"You're taking
too long, guys," came Captain Needa's voice over the com speaker. "I'm
getting in the mood to kill a General."
The occupants
of
the hangar bay cast helpless looks at each other. This had been going
on for
hours now, the occasional flurry of activity interspersed with long
periods of
nothing, and punctuated by Needa's sarcastic comments. As soon as Needa
had
barricaded himself in the Lambda Shuttle,
Commander Ogden had
re-opened the doors to the rest of the base. Everyone who'd been
working in the
hangar had been evacuated, and now the bay was populated by Ogden in
his control
booth, two security teams, and a squadron of ground troops. And a few
random
interested persons, which category currently included Wedge Antilles
and
General Calrissian. Everyone except for Ogden was in a fairly
defensible
position, behind a large pile of supply crates and repair equipment.
The pile
was low enough for them to keep an eye on the shuttle, but also high
and solid
enough to provide good cover – at least long enough for them
to evacuate –
if Needa decided to fire on them.
"He's right,"
Lando Calrissian sighed now. "This is getting stupid. If we could think
of
anything to do, we'd have done it by now."
Wedge basically
agreed with him, but he said, in the probably vain hope of keeping up
morale, "yeah,
but he doesn't know that. For all he knows, we've delayed this long
just to
throw him off his guard."
Calrissian
snorted.
"Don't we wish."
Wedge decided
against getting into a debate with Calrissian, and cast an uneasy
glance over
at Security Captain Faren, who was still there despite various superior
officers' suggestions that he should go off-duty. Wedge didn't like the
look of
him right now, he looked way too much like someone who's decided that
life isn't
worth living. It was a look that Wedge had seen before, usually right
before
the person who looked like that did something suicidal. He wouldn't be
at all
surprised if Faren decided to charge the shuttle singlehanded, in hopes
that
Captain Needa would mow him down with a laser cannon. He couldn't
really blame
Faren for wanting to stay here, though. If it was one of Wedge's fellow
pilots
that Needa had killed, Wedge wouldn't want to go back to his quarters
and brood
about it either.
Meanwhile
Captain
Needa was putting in his two-credits' worth again. "You know, I'm
beginning to wonder if you people want Madine back,"
remarked
the Captain's familiar disembodied voice. "If I didn't hate him so
much, I'd
almost feel sorry for him."
One of the
ground
troops commented to no one in particular, "that guy is really starting
to
annoy me."
"That's his
plan," grumbled General Calrissian. "Figures if he keeps this up long
enough, we'll either make some stupid mistake, or get so sick of him
that we
let him go out of sheer self-preservation."
Wedge was
manoeuvring his way around various soldiers, over to where Captain
Faren leaned
against a large orange packing crate, staring at nothing. When he
reached the
security captain's side, Wedge tentatively touched the man's shoulder
and
asked, "how are you doing?"
Faren looked at
Wedge blankly for a moment, then something resembling a smile touched
his face.
"I've been better," said Faren. His gaze got distant again, and he
asked, "do you know what I told her, when she asked what Captain Needa
was
like?" From the tortured note in his voice, Wedge had no trouble
figuring
out that "her" referred to Commander Narita. "I told her that he
was fair," said Faren. "That he never hurt anyone who didn't deserve
it."
Wedge couldn't
think of one damned thing to say. The ex-Imperial's face twisted into
an
expression that suggested he was about to break down in sobs. "Oh,
gods,"
Faren whispered.
"Look,"
Wedge said quietly, "are you sure you don't want to get out of here
…?"
Faren shook his
head, managing to exert some control over his expression. "I've been
watching this show too long," he said. "Can't miss the final episode."
The swoosh of
an
opening door caused both of them to look toward the hangar's entryway.
A
grim-faced Mon Mothma stepped into the room, followed by General
Rieekan. Wedge
wondered if they were allowing too many of their big brass to be drawn
to one
place. At least General Dodonna wasn't here, so he'd survive if Captain
Needa
decided to be a true servant of the Empire and wipe out the Rebellion's
leaders
by exploding the hangar.
Rieekan walked
over
to the troops, while Mon Mothma went to join Commander Ogden in the
control
booth. A moment later they heard Mothma's voice over the com, "Captain
Needa. Is there any way we can convince you to come out of there?"
Needa allowed a
moment's pause, then said, "no, Ma'am, sorry. Can't think of anything."
"If I give you
my word you won't be harmed – "
"I'd still
have to stand trial, right?" Needa asked.
"Yes. You
would."
"Nope, sorry.
Doesn't sound like much of a deal."
A slight edge
to
Mon Mothma's voice was the only sign that the Captain's laid-back style
was
starting to get to her. "Captain, the Alliance's justice system is more
forgiving than the Empire's -- "
"Yeah, so you
keep reminding us. So I'd just be
facing life imprisonment instead of death or the spice mines. I hope
you'll
forgive me when I say it's not a very attractive option."
