hahaha done! (sort of)
Jul. 21st, 2021 05:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anghrainetitle: The Jedi and the Sith Lord (21/21)
verse: Lucy Skywalker: my f!Luke AU, following from The Adventures of Lucy Skywalker and The Imperial Menace
characters: Luke/Lucy Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker; [Redacted], Leia Organa, Janos Varti, Palpatine
stuff that happens: Lucy responds to Anakin's offer while Leia plans for the future and Varti reports to Emperor Palpatine.
previous sections: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Anakin didn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” he said simply.
Lucy couldn’t help but remember how she’d fought to fly in the Rebellion. The Empire wasn’t much better, as far as she’d seen.
“Why me?” she asked. “All those things you just said—”
“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.
Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone. At the same time, she’d never really done anything of this kind. She was a pilot and a soldier, not a secret agent like Leia and Captain Andor had been.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth when she realized that she’d be out of the castle at last. Free! Or something like it, at least.
“The experience will be useful to you,” he said. “For now, what we need is information. The mission should be straightforward enough.”
“Don’t jinx it,” she replied. “How do you know I won’t just run off?”
“The fact that you asked is a strong hint,” said Anakin. “But if you accept, you will have a companion.”
Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “An Imperial? You’re sending me with a keeper?”
“A companion,” he repeated firmly. “And an Imperial of sorts. I would hardly send you with a Rebel.”
She had half a mind to tell him that the galaxy wasn’t divided into Imperials and Rebels, or at least to think it at him. But he should know that already, coming from Tatooine. Apparently he’d forgotten.
Well, he’d forgotten a lot.
“Am I—would I meet them on the way there?” she said, trying to get the logistics clear in her head. “Or are they coming here?”
“They are already here,” said Anakin. “I will take you to them, if you consent to the mission.”
Between the promise of open air and her agreement to help him against his enemies in the Empire, her first inclination was immediate assent. And it’d be something to do, some way to exercise her abilities and to do it, amazingly enough, against Imperials. But she’d also be doing it for Imperials. Leia, in her place, would indignantly refuse. Han might go along out of self-preservation, but he’d be alert for his first chance at real escape. Lucy—
She looked up at Anakin, and remembered how Beru had told her that Shmi’s people believed in the young supporting their elders. Not in everything, but where it was necessary. Did this count?
She remembered, too, the terrible dread she’d felt as she flew away from the Rebellion, and the moment when she took her father’s hand in the archives, and the cool air of a starship.
“I’ll do it,” said Lucy, hoping she hadn’t just made the worst decision in the history of the galaxy.
At no point did she sense much doubt from Anakin, but she nevertheless felt a quiet relief from him at this.
“Good,” he said, and turned around, his cape swirling after him. With a forward gesture, he continued, “Come with me.”
Lucy followed.
After another long trek across the castle—though in a different direction from the archive—she found herself in a large room. She’d never seen it before, but apart from the bedchambers and training hall, one room here was very much like another.
However, it wasn’t entirely dissimilar from the training hall; it stretched longer than it was wide, and at the far end, targets had been set up. Each had holes and gashes clustered in and around the center.
Lucy had no difficulty guessing where they’d come from, because the room also contained a tall woman in an Imperial uniform. She was currently shooting a blaster at the targets, one shot following the other with no hesitation and alarming accuracy. She must be almost as good as Leia.
Lucy coughed loudly and the woman whirled around, blaster raised. As soon as she saw Anakin, however, she lowered the blaster.
Lucy frowned at her. From the front, the woman looked eminently forgettable—brown hair, grey eyes, pale skin, unremarkable features. Yet Lucy couldn’t escape the feeling that she’d seen her before—a feeling that came less from any conscious process than the Force itself. Lucy knew her.
“Have we met?” Lucy asked.
The woman’s glance passed to Lucy, then back to Anakin. She seemed to be waiting for something.
“The situation has changed,” he said. “You are now to offer Lucy any assistance you are capable of. Also, you are to remain near her at all times during her mission.”
“Her mission?” said the woman.
Lucy’s heart nearly stopped.
“Tuvié?”
The woman—droid?—turned to her. Though her expression didn’t change, her voice did.
“I did not expect that you could correctly identify me, Miss Lucy!”
