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anghrainetitle: The Jedi and the Sith Lord (18/?)
verse: Lucy Skywalker: my f!Luke AU, following from The Adventures of Lucy Skywalker and The Imperial Menace
characters: Luke/Lucy Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker; Leia Organa (background); OCs—Janos Varti, Cpt Gathon, Lt Lepha
stuff that happens: Vader maneuvers and Lucy takes up her training.
previous sections: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“The Emperor,” said Vader, “has told me of your successes.”
Admiral Varti bowed his head, accepting the compliment with the grace that he did most things. It was this, rather than massacring Imperial citizens, that perhaps had won over Palpatine. If it had. You never really knew, with Palpatine.
“I am delighted that his Majesty would mention me,” Varti replied. “We all do our part in defending the Empire.”
“Indeed,” Vader said.
Except Lucy, of course. But it might be that even Lucy would someday understand enough to defend the peace and order they’d fought for—that Vader had fought for, at least. He retained serious doubts about Varti’s motives.
The man had spent several days under Vader’s roof. Over those days, they had discussed matters great and small pertaining to the Empire’s security. Throughout, Varti seemed calm enough—he betrayed no signs of impatience, none of the urgency to get to the point that Vader himself would have felt in his position, no brazen defiance. He spoke with civility and, if not brilliance, at least a certain reasoned composure. Not an easy man to catch off-guard.
Courtesy aside, there was a coldness and calculation about his presence, a distinct sense of self-interest. To be sure, few in the Empire—especially the upper ranks—acted without it, but though Vader could not be sure, he suspected it ran deeper in Varti than in most.
“None, of course, enjoy the Emperor’s favour to the extent that you do, Lord Vader,” Varti added. “I can assure you that I feel the honour.”
Favour was one word for it.
“Then let me offer you a word of advice,” said Vader. “The Emperor is a man of great wisdom and perception. For that reason, he is capable of adapting instantly to changing circumstances.”
Varti looked blank.
“Consequently, while you—and I—are of great value to him at present, it may not always be the case.”
“True,” said Varti, a note of caution entering his tone. “Does your advice touch on that eventuality?”
“I will only say this,” Vader told him. “It is best to conduct yourself in such a way that you will not be found culpable for … failures or misdeeds, with or without special protection from the Emperor.”
“We cannot always control what we are found culpable for,” said Varti. “Being at fault and being considered at fault are not the same thing.”
“Nevertheless, we can act to diminish the odds of that occurring,” Vader told him. “I would advise that you do so.”
Varti nodded thoughtfully, betraying nothing.
“Well, thank you for the advice,” he said. “I will certainly take it into consideration.”
-
Apart from mealtimes, Lucy hadn’t actually seen Admiral Varti much, though she’d come away with a strong enough impression of him that she didn’t mourn that pleasure. And during mealtimes, he stuck scrupulously to polite nothings, while Vader said little at all—and what little he did say seemed nearly as inconsequential to Lucy.
That was, until the last night.
Vader and Varti were talking of the perfidies of the Rebellion, which Lucy suspected her father might have been directing at her as well as Varti. She tuned it out, instead focusing on Gathon’s and Lepha’s expressions. They seemed vaguely disgruntled whenever their glances fell on her, and nervous when they looked at Varti or especially Vader. That was to be expected; Lucy hadn’t seen any unusual (or perhaps usual) degrees of intelligence from them.
She shifted her attention to Varti.
“I heard,” he said, “that they actually attempted an attack here. Absolutely brazen.”
Lucy couldn’t feel his mind the way she could Vader’s, but all her instincts warned her of … something. Keeping her face as vacant as she could, she opened herself to the Force. Anakin, she felt, had already done so. Or maybe he never let go of it.
“It was certainly brazen,” said Vader.
“I was terrified,” Lucy added.
Varti seemed to ignore her, everything about him tightly focused on Vader.
“I hope that they failed to inflict damage,” Varti said to her father. “I was quite impressed with your defenses when I came down.”
“There were minimal casualties,” said Vader. “However, while I have not made it public knowledge, I have reason to believe it was not perpetrated by the Rebellion.”
Varti set down his fork, looking startled. “It wasn’t a Rebel attack?”
“As I said.”
“Why—” Then Varti shook his head. “Of course, I’m sure you have your sources. Some criminal ring, I suppose?”
“Perhaps,” said Vader. “Or a particularly foolish enemy within the Empire, of course. Some admirals and commanders and the like do maintain private fleets.”
Varti gave a faint, and to Lucy’s eyes, rather sickly smile. “True enough, though I wasn’t aware of any passing themselves off as Rebel ones.”
“That does seem a recent innovation,” Vader replied.