"Captain -- "
Needa cut
through
whatever she'd been about to say. "Hey, Commander Ogden. What about
opening the launch doors?"
"I'm sorry,
Captain," said Ogden, "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Gee, why not?
You were all set to open them for
Commander Antilles' little unauthorised rescue mission."
Wonderful, thought
Wedge. Thanks
for sharing that with everybody.
"So, I can't
talk you into opening them, hunh?" When nobody answered him, Needa
continued cheerfully, "well, okay. Anybody got any fun ideas for how to
kill Madine? I mean, I shouldn't just blast him, that's too easy."
"Needa, don't
be a fool," cut in General Rieekan. Wedge glanced over at him and saw
that
the General was holding a com-unit that must be linked to the Lambda shuttle. "You
know if you kill him, your insurance is gone."
Needa snapped
back,
for once sounding close to losing his temper, "well he doesn't seem to
be
doing me very damn much good alive." A moment later, with his good
humour
apparently restored, Needa went on. "Aww, come on. Someone must have
some
good ideas. One hundred and one ways to kill a General. Nobody's got
anything
to contribute?" He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, well. Guess I'll
just have to use my imagination."
In the silence
that
followed, Captain Needa started whistling the Imperial March.
Then one of the
ground troops yelped to General Rieekan, "sir! He's powering up the
shuttle's blaster cannons!"
He wasn't only
powering them, Wedge realised as too many people started shouting
orders at
once, he was swivelling them up to face the clear plastisteel ceiling.
Since Ogden
wouldn't
open the launch doors, Needa was just going to blast his way through.
Wedge yelled,
hoping at least a few people could hear him, "everyone get to cover!
Move!"
Not that there
was
much cover to get to. If that ceiling went, it was going to shower the
whole
bay with potentially lethal plastisteel slivers. A few of the troops
were scattering
toward the door, but most simply crouched where they were, behind the
crates,
trusting to fate that they wouldn't get ceiling slivers through their
skulls.
Wedge heard
General
Rieekan yelling wildly, "my Gods, fire on his guns -- ", but by then
it was too late. The shuttle's blaster cannons jerked and spat out
their bolts
of flame.
One round of
shots
from the outside wouldn't have done in that ceiling, but it wasn't so
heavily
reinforced on the inside. The ceiling shattered in an amazing burst of
sound.
Wedge lunged
for
the scanty shelter of a slightly overhanging crate lid, pulling Captain
Faren
down with him. As he threw his arms up to protect his head and neck, he
saw a
jagged, triangular shard land a couple of inches from his right foot.
Wedge wondered
if
he'd been wounded without realising it, or if someone nearby was
bleeding on
him, since there seemed to be liquid dripping on him from somewhere.
Then he
realised. It wasn't blood. It was the famous Omean rain.
Leia stared up
into
Emperor Palpatine's smile.
Her mutilated
wrist hurt like nothing she'd ever felt.
But she could ignore that, or at least, work through it. What she
couldn't
ignore was Palpatine's glowing amber eyes.
Fight
him! her mind screamed
at her. Don't let him get to you, don't let him stop you,
don't listen to
him, fight! But his voice was in her mind as well, and
she just crouched there as
if she thought that by holding very still she could stop him from
seeing her.
"A nice touch,
don't you think?" Palpatine was musing, and Leia wasn't sure if he was
speaking the words or just thinking them. "Cutting off the hand, I
mean. A
nice little experience for your whole family to share. It's a real pity
you don't
have any time left for family bonding."
Leia fought to
focus on something else. Somewhere off to the left she could feel her
father's
emotions, like a warm, comforting fire. His stubborn fury seemed to
beat
against the fear that Palpatine was calling up in her, driving the fear
back.
In that instant she knew that nothing would ever make her father give
up, not
until he was broken into so many separate atoms. She clutched on to the
familiar anger and swore that she would not give up either.
Perhaps there
was
some way she could help Vader. She cast out her thoughts toward him,
struggling
to tear down the wall that held him back from the Force.
Then the warmth
of
her father's presence faded, and she felt Palpatine's fingers digging
into her
mind.
"It really is
a shame, you know, my dear," sighed the Emperor. "I was looking
forward to working with you, to continuing your training. But I can't
be
putting down a revolt every week or two, now can I? That's no way to
run an
empire."
Leia spat out,
"what
would you know about how to run an empire?"
Palpatine
ignored
her. "So you see, I've come up with a plan. A very fine plan, if I do
say
so myself. Beautiful in its simplicity."
She felt a jolt
in
the Force and for a moment thought that her father was there with her,
his
presence as dark and huge and powerful as ever. Then that feeling was
replaced
by a distant whisper of frustrated rage, and she knew that he hadn't
broken
through. Not quite.
"The thing is,"
said Palpatine, "why should I put myself through this? All these sordid
power struggles with you ungrateful young people, just so I can find
the
perfect apprentice. You, and Luke … are you really worth the
pain of seeing you
betray me, time after time?"