Lucy managed to slow her whirling thoughts long enough to say, “You’re pretty unmistakable.”
Tuvié was still functional—and still here? But she was … what had happened? She’d had humanoid prosthetics here and there before, but now, Lucy would never have known her for anything but an ordinary human woman. She didn’t understand.
Tuvié lifted her eyes to Anakin. Lucy tried to wrap her mind around that—Tuvié had eyes now.
“Oh! I quite forgot, sir—”
“You may consider the ban lifted, F-2VA,” he said, removing all doubt.
Lucy took a deep breath.
“Tuvié, this won’t mean anything to you, but—”
“Yes?” said Tuvié.
Lucy took a step forward, then abandoned all caution and walked straight up to her, wrapping her arms around the droid’s torso. It felt like hugging anyone would have.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said.
Tuvié patted her head.
“I am familiar with the significance of the gesture among humanoids,” she said kindly.
“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, releasing her and stepping back. “I didn’t mean—I—”
Tuvié’s face didn’t change, and probably couldn’t, but she managed to exude bewilderment anyway.
“Sorry?” she said. “Sorry for what?”
Lucy had no idea if Tuvié had welcomed the changes to her structure, or if it was some bizarre kind of punishment. Either way, she couldn’t believe that Tuvié hadn’t endured Anakin’s wrath in some way or another. And it was all because Lucy had lied and tricked her in a futile escape attempt. That horrified, desperate Lucy seemed almost another person now, but it didn’t negate her responsibility. Did Tuvié really not see that?
She thought of saying I didn’t want you hurt, but without knowing exactly what had happened, and with Anakin right behind her, she couldn’t quite bring herself to.
“I deceived you,” said Lucy. “It wasn’t—honourable.”
Before Tuvié could respond, Anakin strode forwards, his towering form cutting into Lucy’s peripheral vision. Each step thudded in her ears, and his respirator seemed even louder than usual.
“At least some portion of the fleet is gathered on the planet of Pheraz, near the Outer Rim,” he said. “I have obtained codes that should give you access to the base of operations.”
Lucy hesitated, then turned to him. “How?”
“I have my own methods of acquiring information,” he said, the mask and suit revealing no more than Tuvié’s face.
She took that to mean the Force.
“You will be given disguises that should allow you both to pass unnoticed among Varti’s and Jerjerrod’s men,” Anakin went on. “Tuvié, your assignment is simple. You are to remain with Lucy at all times and see that she returns in one piece.”
She might have been imagining it, but she thought his voice emphasized returns more than one piece. It made sense, of course—he had no reason to think she wouldn’t seize her first opportunity at escape, and keeping her under control had to be his first priority—but it made her uncomfortable, nevertheless. She hadn’t agreed out of hope for returning to the Alliance. It was difficult to imagine just waltzing back to the Rebellion as if none of this had ever happened, even if the chance did present itself.
“Yes, Lord Vader,” said Tuvié.
“You know the consequences if you fail me again,” he added.
“I do, sir.”
Lucy’s throat dried. She couldn’t think Tuvié would survive another failure. It was remarkable enough that he hadn’t destroyed her outright, all things considered, and that he’d entrusted her with the same task in more dangerous conditions. That was very odd, now that she thought of it.
It’s a test, Lucy thought. For both of them. Whatever the consequences of failure might be for Lucy herself, they would be disastrous for Tuvié. They had to succeed.
“Lucy,” Anakin said, “you will otherwise take the lead, guided by me. Keep your mind open and your senses alert.”
“I will,” she promised.
“You will both be provided with Imperial identities,” he said. “However, close inspection would trace them back to me and reveal your true allegiances.”
Lucy felt a flicker of doubt from him at this, and bit her lip. He couldn’t really know what her allegiance was at this point. She wasn’t sure she did herself, except to the Force and the liberation of the galaxy. She’d never support the Empire, but her father was neither the Empire nor the Emperor, whatever he might wish. She could help him in this without betraying what she believed in. Couldn’t she?
“Therefore,” he told her, “you should do your best to avoid providing them. You must be unobtrusive, or as much so as you can manage. You will have a uniform, a blaster, your wits, and the Force. That should be enough to carry us through.”
Despite herself, she liked the sound of us. Repressing the feeling, Lucy nodded.
