Acknowledgements: Irene for her duo. Siusaidh for the quote of the day that sort of inspired this. Robert Heinlein's Friday for the costumes. Anne Rice's Beauty trilogy. The author of "When Whiny Rebels Go Bad." The author of "A Darker Destiny." The discussion on Vader's plans from the list. The author of "While there's life, there's hope" Liz Skywalker for her page of dark AU.
Archive: ask and you shall receive
Archive Date: February 12, 2001
Author's Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/lady_aethelynde
Category: AU. Very. Beru is Shmi's daughter by Qui-gon Jinn. (Note the lingering looks in TPM.) Her brother Anakin planted her to take care of his son. Vader knows everything, and is scheming up a dynasty of his own. Luke moved to Mos Eisley after his uncle died and there fell into the hands of slavers.
Dedication: to my lovely Beta readers. Thank you, my darlings.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to George, but if he was keeping them busy, they wouldn't be coming over, sitting on my sofa, swilling my good whiskey, eating my doritos and telling me stories to curl my hair. Boot SunSeeker is the creation, and appears courtesy of Irene Heron, whose AU Adventures series this is spun-off from.
Feedback: I crave it. It's my favorite high. More, more, more! (I'm a pig for it)
Pairing: Luke/Han, Luke/Leia, mention of Q/O, and Qui-Gon/Shmi
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: ANH
Summary: Rescued from a life of slavery, Luke finds he can have anything, and anyone, he wants.
Warnings: explicit m/m sex, explicit m/f sex, psychological violence
Luke Skywalker, Sith Lord. Aunt Beru, Force of Evil. Slavery, prostitution, coerced sex, misuse of the Force, semiconsensual sibling incest in dynastic machinations. If any of these concepts squick you, leave now. Dark, dark, dark.

Obligatory Opening Quote:
Every harlot was a virgin once. Nor canst thou change Kate to Nan. --William Blake, _The Marriage of Heaven and Hell_

Nothing better than walking the streets of a pleasure planet with a pocket full of credits, Han Solo thought as he paused to watch a pair of very shapely ladies walk past. They seemed more interested in each other than in the pro forma proposition they made him.

His last cargo, a gigantic statue for a minor religious cult here on Tzalna, was safely in the hands of the proper owners a week early. That had meant a two thousand credit bonus atop the exorbitant fee they had offered. It had been easy, legal money. Even after paying for a few repairs and upgrades on his baby, tucking back some living expenses and splitting with Chewbacca, he still had enough for a great deal of fun. The credit chips felt too warm through the fabric of his pants pocket.

First, a meal. Real food, fresh and not vacpacked, frozen or synthesized. Then some shopping. The Falcon's stores were a little low on some luxuries. Then, maybe a couple of drinks, not too much. Then a tour of some of the more interesting looking buildings he was passing. A definite twist churned through his lower belly at that idea. Someone soft and shaped just right. Yeah, that was a plan. He'd give that last idea more thought over dinner.

Later, wrapped around a well spiced meat pie and some of the local vegetables, his purchases stashed aboard the ship, and two glasses of good brandy warming his chest, he wandered out in search of real adventure.

Luke Skywalker, late of Tatooine, grimaced at his reflection and shifted the sarong knotted around his hips. The soft ver-cloth, light blue on dark, draped in a way that left little to the imagination. After six months, he should be getting used to this, but he still fought a blush every time his owner delivered the evening's clothing.

He knew he had to be hired tonight. His owner was getting testy, and he hadn't encouraged any customers in a week. He wasn't making his quota and K'Ryf Levant's punishments for that were near-legendary. He stared in the mirror and debated on make-up. Maybe just a touch at the eyes or some glitter dust. In the end, he decided the touseled, fresh-scrubbed look would work best. He mussed his hair a bit, and smiled engagingly at the mirror. He hastened downstairs, late again.

"That was your last chance, Golden Boy," barked Levant. The four-armed humanoid was sitting behind a desk, writing with two hands, directing the concierge to open the door for the evening's trade with a third, and pointing the last accusingly at Luke. "It's booth duty for you tomorrow."

Luke winced. Arnowa, a young Askajian, patted him lightly as he stood beside her. "Booth duty's not so bad, honey," she said, giving lie to her words a moment later with a sigh that heaved all six of her breasts. She patted his rear again.

"Don't do that. Bad enough when the clients do."

"Sorry. I like the blue. It brings out your so-changeable eyes." She moved away.

"As far as it is from my eyes, how can you tell?" he grumbled.

There wasn't much crowd at this hour. Levant's opened earlier than most of the brothels in the Quarter. A couple afternoon regulars, and a spacer, just off the landing pad by the looks of him. The regulars requested their usual, and the spacer settled in one of the chairs to look over his options.

Seeing his attention was mainly focused on several of the ladies, Luke gave him his best number-three smile, the "I'm dazzling you with my gorgeousness" one, and settled in for a long wait.

Levant's seemed like a reasonable place. The workers were all human or nearly so. Han had waved off the Askajian girl early. Six breasts might sound good in fantasy, but it was too much in reality. The girls were all pretty, and the boys were too, but nothing struck his fancy. Then he saw the god.

The man looked like he had stepped off a pedastal behind someone's altar. He couldn't have seen the back side of twenty. The fair hair fell to his shoulders, half-touseled like he'd just tumbled out of bed. The smooth, lightly tanned chest was shaped, but without the exaggerated musculature some cultivated. The blue sarong he wore matched his eyes and covered the conventions, but clung to every shape beneath. He noticed Han looking and flashed the most gorgeous smile in seven sectors.

Han urged a cuddlesome blue-haired girl off his lap as he stood. A quick, low-voiced haggle with the proprietor and he dropped the money on the desk.

"Right up the stairs. Room 17. Golden Boy! You got a job."

The god detatched himself from the wall he was leaning on, and strolled over to the desk. His eyes took in Han, categorized and dismissed him as another job.

"Follow me." The voice was too petulant and bored to be anything but human. Han was almost disappointed. Well, he hadn't hired the boy for small talk.

Luke couldn't believe his luck. This would be an easy night. The spacer looked good for about 15 minutes of sweat and then he'd sleep. They always did. He would wake in the middle of the evening and probably want seconds. Then he'd leave, and Luke would be able to hit the floor again by midnight. Two tricks in a night might get Levant off his case. The spacer might even leave an extra tip. House policy was that all extra tips were shared, but everyone held out.

He put a little extra strut in his walk. Sometimes that was enough to have them half-way to done before they were even in his room. Those usually finished with hands and a little mouth work. Easy money.

Half an hour later, face-down on his bed, Luke realized he was totally wrong in his assessment. Well not totally. The client was rock hard and ready when they got to his room. His hands had been fine, and his mouth had been readily accepted, but only as appetizers. Now his guy was going for the main course like he was a full-service buffet.

Han bit down on a groan and thrust himself deeper into the warmth beneath him in culmination. A god indeed. Obviously of some cult that believed sex was the direct route to the afterlife. With a mouth like that, this kid could be getting top prices on any of the Core worlds.

He ran his hands from the boy's hips to his shoulders and back again before pulling out to clean up. He couldn't resist a final circle of the perfect globes under his hand before heading to the 'fresher, one hand absently holding up his still-open trousers.

He returned, cleaned and closed, to find the young man still lying on his stomach, watching the door.

"Uh, 'fresher's free if you need it."

Gracefully, he rose and left. Han sat on the edge of the bed, and dug into his pocket. He dropped fifty Imperial credits on the nightstand. He didn't know what the house cut was on the workers' take in this place, but he always liked to leave a little extra, especially for a job as well done as this one had been.

He got a bit of a surprise when a warm, still-naked body dropped into his lap. He hadn't been expecting anything more.

"I thought you'd be asleep."

"Nah. So what's your name, Golden Boy?"

"Why?"

"So I can request you next time."

"Buy my indenture and you can have me all the time." The way the boy was squirming was definitely distracting.

"How rich do you think I am, kid?" The words came out before Han really thought about them, or what the kid had just said.

"Rich enough to hire me for the whole night, and leave an extra fifty for me. That takes some money."

"Indenture? You're a slave?" It clicked now. Damn but he was distracting. It had been a while since he was ready for a second try this quickly.

"Not technically. Officially, I'm contract labor on a fifteen year contract." Typical Imperial chincanery. No one that young should have so much bitterness, but Han decided it was justified, especially given that this world's orbit was about twice the human norm. A fifteen year indenture here would leave the kid middle-aged.

