in his chest as a surge of energy and emotion disrupted his sleep and sent cold chills of terror down his spine. His father’s name passed his lips before he could even realize what he was saying and strange phantom images of… of blue lightning flashing across his vision at the same time that he was abruptly assaulted by a myriad of sensations and impressions that couldn’t possibly be his own. 

Anger. Fear. Panic. Pain. Agony.

He felt like he had been sprinting for ages and his chest and lungs burned like they had been torched by fire - 

Luke scrambled blindly, feeling trapped and contained by the bed sheets his legs were tangled in, desperately trying to raise his mental shields and get his breathing under control at the same time that he realized he was being shouted at in the Force. It was too much - too much sensation all at once and it felt disorienting and painful. The words came through crystal clear in his mind but the phantom agony that he felt made them impossible to comprehend. He pressed his hands against his ears on instinct, trying in vain to drown out the sound as much as he was trying to stop the horrible pounding in his temples that made him want to throw up.

"Father, stop!" he choked out, scrambling to get control. The overhead lights above him felt bright and painful to his eyes even though they had been dimmed down earlier so he could sleep. The seconds passing by felt stretched out and miserable until finally... the unwanted sensations of it all slowly began to ease and fade. Luke felt his chest heaving as the pain ebbed into nothing and then after waiting a few seconds, he slowly lowered his hands from his ears. They were shaking and his father's presence felt much too close still - like it was crowding in on him and trying to smother him. Or trying to force their connection to remain open. 

“What the hell…?” he breathed tremulously. This was far different from the distant sensation of never being quite alone that he had slowly adjusted and gotten used to following Bespin.

Get out. Luke, GET OUT!

The words echoed harshly in his mind, pounding against his temples again until it felt like the beginnings of a full on migraine. It wasn't - it wasn't his pain though. This was Vader's pain bleeding through their bond. Luke scrambled for his shields, raising them higher and doing everything within his power to tune his father out and stop it from hurting. It wasn’t usually this hard - now that there was a connection between him and someone else in the Force, he knew better how to tell what it was that he wanted to do. He had been getting better at blocking and shielding over the last few weeks though he honestly couldn’t say that he’d experienced Vader trying this hard to get his attention before. He had certainly never pulled him out of sleep like this until now. 

…get out…. 

Get out of where? Luke shook his head, bewildered and feeling a little more like himself enough to be somewhat offended; it wasn’t like he had tried to tune in to whatever his father was feeling or going through, if that’s what he was upset about. 

Vader should raise his own kriffing shields.

Sighing, Luke pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with any of this right now and it was sheer luck that he was alone when this had happened. Sleep was hard enough to find on this planet without being jerked awake by the one person he did not want to talk to and it would have been far worse if someone was present who might push for questions that he never wanted to have to answer.

He barely understood any of this himself. Bespin had messed him up and everyone knew it even if they were nice enough to leave him alone for the most part. He wasn't certain how to explain the grief he was feeling - Luke felt like he'd lost part of himself while at the same time, he had gained a piece of himself that he'd been denied. It was confusing and he was an equal mixture of sad and angry about it all. He was just grateful that most of his behavior could be explained away by Han and the loss of his hand. It was keeping everyone from looking too closely at what was really bothering him. Not that they wanted to - he'd been a bit of a recluse the last few weeks and more than a little testy when it came to having company.

Luke was well on his way of adopting Ben's stance of being a Jedi hermit, apparently. The thought was frustrating. He hated being alone. 

He just... didn’t know how to adjust from Vader being his enemy - someone he had sought to kill - to the man he’d been trying to avenge? There was no manual that he could read to tell him how to do that. Even if he knew it was true, it wasn’t like Luke could just flip a switch in his head that quickly. What exactly had Vader been expecting from him on Bespin? Tears and a hug and undying loyalty? 

He thought of his father standing at the top of the stairs in the carbonite chamber, surrounded by darkness and an eerie mist and then shivered. 

Yeah, Vader didn’t really seem like the hugging type. 

If he was being honest with himself... Luke thought that he was mostly angry at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. It seemed so stupidly obvious. It made him feel like an idiot for believing the quiet little lies that had been told to him and had bruised his self-confidence. It had been bothering him for weeks - what else was a lie? What else was he too young and immature to see clearly?