“Do you both understand?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Tuvié immediately.
“Yes, F—Lord Vader,” Lucy said.
“Very well,” said Anakin. “Tuvié, you may go.”
Without another word, she walked away, her footsteps light—altogether unlike her old clatter. Lucy didn’t mind it, exactly, but it unsettled her. She’d heard of replica droids, glanced past holos of them, but she’d never seen one, and certainly never seen one made out of another model altogether. She inhaled, steadying herself, and looked up at her father’s inscrutable mask. She couldn’t sense his feelings beyond the usual, either; he must have closed himself off in some way, or simply didn’t feel much else.
Lucy searched the mask anyway, wishing she could at least see his eyes through the lenses. Her aunt always said that Lucy had her father’s eyes, though Shmi’s had been dark. But she’d never seen them in person.
“Father,” she said impulsively, “you can trust me.”
He studied her for several long seconds. Now, she thought she could sense something—not wistfulness, but not wholly unlike it. He wanted to believe her, even if he couldn’t quite manage it.
“We shall see,” said Anakin.
Leia Organa never thought of leaving the Rebellion. Not once. But the Alliance’s structure chafed on her at times, all the more in the years since the destruction of Alderaan, which had swayed many of those who wavered before fully realizing the threat posed by the Empire. If it could happen to Alderaan, it could happen to anyone. So many had only needed the understanding that their own people’s lives and welfare were at stake to support the Alliance in some fashion or another.
Cowards. At times, it was all Leia could do to keep her fingernails from cutting into her palms. She clenched her hands under Council tables and behind her back as she stared through viewscreens.
Useful cowards. Cowards who had chosen the right side, in the end. But they brought expectations of a certain kind of order with them, expectations rooted in a Republic that Leia couldn’t remember. She’d been born the very day that the Republic fell—she and Lucy both.
Her nails dug deeper. They hadn’t heard anything of Lucy since the day Leia escaped Cloud City with Lando and the droids. Even their best agents hadn’t heard a whisper of her; she might as well have died. Some people thought she had. But Leia couldn’t quite believe that Lucy’s death would leave the galaxy so untouched, leave Leia herself without any sure way of knowing it had happened. She trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her that Lucy was alive.
Leia had every reason to know that alive didn’t mean well, though. If she’d somehow escaped Vader’s trap, Lucy would have returned to them. She could only be a captive of the Empire—of Vader.
Leia knew exactly what that meant. Was Lucy suffering at his hands and dark powers even now? Her instincts didn’t tell her anything about that. She didn’t feel overwhelmed with foreboding, as she had when Han and Lucy flew away from Yavin 4. She was just afraid for Lucy, afraid for them all, and beyond that, unsettled. Once they discovered Lucy’s location, once they rescued her—Leia refused to tolerate if—Lucy would find the Rebellion a different place than even on Hoth. She’d find the galaxy a different place.
Would Lucy be different? Leia supposed it depended on when Vader had taken her out of carbon-freeze, and how long after that she’d been subject to his … mercies. Lucy wouldn’t give up the Rebellion; Leia believed that with all her heart. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t change her. Lucy escaping unscarred seemed increasingly impossible with each day that passed.
And Leia, tangled up in command, could do nothing.
She might have done something for Han, or at least tried. But everything was so slow. Lando had made his contacts with Jabba the Hutt’s minions, and would hopefully infiltrate the stronghold soon. When he did, they could determine Han’s current state. If he remained in carbonite, as all their reports suggested, he could be saved. They had only to penetrate the heart of the stronghold, discreetly extract Han from carbonite despite the danger of hibernation sickness, and somehow escape unnoticed.
Leia didn’t like leaving it all up to Lando. She thought of Lucy again, and nearly had to press her first to her mouth. She couldn’t. She couldn’t stand around in her pristine clothes and neat braids, giving orders while those she loved most in the galaxy were prisoners of the Huttish and Galactic empires. But she couldn’t leave the Rebellion, either.
She’d have to find another way.
Janos Varti cooled his heels on Naboo for a good month before Emperor Palpatine deigned to take an interest in his doings. But, finally, the time had come. Varti knelt before a large hologram of the Emperor, keeping his eyes lowered and trying not to think of any dust that might accumulate on the knees of his trousers. Lord Vader might be an inhuman relic, but he was right that Palpatine’s favour could be withdrawn at any moment; that had to take priority over every other concern.