Varti chewed on a slice of bread, evidently taking advantage of the pause to think. He said,
“Any Imperial officer would have to be exceptionally stupid, not to mention traitorous, to move against you, Lord Vader.”
“Certainly,” said Vader.
Lucy glanced between them, then at Varti’s minions, who just seemed confused. They didn’t know anything about it, she suspected. But Varti did.
It had to be time to move from suggestion to open suspicion, though not from her. She bit her tongue and waited.
“By the way,” said Vader, “have you heard from Commander Jerjerrod lately? I recall that you are friends.”
Varti twitched.
“Jerjerrod! No, I … have not,” he said. “The last I heard, he was being reassigned to a new project.”
He glanced uneasily at Lucy.
“You couldn’t possibly think—”
“I was curious,” her father said, which Lucy supposed might be true, in a way. “Well, when you do regain contact with him, you might pass on my advice to you.”
Varti stared at him. “Lord Vader—”
“I trust you recall it?” said Vader, his voice gaining a decided edge.
Varti paused for a long moment. “Of course, my lord.”
“Good,” Vader said.
-
Varti left the following morning in good health. The Emperor should be, if not pleased, at least not particularly displeased. Even Varti’s two subordinates seemed hale, if disgruntled; Lucy, Vader gathered, had run interference with them. He suspected, to go by her behaviour around Varti and Varti’s own comments, that she must have been spectacularly obnoxious.
At the door, she stood between Vader and LX-3 and waved cheerfully as Varti and his men turned to leave. Varti and his captain bowed to Vader and kept going; the lieutenant, to Vader’s personal amusement, waved back before hurrying after Varti.
“You seem to have left an impression.”
Lucy grumbled, “An impression of stupidity.”
Well, yes.
“It served its purpose,” said Vader.
They headed back to the usual chamber, Vader scanning it for bugs, even though he doubted Varti would be so obvious. He found nothing, and Lucy flopped into a chair.
“Varti’s hiding something,” she said.
“I suspected as much,” he told her. “Now we know.”
Lucy swung her legs back and forth—even on the smaller chairs, her feet didn’t quite touch the floor—as her brows knit together. Vader waited, curious.
“He definitely got jumpy when you mentioned Jerjerrod,” she said. “Varti might have been involved, though it seems pretty reckless for him. But he knew about it. Maybe after the fact.”
“Very probably,” said Vader.
Her abstracted gaze focused on him. “Why did you let him know that you suspected Jerjerrod? That’ll just put him on his guard, won’t it?”
“Hopefully,” he told her, “enough on his guard that he will avoid doing anything so idiotic in the near future.”
She considered that. “Do you really think it’ll work? Someone stupid enough to attack you here isn’t likely going to stop with that.”
“My hopes are confined to the near future,” said Vader. “If he can hold off for a couple of weeks, I have plans for him.”
Lucy looked intrigued. “Oh?”
“And you may be able to assist me with them.”
“Me?” She gave a little laugh, shaking her head. “In just a couple of weeks? How?”
“I will tell you more when the time comes,” Vader said, “provided that it does come. That will depend on many things, including your progress in your training.”
“My training? What does that have to do with Jerjerrod?” she demanded. “Am I supposed to challenge him to a duel?”
“There is more to being a Jedi than waving a lightsaber around,” he told her, and glanced at her clothes. Some involved purplish thing; he thankfully couldn’t remember when Padmé had worn it. “Speaking of which, your lessons have been delayed long enough. Change into something suitable and meet me in the training room.”
She seemed annoyed, and then pleased.
“I’ll be there in under half an hour,” she said, and ran to the door.
-
Even after several days of it, Lucy was still getting used to making the trek between Vader’s receiving room and her bedroom all on her own. She kept expecting to hear Ellex’s heavy metal tread or equally heavy silences, or—well, she didn’t expect Tuvié, but she’d become so accustomed to the constant presence of someone at her side that it felt strange to walk alone. Not that she was really alone with the droids everywhere, but—it was still strange.
She could remember the ease with which she’d made her way around Echo Base and Massassi Temple. That Lucy would be incredulous that walking inside a castle she might never leave could feel like freedom. Leia and Han would be even more so. They’d be horrified, probably think something was wrong with her. And that was without even considering her agreement to train with Darth Vader. Lucy imagined the look on Leia’s face and had to take a deep breath to breathe properly.
Making a choice that Leia wouldn’t understand didn’t make it wrong, though. Leia was brilliant, but she didn’t always understand some things—like half of what Han said to her. Lucy remembered their spats as she walked, smiling a little to herself. Maybe things had changed by now.
