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Luke jogged to the control room, curious and a little on edge about the urgent summons he’d receive to appear before Alliance leadership. It wasn’t that he didn’t have to provide reports to them after missions, but that was standard protocol. Otherwise, Leia kept him updated on what he needed to know, a task he full-heartedly appreciated and trusted her with, and fielded a lot of the requests he got from command.
His prosthetic twitched, phantom pain racing up his arm.
Could it be they found out about his heritage?
Ever since his disastrous confrontation with Darth Vader on Bespin, and the horrific revelation of his parentage – even as Luke’s mind rebelled against it, it couldn’t be – it rang true in the Force.
He needed to talk to Ben, to Yoda. Someone who knew the truth.
But before that, he couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t confide in anyone. Not even Leia.
Maybe especially not Leia, given her hatred of Vader.
Her very understandable, very earned hatred.
Would she look at Luke with that hatred, if she knew? Would she be right to?
She was the most important person in Luke’s life. And he was a kriffing coward.
And if high command found out?
Well. Luke didn’t want to think about what would happen to him. As much as he wanted to believe they’d look at his record, believe him when he said he wanted nothing to do with the Empire, that he didn’t know…he wasn’t certain they wouldn’t execute him on the spot. Or hand him over in some hostage exchange.
Luke swallowed.
They couldn’t know. There was no way. Right?
Steeling himself, he stepped inside the dark, buzzing command center, eyes sweeping over the members of Alliance leadership present, including Leia, all tense and bent over a center console.
Tentatively, Luke reached out with the Force – ever since Darth Vader had started hammering at his shields, Luke had been hesitant to use the Force unless absolutely necessary, afraid he’d become some sort of demented, dark homing beacon – but all he sensed was the usual, overwhelming tension.
Heads snapped up to look at him.
“Skywalker,” Madine acknowledging his presence tersely. “Thanks for coming.”
Luke couldn’t help glancing at Leia, whose expression was closed off.
She’d been so stressed since Han had been encased in carbonite. Hells, she’d been stressed before that. If Luke could help, he would.
So here he was.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Madine continued. “We received an offer from the leader of the crime syndicate Black Sun. For weapons, funds, medical supplies. Things we desperately need, supplies that could change the course of this war.”
His eyes cut to some of the other members of the council, Luke’s spine straightening with tension.
“But in exchange, he demands to meet you. In person.”
Luke took a tiny step back in spot, his mouth falling open.
“Me?”
“You are the Deathstar pilot. Xizor is primarily motivated by power and capital, but he is also motivated by spite. And he hates Darth Vader, and the Empire by extension. He’s willing to work with us, but only if we grant him a meeting with you.”
None of this was making sense to Luke.
“Why?” Luke asked confused.
A couple of glances were exchanged, ratcheting up Luke’s tension.
“Xizor has a history. With your father.”
Luke’s heart dropped, unsure of what Mon Mothma meant.
“He is also someone who...” Mon paused, seeming to be choosing her words. “Who would like meeting someone like you. Someone he views as...unique.”
Luke’s brow furrowed.
“He likes his stories. And his connections,” Leia supplemented, frustration clear in her voice.
Still confused, Luke tried, “So I...just talk to him? He just wants to meet me? And he’ll give us the supplies?”
“Yes,” Madine confirmed, his tone like flint.
Luke couldn’t help glancing at Leia once again.
Her expression was tight with fury.
Fumbling for words, Luke managed a weak, “I don’t even know what I would say to him.”
“And it’s ridiculous anyway,” Leia bit out.
“Leia,” Mon censured.
“No! Luke is one of our most important fighters. Xizor has the second largest bounty on him, need I remind you! Whatever he’s going to give us, he could make it back and more by collecting the bounty and handing Luke to the Empire.”
Something in Luke’s gut twisted uncomfortably. It’s not that anyone ever made him think this way, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that if the Rebellion turned him in, they could have enough funding for many years of fighting.
“He’s given us our assurances that he has no interest in working with the Empire,” Madine responded.