Leia hoped that
he
was reading her mind, and could see just exactly what she thought of
his pain.
"And then I
realised," the monologue went on, "that I was going about it all
wrong. There's no point in trying to teach adults – I use the
term
loosely for the two of you. No, what I need are children. Your
children, in
fact."
"Brilliant
plan, Palpatine," snarled Leia. "You can't have them without me."
"Oh, but I can.
Of course, it will be
best for them if I keep your body alive until they're born. But I've
really no
use for your mind."
He's
just
playing with you, Leia told herself. Don't be afraid
of him, don't --
"Which just
makes everything that much
more satisfying," Palpatine murmured. "There's nothing quite so
beautiful, Leia, as being there in a being's mind as, thought by
thought, it's
destroyed. It really is a pity you won't get to try it yourself."
Don't
listen to
him!
Her mind screamed. Don't, don't --
"Goodbye,
Leia," said Emperor Palpatine.
She was
suddenly somewhere else. She
blinked several times in the sunlight before she recognised her
surroundings.
Wonderingly,
Leia
got to her feet.
She was in the
Palace Gardens on Alderaan.
No, no
I'm not, she thought
desperately. I'm not here. It's him, he's doing this, don't
believe it –
But it was so
real. The familiar soft
warmth of the air on her skin, the sweet, tangy scent of the flowers
that she
hadn't smelled since – since Alderaan was destroyed. She
scuffed one of
her feet and felt the moist soil give way as her foot dug into it.
She looked down
at
her feet, and stared.
She was wearing
white boots. White, not the black that she knew she was wearing.
She had both
her
hands. She clutched at her right wrist and found the skin smooth,
unbroken,
without even a scar.
Reluctantly her
gaze travelled up her body. White boots, long white dress – a
dress that
she'd thrown in the trash as soon as she reached her quarters in the
base on
Yavin IV, after the destruction of the Death Star. She reached up to
her hair,
and found it in the twin coiled buns that she also hadn't worn since
that time,
because the hairstyle reminded her of the worst day of her life.
Angrily she
tore at
the hairdo, yanking her hair free from its confining pins. As she shook
her
hair loose over her back, dragging her fingers through it and
scattering
hairpins into the grass, she thought, it's not real, I'm not
here, I'm not.
I'm not on Alderaan and it's not five years ago.
Five
years ago. Her head jolted
up and she stared into the sky.
It was there.
The
dark grey moon with the grid pattern marking its surface, that she'd
seen in
the sky over Alderaan in one of her own visions.
The Death Star.
Don't
believe
it. You're not here and neither is the Death Star.
She should
ignore
it. Just sit down right here, close her eyes, and think of something
else.
Maybe she should try to focus on her father, make another attempt to
help him
break through to the Force. If she just ignored Palpatine's charming
little
re-enactment, it would go away.
But what if it
didn't?
Unreasoning
terror
shot through her. She wanted to run for the nearest of the Palace
launch bays,
grab the first available ship, and get the hell off of this planet that
was
about to die.
Don't
be a fool.
None of this is real. And even if
it was that day, five years ago, she
knew that she wasn't on the planet. She was up there, on the Death
Star, with
Grand Moff Tarkin sneering at her. After all, if she wasn't there, then
Alderaan wouldn't be destroyed at all, would it? Tarkin had only
destroyed the
planet as a demonstration for her, to show her that she couldn't defy
his
authority. If she wasn't on the Death Star with him, there was no point
in
destroying Alderaan – was there?
And
how do you
know that? Maybe Tarkin would blow up the planet anyway,
just for the fun of it.
And maybe she was up there, and
was here at the same time. If Palpatine
had somehow sent her back through time, it was her self from five years
later
that was standing here. The newly outlawed Princess was up there on the
Death
Star after all, about to see everything she cared about destroyed.
Don't!
It's only
Palpatine, you can't listen to him, you can't let him win --
Before she
realised
that she had made up her mind, she was running.
Pebbles of
crushed opal scattered as she
raced along the jewel-gravelled walkway. Her mind kept warring with
itself,
insisting that none of this was real while at the same time surging
with panic –
and with hope. She didn't know how long she had, how long the Death
Star had
been in orbit before it fired. But maybe, just maybe there was time to
evacuate
some of the population, save some of her people before everything
turned into
space dust …
It's
not real!
But
oh, Gods, if
it is …
She passed a
few
startled-looking people, some of whom she recognised. Several
gardeners, and
further along the path a young noblewoman and her beau, whose names
were lost
somewhere in Leia's memory. The noblewoman called out some question to
her,
which Leia ignored as she ran on.
Around the
corner
from the young couple, she fell, one knee scraping painfully into the
gravel.
As she scrambled to her feet again, she bit her lip at the pain. It
wasn't much
by itself, but it was another hint that maybe, after all, all of this
was real.
Or not, she told
herself
angrily. Palpatine's the strongest Force user in the galaxy,
if he can do
this to your mind, he can damned sure make it seem real!