Somehow, she didn’t feel as tense at the thought as she once would have, anxious about losing either Leia or Han to the other. Maybe her captivity had given her some perspective on what really mattered, or the Force had just uprooted that sort of thing from her mind. She didn’t know. But now, she could only wistfully hope that Leia or (maybe) the Rebellion had figured out some way to retrieve Han from the Hutts, and that they were happy together. She wanted them to be happy, even without her there. Especially without her there.
Her smile faded as she walked past the guards at her doors to her room. It was just as likely, more likely, that Han remained frozen in carbonite, something for slavers and bounty hunters to gawk at. It was entirely probable that Leia had no one at all, except allies and subordinates; she didn’t usually let people get close. Lucy had never known why Leia made an exception for her, almost from the first—they’d just felt it, like something snapped into place as they ran hand-in-hand through the Death Star. Just like they’d have done if … somewhere else, if …
The thought—it was more like an impression—slid away. Lucy shook her head and pulled out her reliable grey tunic. In a better world, she could have her training and her father without turning her back on her best friend. She just couldn’t do anything for Leia, right now. Could she?
Be with her, she thought. Please, be with her.
As if in reply, an image flickered into her mind: Leia in a silvery-grey dress and her hair elaborately braided, facing down several generals and smacking her hand on a table. Lucy couldn’t hear anything she said, but Leia was plainly arguing with someone—something which seemed so entirely Leia that Lucy sighed in relief. She was still all right and still herself.
The image vanished and Lucy did her best to clear her mind. She loved Leia more than ever, but she couldn’t follow her path any more. It had to be her own.
Suiting actions to thoughts, Lucy set out for the training room, shifting to just short of a run as she approached. Without anyone to open the door for her, she stared at it for a moment, then figured she might as well try. She laid her hand against the panel.
The door opened and she hurried in, only to find something sharp and metal flying straight at her. Instinctively, Lucy ducked—and two more metal objects launched her way. She managed to dodge both, and looked up to find her father standing beside a table piled with assorted gears, wheels, hydrospanners, and what looked like droid parts. She could feel the concentration of his will on them.
“You’re—what—”
A side of metal large enough to knock her right off her feet flew towards her. Lucy waited, then threw herself to the ground and flattened herself just in time for it to fly over her.
Vader, she could tell, was not quite disappointed, but certainly not impressed. She scowled and got to her feet.
“Fine. What am I supposed to be doing?”
He lowered one hand. “You are perfectly capable of holding and maneuvering objects with your mind. I have seen you do it. Yet you did not attempt it.”
Jogging over to the table, she said, “No, I … I’ve gotten out of the habit, I guess. And it was mostly just calling the lightsaber and making things float, not stopping them in mid-air.”
“Making things float is stopping them in mid-air,” said Vader severely.
“I guess,” she replied, looking down at the pile.
“The same principle applies,” he insisted. “What you can lift, you can hold in place; what you can hold in place, you can move. Only your mind limits you.”
For once, it sounded like he agreed with—her last teacher. This close, she dared not even think his name.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy. “It seems to get harder as things get bigger.”
“Only because you expect it to,” he replied. “Now, everything you learn to do with a lightsaber depends upon having a lightsaber. But this, the ability to overwrite natural laws with the Force and the strength of your own will—this can never be taken from you.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “That sounds a lot more impressive than lifting a few things.”
“It can be, if you learn to use it correctly,” he said. “It is not only a matter of holding objects in place. You can loosen things or tighten them, stretch them or crush them, and nothing but the Force itself can stop you.”
She remembered hearing about Vader’s preferred method of ending lives or simply making points—choking people with his mind. Was this how he did it? Did it really come from the same power as making rocks float? It seemed like it must intrinsically come of the Dark Side.
“Try again,” said Vader, and a gear flew at her.
Without a lightsaber, Lucy’s impulse was still to evade, as she’d been taught. But a Jedi should hold her ground. She stayed in place and held her hand up to focus the energy flowing through her. The gear slowed, then trembled to a stop.
“Good,” her father said.
But she could feel the gear still shaking, pressing against her grip. That had to be him. It moved forwards several inches, though slowly, before she managed to tighten her control and push it backwards. Then the resistance vanished and it flew right back into the pile.
Lucy wiped sweat off her forehead, saying,
“It’s been awhile.”
“I have neglected this aspect of your training,” he replied. “That will no longer be the case. Prepare yourself.”
Oh, no, thought Lucy, but she remembered Y … her other teacher, and settled for a sigh.
“Do you want me to stand on my hands?” she said in resignation.
Her father’s mask turned in her direction. “What?”
“Never mind,” said Lucy quickly. “What do you want me to do?”
“Hold each item in place,” Vader told her. “Then return them to the pile.”
“So—what I just did?”
“After a fashion,” he said, entertained by something Lucy couldn’t make out.