Besides, it let him avoid looking at the Emperor’s face, at least for a few moments.
“Admiral,” said the Emperor, “allow me to offer my congratulations. You seem to be in good health.”
“I am, your Highness,” Varti said humbly. “Thank you.”
This sufficed for pleasantries. Palpatine told him to rise, then closely questioned him on his meetings with Vader. He asked about Bast Castle’s defenses, which he must already know about; he asked about Varti’s conversations with Vader in such detail that Varti could almost have accepted the common belief that the Emperor had spying devices everywhere. Nevertheless, Varti reported as closely as he could recall, suspecting that the month-long wait was at least partly a test of his memory. In fact, he’d always had an excellent one, though he knew better than to depend too heavily upon it.
“Lord Vader warned you that you might not always enjoy my good graces, hm?” Palpatine asked.
His flickering face seemed more amused than anything by this.
“Yes, your Highness,” Varti said.
“That,” said the Emperor, “depends on you.”
Varti nodded respectfully, then added, “So Lord Vader advised me.”
Palpatine studied him, his features now as unreadable as usual. Varti, who had long-since grasped that the Emperor expected submission but despised weakness, managed not to gulp.
“I see,” he said. “Tell me, was there anyone in the castle with Lord Vader?”
“Well, yes,” said Varti, startled. “A number of officers and troops, as well as droids—more droids than soldiers.” Then he remembered his initial reception, with all its peculiarities. “And there was a girl.”
He felt, more than saw, Emperor Palpatine’s concentration narrowing in on him.
“Tell me about this girl,” he ordered.
Varti blinked several times, but had not come this far by ignoring direct orders. “She received us when we first arrived. She seemed about twenty—short, slender, blonde hair, blue eyes. I had the impression that she was some sort of housekeeper or servant. We spoke briefly and she provided tea.”
Maybe it was just paranoia on Palpatine’s part, but Varti couldn’t see why he should feel the slightest interest in that girl. It was possible, of course, that Varti had missed something about her, but it didn’t seem likely. He was an excellent judge of character.
“Did she create any difficulties for you and Lord Vader?” asked the Emperor.
“No,” said Varti, even more puzzled. “She seemed quite accommodating, when she was present. I saw little of her, except during dinners.”
Now that he thought of it, though, that did strike him as odd. Why would Vader invite his housekeeper, or whatever she was—Varti didn’t really want to think about it too much—to dinner with an Admiral of the Fleet? Had he wanted her to notice something?
Something niggled at Varti’s memory. He’d noticed something. What was it?
“I trust no significant business was conducted at these dinners?” said Palpatine.
“You are correct, your Highness.”
In a rush, it came to him. He felt silly to even mention it to the Emperor, but he wasn’t about to hold things back.
“Her clothes were strange,” he blurted out. “Old and faded, but the fabric was very fine—embroidered and such. It seemed peculiar for a servant.”
Palpatine didn’t bother responding to this.
“Did you ever hear her name?”
“Alsara,” Varti said promptly. “Lucy Alsara.”
“Ah,” said Palpatine, with a faint smile. “Her true name is Lucy Skywalker. She was a Rebel and a would-be Jedi traitor, until Lord Vader apprehended her.”
“A Jedi!” Varti exclaimed.
Astonished, he stared into the Emperor’s blue face. Varti had taken tea from a Jedi? A Rebel one, too? And she hadn’t tried to poison him then, or at any of their other shared meals? And Vader had simply left her to wander around?
“She appears to have learned the errors of her former cause, and is now Vader’s apprentice,” said the Emperor.
“She seemed docile enough,” Varti acknowledged, the whirl of his thoughts slowing to something like reason. “Was it a trick?”
“Possibly,” Palpatine said, looking thoughtful. Then he fixed his eyes on Varti, who valiantly repressed a shudder. “Should the opportunity arise again, take care to observe her very closely.”
“I will,” said Varti. At this point, he was so bewildered that he presumed to add, “Is this one girl a threat to the Empire, your Highness?”