"What's your name?" he asked again, more gently, stopping the delicious squirming with a pair of firm hands on the shoulders.

"What do you want it to be?" The pouty lips were millimeters from his.

"Don't make me ask again." The tone was becoming mildly threatening and the hands closed a little tighter.

"Luke." The answer came out like a revealed secret, like a treasure kept hidden and only looked at when completely safe.

"I like it. Is there more?"

"Luke's all you need!" The younger man flung off his hands, and swung off his lap. He sat on the other side of the narrow bed.

Han put up his hands in a placating gesture. "Take it easy. Where you from? Or are you native?"

"Tatooine. I used to be the portmaster at Mos Eisley. Boot, my assistant, turned out to be a slaver, and I found myself here."

"Portmaster? Now I know you're lying. The portmaster at Mos Eisely is older than the sand at Mos Eisley."

"Ferg was a good man. His heart started going about two years ago. He hired me, and when he retired, I took over. Been here about six months."

"I was slated for a run to Tatooine about six months ago. But something came up."

"You could buy me and make it up..." Startlingly, Luke leaned in and began to nibble at his ear.

"And what would I do with baggage like you? You'd eat, you'd drink, you'd take fuel to lift off-planet. What am I gonna do, keep you in my cabin like a pet? My co-pilot would shed all over everything at the extra expense."

"I can fly. I used to race in Beggar's Canyon and buzz the womprats. I threaded the Stone Needle once. Shed?"

"Wookiees do that, ya know."

"Sands!" Luke's eyes got big enough to fall out of his head. "You're...that is, are you?"

"Am I what?"

Luke lowered his voice as if someone might hear. "Only one human ships with a Wook in this part of space. Are you Solo?"

Han quirked the one-sided smile at him. "What about it?"

"You are? You're a legend at Chalmun's. And there's a price on your head. So far I haven't heard if it's off-planet yet, but half the scum old Wuher serves are keeping their eyes on the door for you to come in."

"They are? And how about you? Were you watching with them?"

"Yeah, but not for the money." The slow tongue on the side of Han's neck told him exactly why Luke had been watching.

"Take that action lower." Luke followed directions splendidly.

The next morning, Han strode back aboard the Falcon, an impossible number roiling in his head. There was no way he'd be able to talk Chewie into it. He wondered if he could get his co-pilot to "negotiate" with Levant.

He explained the situation with characteristic bluntness.

"Young one, if all you say is true, we will free him. Did he say the Stone Needle?"

"Yeah, you know something?"

"It is a landmark near Anchorhead. It is a plinth of stone with a natural opening barely big enough for a skyhopper. Threading the Stone Needle means flying a skyhopper through the opening at top speed. If your young friend can do that, he would be well worth having on our crew. You always complain of working the nav board with your off-hand."

The early afternoon found Han back at Levant's at opening time. The door was off the hinges, and the furniture overturned. Random blaster burns marked the facade. Levant sat behind the desk, cradling his head in 2 arms, a third was in a sling.

"I've come to buy out an indenture."

"Ruined. I'm ruined. And you want to buy an indenture? Of course. What else could happen, right? Who did you want?"

"The blond kid. Luke."

"Golden Boy's gone. The Imps took him."

"What?"

"Tossed the place and hauled him out in mid-trick. We run a morning special on Midweekday. Why they'd send a whole squadron after a bangtail slave like him, I'll never know. Can I offer you someone else?" Han was out the door before he finished.

The Millennium Falcon put several rapid parsecs between itself and the pleasure world. Han didn't know if the kid was wanted or an Imperial plant. But given the current state of the prices on his head, he thought it best not to wait to find out.

Luke stood in the cell in the same way the troopers had taken him. They had stunned his client, leaving the man in a crumpled heap beside the bed, and dragged him bodily down the stairs and out the door. He'd wanted to get away from Levant, had in fact been working on his escape plan, but not like this. This was out of the pan and onto the heat-element.

There were probably more humiliating things than being marched naked from the door to a waiting troop transport, then taken from the transport through a hanger and a million miles of corridor with people at every turn, but he couldn't think of any. A small part of his brain reminded him he'd been a whore for six months, how could he possibly have any shame left? He was grateful for the binders that let him cover himself inconspicuously.

On second thought, he wasn't sure this was a cell. It looked more like a conference room. He looked a little more closely at the huge table. He might be unsophisticated, but he knew enough to know that interrogation tables usually didn't come with computer consoles.

The hiss of the door startled him. He spun, putting the bulk of the table between him and the newcomer. A giant in black armor loomed. The face was familiar from a thousand holocasts, and Luke nearly panicked. The Empire's most visible symbol of authority turned from Luke to the aide at his side.

"He's still naked? Have clothing brought."

"Yes, Lord Vader." The aide scurried out. There was no sound except the respirator's wheeze until the clothing arrived.

Luke looked at the pile of clothes, at the armored man, and at the aide. He shrugged, lifted his bound hands and began to pull on the pants.

"Unbind him, fool." The displeasure was evident, and the twitchy way the aide fumbled the keys suggested that someone's head would roll for the errors.

Luke dressed and sat down opposite Lord Vader. The aide stood nervously behind his superior's chair.

"I must apologize for the treatment you received this morning. My troops are loyal, but overzealous."

"If you wanted me so badly, I'm sure Levant would have delivered." Luke shifted in the chair, legs apart, a hand tantilizingly high on his thigh, the other behind his head, and let smile number 5, a "You really want me?" seduction smile, cross his face. He didn't know what was under the armor, and he really didn't want to find out. But it didn't look like he had a lot of say in the matter.

"You will cease this disgraceful behavior at once!" The aide cringed at the Dark Lord's voice. "You are the son of a Sith Lord, not a whore."

"Since when? I seem to recall a gentleman who might disagree with you, if your men hadn't stunned him in mid-fuck."

"And you will discard certain phrases from your vocabulary at once, beginning with that one," rumbled Vader.

Luke ceased the sprawl, and just slumped in the chair. He was out of line and he knew it. "What is a Sith Lord? My father was a navigator on a spice freighter when he died." The door opened again. It took Luke a moment to identify the woman standing there. "Aunt Beru?" He sat up straight and smiled the first real smile in six months.

His aunt looked well. Being widowed had actually agreed with her. She was dressed well, not flashy but expensively. She walked into the room with more poise than he'd ever seen her possess, and laid her hand on the giant's shoulder. He laid his gloved hand over hers in acknowledgement and then beckoned her to sit.

"Hello, Luke." Her pleased smile had an almost self-satisfied air. "It's good to see you. I've been very worried. When you didn't call, I started asking questions. I knew you'd never leave Tatooine without letting me know."

"Sorry about that," Luke mumbled, staring at the table.

"Nothing to be sorry for, dear. Slavers happen. The underground economy is a necessity. When I didn't hear, I contacted my brother, your father, and had him begin looking for you. I had a bad feeling we'd find you someplace like this. I'm only sorry it took so long."

"I thought my father was dead?" he accused.

"A necessary lie told by your uncle," she said matter-of-factly. "Just as old Kenobi has no knowledge of my heritage, so he thought to keep you from yours."

"And he has failed again, my sister. For now, Luke is here, and I shall begin his formal training. I have much to do. You will both join me for dinner tonight." Vader left.

Luke's head was spinning from the amount of information he was trying to absorb. "Aunt Beru?"

"Let me tell it to you slowly, and you can fill me in on your travels, or not. I heard where they found you, and I'm not sure I want to know more. Lord Vader is your father. He was Anakin Skywalker before he became a Sith Lord. He was a Jedi and studied under Ben Kenobi. When he embraced the Sith, Kenobi turned against him, fought him, and injured him so badly that the armor is the only thing keeping him alive. When you were born, Kenobi took you from your mother and brought you to his brother, Owen. He stayed on Tatooine to watch over you. Anakin had requested I marry Owen some years before for just that eventuality. Remember all the games we played when you were a child? How you would find lost things, and chase out the glitchs in the household droids merely by closing your eyes and concentrating? You are Force sensitive, Luke, and, now that you are old enough, your father will train you to use that power. You can have anything you want with it. Who knows, you could become Emperor."

Luke had never seen his aunt like this. She had never talked this much when his uncle was alive. But he supposed people with secrets didn't. But her words stuck with him, "anything you want."

Last night, he had serviced a legend. Tonight, he was a legend. The thought of Solo made him wince. What if he did come back to buy the indenture like he had said he would? Luke shrugged. The spacer was probably quadrants away and had forgotten all about him.