Then six wheels came hurtling her way at full speed. She made a strangled sound and flung out her thoughts, too startled to focus properly. Three of the wheels halted, though she could feel one of them was only just contained by her grasp and spun wildly in the air. The other three wheels just kept coming, and Lucy sprang into the air to avoid them. They continued until their paths took them off balance and they fell down, though she wouldn’t have put it past Vader to force them back in her direction.
“Bring them back,” said Vader.
Lucy took a deep breath and slowly released it, letting the burst of adrenaline fade into real concentration. The spinning wheel slowed; the three that had fallen down gradually rose into the air and drew nearer. When she opened her eyes, she found the wheels all floating in a circle around her, as if suspended by invisible cords. For as many times as she’d done this back on—in the swamp, it still astounded on her on some level that she was responsible for this.
“Do you want me to keep holding them?” she said, sweating again.
“Pile them in a stack,” said Vader.
A stack? She’d never had to do that before. Usually she just dropped things back where she’d found them.
That was one thing. Doing it with enough precision to stack them up was something else. She tried to set just one down, and her concentration wavered, the other wheels starting to shake. Balancing her split focus again, it took her a good minute to drop down the first wheel. Then she had to lower the second wheel on the first, but exactly in place, which meant picking it back up again after she first tried to drop it and the thing toppled right off.
Altogether, it took her a good seven or eight minutes to stack all the wheels—and, under her father’s unrelenting gaze, it made for an especially agonizing eight minutes. By the time it was done, Lucy had to grasp the edge of the table, steadying herself and taking heavy breaths.
“Can you stand?” Anakin said, his tone perfectly neutral.
“Yes,” she muttered. “I’m fine. My brain hurts, but I’m fine.”
“Precision is more difficult than simply flinging things about or maintaining their positions,” he said.
“I noticed,” replied Lucy.
She felt like complaining some more, but at the same time, it was easier to see the use of precisely controlling things than just making them follow the general direction of her thoughts. With another panting breath, she said,
“Okay. Let’s go again.”
She worked determinedly at it until Vader himself called a stop to it, insisting that she needed to maintain her abilities in the other areas of her training. Lightsaber practice came as a welcome relief—the Force flowed more easily, and sometimes she laughed out of sheer exhilaration, enjoying Anakin’s surprise every time. But she could tell he enjoyed it the most, too, for all his talk about the value of the other things.
She grinned when he knocked his lightsaber out of her hand for the umpteenth time.
“Bested again!” she cried. “I am shocked and dismayed.”
“Naturally,” said Anakin, extinguishing both lightsabers and catching them in his hands, slinging them onto his belt.
Out of little more than curiosity, she asked, “Have you ever fought with two at once?”
He paused, his thoughts drifting somewhere Lucy couldn’t reach. Then he said,
“Yes. Multiple times. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“All right,” she said, not particularly concerned. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask—”
With what seemed extremely little effort on his part, her stack of wheels floated over to the table and landed, none of them even a little out of place when they landed. “Yes?”
Lucy tore her eyes from the wheels and the rest of the metal paraphernalia, which she suspected she was going to become very familiar with over the next few weeks.
“Well, I took a book from the archives,” she began.
“Where is it now?”
“My bedroom,” she said. “The thing was, I had no idea where to start, so I just took something that felt right. But maybe I just liked the cover, because I don’t understand it at all. It keeps talking about some kind of life force.”
Vader folded his arms, but seemed intrigued rather than any kind of menacing. “All organics have that. It is an internal energy that animates organic life. It should not be confused with the Force itself.”
“Okay,” she said, fingers curling and uncurling.
She was nervous, Lucy realized—not so much at not understanding something, or needing to ask a question, but asking a question of this sort. A Jedi question, she supposed. It was almost like having schoolwork. Or she imagined it was; she’d never gone to school.
“But it keeps talking about it … the book keeps talking about life force, I mean, as something that can be used. Wouldn’t it be pretty bad if you ran out?”
“Very bad,” said Vader. “It would mean death. But life replenishes itself, so small sacrifices do not cause lasting harm. And all sacrifice is powerful in the Force.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
“Well,” she said at last, “thanks. I’ll try reading it again.”
In the usual remote way, Lucy felt something of the same tension that touched her when she made particularly difficult leaps up on the platforms. She tilted her head and looked up at her father with renewed curiosity.
“Even if the Force did guide your choice,” he said, “be very careful. Even the slightest use of your life force, or anyone’s, is not something to toy with.”
“I’m always careful,” she said breezily.
His voice sharpened. “Lucy! Do not be reckless.”