“No,” the Emperor replied. Horrifyingly, his smile broadened. “I think not.”
verse: Lucy Skywalker: my f!Luke AU, following from The Adventures of Lucy Skywalker and The Imperial Menace
characters: Luke/Lucy Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker; [Redacted], Leia Organa, Janos Varti, Palpatine
stuff that happens: Lucy responds to Anakin's offer while Leia plans for the future and Varti reports to Emperor Palpatine.
previous sections: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty
“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.
Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone.
Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Anakin didn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” he said simply.
Lucy couldn’t help but remember how she’d fought to fly in the Rebellion. The Empire wasn’t much better, as far as she’d seen.
“Why me?” she asked. “All those things you just said—”
“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.
Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone. At the same time, she’d never really done anything of this kind. She was a pilot and a soldier, not a secret agent like Leia and Captain Andor had been.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth when she realized that she’d be out of the castle at last. Free! Or something like it, at least.
“The experience will be useful to you,” he said. “For now, what we need is information. The mission should be straightforward enough.”
“Don’t jinx it,” she replied. “How do you know I won’t just run off?”
“The fact that you asked is a strong hint,” said Anakin. “But if you accept, you will have a companion.”
Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “An Imperial? You’re sending me with a keeper?”
“A companion,” he repeated firmly. “And an Imperial of sorts. I would hardly send you with a Rebel.”
She had half a mind to tell him that the galaxy wasn’t divided into Imperials and Rebels, or at least to think it at him. But he should know that already, coming from Tatooine. Apparently he’d forgotten.
Well, he’d forgotten a lot.
“Am I—would I meet them on the way there?” she said, trying to get the logistics clear in her head. “Or are they coming here?”
“They are already here,” said Anakin. “I will take you to them, if you consent to the mission.”
Between the promise of open air and her agreement to help him against his enemies in the Empire, her first inclination was immediate assent. And it’d be something to do, some way to exercise her abilities and to do it, amazingly enough, against Imperials. But she’d also be doing it for Imperials. Leia, in her place, would indignantly refuse. Han might go along out of self-preservation, but he’d be alert for his first chance at real escape. Lucy—
She looked up at Anakin, and remembered how Beru had told her that Shmi’s people believed in the young supporting their elders. Not in everything, but where it was necessary. Did this count?
She remembered, too, the terrible dread she’d felt as she flew away from the Rebellion, and the moment when she took her father’s hand in the archives, and the cool air of a starship.
“I’ll do it,” said Lucy, hoping she hadn’t just made the worst decision in the history of the galaxy.
At no point did she sense much doubt from Anakin, but she nevertheless felt a quiet relief from him at this.
“Good,” he said, and turned around, his cape swirling after him. With a forward gesture, he continued, “Come with me.”
Lucy followed.
After another long trek across the castle—though in a different direction from the archive—she found herself in a large room. She’d never seen it before, but apart from the bedchambers and training hall, one room here was very much like another.
However, it wasn’t entirely dissimilar from the training hall; it stretched longer than it was wide, and at the far end, targets had been set up. Each had holes and gashes clustered in and around the center.
Lucy had no difficulty guessing where they’d come from, because the room also contained a tall woman in an Imperial uniform. She was currently shooting a blaster at the targets, one shot following the other with no hesitation and alarming accuracy. She must be almost as good as Leia.
Lucy coughed loudly and the woman whirled around, blaster raised. As soon as she saw Anakin, however, she lowered the blaster.
Lucy frowned at her. From the front, the woman looked eminently forgettable—brown hair, grey eyes, pale skin, unremarkable features. Yet Lucy couldn’t escape the feeling that she’d seen her before—a feeling that came less from any conscious process than the Force itself. Lucy knew her.
“Have we met?” Lucy asked.
The woman’s glance passed to Lucy, then back to Anakin. She seemed to be waiting for something.
“The situation has changed,” he said. “You are now to offer Lucy any assistance you are capable of. Also, you are to remain near her at all times during her mission.”
“Her mission?” said the woman.
Lucy’s heart nearly stopped.
“Tuvié?”
The woman—droid?—turned to her. Though her expression didn’t change, her voice did.
“I did not expect that you could correctly identify me, Miss Lucy!”
Lucy managed to slow her whirling thoughts long enough to say, “You’re pretty unmistakable.”