"Did my father set me up with a room here? It's been a very exhausting morning."

"Of course, dear. Come along. You will have such an exciting life. I'm only sorry I didn't destabilize that vaporator earlier to get Owen out of the way."

The arrest on Devak Six took Han and Chewbacca by surprise. For once, they were pretty much in the clear. A forged waiver, true, but they had been hauling only legal cargo for the last year. The fiasco at Levant's had left Han determined to keep his nose absolutely clean and attract no Imperial attention.

The local garrison leader ran a hot sheet on them, and was surprised by their "Priority One: Capture" status. "Who'd you make a fool of?" he wanted to know. "We usually just blow small fry like you out of the sky. You've got the attention of someone high up."

The prisoners looked at each other. This could not be good. A "Capture" order usually meant a slow death at the hands of the interrogators. They began studying the duraslabs of the lock-up for a way out.

"Escape plans will do you no good. You won't be held here. Take them to the shuttle."

They were quick-marched onto the shuttle by a dozen stun-gun armed guards. Once secured, both in binders, Chewbacca restrained in a monomesh net and a large cage as well, the shuttle lifted.

"A Star Destroyer. I have a really bad feeling now, Chewie. Look, if you get a chance, run for it."

"And default on a Life-debt? I think not. We face it together, young one."

"It's your fur." He fell silent and watched the bulk of the ship loom ever nearer in the viewport.

Once aboard, the pair was separated, Chewbacca being taken to the holding cells while a heavily-guarded, electro-bound Han was escorted to the bridge. This was not the reception he had expected. The basic ship design hadn't changed in fifteen years, and his mind raced with hopeless scenarios: making a break for it and taking the commander hostage, overpowering a gunner and turning the great belly gun on the ship itself. But he was too much in the habit of living to throw it away.

The commander kept his back turned, staring out the viewport, until Han itched to put a blasterbolt between the arrogant shoulders. He noticed, with the unoccupied portion of his mind, the commander's uniform wasn't stadard Imperial drab, but solid black. If there hadn't been six troopers with blast rifles, he'd have tried jumping the guy. The commander was short and slight. He didn't look like much trouble. But there was the quiet voice of self-preservation telling Han that little guy or not, the commander was not to be underestimated.

In fact, he began to notice a distinct aura of tension on the bridge. The stormtroopers shifted uneasily in their armor, being as unobtrusive as possible. The crew hunched over their work, with the grim concentration of men trying not to be noticed. There was no laxity, no quiet humor passed between the men at their stations. This was a man not to be trifled with.

He turned.

And the word was out of Han's mouth before he realized it was coming. "Luke?"

"So pleased you remember me, Captain Solo." The smile was hard in a way that even the carefully-practiced ones at the brothel had not been. "Escort him to the briefing room. Make him comfortable. I will be there shortly."

His wits could not decide whether to stay collected or run gibbering through corridors, so Han meekly allowed himself to be escorted out. The sergeant removed his binders, and showed him the bevsynth and the 'fresher. Han made use of both, and when Luke came in, he was working on a second cup of kaf, the strongest he could get out of the machine.

"You've had a quiet year," Luke began. "I, on the other hand, have had a most interesting one. Oh, yes, I have kept tabs on you. How else would I have known where you were when I decided I wanted you?"

"Wanted me?" The words were almost a squeak.

"Oh yes. You see, although word may not have reached the Rim, my father is the new Emperor. Palpatine was old and senile. My father, Lord Vader, deposed him a month ago. He's fond of me. I could have anything in the galaxy I want. But I really don't want much: a family, a ship of my own, revenge." Han gulped loudly. "And you."

"Why me? There's billions of men out there, better looking, more famous, whatever. Women too."

"Ah, but none with the answers I want. And do tell the truth. I will know if you are lying. If you decide to be tiresome, I will deal with you." Although Luke was across the room, Han still felt a hand close around his throat, briefly. "On the other hand, I still have memories of a certain night when someone left an extra fifty just for me." The phantom hand had moved southward and lost its threatening attitude as it stroked some of the more sensitive spots it seemed the younger man remembered.

"The money wasn't the issue. I want to know: did you come back as you said you would?"

"Yes." Somethng told Han his characteristic flipness would be taken badly. This Imperial officer might look like the blond god he had hired, but there was almost nothing left of the boy. Even the changeable blue eyes had turned steely grey. The invisible touch caressed his groin.

"Why?"

"Because once I give my word, I don't go back on it. You know my partner's a Wookiee. They have strong feelings about 'contract labor.' He insisted I take his share of our last job as well. A fifteen year indenture ain't cheap." More strokes from the touch.

"And that, my Corellian friend, is the only reason why his pelt is still attatched. The bounty on your partner is more impressive than any of the ones on you. " Luke paced a bit, his hands clapsed behind his back. "Why did you promise to come back?" This was not the voice of the officer, but sounded as young as his years.

"I needed a good navigator." It came off too rehearsed, and the phantom hand started closing around his throat. "What are you doing to me?"

"I am a Sith lord, like my father." The calm voice of the young man staring out the port as if he were completely unconcerned, chilled Han as much as the words and the legends they called up. "That is a Force-hold. I already explained it to you. The truth gets you pleasure. Lies earn only pain. Why did you promise to come back?"

"I don't really know. I hate slavery. And you weren't suited to it. It was killing something inside you, being forced into that kind of life." The Force-hold knew this for the truth and released his throat and returned to pleasuring him. He refrained from adding what he thought of the sea change before him.

Luke caught the thought anyway, even from across the room, and laughed, a humorless sound. "And being the Emperor's Right Hand has killed the rest of it?" He moved in close to the spacer. "You're very wrong. I have merely come out of my chrysalis, like a dark-wing flyer emerging from the worm I was. I have powers beyond your imagination, smuggler." An invisible neural net of pleasure overwhelmed Han, setting every inch of his skin crawling with sweet fire. He arched in the chair.

"I have everything. I have my father, and my aunt. I have a ship of my own. I have taken Boot Sunseeker apart, extracting one muscle at a time. And Levant screamed for a month before he died. And, now, I have you. My ship is large enough that the amount of food, drink and fuel you consume will not be noticed."

Mildly shamed at having his own words thrown back at him, Han managed, "So what? You're going to keep me as an exotic pet?" His self control was fracturing under the onslaught.

The steel gaze assessed him for a second time. "What other use do I have for a petty criminal like you? You are mine, make no mistakes. Your co-pilot will be deported back to Kashyyk. I believe he has a family there?" The question didn't really need an answer. "But, should he ever try spacing again, I cannot intervene. Come." The command was irresistable, and the beatifically malevolent smile followed Han into the darkness behind his eyelids. When he recovered, Luke helped him out of the chair. "Follow. We need to clean you up and get you into clothing more properly befitting my personal aide."

"Is that what they're calling it these day? As opposed to contract labor?"

The half-smile was back. "Nicely riposted. I do hope you won't lose that spirit, Captain." The phantom hand ran along his face.

Han, surprised at his own daring, reached out and grabbed both of the smaller man's wrists. "Look, no more of this remote control. You want to touch me, do it yourself. I don't know how you're doing this, and I don't want to. Just stop."

The humorless, soulless laughter again. "I think you are forgetting who belongs to whom. If it is my pleasure, I will use it. The fear you generate makes it irresistable." This time the real hand stroked his face. "You're starting to hate me. That's good. Hate, anger and fear are strengths. Use them."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have choices." The smile was pure ice. "You follow me now, I keep you, and your partner goes home. Refuse me, and I let you go. Your ship is in the landing bay."

"Simple as that?"

"Of course, nothing says my gunners couldn't use some target practice. Or that your ship would not have an unfortunate accident upon entering hyperspace. There are always choices. But only one keeps you alive to fight another day."

Han followed.

The trip to Kashyyk took three days. Luke was generous about allowing time for the friends to say their farewells.

The first time had been touch and go. When Han, escorted by stormtroopers, and straightjacketed in an imperial uniform, rank pips and sidearm conspicuously missing, had appeared, Chewbacca had snarled warningly. The captain of the detention cell had found it amusing, and was taking bets on the Corellian's survival as he cycled him through the airlocks and double cage.

"They take no chances with me, little one. I am a dangerous criminal." On a human the tone would have been self-mocking laughter. "What has happened? What is this?" he asked, brushing at the uniform, and ruffling his partner's newly cropped hair.