Leia sneered. “And we can trust the leader of a crime syndicate who has a history of working with whoever served their best interest at the time to keep their word?”
“He hates the Empire. He may be motivated by power and credits, but his hatred is stronger,” Madine reasoned.
“And handing him Luke is giving him something to hold over the Empire!” Leia snapped.
“It would be mutually assured destruction. We would send the whole wrath of the Empire on him, and he knows it,” Madine countered.
“But Luke -!”
“Xizor does not know about us or our whereabouts. He has agreed to keeping one of our ships in orbit, while Luke is on planet, and other assurances.”
“He has enough forces to take out one measly ship!” Leia argued.
“I’m guessing he won’t settle for a comm call?” Luke half-joked, trying to diffuse the tension.
“He insisted it be in person, I’m afraid,” Mon confirmed. “And I do not believe a fake will do.”
A fake? They’d considered sending an impersonator of him?
He was just...just Luke.
He’d dreamed of making a name for himself. He’d never imagined it would look like this. That it would come with all this baggage.
“Will I be allowed to have weapons?” Luke asked.
Leia swung around to glare at him like he’d as good as fired a blaster at her.
Ever since the incident at Bespin – and ‘incident’ was the nicest way Luke could describe what happened – Leia had become fiercely protective of Luke. She always had been, but losing Han and almost losing Luke had unleashed a fiery protective streak.
“No. No weapons,” Madine answered.
Leia scoffed.
“It’s a risk,” Mon recognized. “But you’ve been training in the Force, have you not?”
“Mon,” Leia hissed.
Luke’s gaze flicked down against his own volition, ashamed at his own lacking.
Vader had certainly put him in his place in that regard.
“That is why you left after the attack on Hoth left our forces decimated, is it not? To train as a Jedi?”
The subtle accusation was there. Squaring his shoulders, Luke met her gaze.
“Yes. But there is still a lot left for me to learn.”
Luke was torn. The truth was, he wasn’t confident in his abilities at all. But he also wanted to prove himself, especially in the wake of Vader’s bombshell, even if it was a bombshell only Luke knew.
At least, he hoped so.
“That is all the more reason to keep him from falling into enemy hands,” Leia snarled.
“Commander Skywalker is more than capable of protecting himself,” Madine asserted.
Leia reared back, and Luke cut in before she tore them to shreds.
“I’m willing to go. If we can...plan it out,” Luke asserted.
“Luke -”
Luke glowered at Leia. “It sounds like it will help the Rebellion. And it’s just a meeting, right?”
“It’s not just a meeting,” Leia insisted.
“A trade,” Luke amended, and she scowled at him. “It’ll help, right?”
He addressed the question directly to Leia.
Ever since Bespin, there had been a connection between them, in the Force. Luke was fairly certain Leia didn’t feel it, or if she did, she was ignoring it. He didn’t quite know what to make of it.
“I want to know more details before I completely agree. But I’m open to it.”
“You’ll have to go through some training about interacting with Xizor. He’s been known to charm even the most seasoned veterans out of classified details.”
A tense silence followed Mon’s directive, girded with the underlying fact that Luke, just like most of the Rebellion soldiers, had been trained in resisting interrogation. Luke had unfortunately had real-world experience utilizing the skills before.
“We have an agent that can prep you.”
Luke nodded shortly.
Leia turned away, shaking her head sharply.
The details fell into place quickly after that.
That’s how Luke found himself dressed in nice, close-fitting clothes that made him feel uncomfortable, sans weapons, taking a transport to a planet run by crime.
Luke’s eyes swept over the landscape, taking in the lights, a sparkling, busy metropolis.
The small ship he was being transported on maneuvered onto a long launching pad lit up with lights. Shifting anxiously, Luke took a breath, attempting to settle himself.
Luke stepped out of the ship, almost reaching for the lightsaber that wasn’t there.
A squadron of heavily armed security awaited Luke as he exited solo from the ship, escorting him into the large, glittering complex they’d docked at.