Tuvié was still functional—and still here? But she was … what had happened? She’d had humanoid prosthetics here and there before, but now, Lucy would never have known her for anything but an ordinary human woman. She didn’t understand.
Tuvié lifted her eyes to Anakin. Lucy tried to wrap her mind around that—Tuvié had eyes now.
“Oh! I quite forgot, sir—”
“You may consider the ban lifted, F-2VA,” he said, removing all doubt.
Lucy took a deep breath.
“Tuvié, this won’t mean anything to you, but—”
“Yes?” said Tuvié.
Lucy took a step forward, then abandoned all caution and walked straight up to her, wrapping her arms around the droid’s torso. It felt like hugging anyone would have.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said.
Tuvié patted her head.
“I am familiar with the significance of the gesture among humanoids,” she said kindly.
“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, releasing her and stepping back. “I didn’t mean—I—”
Tuvié’s face didn’t change, and probably couldn’t, but she managed to exude bewilderment anyway.
“Sorry?” she said. “Sorry for what?”
Lucy had no idea if Tuvié had welcomed the changes to her structure, or if it was some bizarre kind of punishment. Either way, she couldn’t believe that Tuvié hadn’t endured Anakin’s wrath in some way or another. And it was all because Lucy had lied and tricked her in a futile escape attempt. That horrified, desperate Lucy seemed almost another person now, but it didn’t negate her responsibility. Did Tuvié really not see that?
She thought of saying I didn’t want you hurt, but without knowing exactly what had happened, and with Anakin right behind her, she couldn’t quite bring herself to.
“I deceived you,” said Lucy. “It wasn’t—honourable.”
Before Tuvié could respond, Anakin strode forwards, his towering form cutting into Lucy’s peripheral vision. Each step thudded in her ears, and his respirator seemed even louder than usual.
“At least some portion of the fleet is gathered on the planet of Pheraz, near the Outer Rim,” he said. “I have obtained codes that should give you access to the base of operations.”
Lucy hesitated, then turned to him. “How?”
“I have my own methods of acquiring information,” he said, the mask and suit revealing no more than Tuvié’s face.
She took that to mean the Force.
“You will be given disguises that should allow you both to pass unnoticed among Varti’s and Jerjerrod’s men,” Anakin went on. “Tuvié, your assignment is simple. You are to remain with Lucy at all times and see that she returns in one piece.”
She might have been imagining it, but she thought his voice emphasized returns more than one piece. It made sense, of course—he had no reason to think she wouldn’t seize her first opportunity at escape, and keeping her under control had to be his first priority—but it made her uncomfortable, nevertheless. She hadn’t agreed out of hope for returning to the Alliance. It was difficult to imagine just waltzing back to the Rebellion as if none of this had ever happened, even if the chance did present itself.
“Yes, Lord Vader,” said Tuvié.
“You know the consequences if you fail me again,” he added.
“I do, sir.”
Lucy’s throat dried. She couldn’t think Tuvié would survive another failure. It was remarkable enough that he hadn’t destroyed her outright, all things considered, and that he’d entrusted her with the same task in more dangerous conditions. That was very odd, now that she thought of it.
It’s a test, Lucy thought. For both of them. Whatever the consequences of failure might be for Lucy herself, they would be disastrous for Tuvié. They had to succeed.
“Lucy,” Anakin said, “you will otherwise take the lead, guided by me. Keep your mind open and your senses alert.”
“I will,” she promised.
“You will both be provided with Imperial identities,” he said. “However, close inspection would trace them back to me and reveal your true allegiances.”
Lucy felt a flicker of doubt from him at this, and bit her lip. He couldn’t really know what her allegiance was at this point. She wasn’t sure she did herself, except to the Force and the liberation of the galaxy. She’d never support the Empire, but her father was neither the Empire nor the Emperor, whatever he might wish. She could help him in this without betraying what she believed in. Couldn’t she?
“Therefore,” he told her, “you should do your best to avoid providing them. You must be unobtrusive, or as much so as you can manage. You will have a uniform, a blaster, your wits, and the Force. That should be enough to carry us through.”
Despite herself, she liked the sound of us. Repressing the feeling, Lucy nodded.