"This," Han said tugging at the collar of the uniform, "is what pleases the Emperor's Right Hand. We're headed to Kashyyk. You're mostly pardoned, but you're grounded. The bounties on you are waived as long as you remain on planet. But if you lift, they change from 'Dead or alive' to simply 'dead.' That means you don't come after me!"

Chewbacca batted the finger out of his face, gently. "And where will you be while I am safe at home?"

"You remember about a year ago, Levant's and the navigator we were going to free? He's in charge." Chewbacca hooted his disbelief. "It gets better. He's the Emperor's son too." Han filled in most of the details of the last day, omitting the more personal ones. Chewbacca's nose and observations of his movements filled those in. "I'm stuck." He tugged at the collar and rubbed his missing blaster. "I hate this. The uniform feels like it's leaving slime on my skin."

"Be careful, Han. You have struck a very bad bargain. I will not leave you among enemies."

"He'll get tired of me." Han's voice held more confidence than he felt. "When he does, I'll get the Falcon back and come get you. I'm sure I can get him to lift your planetary restriction."

"As you wish. My life is still in your debt."

"And right now I'm telling you, hang on to it, we'll need it later."

They talked longer, discussing the future and planning for the day Han would come back to his co-pilot. The new chrono at his belt sounded.

"I'm outta time, pal. He wants me back. I'll come back if I can. If not, take care of yourself."

Chewbacca was an emotional being, and not content to let things pass like that. He folded his partner into the firmest hug a human could stand. Han breathed in the spicy woody scent of his best friend, and hoped it wasn't the last time. He silently took back all the bad things he'd ever said about shedding, and the way wet Wookiees smell. He committed the big lug to a safe spot in his memory.

Then the detention commander began cycling him back through the security measures. Han strode rapidly through the decks, nearly leaving his escort behind. The look on Luke's face as he entered the cabin told him he hadn't been fast enough.

"We dine with my aunt in mere minutes and you arrive reeking of the animal you space with. Into the 'fresher, and no delay! You will pay if we are late."

A very quick dash through the sonic shower, a clean uniform from the autovalet and he was ready to go. Luke nodded approvingly, and motioned him to follow.

Aunt Beru was a charming manipulator, and took to Han at once, recognizing a kindred spirit. Dinner was very long.

Han told Chewbacca about it during their afternoon visit. The wookiee looked more concerned with each moment.

"And after we take you home, we are rendezvousing with the Emperor on some kind of new space station. I've got a very bad feeling about the whole thing."

A day later, Han stood on the bridge, watching the shuttle plummet to the surface of the jungle planet. "Happy landing, old friend," he said softly.

"Good," commented the low voice in his ear. "Now, you're all mine. No more giving you up for afternoons. And you won't be allowed on the bridge again."

For the next fourteen days, Han found himself a virtual prisoner in the posh cabin. Luke was apparently in no hurry to make the rendezvous. Han paced. He tapped the holonets. He paced some more. He slept entirely too much, and wondered where he had gone wrong, and why fate had turned against him so cruelly. Mostly he wondered if it might not have been better to have made a dash for the Falcon, and turned and dived at the Star Destroyer, taking them both in a blaze of glory.

As bad as the days were, the nights were worse. Under other circumstances, he suspected Luke would have been a most charming bed partner. However, six months at Levant's and a year with the Empire had turned the young man's wide streak of anger into sheer cruelty.

The first night, Han was surprised to find they would be actually sleeping in the same bed.

"Aren't you worried I'll try something?"

"Like murdering me in my sleep? I don't think so. You're a crack shot, but you aren't a cold-blooded murderer. And, if anything should happen to me while we are alone, rest assured my father will have you executed in the slowest, most painful way he can imagine. And he has a vivid imagination. Sleep well."

Han didn't. He'd slept alone for too many years to be comfortable. He was not surprised Luke was a blanket thief, but amazed that he was a snuggler to the point of actually shoving Han out of bed one night.

No matter where they began the night, usually facing away as far as the mattress permitted, within an hour of Luke falling asleep, he would be flush against whatever side of Han was nearest. In those hours, Han slept little, but held him, trying to find the former portmaster under the sith lord, and wished on everything he could think of that he had gone to Levant's as soon as Chewbacca had agreed. This was the time when he saw what he came very quickly to think of as "his Luke," the blond god, as opposed to "Lord Vengar" who held him captive. The contrast between the waking imperial and the sleeping boy occupied his mind far too often during the hours alone. The worry about that separation of identities occupied even more.

On the fifteenth morning, klaxons jarred them awake. Luke bolted out of bed and slapped the com to the bridge. Han was just glad he never used the video. He had been made to sleep with his wrists bound to the headboard. While he was sure the picture he presented appealed to some, he didn't like the idea of the whole bridge crew discussing it.

"Lord Vengar, we have disabled the rebel ship we've been shadowing and are preparing to board. Several stolen transmissions were beamed aboard her by spies. We have terminated them."

"I will join the boarding. Out." Luke hastily dressed in his usual black. It was not an Imperial uniform, despite his rank. A metal tube hung from his belt.

"Luke?" Han managed to get out. When the Sith looked at him, he flexed his arms, tugging the bonds.

"You'll stay like that until I return."

"Please? I can't feel my hands."

"Are you arguing?" His hand hovered near the tube. "I don't have time for you."

Oh, stars. It was going to be one of _those_ days. Han braced himself and bit back the bile. "Please, my lord?" He hated begging, but it usually worked.

"Very well. But, I will not always be so merciful." He pulled the tube from his belt and pressed a switch. Blood-red coherent energy sprang into being. Han stared.

"A lightsaber? That's a Jedi weapon." He flinched as it sliced delicately through his bonds.

"What do you think the Sith are, you ignorant Corellian? We are Jedi of the Dark Side of the Force. Prepare yourself for tonight. You will be clean well-groomed and attentive. We are having a guest." Luke stalked out the door.

Han spent a while trying to get feeling back into his hands. Then, he tried to meditate as he had watched Luke do. His body was still in panic-mode. He had felt sure that the lightsaber was meant for his body as opposed to his bonds. He managed to quit shaking, but all his mind could do was return to the horrific possibilities that might lay in store for the night. He dwelt on the possible payments that might be extracted from his dignity in return for the kindness this morning, and what might be visited on him if the guest angered Luke, and could not be killed out of hand. Finally, he gave up and followed the instructions.

The small woman stared daggers at her stormtrooper escort. The slight man in black was a half span shorter than the armored troops around her, and she focused her hatred on him. "Darth Vengar. I should have known. Only you could be so bold. The Imperial Senate--" Her voice stopped like a comlink cut off in mid sentence.

"Is no longer your concern, Your Highness." He watched with mild amusement as she struggled for words that would not come. "You are a leader of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor. Your voice will return when you decide to tell me what you have done with the stolen plans."

The puzzled innocence on her face reminded Luke of his own well-practiced smiles.

He turned to an aide, "Take her to my ship and make her comfortable. The Emperor has business with her. Double guards." The Princess' look could melt transparasteel as the stormtroopers escorted her out.

A prickle in the Force alerted him, and he stepped into a deserted cabin. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head, opening himself to the contact. "What is thy bidding, my father?" he asked both aloud and through the Force.

You will refrain from using your abilities on the Princess.

"Yes, Father."

Do you have the data tapes?

"Not yet, Father. They are not on the ship, but we are searching along the last trajectories of the jettisoned escape pods."

They must not fall into the wrong hands. Not those of the Rebels, nor those of Kenobi. Also, the time has come for you to put away your companion.

"Father?"

He has entertained you, but you agreed to put him aside for a woman and sire an heir when the time was ripe. The Princess will do nicely. She is a Force-sensitive. Awaken her to this and guide her to join us here in the Darkness.

"But, Father, how can we? There are only two Sith at once, Master and Apprentice."

Jedi lies. She is not a warrior.

"As you command, my Father. She will join us or die."

Do well, my son. The contact severed, Luke stood and left the cabin.

"Destroy the ship. Inform her father and the Senate all aboard were killed."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And find those data tapes!" He strode back to the bridge of his ship, pondering the evening to come.

Leia Organa was surprised to find herself in a luxurious cabin rather than the brig. But a prison was a prison, regardless of how well-appointed. It worried her that her jailor was treating her so well. The message light on the table terminal flashed.