But she
couldn't just stand here, waiting
to learn if it was real or not.
The guard at
the
garden door stepped forward to say something, then thought better of it
when he
saw the look on the Princess' face. She raced past him into the
familiar pale,
airy corridors, and started at a breakneck pace up the stairs.
It might
theoretically be faster to take the lift, but the delay that would be
necessitated by getting to the nearest lift entrance was more than she
could
stand. So she just kept running. She clutched at her right wrist, once
more
trying to break through the illusion – if illusion was what
it was. She
tried not to feel the hand, to feel instead the aching charred stump
that ought
to be there.
It didn't work.
If
this was Palpatine's illusion, it was still very, very real.
She made it up
one
flight of stairs, then another, and another. Then she left the
staircase, and
the leather of her boot soles thudded softly against the floor of the
corridor
as she ran toward Bail Organa's office.
The guards
outside
that door also knew better than to challenge her, and didn't even try.
As soon
as the circular door started spiralling open, she leaped through
– and
found herself face to face with her father who'd been dead for five
years.
Prince Bail was
standing by his desk, and had been speaking urgently into the desk
com-unit.
When he looked up and saw Leia, he brought his hand down on the
disconnect
panel, staring at his daughter in confusion. "Leia! You're back? What
-- ?"
She sobbed out
"Daddy!",
and flung herself into his arms.
Everything was
as
she remembered. The feel of his arms around her, the slight hint of a
paunch
that she and Keeiara had always teased him about, the faint citrusy
smell of
the Palace Laundry's detergent that she smelled on his uniform jacket.
Bail
Organa pressed her to him tightly, then tried again. "Leia, what in the
world? How did you get here? The last we heard was the distress call
from your
ship -- "
Leia pulled
back
enough to look up into his face. "There's no time to explain. We've got
to
evacuate, get as many people off the planet as we can."
"What?"
"That space
station up there. You've seen it? It's the Death Star. Grand Moff
Tarkin's on
board, and Lord Vader. They're going to blow up Alderaan, as a warning
to the
Rebellion. I don't know how much time we've got, you've got to give the
order
to evacuate the planet --"
"Leia, for
gods' sakes! How can you know all this?"
Open-minded man
though Bail Organa was, she really didn't think he was ready for the
explanation. She said hurriedly, "I was held prisoner on the station
and
escaped. Please, Daddy, I've seen the station plans, I know what
they're
capable of. That superlaser can destroy this entire planet, we've got
to
evacuate now -- "
The Prince
frowned
and shook his head. "I can't just give an order like that. It would
cause
planet-wide panic -- "
"You'd rather
everyone died?"
Bail began in a
reasonable tone that he clearly hoped would calm his daughter. "They
haven't
even contacted us. I know Tarkin. If he planned on destroying us he'd
never
miss the chance of calling up first, to gloat at me."
"What's the
point of gloating at someone who's about to be dead? He can gloat all
he likes
after we've been pulverised!"
"Leia, you
know I can't order an evacuation without some tangible proof -- "
"Fine. If you
won't evacuate, then send up the fleet. Capital Ships to distract them,
and a
team of one-man fighters. If a fighter can get its torpedoes into one
of the
exhaust ports, the station can be destroyed."
Prince Bail
looked
shocked. "We can't just attack the Empire's newest space station! It'd
be
an act of war!"
It was all an
illusion. It had to be.
But if it were
reality, then Bail Organa would have been just as hard to convince as
he was
being now.
Leia screamed.
"Daddy,
please! We're all going to die!"
Mon Mothma
gazed at
the desolation, and scowled.
She'd thought
that
she and Commander Ogden were in the riskiest position, standing in the
control
booth rather than sheltering behind cargo crates like all the others.
It turned
out that the two of them had been the safest. The booth's windows had
shielded
them from the plastisteel slivers that rained down on everyone else.
She walked out
onto
the launching bay floor, shattered plastisteel crunching beneath her
feet. Cold
rain plopped dismally onto her. All around her she saw people, the
ground
troops and the security teams, struggling up off the floor and trying
to
restore some kind of order. Several were bleeding. Several more did not
rise
from the floor. She saw one of the ground troops, a young man who she
was
ashamed to realise that she did not recognise, lying motionless with a
long
shard of plastisteel sticking out of his neck. Another, a woman, was
yelling
something and trying to pull a chunk of it out of her side, while one
of her
comrades, kneeling beside her, hit her hands away and yelled at her not
to
touch it.
General Rieekan
heaved himself up from
behind one of the packing crates, still clutching the portable com-unit
in his
hand. Mothma saw him cast an aggrieved glance at the rain-filled sky
and reach
up to shove damp strands of hair away from his eyes. Then he spoke into
the
com-link, "Needa, damn it, don't try this. The squadrons and the Star
Destroyers out there are alerted to the situation. They'll shoot you
down before
you even get out of orbit."
Needa's voice
came
back flatly, "so much for General Madine."