At the back of the formation waited Xizor, standing straight with his arms behind his back, confident. Luke had been briefed on Xizor – the Prince of a species that had been decimated by the Empire, who became the leader of one of the most powerful crime organizations in the galaxy through violence, deception, betrayal, ruthlessness and charm. Luke had been warned about how charming he could be – seeing him now in person, Luke could see it.
He was tall and broad, his hair dark and neat, his skin lightly tinged with green, his pupils striking black irises in green. He wore very nice, tailored robes that to even to Luke’s untrained gaze certainly were exorbitantly expensive.
Luke felt very small and unimpressive as he approached, extremely aware of his lack of weapons as Xizor openly appraised him.
The briefest cursory survey with the Force revealed nothing. He must be at least somewhat trained in shielding. Disappointing, but not unexpected.
“Commander Skywalker,” he purred, his eyes alight with interest. “Or is it Jedi Skywalker?”
“Commander is fine,” Luke answered carefully, attempting to assess his surroundings as subtly as possible, certain he wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Commander then. I must admit, you are younger than I expected. Shorter as well.”
Luke bristled, clenching his jaw. He’d unfortunately been plagued with comments like these ever since he joined the Rebellion, from allies and enemies alike.
“And here I thought your intelligence gathering was unmatched,” Luke couldn’t help sniping, hot anger swooping in his stomach.
Because of course Xizor knew his age and how he looked. He was just needling Luke to get under his skin.
Luke squared his jaw glaring up at him.
Great. He’d ruined this mission within the first few minutes because of his anger.
To his surprise, Xizor chuckled, grinning.
“Come.”
He turned back towards the building behind him, walking with a confident stride as his guard flanked around Luke, boxing him in and herding him along.
Luke willed himself to keep his breathing even, clenching his fists and releasing them, glancing around without shame as they entered the dark interior, sleek, the walls lined with art and crimson drapery. It was quiet, but glancing down various hallways, Luke saw a lot of activity.
He knew their operation was huge, but seeing it in person was eye-opening.
And shocking, at how brazenly in the open and expensive it was. Luke had to imagine a lot of this art was stolen.
He was reminded of Grakkus the Hutt’s collection of Jedi memorabilia and couldn’t keep himself from shuddering.
“Cold?”
Luke started a bit at the question, finding Xizor glancing over his shoulder at him.
Swallowing, Luke shook his head.
A knowing look flitted through those sharp eyes, and he smirked.
Their procession continued to a bank of silver elevators. Xizor strode towards the far end, to an elevator that only had one button. The Prince keyed in a code to the security pad, pressed his finger to a scanner. After a moment, the doors opened with a pleasant ding.
“Guests first,” Xizor gestured with his hand.
Grinding his teeth, Luke stepped inside, tensing, senses on high alert. Quickly, he turned around, watching as Xizor and his guard piled inside. While the elevator was spacious, this amount of enemies in an enclosed space set Luke on edge.
The doors closed smoothly in front of them, sealing them in. A moment later, the elevator shot up, and Luke couldn’t help but asking, “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” Xizor teased, and Luke glowered at him.
Chortling, Xizor acquiesced, “My quarters. My chefs are preparing a nice meal for us to share while we get to know each other.”
Luke’s brow furrowed. With each word, this proposal sounded like a worse and worse situation for Luke to put himself in.
“I agreed to meet with you. Not a shared meal,” Luke snapped.
“Apologies, but you are a guest of mine. And I will not let a guest go unfed.”
“I’m not a guest. I am here on an official capacity to negotiate for the Alliance!”
“I’m afraid you are still a guest,” Xizor corrected, unruffled by Luke’s outburst as the doors slid open, revealing a dark hallway that seemed to swallow sound. If Luke had to guess, he’d hazard it was a reinforced structure to provide one last line of security before Xizor’s quarters.
The guards filed out, waiting for Xizor and Luke to exit before falling into formation around them.
When they reached the large set of thick double doors at the end of the hallway, Xizor went through another series of security procedures before the doors swung open.
Luke blinked, stumbling a bit when one of the guards gave him a sharp shove on the shoulder.