Luke, you must listen -

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore Vader even harder. Force, what wouldn’t he give for a normal life? No one ever said that becoming an adult and wanting to explore the galaxy would end up with him in this situation; Owen had certainly acted like it would but it was never explicitly said in oh so many words. But here he was now, a farm-boy nobody from the backside of nowhere turned rebel, turned wanna-be Jedi, and now somehow the son of both a galactic war hero and mass murderer rolled into one dark, complicated mess of constipated emotion. 

He took a few deep breaths, trying to relax his thoughts and mind. With a little more ease, he closed the connection between them a bit more, pushing Vader further out of his mind.

Luke!

Nope. Not listening. 

Bespin had been a perfect example of how not to start a conversation with someone and Luke wasn't about to let Vader thinking that waking him up out of sleep was any better. He might not be able to turn off the connection between them but he could still put a boundary in place and expected the message would get across eventually. Maybe. Vader didn't seem like the kind of guy who took "no" for an answer. Luke doubted he would be the exception to that.  

…get out, Luke…

Enough already! Luke snapped back for the first time, tightening his shields even further. Part of him wished that he had a door that he could slam shut, just to make a point - but he didn’t, and his own stony silence was just going to have to be enough. He waited a few seconds, chest heaving with anger. Slowly, slowly… the pounding in his temples faded and though the presence of his father didn’t dissipate entirely, his voice had dwindled to almost nothing. 

Then it was quiet. 

He laid back down in bed, turning on his side and resting his head on the crook of his arm, staring tiredly out into the empty barracks room and knowing that he would be entirely unable to go to sleep anytime soon. There was far too much on his mind and a lot that he would prefer to forget. Or rather… Luke frowned, idly tracing little lines on the top of his blanket with his finger. Frustrated as he was, he wasn’t… entirely certain if he did want to forget. Yoda had been right about one thing, at least… he was reckless. Had jumped into a situation that he hadn’t been ready to deal with and now had to figure out all on his own. Though, he had a feeling that sorting through complicated emotions was not the way Ben and Yoda had wanted him to deal with Vader. 

No. Luke didn’t like thinking about it very much… but both Ben and Yoda had wanted him to kill Vader. They had wanted him to kill his father. Anakin had been Ben’s friend and student - Ben had to have known who Vader was. And Yoda too, since they had been friends and spoke to each other even now that Ben had passed on. 

How could they set him up to do something like that? Surely the Jedi weren’t about using children to kill their parents? 

It bothered him. From what he understood, the Jedi were supposed to be peacekeepers. But now he felt like he’d been being used as a weapon and that scared him a little. Not enough to keep him from seeking further answers… but it scared him. How was he supposed to know who he could trust if everyone was lying to him?

They had lied and set him up to commit patricide and hadn't thought twice about it. Never in a million years would Luke have ever thought of going through with something like that if he had known who Vader was from the beginning. That was probably the whole point though. 

Force, he was angry. At Ben, Vader, Yoda, and himself. 

At least it was quiet. Everyone else in his squadron had gone down to play games in one of the rec rooms. Luke had joined them a few times but he’d declined tonight, hoping that the lack of people in the room would help him sleep better, the storm outside the base acting as white noise. It was just hard because his brain never knew what time it was anymore. It was always dark and waking up at any random time always felt like waking up right before sunrise. He’d gone to work with his uncle every morning before the Suns had risen - going back to sleep wasn’t a habit of his and here was no different. 

So much for catching up on sleep. 

Thanks a lot, Luke thought towards Vader unkindly. He was still there, just hovering and pushing at his shields every few seconds. 

Whatever. He'd take the hint eventually - he usually did whenever Luke failed to answer him. But he also had yet to stop trying to contact him and repeating his offer from Bespin - join me. Apparently, he seemed to be taking Luke's stoic silence as a tentative maybe instead of a fierce rejection. 

A little bit of time went by and everything was still and he was left to ruminate in his thoughts and try to avoid thinking that the offering was a temptation he was unwilling to admit to when there was a soft kind of... popping sound and then the lights flickered in the room flickered off. 

Huh. 

Luke blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the more total darkness and didn't think too much of it. Power outages seemed like something to expect on a base like this. It had happened once or twice on Hoth as well - but the backup generators would kick on within the next minute or so until someone else could get the rest of the system running again. It never took that long. 

Except the next few minutes came and went and nothing happened.

The lights stayed off. 

That was a little strange.

With a sigh, he shifted a little and reached for his commlink that sat charging on its stand next to his bunk and flipped the switch to turn it on. The screen remained dark, indicating that the battery was completely dead. It shouldn't be dead though - it should have been fully charged by now. Glancing around, Luke realized for the first time that the heating system had turned off too - the quiet white noise of its continual humming was gone. 