I have
to do
something, was the unwelcome thought in Mon Mothma's mind.
I'm supposed to be in
charge of this mess, I can't just stand here. What in the hell can I do?
Would it really
be
so terrible if they let him go? At least that way they'd be making an
effort to
secure Madine's safety. And the Alliance wasn't supposed to pursue
vengeance,
the way the Empire would. If they let Needa go free, wouldn't that be
consistent with the principles of the Rebellion?
But the
Alliance
wasn't supposed to wantonly court defeat, either. All the worlds and
all the
individuals who trusted them could suffer if Needa, with the
information he
might possess, made it back to the Empire.
What did he
know?
How badly could his information hurt? If all he knew were their
immediate plans
of upcoming campaigns, they were safe enough. They could simply discard
those
plans and start anew. But if he'd been preparing for this day, and
stockpiling
information on their defences so he could buy his way back into
Imperial favour
…
It all boiled
down
to the question of why he had done this. Was he a genuine loyal
Imperial? Or
had he just seen a chance to make some money, and to strike a blow at
Lord
Vader?
Mon Mothma
strode
toward Rieekan and his com-unit. As she walked by she noticed Wedge
Antilles,
leaning against one of the packing crates and reaching down to help a
dazed-looking Captain Faren get to his feet.
General
Calrissian
was limping toward Rieekan from the other side, blood soaking the
bottom half
of his left trouser leg. Mothma and Calrissian reached Rieekan at about
the
same time, and Mothma cast a questioning look at Calrissian. He smiled
faintly
and made an "after you" gesture.
Mothma met
Rieekan's
angry, frustrated gaze and held out her hand for the com. "Let me talk
to
him, Derrath," she said.
He handed her
the
link, whispering "what are you going to do?"
Instead of
answering him, she said urgently, "Captain Needa, please listen to me.
We
don't want either of you dead. Return Madine to us safely, and we will
give you
safe-conduct to leave our territory. We won't pursue you."
General Rieekan
hissed, "what?"
But there was
no response
from Needa, and Mon Mothma suddenly realised why.
She stared at
the
com-unit. "He's closed his link," she murmured, not quite believing
it was true.
Then she heard
someone's stunned voice gasp out, "oh, Firelord. Oh, my Gods."
All around her
people
were staring at the Lambda shuttle. She
gazed at it with the rest, trying to
understand what had put such horror on everyone's faces.
The pattern of
lights appearing near the shuttle's rear thrusters should mean
something to
her. It clearly meant something to everybody else.
Then she
thought, no.
It can't mean that.
Lando
Calrissian
said what everyone was thinking. "My Gods. He's powering the
hyperdrive."
General Rieekan
wheeled in the direction of Commander Ogden, still in his control
booth.
Rieekan yelled desperately, "get his com link back open!"
"I'm trying,
sir," Ogden's voice came back. "He's got it well and truly jammed!"
He
can't mean to
do this, Mothma's mind insisted. He wouldn't
do it. Would he?
The wings were
moving into their flight position, and more sets of lights appeared.
The
shuttle was prepping for take-off.
He's
bluffing
us. He has to be.
He couldn't
really
plan to go into Hyperspace from right here in the hangar. Mon Mothma
didn't
actually know of any case in which that had been done. But she was
fairly
certain she knew what the result would be.
If the shuttle
went
into hyperdrive from its present position, the resultant explosion
would most
likely tear a chunk out of the planet. It would certainly vaporise most
–
or all – of the Rebel base.
It was also
almost
guaranteed to destroy the shuttle and its occupants. But maybe at this
point,
Needa didn't care about that.
She supposed
the
shuttle might make it safely
into Hyperspace before the cataclysm caught up with it.
But she doubted that Needa would be counting on it. If he really meant
to do
this, then he must have decided he was dead no matter what. If he did
survive,
that was just an unexpected bonus.
And the
majority of
the New Alliance forces would be dead.
"Will that do
what I think it will?" she asked of no one in particular.
"Old terrorist
trick," came a ragged voice at her right. She turned and saw Security
Captain Faren standing beside her. "Destroyed a couple of our ships
before
we started taking more precautions. They'd pose as smugglers, get
arrested, and
then go into Hyperspace in the Star Destroyer's hangar."
No doubt
Captain Needa was familiar with
that particular technique. But, damn it, could he really mean to kill
so many
thousands of his own men? Could he mean to kill Admiral Piett?
General Rieekan
insisted, "he's got to be bluffing."
But if he
wasn't?
Mothma raised
the
com-unit and keyed in the codes that would relay her message to all the
ships
outside the base. "This is Mon Mothma to all vessels. You are to allow
Captain Needa's shuttle to leave this system. Repeat, the shuttle is to
leave
without incident. Do not fire. Do not attack and do not pursue."
Now
please,
please, she prayed, let Captain Needa have
been monitoring that transmission.
The Lambda shuttle rose
gracefully from the hangar bay floor. The hyperdrive lights still cast
their
cold, bright glow.