The rooms were enormous, bedecked with art and finery, fancy furniture, silks and satin. There was an open living area, and opposite of it was a nice table along wide open windows that showcased the skyline. Luke recognized the faint haze of a ray shield providing extra security. Directly in front of him was a hallway that led further back, presumably to a bedroom and a fresher.
“Welcome to my quarters, Luke Skywalker.”
Luke did not like the way Xizor said his name.
“Could I get you anything to drink? Before the food arrives?” Xizor asked, stepping towards the dining area, clearly expecting Luke to follow him.
“I’m not hungry. How about we just get this over with?”
“Come now. I can’t imagine the Rebellion feeds you well.” His eyes swept over Luke, a non-verbal dig at his size once again.
“I’m fed just fine,” Luke gritted out.
“Come sit, at least,” Xizor gestured to the seat across from him as he sat down.
Swallowing back a snarky response, Luke made his way to the table, glancing at the guards, who watched at the ready but did not follow. Slowly, Luke sank into the indicated chair, spine ramrod straight, muscles ready to react at any moment.
“Relax,” Xizor intoned, something vibrating in his voice that Luke knew was a form of persuasion.
His eyes fluttered before he swatted it away like a fly, scowling at Xizor who seemed completely unsurprising and unrepentant.
“I’m not going to relax around a criminal who has placed the second highest bounty on me,” Luke said shortly.
Xizor over-dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
He snapped sharply, the sound ringing through the space with a strange resonance.
In a flash, one of the guards whipped out a crystal glass pouring crimson liquid into it, placing it in Xizor’s waiting hand. “Sure I can’t interest you? It’s some of the finest wine from Naboo.”
“No,” Luke retorted sharply.
“This doesn’t have to be an adversarial experience,” Xizor chided, as if Luke was a misbehaving child. “I have plenty to offer that I think you may be interested in and I am an excellent conversational partner.”
He sipped at his drink.
“Don’t you want to know why I wanted to meet with you?”
“Not particularly,” Luke responded, though it wasn’t entirely true. He did want to know how Xizor knew his father. He just didn’t want to be scrutinized while alone and weaponless in enemy territory to do it.
Perhaps Xizor wanted to compare father and son and found Luke lacking.
He subconsciously straightened.
Xizor smiled again in that condescending, knowing way of his.
“I wanted to meet the Rebellion hero who blew up the Death Star and caught the interest of the Empire. The fledgling Jedi who has become the Emperor and Darth Vader’s obsession.”
A chill broke out over Luke’s flesh.
Xizor leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
“I wanted to meet the son of the Hero With No Fear.”
Luke fought to keep his expression neutral.
Xizor sat back as plates and bowls were slid in front of both of them – a seared piece of seasoned meat with greens and tubers, with a bowl of fruit and cream.
Luke’s stomach traitorously, but he resolutely ignored the utensils being placed beside the plate.
Xizor chuckled. “Stubborn. Why deny yourself the best meal you’ll probably ever had in your life?”
“With ingredients all obtained perfectly legally, I’m sure,” Luke snipped, swallowing back a wave of hunger at the delicious smell of the meal.
“I can see why the Alliance relegates you more to poster boy than diplomat,” Xizor observed wryly, cutting up a piece of meat in a way that spoke volumes to the quality of dinners he was used to – and what he expected of his company.
“Although they really should have utilized you more,” Xizor continued. “You’ve got a good story. Farm boy from an Outer Rim planet, turned Rebellion hero. And fair-haired and blue-eyed to boot.”
Xizor winked at him, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.
“I’m not just a poster boy,” Luke groused, and immediately regretted how whiny he sounded, and the way Xizor smirked at it.
“Do you know how my people died? My family?”
Luke’s stomach clenched, his appetite fleeing him. “It had something to do with Vader, right?”
Xizor’s smile became impossibly wide and impossibly cold. “It has everything to do with Vader.”
An awkward silence descended, Luke very aware that he was flanked by guards.
“Vader has certainly taken an interest in you,” Xizor observed, taking another delicate bite of food.