Curious, she retrieved the message. Lord Vengar's youthful face smiled at her in an obvious attempt to be charming. "Your Highness. It would be my pleasure for you to join me tonight for dinner. Your autovalet will provide you with any clothing or small items you need. Please avail yourself of all the conviences. You are the guest of the Emperor."

Leia snorted her amusement. It would do her good to get cleaned up. She fed her dress, belt and boots into the autovalet, with instructions to clean them. She stepped into the sonic shower, and let the vibrations remove the outer layer of dead cells from her body, and the layer of grime from her hair.

She dressed and began to work on her hair. Two could play at the charm game, and Leia was willing to bet she had more experience than the young Imperial. She was a politician and a diplomat, born in the royal palace of Alderaan. This young man had burst onto the scene less than a year ago, spomsored by both the Emperor and Lord Vader. There were rumors he was a relative of one of them. There were other, darker rumors, heard from a few senators in or near the Tzalna system. On second thought, she changed out of her simple white senatorial gown and programmed the autovalet for something a bit more daring. Still pristine white, she lowered the neckline to just the top of her cleavage. Every advantage in a skirmish, which was what dinner was, regardless of the polite words of the invite. The skirt was narrower, and she slit it up to midthigh. The machinery hummed quietly to itself for a moment and then distributed the dress.

The guards knocked at her door, a pleasant surprise, and she scowled at them. They took her to a small conference room which had been converted for the dinner. She was the last to arrive.

The two men stood up as she entered, and the older lady in the chromosilk nodded politely. One of her escort pulled out a chair for her, before he and the other stormtroopers were dismissed.

"So I'm not to be cuffed to the chair?" she asked, taking in the reactions carefully. The other woman shot an accusing glance at Darth Vengar. Nor did the senator miss the slight tightening of the older man's jaw. Lord Vengar, however, just laughed. She decided she didn't want to hear that sound again.

"No, no, of course not. Aunt Beru, don't look at me like that. You taught me better manners. Dear Princess, you're our guest." He stepped to her side to bow over her hand. His lips were dry, cool and somehow repulsive yet electrifying on her skin. "We're all family here tonight. Please, call me Luke. And I shall call you Leia."

Mindful that she was attempting to outcharm him, she flashed him a dazzling smile, and then turned it on the older man next to him as well. He met her eyes briefly and then looked away.

"Of course. And I would say you've forgotten any manners your lovely aunt tried to teach you, since you haven't introduced me to our companions." She kept her tone light enough to avoid making it a true accusation.

"My aunt, Beru Lars. My personal aide, Han Solo, who has indeed forgotten his manners." The tall man came to her side and bowed over her hand as Luke had. She didn't miss the extra sharpness in Luke's voice, or the implicit threat in the glare he shot his aide.

"I'm honored to meet you, Your Highness." His voice was low, soft and rich, but the brown eyes that met hers held only anxiety.

She smiled charmingly at her companions as they returned to their seats. "So, Luke," she made a conscious effort to use his name, "what prompted you to return my voice?"

"I must ask your pardon for my lapse of temper earlier, sweet Leia. I was not at my best," he said smoothly.

"I allowed familiarity, my lord. You are over-familiar." The chill of her smile matched his.

"Your pardon, Princess."

"Two apologies in the space of two minutes," Beru marvelled. "Leia, child, can we keep you?" Even Han half-smiled at that idea.

Leia smiled at the older woman. "I do fear I am expected elsewhere. My father requires my presence next week for the planting festivals. And of course, the Senate is back in session shortly after that." She tried to make the unspoken "And if I'm not there, the Empire will be blamed" clear.

"Ah." Luke's comment was neutral.

Dinner wore on, a tapestry of bland comments with spiced centers, and thinly hidden threats. Luke was discovering that the beautiful woman had both brain and spirit, and was enjoying himself with her immensely. Beru enjoyed watching him work. He was so clever, and she was never sorry she had defied both Owen and Ben in the matter of his education. Han sat quietly, eating little. He felt guilty for even hoping that this princess might take his place. If she would do it willingly, he'd be free again. That notion intoxicated him more than the wine, but he dared not let it show. Leia worked hard to keep herself focused let she make a conversational misstep that would give the match to this dark angel sitting across from her.

At length, Luke rose and offered his hand to the princess. "May we escort you back to your quarters, my dear?" His aide pulled the chair out from the table, and she stood, leaning just lightly on the Sith.

"You may."

"Good night, dear aunt," he bent to kiss her cheek before he left.

"A pleasure meeting you, Gentlelady Lars," Leia added. She noted the older man merely sketched a small bow to her, as he followed them out, remaining two paces behind them at all times.

Luke said nothing during the walk, taking a different and seemingly much longer route than the stormtroopers had. She almost spoke when his thumb brushed across the knuckles of her hand that was tucked in his.

They made a handsome couple, Han thought walking behind them. Luke was on his very best court manners, and Leia wore hers as well. A Prince and a Princess, and so very right walking together, her arm laid atop his, her hand held formally in his. The wild hope he had squelched so firmly during dinner was back. Most of him was thrilled. He hoped Leia would stay, of her own accord. Then, he remembered two nights before, and shuddered. There was no way the princess would want to endure that. But, maybe, she could be the one to banish this Sith mask forever, and bring his Luke to the fore.

The cold look in the blue eyes that met his over the black clad shoulder told him he was a fool for such dreams.

At the door of the princess' quarters, Luke stopped, and lifted Leia's hand to his lips again, his eyes never leaving hers. He lingered over it, his breath teasing the small hairs of her wrist, the warmth of his lips searing the skin. Then he remembered his aide.

"Han, return to your quarters."

"Yes, my lord," he responded neutrally. "Good night, Your Highness." He bowed to the Princess.

As he rounded the corner, Luke looked searchingly at the young woman before him. "Sweet Leia," he began.

Having been down this road with any number of men, Leia knew what was coming next. She stretched up, kissed his cheek lightly and said "Thank you for a lovely dinner." in the most insincere tone she could manage. All part of the moves in the bigger game. She slipped through the door, and let it shut in his face.

She didn't expect him to trip off in a cloud, but anything to throw him off his guard would be good. Now for another shower. Too much contact with Imperial officers left her feeling as if she had been dipped in slime. She wondered about that aide, though. He wore no rank, and his demeanor was not that of a man happy in his position. It looked more like a man terrified of his superior.

Leia stood under the sonics. The two men played on her mind. The slim, fair sith lord, the evil an almost palpable electricity coming from him, and the tall, dark aide, who said nothing but saw everything with sad hazel eyes. She sensed nothing from him, good or evil, and wondered if he really was an officer.

"You were so quiet during dinner. What was on your mind?" The question was laced with a cold menace that informed Han he would would indeed be paying heavily for this morning.

"The Princess. What will you do with her?"

Luke sighed, time to tell what his father had ordered. "She's to take your place. Emperor's orders. After I produce an heir, I can have you back."

"What if you don't want me back? What if she's more to your liking?" Freedom was so close Han could almost taste it.

The stern glance told him that was very unlikely. "You are mine. What is mine, I don't give up. Not for my father, not for anyone. Besides, I am not to hurt her."

Han's blood ran cold at that statement and the implications. He'd never been subtle, but weeks of close association had given him insight. He tried to shift in his chair, but found himself pinned. Forcebonds again. It would be a very long night indeed. Luke's hands held most of his weight on the older man's wrists.

Steel eyes loomed over him, glaring into his soul, and dismissing it with contempt. "I wanted her tonight. She brushed my cheek and shut the door in my face. How loud can you scream, my Corellian whore? Can you buy her safety?" The invisible bonds that held him to the chair began to tighten.

"Whore? I wasn't the one with credits on the nightstand." The bonds held him even tighter at this bit of defiance.

"I see you've found your tongue. Splendid. I'm afraid your life is going to be very miserable until I've won the Princess. And probably for a time after that. Do keep your spirit."

"There's half a starfleet," Han rasped through the hold that was growing ever tighter, "that you could do this to. Why me?"

"Because you're nothing, and yet you think you're something. I can't spare officers. I can't risk the disloyalty that a reign of terror breeds. You are a safe target. And you are the last to make the connection between Levant's and here." Luke let go and paced away. Without warning, the bonds let go. Effective conditioning kept Solo's hands on the arms of the chair, and off of his abused throat and arms.

"Tell me about your princess," he managed, hoping to derail where the evening was going.

"I know her from the Senate. She's a young hot-head from Alderaan, all fired up for freedom and justice and all the things she says the Empire isn't providing its citizens. Her father is influential in the peace faction. Get my boots." Luke sat down.