Mon Mothma
glanced
at the men around her: Rieekan, Calrissian, Commander Antilles, Captain
Faren.
Their faces all showed the same tense, waiting hopelessness.
There was
nothing
they could do. There wasn't even any point in ordering an evacuation.
By the
time they had finished giving the order, there would be no one alive to
obey
it.
The shuttle
soared
through the shattered plastisteel ceiling. And vanished.
A collective
intake
of breath followed.
And nothing
else.
No explosion. Nothing.
Distantly,
Mothma
heard Wedge Antilles say, "the cloaking device. He switched on the
cloaking device."
Her knees
nearly
buckled. Only a lifetime spent in the public eye kept her on her feet.
The com-unit
spluttered into life. A voice emerged, "this is Captain Ifar of the Mircalla. We had a blip
on
our sensors, might have been a cloaked ship. It's gone now. He's left
the
system."
General Rieekan
sank
down on a packing crate. "Fuck," he spat out. As far as Mon Mothma
could remember, it was the first time she had heard him use that word.
"The
bastard was bluffing after all."
"Maybe not,"
Calrissian said ruefully. "Who knows what he'd have done if Mon Mothma
hadn't sent that message." He looked down at his leg, to where a shard
of
plastisteel jutted from the back of his thigh, just above the knee.
"Damn,"
he said, in a tone of surprise. "That hurts."
Captain Faren
whispered, "it's over."
"Not for
Madine,
it isn't," snapped Rieekan.
Mon Mothma
gazed up
at the ruined ceiling, into the rain. She thought, I have to
get to Piett. She had to tell
him what had happened here before he heard too many wild stories. Not
that many
stories could be wilder than the truth.
And they had to
see
to their wounded. And get this mess repaired. And contact their allies
and ask
them to be on the lookout for a kidnapped Rebel general.
She spoke into
the
com. "We need a medical team in Hangar One. All ground construction
crews,
report to Hangar One at once." She turned to Commander Antilles.
"Commander,
we'll need to get these ships and equipment out of here while the
repairs are
going on. Will you take charge of that?"
"Of course,
Ma'am,"
he said. She wasn't sure how to interpret the awkward, hesitant look on
his
face. Then she remembered about his aborted rescue mission.
Oh, damn. They
still had to decide – again – what, if anything,
they could do to
rescue Lord Vader and the others.
But Captain
Faren
had been right.
For this
moment, at
least, one chapter of the story was over.
I'm
going to
lose her.
The thought
tore at
Vader, as he clenched his fists in useless fury.
He smashed one
of
those fists into the cold, thick nothingness around him. As before, the
motion of
his hand was arrested in mid-air.
One small
rational
portion of his mind still saw everything in the room. It saw Emperor
Palpatine,
standing casually a few metres away from Leia, Vader's retracted
lightsaber
held loosely in his right hand. Saw Leia, still crouched on the floor
and
clutching at her severed right wrist.
But the rest of
Vader's mind saw only his daughter's terrified face. Her face, and the
images
it conjured up.
He saw her
disbelieving eyes and parted lips as the exploding Alderaan, on the
viewscreen,
bathed her face in sickly yellow light. He saw the icy hatred in her
eyes when
he stepped into the conference room on the Rebel flagship, to propose
the New
Alliance. He saw her glorious smile and the love – gods, yes,
love – in her
eyes just moments ago, when she had come to his rescue.
I love
you,
Leia. I will not lose you.
She seemed to
be
staring at the Emperor. But somehow Vader knew that she did not see him.
What was she
seeing? What horrors were appearing before her eyes?
I
should know. I
must
know.
Guiding his way
with something beyond conscious thought, he threw his mind into
darkness.
Darkness broken only by her face, and her huge,
terror–stricken eyes.
Leia.
I love
you. I love you.
Something broke.
His mind
jolted. It
was as if the bonds that had held him had shrivelled into nothing. He
felt like
himself again, and the sudden sensation of freedom was nearly
intoxicating. But
he didn't have time to revel in it. He wondered if he had fully
regained his
link to the Force, but he couldn't stop long enough to find out.
From somewhere
deep
in his mind, he heard Leia's voice. And he followed.
He was standing
in
a sunlit room. He saw the pale gleaming stone of the walls, the
cluttered desk,
and the familiar, slightly overweight man in the uniform of the Royal
House of
Alderaan. But above all, he saw her, her hair flowing loose over her
back, in
that white dress she'd been wearing when he captured her flagship, five
years
before.
She clutched at
the chest of Prince Bail
Organa, and she screamed, "Daddy, please, listen to me!"
Anger surged at
him
as he thought, she shouldn't call him that. She should be
saying that to me.
But her
desperation
and terror washed over him in the wake of her words. The emotions
pounded
through him as strongly as if they were his own. He took a step toward
her. He
wasn't sure, but he thought he heard himself say her name.