Relenting, she said, “I won’t. I promise.”
verse: Lucy Skywalker: my f!Luke AU, following from The Adventures of Lucy Skywalker and The Imperial Menace
characters: Luke/Lucy Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker; Leia Organa (background); OCs—Janos Varti, Cpt Gathon, Lt Lepha
stuff that happens: Vader maneuvers and Lucy takes up her training.
previous sections: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“The Emperor,” said Vader, “has told me of your successes.”
Admiral Varti bowed his head, accepting the compliment with the grace that he did most things. It was this, rather than massacring Imperial citizens, that perhaps had won over Palpatine. If it had. You never really knew, with Palpatine.
“I am delighted that his Majesty would mention me,” Varti replied. “We all do our part in defending the Empire.”
“Indeed,” Vader said.
Except Lucy, of course. But it might be that even Lucy would someday understand enough to defend the peace and order they’d fought for—that Vader had fought for, at least. He retained serious doubts about Varti’s motives.
The man had spent several days under Vader’s roof. Over those days, they had discussed matters great and small pertaining to the Empire’s security. Throughout, Varti seemed calm enough—he betrayed no signs of impatience, none of the urgency to get to the point that Vader himself would have felt in his position, no brazen defiance. He spoke with civility and, if not brilliance, at least a certain reasoned composure. Not an easy man to catch off-guard.
Courtesy aside, there was a coldness and calculation about his presence, a distinct sense of self-interest. To be sure, few in the Empire—especially the upper ranks—acted without it, but though Vader could not be sure, he suspected it ran deeper in Varti than in most.
“None, of course, enjoy the Emperor’s favour to the extent that you do, Lord Vader,” Varti added. “I can assure you that I feel the honour.”
Favour was one word for it.
“Then let me offer you a word of advice,” said Vader. “The Emperor is a man of great wisdom and perception. For that reason, he is capable of adapting instantly to changing circumstances.”
Varti looked blank.
“Consequently, while you—and I—are of great value to him at present, it may not always be the case.”
“True,” said Varti, a note of caution entering his tone. “Does your advice touch on that eventuality?”
“I will only say this,” Vader told him. “It is best to conduct yourself in such a way that you will not be found culpable for … failures or misdeeds, with or without special protection from the Emperor.”
“We cannot always control what we are found culpable for,” said Varti. “Being at fault and being considered at fault are not the same thing.”
“Nevertheless, we can act to diminish the odds of that occurring,” Vader told him. “I would advise that you do so.”
Varti nodded thoughtfully, betraying nothing.
“Well, thank you for the advice,” he said. “I will certainly take it into consideration.”
-
Apart from mealtimes, Lucy hadn’t actually seen Admiral Varti much, though she’d come away with a strong enough impression of him that she didn’t mourn that pleasure. And during mealtimes, he stuck scrupulously to polite nothings, while Vader said little at all—and what little he did say seemed nearly as inconsequential to Lucy.
That was, until the last night.
Vader and Varti were talking of the perfidies of the Rebellion, which Lucy suspected her father might have been directing at her as well as Varti. She tuned it out, instead focusing on Gathon’s and Lepha’s expressions. They seemed vaguely disgruntled whenever their glances fell on her, and nervous when they looked at Varti or especially Vader. That was to be expected; Lucy hadn’t seen any unusual (or perhaps usual) degrees of intelligence from them.
She shifted her attention to Varti.
“I heard,” he said, “that they actually attempted an attack here. Absolutely brazen.”
Lucy couldn’t feel his mind the way she could Vader’s, but all her instincts warned her of … something. Keeping her face as vacant as she could, she opened herself to the Force. Anakin, she felt, had already done so. Or maybe he never let go of it.
“It was certainly brazen,” said Vader.
“I was terrified,” Lucy added.
Varti seemed to ignore her, everything about him tightly focused on Vader.
“I hope that they failed to inflict damage,” Varti said to her father. “I was quite impressed with your defenses when I came down.”
“There were minimal casualties,” said Vader. “However, while I have not made it public knowledge, I have reason to believe it was not perpetrated by the Rebellion.”
Varti set down his fork, looking startled. “It wasn’t a Rebel attack?”
“As I said.”
“Why—” Then Varti shook his head. “Of course, I’m sure you have your sources. Some criminal ring, I suppose?”
“Perhaps,” said Vader. “Or a particularly foolish enemy within the Empire, of course. Some admirals and commanders and the like do maintain private fleets.”
Varti gave a faint, and to Lucy’s eyes, rather sickly smile. “True enough, though I wasn’t aware of any passing themselves off as Rebel ones.”
“That does seem a recent innovation,” Vader replied.
Varti chewed on a slice of bread, evidently taking advantage of the pause to think. He said,
“Any Imperial officer would have to be exceptionally stupid, not to mention traitorous, to move against you, Lord Vader.”