Luke slowly sat up straighter, listening intently even as the hairs on the back of his neck slowly, inexplicably began to stand up. 

Something… something wasn’t right. He didn’t know what was wrong but something definitely felt off. 

“Artoo?” Luke called out, turning his head and trying to catch a glimpse of one of the little droids flickering lights through the darkness. He didn’t see anything and there was no answer either. 

That wasn’t normal. 

Luke stood up, throwing his sheets off of him, and crossed the floor to where Artoo had plugged himself into the wall earlier and gone into Sleep Mode . He felt his heart sink as he approached. His little droid had turned off too, and after trying a few different tricks to get him restarted, Luke realized that he wasn’t going to be waking up any time soon. 

Frustrated and growing increasingly concerned, Luke turned his head a little, glancing over towards where the door of the living quarters was. It had stayed shut and there was no hint of light or sound of movement coming from out in the hall. And… for the first time, Luke realized that even the emergency lights that lined the floor and were supposed to turn on during a power outage hadn’t come on either. 

…the lights weren’t just out; there was no power anywhere . Not on this floor, at least. Maybe not on the entire base.

There was nothing except the storm outside and perfect, terrifying stillness inside.

It suddenly felt like the calm before a storm. On the edge of his senses, the Force began to stir. 

Danger, it whispered quietly. Danger. 

After a minute or so of fumbling around in the darkness, Luke had managed to find a flashlight in a security kit that was mounted to the wall and switched it on. Whatever had happened to the power system hadn’t affected the batteries, at least. The bright beam of light coming out was harsh on his eyes and Luke squinted, blinking rapidly to try and adjust to it as fast as he could and then panning it across the room.

The barracks which had been quiet and inviting to him earlier now seemed dark, empty, and eerie.

Luke crossed the floor and quietly eased the door open and poked his head out to look out into the corridor. The paneling along the walls was still incomplete, scheduled to be finished in a few days time. Some doors leading to other rooms and corridors had been left ajar but there was nothing but blackness beyond them that Luke could see. 

“Hello?” he called out, feeling his stomach twist uneasily. “Anyone?”

No one answered and he felt uneasy about being any louder than he currently was. It was an odd instinct to have but Luke knew better than to question it. He waited a few more seconds to see if someone might respond before easing the door to the barracks shut once more and pacing back and forth across the floor, trying to figure out what was wrong. 

Danger, the Force whispered again. Danger. 

As he turned his attention to the warning, he sensed a flickering hint of darkness begin to cloud the Force. Luke tensed, remembering and preparing to shut his father out again if he needed to but the darkness wasn't coming from their connection at all. Vader was still there, his own brand of darkness but... different than whatever this new feeling was. 

He wasn’t familiar with the Dark Side of the Force in any way and had no desire to be. But if Vader wasn't the reason for the warning... then was this other dark something someone else entirely, maybe?

Luke wasn’t certain how to know for sure. Instead, he just raised his shields and tried to lock down access to his thoughts and mind. That felt like the right thing to do. He waited another few minutes and began to prepare to find someone else and see what was happening elsewhere in the base when from outside, the unmistakable roar of TIE-fighters sounded loud and ominous, and the walls seemed to tremble from the force of their engines. 

“Oh, that’s not good,” Luke breathed to himself. He flipped off his flashlight and shot towards the window, peering through the blinds to look outside.

It was dark - this planet had several moons in its orbit but he'd only caught a glimpse of one of them on the night that he had arrived. The weather had been calm for a few minutes and it had briefly peaked through the clouds. There was no chance of that happening tonight though. There was a landing pad on this side of the base that was rarely used. Listening to the loud coming and goings of ships and freighters was not conducive to good sleep and it had prompted leadership to begin using a different landing pad for everything that wasn't outside of an emergency. Even so, this one was usually illuminated by lights so that incoming ships and supplies would know where to land if they had to. 

None of those lights were on either. Instead, the flight decks were being illuminated by the lights of countless TIE-fighters and Imperial shuttle crafts that were beginning to descend towards the ground. There were too many of them to count. 

Luke could just barely make out the sounds of distant, muffled shouting from outside and saw the silhouettes of the base's first line of defense running outside to try and defend against the threat. It was nearly impossible to see with any real clarity but Luke felt a horrible sinking sensation in his heart and stomach all the same and he only had enough time to think this was all going to be very bad before the flashing red and green lights of blaster rifles lit up the night sky as the Imperials open fired from in the air. Sharp little pinpricks pelted his mind in the Force as the rebels began dropping to the ground like flies on a carcass, dead in seconds.