“Do you both understand?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Tuvié immediately.
“Yes, F—Lord Vader,” Lucy said.
“Very well,” said Anakin. “Tuvié, you may go.”
Without another word, she walked away, her footsteps light—altogether unlike her old clatter. Lucy didn’t mind it, exactly, but it unsettled her. She’d heard of replica droids, glanced past holos of them, but she’d never seen one, and certainly never seen one made out of another model altogether. She inhaled, steadying herself, and looked up at her father’s inscrutable mask. She couldn’t sense his feelings beyond the usual, either; he must have closed himself off in some way, or simply didn’t feel much else.
Lucy searched the mask anyway, wishing she could at least see his eyes through the lenses. Her aunt always said that Lucy had her father’s eyes, though Shmi’s had been dark. But she’d never seen them in person.
“Father,” she said impulsively, “you can trust me.”
He studied her for several long seconds. Now, she thought she could sense something—not wistfulness, but not wholly unlike it. He wanted to believe her, even if he couldn’t quite manage it.
“We shall see,” said Anakin.
Leia Organa never thought of leaving the Rebellion. Not once. But the Alliance’s structure chafed on her at times, all the more in the years since the destruction of Alderaan, which had swayed many of those who wavered before fully realizing the threat posed by the Empire. If it could happen to Alderaan, it could happen to anyone. So many had only needed the understanding that their own people’s lives and welfare were at stake to support the Alliance in some fashion or another.
Cowards. At times, it was all Leia could do to keep her fingernails from cutting into her palms. She clenched her hands under Council tables and behind her back as she stared through viewscreens.
Useful cowards. Cowards who had chosen the right side, in the end. But they brought expectations of a certain kind of order with them, expectations rooted in a Republic that Leia couldn’t remember. She’d been born the very day that the Republic fell—she and Lucy both.
Her nails dug deeper. They hadn’t heard anything of Lucy since the day Leia escaped Cloud City with Lando and the droids. Even their best agents hadn’t heard a whisper of her; she might as well have died. Some people thought she had. But Leia couldn’t quite believe that Lucy’s death would leave the galaxy so untouched, leave Leia herself without any sure way of knowing it had happened. She trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her that Lucy was alive.
Leia had every reason to know that alive didn’t mean well, though. If she’d somehow escaped Vader’s trap, Lucy would have returned to them. She could only be a captive of the Empire—of Vader.
Leia knew exactly what that meant. Was Lucy suffering at his hands and dark powers even now? Her instincts didn’t tell her anything about that. She didn’t feel overwhelmed with foreboding, as she had when Han and Lucy flew away from Yavin 4. She was just afraid for Lucy, afraid for them all, and beyond that, unsettled. Once they discovered Lucy’s location, once they rescued her—Leia refused to tolerate if—Lucy would find the Rebellion a different place than even on Hoth. She’d find the galaxy a different place.
Would Lucy be different? Leia supposed it depended on when Vader had taken her out of carbon-freeze, and how long after that she’d been subject to his … mercies. Lucy wouldn’t give up the Rebellion; Leia believed that with all her heart. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t change her. Lucy escaping unscarred seemed increasingly impossible with each day that passed.
And Leia, tangled up in command, could do nothing.
She might have done something for Han, or at least tried. But everything was so slow. Lando had made his contacts with Jabba the Hutt’s minions, and would hopefully infiltrate the stronghold soon. When he did, they could determine Han’s current state. If he remained in carbonite, as all their reports suggested, he could be saved. They had only to penetrate the heart of the stronghold, discreetly extract Han from carbonite despite the danger of hibernation sickness, and somehow escape unnoticed.
Leia didn’t like leaving it all up to Lando. She thought of Lucy again, and nearly had to press her first to her mouth. She couldn’t. She couldn’t stand around in her pristine clothes and neat braids, giving orders while those she loved most in the galaxy were prisoners of the Huttish and Galactic empires. But she couldn’t leave the Rebellion, either.
She’d have to find another way.
Janos Varti cooled his heels on Naboo for a good month before Emperor Palpatine deigned to take an interest in his doings. But, finally, the time had come. Varti knelt before a large hologram of the Emperor, keeping his eyes lowered and trying not to think of any dust that might accumulate on the knees of his trousers. Lord Vader might be an inhuman relic, but he was right that Palpatine’s favour could be withdrawn at any moment; that had to take priority over every other concern.