Bail Organa
turned,
and saw him. And yelled, "what are you doing in my house?"
For a moment
Vader
simply stared.
Leia still had
her
hand on the Prince's chest, but she was gazing at Darth. The sudden
puzzlement
he felt from her was mirrored in her eyes.
Slowly the
terror
in her aura started to ebb. And Vader began to wonder what the hell was
going
on.
No doubt this
Prince Bail was an illusion, but it was still damnably odd standing
face to
face with him. Though, Vader told
himself, if there's anyone who should
be used to encounters with dead men, it's me.
He was startled
to
discover how clear his memories of Organa were, now that he was
confronted by
their visual embodiment.
He remembered
the
man's eternal stuffiness, that had made him seem middle-aged by the
time he
turned twenty. Not for nothing had Bail been a friend of Obi Wan Kenobi.
He remembered
Bail's
grating superiority, as if being born into royalty was his personal
accomplishment.
And he
remembered
the prince's habit of yelling at the top of his lungs, every time he
found
himself in conversation with Darth Vader.
In the last
couple
of years of Bail's life, Vader had taken to timing him, to see how long
Prince
Bail could last through one of their conversations before he started
shouting.
On occasion Darth had sought out Bail deliberately, for the sheer
entertainment
value of watching him lose his regal cool.
This Bail
Organa
was almost certainly illusion. But he behaved like the genuine article.
"How dare you
come into our home unannounced? While your friend Tarkin sits up there
making
threats? If you have something to say to me, Vader, you should be man
enough to
say it without your damned Death Star backing you up!"
Ah.
Now he knew.
He had a pretty
good idea that if he turned and looked out the window, he would see the
first
Death Star, gleaming in the sunlit sky of Alderaan.
Tarkin. The
Death
Star. Leia's white dress.
And Leia's
world,
just minutes – or seconds – away from being
destroyed.
"All right,
damn you, say something!" Bail shouted. "Your Master didn't send you
all this way just to stand here looking sinister!"
No, he
didn't.
He didn't send me here. And while I stand here figuring out what to do,
Leia
could die.
Leia was still
staring at Vader, and he could sense her emotions, as confusing a
jumble as his
own. He sensed fear, and despair, and hope, and he was afraid to
speculate on
which of her emotions might be caused by his presence here.
He tore his
gaze
away from Leia's, and addressed the illusion of Bail Organa. "Your
Highness, we don't have time for this. I must speak with the Princess."
Bail no longer
shouted, but his voice quivered with hatred. "You'll do nothing of the
sort." The prince turned to his adoptive daughter, calming his face and
voice with visible effort. "Leia, please leave. Whatever Lord Vader has
to
say can be said to me."
"No,"
Vader said quietly. "I'm afraid it cannot."
"Daddy,
please," whispered Leia, her dark eyes fixed on Prince Bail in a way
that
made Vader realise she must be trying to memorise his face. "I need to
speak with him."
"You don't
have to do this," Bail insisted.
"Yes,"
she said. "I do."
She stepped
away
from Bail Organa, toward Vader. Together they walked a few metres more,
toward
the window. Leia kept her gaze averted from the window, but Vader
looked, and
saw the distant, dark orb of the Death Star.
He did not want
to
see it. It made him think too much of the thousands of men who had
served on
that station. The men who he had failed.
For a moment he
felt the same alluring temptation that Leia must be feeling. The
temptation to
hope, to believe that the past could be changed. If he could get to the
Death
Star now, in time to stop Alderaan's destruction – then
perhaps it would
be easier for Leia to accept him. And perhaps the Battle of Yavin could
be
stopped as well. Those 1,187,000 men under his command might live to
see their
families again. Instead of becoming the glorious martyrs of the Empire.
Leia touched
his
arm. "I thought -- " she began, then she bit her lip and looked down.
She whispered, "I wanted to think I could save them."
"Them" as
in Alderaan, Vader had to remind himself. Not the men on the Death Star.
Her beautiful
face
was turned up to him again. He saw tears shimmering in her eyes. "I
wanted
to believe it – I wanted to so much -- "
"Leia."
He was damned if he knew how to say this. But he had to say it anyway.
"I
can't expect you to forgive me. For Alderaan. If I could stop it from
happening, now, I would. Maybe that just makes it worse. But I need you
to
know. I am sorry. For everything I've done to hurt you."
"You don't
have to be," she murmured. "I'm just the same as you are."
He thought, I'd
forgotten what it feels like. To love someone so much that it hurts. "No,"
he told her, "you're not. But it's sweet of you to say it."
Her gaze
flickered
down for another moment, then returned to rest steadily on him. "I
can't
save them," she said. "Can I?"
"No." He
closed his hand around hers. "No more than I can save my men who died
at
Yavin." A faint echo of all the fury and hatred that he felt for
Emperor
Palpatine – for the years of disasters and insanity and the
lives that
should not have been lost -- whispered through his mind. He thought he
felt
Leia's own hatred, rising to join with his. He said, "we can still
avenge
them. All of them."