“Yeah, blowing up a big Imperial super weapon will do that,” Luke quipped.
Xizor hummed. With one last bite, he pushed his plate forward, gesturing for one of the nearby servers. Soon, both his and Xizor’s plates were cleared, though the glasses were left behind.
Xizor took a sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair and watching Luke intently. Luke struggled to keep his composure.
“I must be honest with you, Luke. Given my history with Vader, my curiosity was certainly piqued when he placed the highest bounty in galactic history on you. I wanted to get there first.”
Luke swallowed, glancing surreptitiously around the space.
Or so he thought.
“Oh relax. I’m just curious.”
Xizor leaned forward. “Why does Vader want you so badly?”
“I already said,” Luke managed in a steady voice.
“No, I don’t believe that you did. As you mentioned, I traffic in information. And my information suggests that this is personal for Vader. Something he’s trying to keep under the Emperor’s radar.”
Thoughts racing, Luke pointed out, “That doesn’t make sense. If he wanted to keep this from the Emperor, why put up the bounty?”
The expression on Xizor’s face immediately told Luke he’d asked the wrong question.
“That’s what I asked myself. Why in the galaxy would Vader risk a public bounty like that for something so personal he’d rather keep from the Emperor? Why, unless, that your safety on an ‘unharmed’ bounty was more paramount than secrecy? Why would he care?”
Luke’s stomach sank, his instincts flaring.
“He doesn’t care,” Luke spat out, and found his heart breaking a little as he believed it. “He wants to control me, or break me, or kill me.”
Xizor hummed again, smiling as he took a sip of his drink. “Which is what I thought. But that ‘unharmed’ bit really stuck out to me.”
Luke’s prosthetic clenched reflexively. “He’s hurt me before,” Luke said tightly.
“But it seems it’s something only he is permitted to do,” Xizor mused.
Luke did not want to be here anymore. He wanted to go, he never should have agreed to this.
“I don’t pretend to understand him,” Luke responded bitterly.
“No. But I’m starting to think I do,” Xizor murmured. “And I think you’re wrong. I think he does care. He cares about you more than anything in this galaxy.”
Xizor stood, making Luke tense as he made his way towards him, languid and confident. He stepped behind Luke’s chair, his hands settling on Luke’s shoulders. He leaned down and whispered right in Luke’s ear, “Do you know how powerful that makes me?”
Adrenaline flooded Luke, and he tried to surge up but his senses were dulled, darkness encroaching on his vision.
Every sense he had fought instinctively against the heavy blanket being pressed upon his mind, telling him to sleep.
Luke tried to stagger to his feet, but Xizor’s grip held him in place. Luke’s eyes drooped, all the energy leaving his body as he slumped back into the seat.
A sound of confusion left Luke’s lips, and Xizor chuckled. “Airborne sedative. I’ve built up an immunity. Good night, little Jedi.”
Fury and despair roared up in Luke, and he futilely tried to surge up again, only to he held in place by Xizor.
“You know. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You look just like him. And Anakin Skywalker was always the least subtle person in the Galaxy. Gods, that bounty was practically a birth announcement.”
Luke’s world faded to black.
When Luke came to, he was on his knees and in pain.
He blinked, confused at the bright, white light assaulting his eyes.
Someone was talking.
Fingers gripped in his hair, tugging painfully. Luke couldn’t prevent the tiny whimper.
He tried to reach for the hands causing him pain, but his wrists were fastened tightly in metal behind his back.
A weak tug at them did nothing.
“...Will not harm him,” came a harsh command through Luke’s fuzzy ears.
“I am the one in control here, Vader,” Xizor’s assertion was punctuated with a twist of Luke’s hair that wrenched a hiss from him.
“Or should I say Anakin Skywalker? Father of Luke Skywalker, the young Rebellion pilot I have in my grasp?”
“You know not of what you speak!” came Vader’s thunderous declaration.
“I think I do,” Xizor purred. “Goodness, he’s a tiny thing, isn’t he? I could barely believe it when the Rebellion handed him to me on a platter.”