Besides, it let him avoid looking at the Emperor’s face, at least for a few moments.
“Admiral,” said the Emperor, “allow me to offer my congratulations. You seem to be in good health.”
“I am, your Highness,” Varti said humbly. “Thank you.”
This sufficed for pleasantries. Palpatine told him to rise, then closely questioned him on his meetings with Vader. He asked about Bast Castle’s defenses, which he must already know about; he asked about Varti’s conversations with Vader in such detail that Varti could almost have accepted the common belief that the Emperor had spying devices everywhere. Nevertheless, Varti reported as closely as he could recall, suspecting that the month-long wait was at least partly a test of his memory. In fact, he’d always had an excellent one, though he knew better than to depend too heavily upon it.
“Lord Vader warned you that you might not always enjoy my good graces, hm?” Palpatine asked.
His flickering face seemed more amused than anything by this.
“Yes, your Highness,” Varti said.
“That,” said the Emperor, “depends on you.”
Varti nodded respectfully, then added, “So Lord Vader advised me.”
Palpatine studied him, his features now as unreadable as usual. Varti, who had long-since grasped that the Emperor expected submission but despised weakness, managed not to gulp.
“I see,” he said. “Tell me, was there anyone in the castle with Lord Vader?”
“Well, yes,” said Varti, startled. “A number of officers and troops, as well as droids—more droids than soldiers.” Then he remembered his initial reception, with all its peculiarities. “And there was a girl.”
He felt, more than saw, Emperor Palpatine’s concentration narrowing in on him.
“Tell me about this girl,” he ordered.
Varti blinked several times, but had not come this far by ignoring direct orders. “She received us when we first arrived. She seemed about twenty—short, slender, blonde hair, blue eyes. I had the impression that she was some sort of housekeeper or servant. We spoke briefly and she provided tea.”
Maybe it was just paranoia on Palpatine’s part, but Varti couldn’t see why he should feel the slightest interest in that girl. It was possible, of course, that Varti had missed something about her, but it didn’t seem likely. He was an excellent judge of character.
“Did she create any difficulties for you and Lord Vader?” asked the Emperor.
“No,” said Varti, even more puzzled. “She seemed quite accommodating, when she was present. I saw little of her, except during dinners.”
Now that he thought of it, though, that did strike him as odd. Why would Vader invite his housekeeper, or whatever she was—Varti didn’t really want to think about it too much—to dinner with an Admiral of the Fleet? Had he wanted her to notice something?
Something niggled at Varti’s memory. He’d noticed something. What was it?
“I trust no significant business was conducted at these dinners?” said Palpatine.
“You are correct, your Highness.”
In a rush, it came to him. He felt silly to even mention it to the Emperor, but he wasn’t about to hold things back.
“Her clothes were strange,” he blurted out. “Old and faded, but the fabric was very fine—embroidered and such. It seemed peculiar for a servant.”
Palpatine didn’t bother responding to this.
“Did you ever hear her name?”
“Alsara,” Varti said promptly. “Lucy Alsara.”
“Ah,” said Palpatine, with a faint smile. “Her true name is Lucy Skywalker. She was a Rebel and a would-be Jedi traitor, until Lord Vader apprehended her.”
“A Jedi!” Varti exclaimed.
Astonished, he stared into the Emperor’s blue face. Varti had taken tea from a Jedi? A Rebel one, too? And she hadn’t tried to poison him then, or at any of their other shared meals? And Vader had simply left her to wander around?
“She appears to have learned the errors of her former cause, and is now Vader’s apprentice,” said the Emperor.
“She seemed docile enough,” Varti acknowledged, the whirl of his thoughts slowing to something like reason. “Was it a trick?”
“Possibly,” Palpatine said, looking thoughtful. Then he fixed his eyes on Varti, who valiantly repressed a shudder. “Should the opportunity arise again, take care to observe her very closely.”
“I will,” said Varti. At this point, he was so bewildered that he presumed to add, “Is this one girl a threat to the Empire, your Highness?”
“No,” the Emperor replied. Horrifyingly, his smile broadened. “I think not.”