Now this, this was the prelude to a much quieter sort of entertainment. Han dropped to one knee and tugged the high, polished boots off. As he set each foot back on the floor, he caressed the back of each calf and knee in its turn.

"Was that gratitude, a distraction or is it possible you still want me after all this?"

"I want Luke back."

"I'm here."

"No, I think the man in front of me is still Lord Vengar. You see, Luke's a nice guy. He wouldn't be threatening me, or the pretty girl."

"You see only what you want to, fool. There is no division." When the kick knocked him across the room, Han was glad he'd already gotten the boots off. He sprawled against the bed, shaking his head to clear it. "Yes, I think that will do nicely. Since you are so bent on interceding for the Princess, I suppose it's only fitting you should take her place like this as well. Flat on your back."

That chimed with something he'd heard earlier. "So we're back to the Corellian whore?"

"We all are. It's only a matter of price. You sold your body to me for your partner's safety. If I choose to alter the bargain, all you can do is hope I don't alter it further. I wonder what the princess' price is going to be."

I only hope you never get the chance to find out. Han stifled the thought rapidly, and tried not to think about anything for the rest of the night.

The Princess' door slid open, and Lord Vengar's aide, she thought for a moment before coming up with his name, Han, stood there waiting for her.

"Your Highness, the honor of your presence is requested at the docking." The formal words didn't seem to fit him any better than the uniform. She noted again that the stormtroopers were armed and he was not.

She smiled at him, a real smile, not the fake charming ones. "And if you had to word that invite instead?"

"Wanna come to the bridge and watch them land this tail-heavy battlewagon? The new space station's supposed to be something to see."

She smiled again. "Now that invitation I'll accept, Mr. Solo."

He offered her his arm, very stiffly. She watched him walk to the lift. He moved like a man twice his age. Or one that had been badly beaten recently. She didn't recall the slow stiffness at dinner.

"Are you hurt?" she asked softly.

"Nothing serious. Lord Vengar enjoys sparring in the mornings, and this morning was a bit more intense than I am used to." He lied badly, she decided, slipping into the officer-level obscurationist language.

"You don't lie well, Mr. Solo. He hurt you. And I suspect it's my fault."

"Princess, you would do well to be less observant. We're here."

He led her onto the bridge, and handed her off to Luke. "Princess, delighted you could join us. My father awaits us in the docking bay."

"That's a space station?" Leia gasped.

"Governor Tarkin designed it. He's a genius, your Highness."

The station loomed ahead, the size of a small moon. The Star Destroyer's bulk was dwarfed against it. The pilot maneuvered the huge ship into the docking bay with considerable finesse.

The black-armored bulk of the Emperor waited for the disembarking crew, a hatchet-faced man beside him. Luke came down first and alone, his cape swirling about him like dark wings. He dropped to one knee before the Emperor. His father laid a hand on his head, and he stood.

"Aweful Father, may I present Senator-Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan."

The Princess walked down the ramp, and stopped at a formal distance from Vader. She dropped a curtsey calculated to the micron to be on the safe side of insolence. "Your servant, Your Majesty."

"Charming as ever," sneered Tarkin from his place beside the Emperor.

"Governor Tarkin." This time neither the nod nor the tone worried about insolence.

"Have your aide take her to her stateroom, and tend to your things, my son. I require your report at once."

Han found himself dealing with billetting flunkies and the overhelpful officers who had heard the order. The fact that he wore no rank put him outside the hierarchy, and he used it to his advantage, and Leia's.

She had almost nothing, and Luke was not one for personal effects. It took a single trip to get everything settled. Leia smiled, a real smile, just for him, as he made sure her quarters were adequate. "Thank you."

"All part of the service, Princess," he said, some of his old humor finding its way back from where he had stowed it. "Sorry about the guards. They aren't my idea."

She smiled again, and he left her.

He had nothing, not even the clothes he had been arrested in. His trousers still bore the Bloodstripe, but they weren't the old ones, comfortable from years of wear. A new uniform was dispensed daily by the autovalet, the old one having been broken into its components and used for whatever the ship's recycling system needed. Luke had almost nothing, just a holo of his family that Han set carefully in the usual place on the shelf. All officer quarters were laid out the same. He began investigating the new foodsynth, 'fresher and autovalet, so he could warn Luke of any bugs.

"The Princess remains recalcitrant, refusing to speak of anything but the veriest trivia. Had I not been on the receiving end of her wit, I would think her too vapid to be a rebel mastermind. The plans are contained in a pair of droids, a protoccol and an astromech. They are on Tatooine and in the hands of Obi-Wan Kenobi. At last report, about the time we came out of hyperspace, he was spotted in Mos Eisely looking for transport to Alderaan."

"Where we shall await him," rumbled Emperor Vader. "All has played out perfectly."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi? Surely he's dead by now," insisted Tarkin.

"By no means. I saw him two years ago at my uncle's farm. He was quite well then."

"Set a course for Alderaan. I want us there in less than a day," rumbled the emperor.

"This station has hyperdrive?"

"Certainly, dear boy," smiled Tarkin.

The other officers left, but father and son stayed.

"I could have had the base location if you'd let me take a free hand with the Princess. Peeling her mind like an onion would be a simple pleasure."

"She is more valuable to us functional than as a babbling idiot. I see you retain your companion."

"He provides a safety valve. Why can't I take her apart?"

"That would foil the dynasty. I will take her apart, leaving you as her shelter, her confidant, her last hope. When the final remnants of her life are stripped from her, she will come to you, the only trustworthy person near her. She will give herself willingly, you will accept her, and father a successor."

"I understand, Father."

"Make sure _he_ is not a distraction. To either of you."

"Yes, Father."

"I go to begin the prying. You would do well to rest and plan. You have done well, my son."

Basking in his father's approval, Luke returned to his cabin, dropping almost immediately into sleep.

Interlude--Tatooine

"Young Biggs, are you here, son?"

"Ben Kenobi?" The young man came out from under the sleek craft, wiping his hands. He shook with the old man. Unlike Owen Lars, the elder Darklighter had welcomed visits from the hermit, and Biggs was as much in awe of him now as he had been at ten.

"A pilot named BoShek told me you had taken unauthorized leave of His Majesty's forces, had a ship of your own and were on planet. Could I hire you to take me to Alderaan?"

"I'm headed that way, sir. The Shooting Star isn't much on comfort, though. She's a cargo craft. I live in a flight suit and sleep in the cockpit."

"If you've a spare suit, I'm sure I'll adjust. I can pay you as well."

"Just the extra fuel, sir. I consider it an honor to help someone like yourself, General."

"Ah, so you've been listening to legends the last few years." The old man chuckled.

"The spare is in the front hold. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

"I have droids that need to join us."

"No problem. Put them in the aft hold, and we'll be off."

Kenobi had disappeared into the ship with the droids, and Biggs was putting the final touches on the new gear he'd installed, when a blaster bolt ricocheted off the landing gear.

"Stop that ship!" came the metallic voice of a stormtrooper.

Biggs dashed into the Shooting Star, sealing the hatch and dropping into the pilot's chair. "Help me with any of the preflight you can, sir."

They lifted hastily, and Biggs punched the jump to Alderaan one-handed, barely looking at the controls. His other hand was working the remote control of the guns to fend off the TIE fighters that appeared out of nowhere.

"Five Star Destroyers, General. Quite a send-off. Hold tightly, please." They were safe in the limbo of hyperspace.

"Yes, our young friend decided to give me quite a going-away party," Kenobi said.

"What?"

"Those star destroyers were sent by Lord Vengar."

"What does Darth Vengar want with you?"

"Do you know who he is, Biggs?"

"I've heard of him on the telecasts, but I don't have video readout. His voice sounds familiar."

"He was Luke Skywalker before he was consumed by the Dark Side of the Force. I failed him as I failed his father. With great good fortune, we may be able to salvage the last of the Skywalkers."

"Luke? That's just crazy. Luke couldn't even get off-planet to the Academy!"

"The tale in Mos Eisley is he was sold off-planet by slavers."

Biggs slammed a clenched fist into the console. "Damn Owen. Had Luke gone with me to the Academy, he'd have been safe. Boys like him command high prices."

"My sources inform me of a raid on a brothel, and then a crash course in Imperial discipline followed by training as a dark Jedi."

"Luke a Jedi? That's even crazier. Jedi have been extinct for decades."