“Certainly,” said Vader.
Lucy glanced between them, then at Varti’s minions, who just seemed confused. They didn’t know anything about it, she suspected. But Varti did.
It had to be time to move from suggestion to open suspicion, though not from her. She bit her tongue and waited.
“By the way,” said Vader, “have you heard from Commander Jerjerrod lately? I recall that you are friends.”
Varti twitched.
“Jerjerrod! No, I … have not,” he said. “The last I heard, he was being reassigned to a new project.”
He glanced uneasily at Lucy.
“You couldn’t possibly think—”
“I was curious,” her father said, which Lucy supposed might be true, in a way. “Well, when you do regain contact with him, you might pass on my advice to you.”
Varti stared at him. “Lord Vader—”
“I trust you recall it?” said Vader, his voice gaining a decided edge.
Varti paused for a long moment. “Of course, my lord.”
“Good,” Vader said.
-
Varti left the following morning in good health. The Emperor should be, if not pleased, at least not particularly displeased. Even Varti’s two subordinates seemed hale, if disgruntled; Lucy, Vader gathered, had run interference with them. He suspected, to go by her behaviour around Varti and Varti’s own comments, that she must have been spectacularly obnoxious.
At the door, she stood between Vader and LX-3 and waved cheerfully as Varti and his men turned to leave. Varti and his captain bowed to Vader and kept going; the lieutenant, to Vader’s personal amusement, waved back before hurrying after Varti.
“You seem to have left an impression.”
Lucy grumbled, “An impression of stupidity.”
Well, yes.
“It served its purpose,” said Vader.
They headed back to the usual chamber, Vader scanning it for bugs, even though he doubted Varti would be so obvious. He found nothing, and Lucy flopped into a chair.
“Varti’s hiding something,” she said.
“I suspected as much,” he told her. “Now we know.”
Lucy swung her legs back and forth—even on the smaller chairs, her feet didn’t quite touch the floor—as her brows knit together. Vader waited, curious.
“He definitely got jumpy when you mentioned Jerjerrod,” she said. “Varti might have been involved, though it seems pretty reckless for him. But he knew about it. Maybe after the fact.”
“Very probably,” said Vader.
Her abstracted gaze focused on him. “Why did you let him know that you suspected Jerjerrod? That’ll just put him on his guard, won’t it?”
“Hopefully,” he told her, “enough on his guard that he will avoid doing anything so idiotic in the near future.”
She considered that. “Do you really think it’ll work? Someone stupid enough to attack you here isn’t likely going to stop with that.”
“My hopes are confined to the near future,” said Vader. “If he can hold off for a couple of weeks, I have plans for him.”
Lucy looked intrigued. “Oh?”
“And you may be able to assist me with them.”
“Me?” She gave a little laugh, shaking her head. “In just a couple of weeks? How?”
“I will tell you more when the time comes,” Vader said, “provided that it does come. That will depend on many things, including your progress in your training.”
“My training? What does that have to do with Jerjerrod?” she demanded. “Am I supposed to challenge him to a duel?”
“There is more to being a Jedi than waving a lightsaber around,” he told her, and glanced at her clothes. Some involved purplish thing; he thankfully couldn’t remember when Padmé had worn it. “Speaking of which, your lessons have been delayed long enough. Change into something suitable and meet me in the training room.”
She seemed annoyed, and then pleased.
“I’ll be there in under half an hour,” she said, and ran to the door.
-
Even after several days of it, Lucy was still getting used to making the trek between Vader’s receiving room and her bedroom all on her own. She kept expecting to hear Ellex’s heavy metal tread or equally heavy silences, or—well, she didn’t expect Tuvié, but she’d become so accustomed to the constant presence of someone at her side that it felt strange to walk alone. Not that she was really alone with the droids everywhere, but—it was still strange.
She could remember the ease with which she’d made her way around Echo Base and Massassi Temple. That Lucy would be incredulous that walking inside a castle she might never leave could feel like freedom. Leia and Han would be even more so. They’d be horrified, probably think something was wrong with her. And that was without even considering her agreement to train with Darth Vader. Lucy imagined the look on Leia’s face and had to take a deep breath to breathe properly.
Making a choice that Leia wouldn’t understand didn’t make it wrong, though. Leia was brilliant, but she didn’t always understand some things—like half of what Han said to her. Lucy remembered their spats as she walked, smiling a little to herself. Maybe things had changed by now.
Somehow, she didn’t feel as tense at the thought as she once would have, anxious about losing either Leia or Han to the other. Maybe her captivity had given her some perspective on what really mattered, or the Force had just uprooted that sort of thing from her mind. She didn’t know. But now, she could only wistfully hope that Leia or (maybe) the Rebellion had figured out some way to retrieve Han from the Hutts, and that they were happy together. She wanted them to be happy, even without her there. Especially without her there.