Luke inwardly cursed. They’d known it was a risk. What happened to the ship in orbit? Were they trying to rescue him? Was backup on the way?
But then the implication of Xizor’s words hit him like a Krayt Dragon, and it was all Luke could do not to throw up.
How did Xizor know? The truth of Vader, and Luke’s parentage?
“What do you want, Xizor?” Vader demanded.
“Prince Xizor,” the man holding Luke corrected.
“You forget your place,” Vader growled.
“I could start cutting off limbs,” Xizor mused. “Though I see you already beat me to it. And I have to admit, I’m not particularly excited about maiming something so beautiful.”
A harsh sound emitted from Vader’s mask.
“Goodness, he fits the part doesn’t he? Orphaned farm boy turned hero, young and bright, fair-haired and bright-eyed. No wonder the Rebellion made him their poster boy.”
“What is it you want? The bounty?”
“No. I want something you cannot give me,” Xizor countered coldly. “Do you remember me?”
Vader, through the holo connection, did not answer.
“You do. I know you do. I respected you. Looked up to you. And then, come to find out -” a violent twist to Luke’s hair had him biting back a cry - “you, you, were Darth Vader. The very man who destroyed my planet. My family. For years, the only thing that kept me going was how I’d avenge my family. How I’d make you feel the same pain I did. I worked my way up to the top of the most powerful information trafficking syndicate just to learn more about you. And learn more I did.”
Luke twisted in his grip, but was yanked back in place.
“It’s almost impossible to fathom,” Xizor murmured, leaning down towards Luke. “That Vader could have a child. Much less one he actually cared about. One like this.”
The back of Xizor’s finger stroked along Luke’s cheek, then down his jawline, tilting up his chin.
Luke’s heart was beating rapidly. He felt incredibly sick.
“Do not touch him!” Vader snarled.
“It would be justice, wouldn’t it?” Xizor whispered, straightening. “For me to kill him? For what you did to my family, and my people?”
“Do so, and you will be crushed under the weight of the Empire and the Rebellion, though neither will compare to what I will do to you.”
“But he will still be dead,” Xizor retorted, a note of something tremulous in his voice.
“You will wish you were.”
Gathering himself, Xizor said, “This is how it’s going to be. Luke here is going to stay with me. As long as you and the Rebellion behave, I won’t kill him. But I will hurt him. Someone has to pay for your sins. And if I get any sense that you are interfering, trying to take him from me, I will kill him. Do we understand each other?”
“I propose a counter offer.”
“Oh?” Xizor questioned, amused.
“I pay you the bounty on Commander Skywalker and I don’t kill you.”
The man holding Luke captive threw his head back and laughed.
“The Empire has allowed your operations to run without interference, but if you do not cooperate, perhaps your shadier dealings will come to light.”
“Those ‘shadier dealings’ are often with you,” Xizor responded. Then his voice took on something akin to taunting realization. “You’re really desperate. You truly do care about him, don’t you?”
Vader’s breaths filled Luke’s ears.
“I could just kill him you know,” Xizor’s threat was like a blade. “For my family. Even things out. Balance.”
“It would be unwise for you to do so.” The dark promise was evident in Darth Vader’s response.
A terse moment passed.
“He is in good hands, my Lord. As long as we understand each other,” Xizor relented.
A snarl was cut off as Xizor ended the call, and Luke lost consciousness again.
Luke fiddled frantically with control panel next to his cell door, hands shaking uncontrollably due to pain and fear.
But he was determined. He would escape.
There was no other option.
Luke had been in this small, grim cell for days now, though he wasn’t sure how many.
Xizor had visited at times, but never for long. Mostly to mock him, not that his words really pierced through the fog of Luke’s pain-addled and Force deprived brain.
His captors were not so reticent. They had taken turns beating him after his capture, full of angry, gleeful retribution.
He was ashamed to say their violence had frightened him that during brief moments of lucidity in the Force, he’d almost reached out to Vader.
To his father.