The ones who weren't immediately shot were firing back and soon, other shots began to appear from different locations, signaling the arrival of others though it didn't seem to do any good. The pinpricks of pain in the Force that was the loss of life didn't cease for a moment. Luke kept expecting a different defense from their side - droids, ships, anything really that would help give them some kind of a fighting chance. Nothing and no one else except ground troops came. 

With no interference to stop them, the Imperial ships began to land, steam blowing up in the cold night air. Imperial troops stepped out of the shuttles as the doors opened and instantly began firing back at the rebels outside, marching forward in tight knit squads, advancing on the base. They must have had some kind of a force shield in place because the rebel shots seemed to bounce just before making contact with the troopers that were in the front.

What followed was an absolute bloodbath. 

It didn’t even qualify as a battle - it was nothing except a ruthless slaughter. 

Luke watched for a few more seconds before he pulled away from the window, pressing up against the wall to put himself out of any possible line of sniper fire. His mind was racing and part of him felt cold with shock and adrenaline. This was so bad. 

This was really bad and he needed to find his friends and his squadron and help everyone that was inside get out now. 

…

…

…

Get out.

Luke felt his brow furrow as he remembered what his father had been shouting at him earlier. Had that… had that actually been a warning? He let his thoughts drift towards the still present, if somewhat distracted presence of his father sitting darkly in the very far corners of his mind. He was still there. Why would Vader go through the effort of warning him about anything? Wouldn't he be the one at the head of this?

In any case, it didn’t matter. He didn’t have time to figure it out and on the off chance that he was very, very wrong, he wasn’t interested in opening his mind up for Vader to figure out where he was. All he knew was that he couldn’t stay here.

Movement is life. 

It was one of the number one rules of combat. 

Swallowing thickly, Luke turned to grab the emergency backpack that he kept tucked underneath his bed, the dead commlink from the side table, on the off chance that he was in a temporary dead zone, and his flashlight. Lastly, he bid goodbye to Artoo, hating the thought of leaving his friend behind but knowing that there was nothing for it. He quickly shrugged into a black wind jacket with a hood that had a white Rebel Starbird on the right shoulder and then eased the door open a little wider and stepped quietly out into the hall once again.

He kept the flashlight off, not wanting to disrupt his night vision unless it was necessary. It was black and dark and only the faint outlines of objects and shapes were visible to him. Luke spread his Force awareness as wide and as far as it would go, searching for any sign of life. 

After a few seconds, he could sense several people on the floors above and below him. The ones above him were moving - quickly, it seemed. He doubted that he had been the only one to witness the massacre that had just taken place outside and there was a faint sense of panic in the air around him. 

But where were any of them supposed to go?

This base was built on a steep mountainside. Chosen with the hope that it would prevent ground troops from having easy access to them and banking on the idea that the stormy and violent atmosphere would make detection of the base nearly impossible. Luke didn't know what had happened, but all their hopes had been entirely in vain. The weather outside was too dangerous to try and flee anywhere else on foot. It was too dark and cold and there wasn't really anywhere to go. A descent from the mountain right now would be a death sentence.

That left three options.

Fight. 

Hide. 

Or escape.

Fighting... that seemed like a sure way to die. The Rebellion hadn't formally gathered together in its entirety since Hoth. The people that were here were only a small fraction of the man power they usually had and it seemed like the Empire had come for blood.

Hiding... a temporary solution at best. This base was big. Dark and confusing - some of them might be able to get away with hiding themselves for a while but not all of them and not indefinitely. 

That left only escaping. They needed a way out and the hangar bay was probably everyone's best bet.

Luke licked his lips and closed his eyes, desperately trying his best to remember the best way to get there and if there were any side passages that he could take. He’d only been here for about two weeks now and hadn't really been flying since his arrival. He was still learning the layout. He knew that it was on the other side of the base; no one trying to catch up on a few hours of sleep wanted to hear the constant sound of ships coming and going.

It was a hell of a long way to go when there was nothing but darkness and an enemy army in his way. 

He didn’t even have a lightsaber anymore. 

The sound of blaster fire and screaming began to sound from off in the distance from inside now and the faint flickers of life fluttering out in the Force continued to sting. He swallowed against the emotion trying to claw its way up from his chest. Now wasn't the time. He needed to find whoever he could find and help evacuate.

Steeling himself, Luke took a deep breath and began moving forwards.