Her smile faded as she walked past the guards at her doors to her room. It was just as likely, more likely, that Han remained frozen in carbonite, something for slavers and bounty hunters to gawk at. It was entirely probable that Leia had no one at all, except allies and subordinates; she didn’t usually let people get close. Lucy had never known why Leia made an exception for her, almost from the first—they’d just felt it, like something snapped into place as they ran hand-in-hand through the Death Star. Just like they’d have done if … somewhere else, if …
The thought—it was more like an impression—slid away. Lucy shook her head and pulled out her reliable grey tunic. In a better world, she could have her training and her father without turning her back on her best friend. She just couldn’t do anything for Leia, right now. Could she?
Be with her, she thought. Please, be with her.
As if in reply, an image flickered into her mind: Leia in a silvery-grey dress and her hair elaborately braided, facing down several generals and smacking her hand on a table. Lucy couldn’t hear anything she said, but Leia was plainly arguing with someone—something which seemed so entirely Leia that Lucy sighed in relief. She was still all right and still herself.
The image vanished and Lucy did her best to clear her mind. She loved Leia more than ever, but she couldn’t follow her path any more. It had to be her own.
Suiting actions to thoughts, Lucy set out for the training room, shifting to just short of a run as she approached. Without anyone to open the door for her, she stared at it for a moment, then figured she might as well try. She laid her hand against the panel.
The door opened and she hurried in, only to find something sharp and metal flying straight at her. Instinctively, Lucy ducked—and two more metal objects launched her way. She managed to dodge both, and looked up to find her father standing beside a table piled with assorted gears, wheels, hydrospanners, and what looked like droid parts. She could feel the concentration of his will on them.
“You’re—what—”
A side of metal large enough to knock her right off her feet flew towards her. Lucy waited, then threw herself to the ground and flattened herself just in time for it to fly over her.
Vader, she could tell, was not quite disappointed, but certainly not impressed. She scowled and got to her feet.
“Fine. What am I supposed to be doing?”
He lowered one hand. “You are perfectly capable of holding and maneuvering objects with your mind. I have seen you do it. Yet you did not attempt it.”
Jogging over to the table, she said, “No, I … I’ve gotten out of the habit, I guess. And it was mostly just calling the lightsaber and making things float, not stopping them in mid-air.”
“Making things float is stopping them in mid-air,” said Vader severely.
“I guess,” she replied, looking down at the pile.
“The same principle applies,” he insisted. “What you can lift, you can hold in place; what you can hold in place, you can move. Only your mind limits you.”
For once, it sounded like he agreed with—her last teacher. This close, she dared not even think his name.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy. “It seems to get harder as things get bigger.”
“Only because you expect it to,” he replied. “Now, everything you learn to do with a lightsaber depends upon having a lightsaber. But this, the ability to overwrite natural laws with the Force and the strength of your own will—this can never be taken from you.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “That sounds a lot more impressive than lifting a few things.”
“It can be, if you learn to use it correctly,” he said. “It is not only a matter of holding objects in place. You can loosen things or tighten them, stretch them or crush them, and nothing but the Force itself can stop you.”
She remembered hearing about Vader’s preferred method of ending lives or simply making points—choking people with his mind. Was this how he did it? Did it really come from the same power as making rocks float? It seemed like it must intrinsically come of the Dark Side.
“Try again,” said Vader, and a gear flew at her.
Without a lightsaber, Lucy’s impulse was still to evade, as she’d been taught. But a Jedi should hold her ground. She stayed in place and held her hand up to focus the energy flowing through her. The gear slowed, then trembled to a stop.
“Good,” her father said.
But she could feel the gear still shaking, pressing against her grip. That had to be him. It moved forwards several inches, though slowly, before she managed to tighten her control and push it backwards. Then the resistance vanished and it flew right back into the pile.
Lucy wiped sweat off her forehead, saying,
“It’s been awhile.”
“I have neglected this aspect of your training,” he replied. “That will no longer be the case. Prepare yourself.”
Oh, no, thought Lucy, but she remembered Y … her other teacher, and settled for a sigh.
“Do you want me to stand on my hands?” she said in resignation.
Her father’s mask turned in her direction. “What?”
“Never mind,” said Lucy quickly. “What do you want me to do?”
“Hold each item in place,” Vader told her. “Then return them to the pile.”
“So—what I just did?”
“After a fashion,” he said, entertained by something Lucy couldn’t make out.