Luke wasn’t ready for that confrontation. He knew it in his bones.
While he hoped the Rebellion was working on his rescue, he wasn’t going to wait around and bet on it if he could help it.
Cursing under his breath at the pain, Luke pulled a wire from his prosthetic, his whole body twitching in response, the prosthetic in question transmitting a pulse of fiery pain up his arm.
Gritting his teeth, Luke yanked the wire away, heart thundering as he replaced it with trembling fingers.
He’d tried everything else he could think of to escape. He’d slammed his plastic tray of rations into a guard’s face. He’d bitten another guard’s hand, drawing blood through the glove. He struggled and fought, scratching and tackling.
This was his last resort.
Digging through the panel with shaky, sweaty fingers, Luke fumbled until he found the correct wire – or what he thought was the correct wire anyway – and, bracing himself, connected it to the exposed wire of his prosthetic.
A spark, and a sharp, searing pain ran up Luke’s arm, sending him careening back, his vision flickering with bright spots and darkness.
Coughing roughly, Luke pushed himself up, limbs trembling and jerking.
The door was open. The Force flooded back into him.
A surge of sickening hope and adrenaline rushed through Luke and he shoved himself up, legs trembling under his weight.
Staggering to the door, Luke glanced down the hallway, clumsily wiping sweat from his brow.
He didn’t see anyone.
Probably preparing for Vader’s arrival.
Which, unfortunately, was imminent, if Luke’s muddle Force senses were to be trusted.
Not that Luke trusted his connection to the Force right now. At all.
Why was Vader coming? Had a deal been made? Or had he grown tired of Xizor’s threats and was coming to retrieve Luke?
Luke had heard whispers. His captors meant to kill him, before Vader got his hands on him. Surely, soon someone would come for him.
Luke needed a ship. But the hangar was the worst place he could go right now, with Vader arriving imminently.
Luke pondered his options, something he’d perhaps should have done earlier.
Desperate times, and all that. Leia did always call him reckless.
Luke darted away from the hangar, as much as his injuries would allow, his eyes scouring the hallway for threats or escape opportunities.
The entire structure rocked, sending Luke stumbling into the wall hard.
Nausea roiled in Luke’s stomach.
The dark aura of his Father settled over him like a cloak, and Luke shivered.
There was a hammering against his shields, and Luke winced.
With a deep breath, Luke pushed off the wall, stumbling forward.
Gods, his Father was getting closer, and the frigid supernova of his presence promised violence.
In a panic, Luke concentrated through his headache, using the Force to open a nearby vent. With a shaky breath, Luke drew on the Force to leap inside, wincing at the banging sounds his clumsy entry made.
Luke started to crawl forward in the dusty space, using the Force to close the vent behind him.
Taking a moment to center himself, Luke started to army crawl forward, for once thankful for his small frame, though he cursed his prosthetic. Even though it was his own fault it was malfunctioning.
A swell of rage, not his own, filled Luke’s senses, causing him to briefly black out.
Sucking in a deep gasp of air, Luke jerked back to consciousness, the Force an unrelenting sandstorm threatening to suffocate him.
Quickly placing his surroundings, Luke began shimmying forward again, as mercenaries ran in the opposite direction underneath him, their comms bursting with panicked static and screams.
Vader had found Xizor, it seemed. And was not waiting for him to release Luke or take any prisoners.
Fear and pain and anger swirled sickeningly in Luke’s mind as he pulled himself along.
A spike of absolute rage resonated in the Force behind Luke and he clumsily shuffled faster, knowing Vader must have discovered his escape, in one way or another.
Speeding up his movements, Luke took a turn in the vents away from Vader’s rage, his prosthetic hand catching nauseatingly along the seams of the metal.
Heart pounding painfully against his sore ribs, Luke crawled along, trying to be quiet as the specter of his father grew closer.
No, no, no.
Luke was so tired. He was so godsdamned tired.
Metal crunched right behind him and Luke couldn’t prevent a choked gasp. Picking up the pace, sweat sticking to his skin, Luke turned to the left, doing his best to block out the screaming echoing in the hall.