His heart
jolted
with love at her fierce little smile as she answered, "yes."
"That's
enough, Vader." He heard Bail Organa's voice, and he sighed. "Leia,
get away from him," the Prince persisted. "I won't let him hurt you."
Vader wondered if this was Palpatine's way of getting involved, to try
and trap
Leia in her vision once more. Or perhaps it was just the way that
Organa would
act, if he were alive.
Leia squeezed
Vader's
hand, and turned to face her other father. "I -- " she began, then
helplessly stopped.
"Leia, what is
it? What's happened?"
She glanced
back at
Vader, with a look of apology. He touched her mind with the thought,
"it's
all right."
She smiled at
him,
then let go of his hand. And walked to Bail Organa.
Bail reached
out
and put his hands on her arms, clutching her as if he never had to let
go. "Leia,
tell me. Let me help. Please."
She lifted one
hand
and brushed it across his cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm
so sorry."
Vader watched,
and
forced himself not to be angry at this man who had died, and would
never hold
her again.
Then the Prince
and
his palace and the sunlight vanished.
Something
smashed
into Vader. It took him a second to realise that it was he, in fact,
who had
fallen to the floor. His body must have been fighting, all this time,
against
the power that restrained it. Now that he had broken through, his own
momentum
smacked him into the star marble floor of the Imperial Great Hall.
He leapt to his
feet.
Leia, he saw,
was
on her feet as well. Luke's green lightsaber arced through the air and
into the
grasp of her one remaining hand.
"Well, Your
Majesty?" she taunted. "Don't you have anything witty to say?"
Palpatine
snarled,
a sound like ice slicing through bone. His thoughts activated the
lightsaber in
his grasp, and he hurled the crimson blade at Leia.
Again the green
blade met the red. As they touched, Vader saw his lightsaber explode.
It
ignited the air in front of Leia with a wall of red fire.
Vader's
mechanised
breathing jolted in a startled gasp.
He had never
seen a
lightsaber exploded by the Force. Over the years he had seen a couple
of them
demolished by blaster fire, and he had seen one self-destruct and kill
the
trainee Jedi who'd been constructing it. But this –
The red flame
leapt
at Leia. Tendrils of it sprang from the wall of fire, snaking around
the saber
in Leia's hand. Gleaming serpents of red light struck at her, twining
about her
arms. She swung Luke's lightsaber. Some of the red tendrils retreated
into the
wall, but there were still others, circling her hand.
Vader thought, I
have to get to her. And as he
thought it, he was there.
They stood side
by
side. Vader reached out and joined his grasp to Leia's, his hand
closing around
the lightsaber hilt below hers.
Vader did not
take
his gaze from the fire and the face of the Emperor beyond. But he could
feel
Leia's welcoming smile.
He felt her
strength blending with his. Then the glowing green blade of Luke's
lightsaber
seemed to shudder. The light broke away from the cohesion of the blade,
first
in tiny slivers, then in a sheet of flame.
The
lightsaber's
hilt trembled in Vader's hand.
"Leia!"
he shouted suddenly, "let go!"
She released
the
hilt at the same instant he did. The hilt exploded, vanishing in
gleaming hail.
And the green fire spread, clinging to the red and pressing it back.
"So,"
Palpatine hissed. "My servant has learned new tricks."
Vader grated
mockingly, "only trying to live up to my Master."
Palpatine's
voice
was soft, and as bitter as acid. "You will never learn enough. My
friend."
He saw
Palpatine's
face tighten in concentration, and saw the distant glow in his yellow
eyes.
The red flames
leapt again, striking through the green. Vader felt them burning him,
and he
felt more. He felt the control stick of his c-wing, slippery with
blood,
sliding loose from his hand. Felt his slowly wakening horror as he saw
the top
floor of a building rush up to meet him. As he realised that when he
hit, his
c-wing's power core was going to explode.
Beside him, he
heard Leia scream, "Han! No! No!"
He felt the
c-wing
hit. An impossible weight smashed into him from behind, and fire closed
around
him. And he heard Palpatine laugh.
And Vader
thought, no,
my Master. Not this time.
From somewhere
he
heard another voice. The voice of Senator Diam Palpatine, twenty-five
years
ago, crying out, "dammit, Anakin, don't do this to me! Don't make me
lose
the best friend I've got."
And Diam's
voice, again, asking, "don't
you want to see them fall? Don't you want to be the one who pushed them
over
the edge?"
This
time it's
you, Diam, thought Vader. I am going to see
you fall. We began this
together, my friend. Now
it's going to end.
Something
closed
around Vader's mechanical right hand. A presence touched his mind, and
he
realised that Leia, at his side, had taken his hand in hers.
The crimson
flames
still burned at his mind, as he flung all his consciousness toward the
Emperor's
yellow eyes.
Go
to Chapter 19
Return to The
Adventures of Darth Vader
Return
to Front Page