Then six wheels came hurtling her way at full speed. She made a strangled sound and flung out her thoughts, too startled to focus properly. Three of the wheels halted, though she could feel one of them was only just contained by her grasp and spun wildly in the air. The other three wheels just kept coming, and Lucy sprang into the air to avoid them. They continued until their paths took them off balance and they fell down, though she wouldn’t have put it past Vader to force them back in her direction.
“Bring them back,” said Vader.
Lucy took a deep breath and slowly released it, letting the burst of adrenaline fade into real concentration. The spinning wheel slowed; the three that had fallen down gradually rose into the air and drew nearer. When she opened her eyes, she found the wheels all floating in a circle around her, as if suspended by invisible cords. For as many times as she’d done this back on—in the swamp, it still astounded on her on some level that she was responsible for this.
“Do you want me to keep holding them?” she said, sweating again.
“Pile them in a stack,” said Vader.
A stack? She’d never had to do that before. Usually she just dropped things back where she’d found them.
That was one thing. Doing it with enough precision to stack them up was something else. She tried to set just one down, and her concentration wavered, the other wheels starting to shake. Balancing her split focus again, it took her a good minute to drop down the first wheel. Then she had to lower the second wheel on the first, but exactly in place, which meant picking it back up again after she first tried to drop it and the thing toppled right off.
Altogether, it took her a good seven or eight minutes to stack all the wheels—and, under her father’s unrelenting gaze, it made for an especially agonizing eight minutes. By the time it was done, Lucy had to grasp the edge of the table, steadying herself and taking heavy breaths.
“Can you stand?” Anakin said, his tone perfectly neutral.
“Yes,” she muttered. “I’m fine. My brain hurts, but I’m fine.”
“Precision is more difficult than simply flinging things about or maintaining their positions,” he said.
“I noticed,” replied Lucy.
She felt like complaining some more, but at the same time, it was easier to see the use of precisely controlling things than just making them follow the general direction of her thoughts. With another panting breath, she said,
“Okay. Let’s go again.”
She worked determinedly at it until Vader himself called a stop to it, insisting that she needed to maintain her abilities in the other areas of her training. Lightsaber practice came as a welcome relief—the Force flowed more easily, and sometimes she laughed out of sheer exhilaration, enjoying Anakin’s surprise every time. But she could tell he enjoyed it the most, too, for all his talk about the value of the other things.
She grinned when he knocked his lightsaber out of her hand for the umpteenth time.
“Bested again!” she cried. “I am shocked and dismayed.”
“Naturally,” said Anakin, extinguishing both lightsabers and catching them in his hands, slinging them onto his belt.
Out of little more than curiosity, she asked, “Have you ever fought with two at once?”
He paused, his thoughts drifting somewhere Lucy couldn’t reach. Then he said,
“Yes. Multiple times. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“All right,” she said, not particularly concerned. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask—”
With what seemed extremely little effort on his part, her stack of wheels floated over to the table and landed, none of them even a little out of place when they landed. “Yes?”
Lucy tore her eyes from the wheels and the rest of the metal paraphernalia, which she suspected she was going to become very familiar with over the next few weeks.
“Well, I took a book from the archives,” she began.
“Where is it now?”
“My bedroom,” she said. “The thing was, I had no idea where to start, so I just took something that felt right. But maybe I just liked the cover, because I don’t understand it at all. It keeps talking about some kind of life force.”
Vader folded his arms, but seemed intrigued rather than any kind of menacing. “All organics have that. It is an internal energy that animates organic life. It should not be confused with the Force itself.”
“Okay,” she said, fingers curling and uncurling.
She was nervous, Lucy realized—not so much at not understanding something, or needing to ask a question, but asking a question of this sort. A Jedi question, she supposed. It was almost like having schoolwork. Or she imagined it was; she’d never gone to school.
“But it keeps talking about it … the book keeps talking about life force, I mean, as something that can be used. Wouldn’t it be pretty bad if you ran out?”
“Very bad,” said Vader. “It would mean death. But life replenishes itself, so small sacrifices do not cause lasting harm. And all sacrifice is powerful in the Force.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
“Well,” she said at last, “thanks. I’ll try reading it again.”
In the usual remote way, Lucy felt something of the same tension that touched her when she made particularly difficult leaps up on the platforms. She tilted her head and looked up at her father with renewed curiosity.
“Even if the Force did guide your choice,” he said, “be very careful. Even the slightest use of your life force, or anyone’s, is not something to toy with.”
“I’m always careful,” she said breezily.
His voice sharpened. “Lucy! Do not be reckless.”
Relenting, she said, “I won’t. I promise.”
no subject
on 2020-02-09 04:51 am (UTC)no subject
on 2020-02-09 07:13 pm (UTC)Thank you :)