"Are you sure?" Ben quietly moved his robe aside to reveal his own lightsaber. "I was to train Luke, but his father, the Emperor, took him into the darkness before I had a chance."

"The Emperor. My best friend is a prince?" Biggs was practically reeling.

"Oh yes. It seems, my young friend, we have a great deal to discuss this trip."

Leia looked up as the door of her stateroom slid open. The wheeze of the Emperor's respirator chilled her even before the torture droid floated into the room behind him.

"I trust your accomodations are comfortable, Princess?" She stared at him. "You have my son to thank. He has been far too generous with you. But now, Your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base."

The screams were audible through the wall, and the guards found it expedient to step a short distance down the corridor, letting distance erase some of the terror.

Wrung out from the session, Vader retired to his hyperbaric meditation chamber. He hadn't dosed her with enough TellAll to force the truth from her. This had been more about violating her personality

The robot arms lifted the helmet from his head, and he removed the respirator mask. The oxygen pressure in here was high enough he didn't require it. He sat the mask on a shelf and looked at it. His own face wasn't nearly as fearsome and fear had its uses. He'd been a very good looking young man once, much like Luke. Luke was learning to turn his looks into a weapon of a more delicate sort. If the mask was a club with which Vader instilled fear in the galaxy, his son's golden fairness was a rapier so sharp the victim never felt the pain of the wound until he fell dead from it.

His children were more of a trial than he'd expected. Leia had been almost hopelessly corrupted by the peace-loving Alderaani. He thanked the Dark that Beru had had a stabilizing influence on Luke. The resentment between Owen and his brother was an unexpected bonus, and Vader suspected her of seeding that to keep Obi-Wan away from the boy. And to learn she was capable of the ruthless murder of her husband had stunned and pleased him. He had known she was a Force-sensitive and a teacher from the first moment he held her when his mother had come to Coruscant, finally free. He had seen much of the Skywalker heritage, in her, but the eyes were pure Jinn. Ironic that Kenobi's master had engineered his downfall so very neatly.

He turned his thoughts back to his meditation, on his splendid son and wayward daughter.

The door chimed. Leia lifted her head, aching and terrified. She opened the intercom channel. "Go away!" She couldn't keep the shrillness out of her voice and knew it would do her no good against Vader.

"Leia?" Luke's voice was unmistakeable. "May I come in? I brought food."

Food, of all things! As if she ever wanted to eat again. "Come in." She knew he would regardless, but the fact he had asked seemed to make a difference.

He set the tray down and came to sit on the edge of her bed. "Sweet Princess, come join me." He helped her sit up. "Shhh, I know your head hurts." He stroked her temples gently. The cool touch of his hand seemed to erase the dizziness and pain in her head. He helped her stand, and guided her gently across the room to the table. "Drink this. TellAll causes dehydration."

The fruit juice was sweet and cool. She sipped graciously, stifling the temptation to toss aside the glass and guzzle from the pitcher he'd brought.

"Can you eat?" He put three small beige cubes on a plate.

She looked at it and her stomach rebelled. "I don't think so."

"Try this." He slid the plate across to her. "It's very delicate. My aunt used to make it when I was sick. I programmed it tonight."

Leia tried an experimental sliver. The flavor was very mild, and the texture was smooth. Her stomach seemed to accept it. She took another.

"If you're so worried about me, keep your father away!" she snarled. "He said I was here instead of in the detention block because of you." All he heard was suspicion. There should have been some hope in there, but he didn't hear it. He laid his hand over hers briefly.

"Leia. Dear Leia. This was only the beginning." He withdrew his hand. "If you don't tell my lord Father what he wants to know, things will go from bad," he gestured to the bruise from the syringe, "to infinitely worse." He let worry for her wash out of him in a wave. "Will you let me heal you, purge your system of the TellAll?"

"So I can be in good shape for tomorrow's session?"

"Please?" The guileless blue eyes met hers.

She was basking in the cool shade of the blue-leaved v'lalr tree on the hottest day of summer. She was swimming in the ocean of her homeworld, surrounded by blue sky, blue water, and her weight all nonsense in the water. She was slipping between sheets scented with delicate starflowers, caressed by their azure scent and petals. "Yes."

He broke the gaze, leaving her wondering what had just happened.

Luke rose and stood behind her, brushing his fingertips across her forehead. He matched his breathing to hers and began forming a healer's bond. In time he would deepen these first silken cords, and claim her as his own. Eventually, when she was ready, he would twist them into iron, making her his utter, willing and abject slave. He would break her and remake her into what he wanted, and bind her to him forever in the way of Darksiders from time immemorial. She would never know what had happened, or where the relationship had changed.

He sent the first soft tendrils of healing Force through her body, reducing the bruise, and flushing the drug from her system. Either she had a Jedi metabolism or his father had deliberately used too little. She had broken down most of it already. Finally, he triggered a rush of endorphins, flooding her with pleasure, and took his fingers from her head.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He smiled gently, touched her cheek, and left. Leia stared at the door for a long time before going to the bed. She fell asleep quickly, but the blue followed her into the dreams.

"I need advice."

Han looked up from the foodsynth. It was the most fiendishly complex he'd ever worked with, and he wasn't about to take any chances by serving bad food. No reason to cause any anger he could avoid. Luke had been mercurial these last few days. At times Han thought the Princess was good, making him kinder to everyone. At other times, he knew he was getting the brunt of the temper Vengar dared not unleash on her.

The princess' meal had been a tricky bit of programming, and he was tired of quarrelling with the device. The pensive look on Luke's face was very new. He punched in something very simple. "Since when do you take advice from me?" The words came out too sharply.

"Since I need it. You're my personal aide. Advice comes in the job description." Steel under the words now. "I need advice about Leia."

Han cocked an eyebrow at him. "Leia?"

"I'm having trouble with my seduction technique. What do you know about women?"

Han was wise enough not to let fly the burst of laughter that welled up in him. "Enough. I know enough. Let's eat. Tell me where you are and I'll tell you where to go from there." He set two plates on the small table. The steaks were blood rare, just the way Luke preferred them, and he'd managed to coax the proper vegetables out of the machinery as well.

"Right now, she lets me touch her nonsexually. She's let me start a healing bond with her. But when I talk, it feels like I'm babbling. How do I get from rubbing her temples to take away her headache to kissing her?"

"You're doing fine. Don't rush things." He thought for a moment and then dove in. "Practice on me if you need to." Stars, he hated bargaining almost as much as he hated begging. He knew Luke could and would take anything he wanted, but that the young Sith took great delight in having his permission for something first.

"Practice what?" The changeable eyes, blue instead of the usual storm grey, fixed on him intently.

"Your small talk. Your temple rubs. Anything you need to."

"Anything?" The raised eybrow spoke volumes. "And what, pray tell, might I need to practice under the 'anything' category?"

Knowing he would pay heavily for his next words, Han chose them very carefully. "You're rough. She's a tiny, fragile woman, not a big guy like me. You could hurt her. Have you ever had a woman before?"

"Of course." The reply was almost shocked. "One of my regulars at Levant's was a woman, and Arnowa used to request me as her bonus when she'd made double her weekly quota. She was popular, so she doubled it often."

"Which one was she?" Han almost regretted asking.

"The Askjian. You turned her down early."

"See? Small talk." The first smile Luke had seen since Tzalna found its way on Han's face, but was just as quickly gone. "Although, with the Princess you have a more acceptable common history. Bring up something funny from the last Senate session. Make sure she'll think it's funny too. Compliment her, but make it sincere."

"Poetry?"

"Save that for later. Make sure it's good stuff, not cheap limericks."

Luke cuffed him lightly. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Sorry."

The slender fingers bridged the gap again, to twist in the cropped dark hair, and pull the spacer closer. For the first time, Luke kissed him.

The kiss spoke of many things: of sorrow for what might have been, of power and control, and astonishingly of desire. Desire that bound them, desire that frightened the younger man enough that he had to push it away and make it safer through pain and anger.

Han read most of the messages, and he recognized his Luke. Cursing himself for a dozen kinds of fool, he returned the kiss, letting his tongue play gently over the lips and teeth.

"To bed. Now." Luke's voice was rougher with need than Han had ever heard it. Before, there had always been the cold control, the anger, the icy hate. Now, there was only need and desire. "Show me what it should be like."