Luke, his Father’s voice boomed in his head, leaving Luke swallowing back nausea.
Another section of metal crushed behind him.
In panic, Luke slid down a narrow vent, frantically kicking out the grate until he spilled out onto cold, hard floor.
The sharp shock of pain sent him bolting up, black spots blinking in his eyes.
Shaking his head fiercely, Luke clumsily clambered to his feet, almost losing his balance at first. An alarm blared dully in his ear.
Gathering all of his focus, Luke opened the door of the room he was in, peeking down the hallways. Distantly, he heard screams and blasterfire.
With a deep breath, Luke stumbled in the opposite direction, towards where he hoped the hangar was.
Luke, there is no escape.
Vader’s words echoed in his head, repeating what he’d told him in Bespin.
Resolve hardened within Luke.
As if sensing it, Vader thundered, Foolish, stubborn boy. You cannot escape.
Watch me, Luke fired back without thought before slamming the connection shut.
Adrenaline pumped through Luke as he stuck along the wall, eyes wildly searching for threats, for exits.
Determination blazed within him even as he felt a title wave of Vader’s anger surge over him.
Following his instincts, Luke darted down a hallway to the left.
Another rumble shook the building, sending Luke crashing to the his knees, only for him to quickly push himself up.
“LUKE!” his father bellowed from disturbingly nearby, sending a jolt through Luke that spurred him on faster.
A guard grabbed Luke’s arms and he rammed his elbow into their side, yanking himself away and towards where the Force was pulling him, wincing when the guard screamed, before his screams were abruptly choked off.
Luke’s heart raced sickeningly as he dashed forward, hope surging when he realized he’d found the hangar.
It was dampened by the Super Star Destroyer hanging in the sky overhead.
And then further dampened when Xizor darted out, snatching Luke’s arm and pulling him to him, a blaster pressed to his head.
“Stop!” He demanded as Vader descended upon them, a dark, vengeful demon.
“Release him,” Vader hissed, raising his hand.
The blaster pressed against his temple with bruising Force.
Luke felt himself, for a moment, stare wide-eyed at Vader.
But he was tired of waiting.
Luke stomped, hard, on Xizor’s foot, ducking down just in time to avoid a blaster bolt.
The man was ripped away in the next second, horrific choking sounds gurgling up his throat.
Luke took the opportunity and ran, stumbling over debris and bodies, flinching when warm liquid splattered against his back.
“Luke! Cease this nonsense!” And Luke felt himself held in place, inexorably pulled backwards.
Something instinctive in him soared up, and slammed against Vader, knocking him back and freeing Luke of his hold.
Luke wasted no time, running towards the nearest ship, a small fighter jet, using the Force to jump into the cockpit.
Gods he was tired.
With shaky fingers he started up the takeoff process, yelping when the entire ship was dragged across the hangar towards Vader’s outstretched hand.
Gritting his teeth, Luke closed his eyes, willing himself to connect with the Force.
He exhaled.
And pushed.
It wasn’t easy at first. He met a lot of resistance. The ship he was in creaked as he and Vader engaged in a Force battle of the wills.
You belong with me, my son, Vader growled in his mind.
Luke didn’t answer, beads of sweat trickling down his face.
How ironic, he’d always wanted to meet his father, and now he just wanted to get away from him.
Something dark and angry rippled through Vader, his attention lapsing for the briefest moment.
Luke pounced on the opportunity.
The tiny ship rocketed away from Vader’s hold, Luke expertly navigating it through skyscrapers, away from the Super Star Destroyer.
His father slammed against his shields, but Luke ignored him.
Luke may have always longed for his father, but now that he knew the truth…
Owen and Beru had raised him, and guided him, and taught him so much. And right now, everything they’d taught him was giving him strength, and telling him that there were things he believed, knew, were right. And his father wasn’t on the right side of them.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be. That didn’t mean there was no hope.
They’d always said Luke was stubborn after all.
If Vader’s roar through the Force as he managed to evade capture once again was any indication, they were right.