"First, slow is your key word." The big hands moved gently over the small man, opening the black tunic, and sliding it off while knowing lips never let go of his mouth. "Let her do anything she wants, and anything you can convince her is her idea." Any tenderness he could demonstrate and thus ensure for the Princess would make this worth it. The selfish part of his mind reminded him that this was the same man who had given him the half-healed bruises and the cracked ribs. The voice of idealism was slightly stronger, but both were being over-ridden by his body.

"Shut up and show me!" The kiss was rougher, and needier, than the first. Luke rubbed himself against the hands that were undressing him, basking in a willing touch. This was nice, being handled by someone who desired him and wasn't afraid for a change. Almost inaudibly, he said "I want you to make love to me like I should to her."

Finally, after a deliberately slow stripping, Han pulled them both to sit on the edge of the bed. His hands moved in light circles over the smooth chest, teasing the large nipples until they stood erect. Luke shuddered under his touch, arching into it, wordlessly asking for more, and found the warm wetness of a tongue even more pleasant. Gently, sharp teeth closed and worried at it until he was gasping and pushing away.

"Too much. Oversensitive."

"Remember that. And remember when you move lower, like this." Knowing that lingering on the navel would be trouble, Han continued working his way down.

"Arnowa taught me all about that. She said I was better than most men and half the women she knew. Aaah. Stay there." He urged the slow strokes to become deeper, but Han persisted in teasing him with a tongue that felt like it was everywhere at once.

This was the Luke he remembered, the memory he'd looked at so often it was worn along the creases. There was nothing of evil here, just a very young man, almost desperate for release. He let the half-smile that had charmed lovers from one end of the galaxy to the other hit Luke with full force.

"Most of all, make her climax before you do. Three or four times, if you can." He returned his full attention to his work, relenting on the teasing and becoming serious. Amazing how much more fun this was when he wasn't being forced into it. And how much easier it was to swallow without a Force-choke around his throat.

He moved back up, and took the initiative in kissing Luke. The sensual, well-trained body still remembered all it had learned. He was a pleasure to kiss, and even better when he started the kiss. "Kiss her. A lot. Start with that."

"Will you shut up? I don't need the lecture. Just show me!"

"You sure?"

The ice began to creep back now that the first rush of need was past. "One more word, and you'll regret it."

There was nothing to say, so Han kissed him again, and eased him to lie on his back. Luke planted his feet on the matress and put a pillow under the top of his hips to tilt them up. Han knew where the lubricant was, seldom used though it was, and prepared himself. Fingers still slick, he made a manual reconnaissance first, making sure Luke was relaxed enough to accomodate him.

The first thrust was short, just barely penetrating. He let Luke adjust, feel him, and then entered to the hilt, slowly. He moved gently at first, then in time with the other man. As the matching pushes became more insistant, he sped up. He slid a hand between their bodies, and rubbed the renewed erection. To be twenty again, he thought, a bit enviously, and kissed Luke again.

At the entrance of his tongue, the matching thrusts became even more vigorous. He cursed Imperial efficiency in the matter of facial depilation. He wanted to feel that first, soft stubble against his chest, and scrape the boy's neck with his own. He buried his face in Luke's neck, running light teeth along the rapidly pulsing vein. It was too much for the younger man, and wet warmth spilled across his hand and both their stomachs.

Knowing he had more than satisfied, Han took three, last, deep strokes, and climaxed. Deliberately disobeying his last orders, he whispered "Luke," in the other's ear, tasting the name as if for the first time. He pulled out, and moved a little bit away, to give them both some air.

A drowsy, pleased moment hung between them, lengthening. For a time, they were no longer Sith Lord and body servant, but almost equals. The moment lengthened, when Luke rolled sleepily into Han's arms, and pillowed his head on the broad chest with a small sigh.

Only the Corellian-sharp ears let him hear the word under the sigh. As his Luke snuggled into his chest, breathing evenly, Han held the thought that the last word before sleep had been his name.

"Princess? The Emperor requests your presence in the command center." This time, the aide came without a stormtrooper escort and she took his proffered arm willingly. The apprehensive look on her face was mingled with the small pleasure of spending time with him.

As they walked, she asked softly, "Luke will be there, won't he?"

Han wasn't sure he liked the hopeful sound of her voice, or the way she seemed to caress the name. "Yes."

Leia watched his jaw twitch, and felt the arm under her hand tighten. "You're his lover, aren't you? You're jealous."

"No."

"But--"

He looked down at her, half pitying, half contemptuous. It wasn't a look she'd seen before, and she knew she didn't like it now. "Princess, there's a lot of words for what we do, him and me, and most of them aren't fit for the ears of a pampered lady like yourself, but love ain't one of them. Making hate is a whole lot closer." He pushed the memory of last night down with a vengeance.

She looked at him in a new light, wondering if this was the real Han Solo she was seeing instead of the self-effacing Imperial aide.

"I'm not jealous of you, Princess. Just worried for you. When Lord Vengar sets out to have something, he gets it. You already call him by name, and look forward to seeing him. Think about it."

"Everyone is worried for me, Mr. Solo. And I can take care of myself." The answer was stiff and prim. Han shrugged mentally, and decided maybe she could.

Lord Vengar met them at the lift and offered Leia his arm. "Very prompt," he complimented as he escorted the princess to the observation deck. Han remained on the balcony near the lift. He clutched the rail as he watched and waited. Inactivity had always chafed at him, but in the last few weeks, he had learned waiting was an activity in itself. He had to be alert and attentive to the slightest change in atmosphere and respond accordingly. It wasn't much different from piloting, but he was in the uncharted space of words and mind-control when he'd always let his blaster speak for him.

"What a lovely couple," commented Tarkin as Luke led the princess to join him and the Emperor. "Princess, you don't know how hard I found it to sign the order for your termination. But your taciturnity leaves me no option."

FATHER!

All part of the greater plan, my son. Don't shout like a panicked child. She will be yours.

Leia stood firm, an uncompromisingly haughty look on her face, but the hand on Luke's arm tightened imperceptibly.

"Before your execution, I would like you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make this battlestation operational. No system will dare oppose the Emperor now."

She managed to glare at both of the men before her. "The more you tighten your grip, the more systems will slip through your fingers."

"Not after we demonstrate the power of this station. In a way, you have determined the choice of the planet that will be destroyed first. Since you are reluctant to tell us the location of the rebel base, we have chosen to test the destructive power on your home plaent of Alderaan."

The familiar blue and white marble gleamed outside the viewport. Han clutched the rail a little tighter, and Leia's fingers closed a little more on the arm she still held.

"No! You can't. Alderaan is peaceful, we have no weapons--"

Tarkin overrode her, "You would prefer another target? A military target? Then name the system. I grow tired of asking this, so it will be the last time." The tall man advanced on her, forcing her to step back and to the side, putting her against Lord Vengar's chest. "Where is the Rebel base?"

"Dantooine. They're on Dantooine." The Princess looked brokenly at the floor, taking in only the firm warmth behind her.

"You see, my lords? She can be reasonable. Proceed with the operation. You may fire when ready," he informed the gunnery officer.

"What?" Leia shrieked. Han gripped the railing hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Lord Vengar restrained the Princess from assaulting Governor Tarkin.

"Dantooine is too remote for an effective demonstration, but don't worry, we will deal with your Rebel friends soon enough." Tarkin turned away from her to watch the procedure.

Lord Vengar still held her shoulder, and as the beam of energy, millions of times more powerful than had ever been loosed on the galaxy before, stabbed toward her world, she turned and buried her face in his tunic so she would not have to watch the death of all she held dear.

She is yours if you time the asking properly, my son. The mindvoice held a satisfied smile, and Luke matched it with one of his own, that only his father saw.

A much subdued Princess allowed the Sith to guide her back to her quarters. He helped her into a chair and turned to go.

"Luke, wait."

He turned back to look at her. She was as white as her dress, with eyes like dark bruises in her face.

"Don't leave me. Please?"

He silently sat across from her, waves of sympathy all but rolling from him. He reached across the small table, and she clutched his hands, making them her life-line. The brief talk in the lift filtered through her mind, and she wrote the hard words off to jealousy.

She stared at the young man across from her. Aside from his brusqueness at her capture, he had been nothing but kind to her. If he was truly evil, she would have expected him to behave more like his father or the governor. That brought a catch to her breathing, but she pushed it down.

He stood and drew her up to him. "My dear princess, I am so very sorry. Had I known what they were planning, I would have left you here, and faced their anger myself." She went willingly into his arms, taking comfort from their strength. He held her for the exact time he calculated to soften her.

"I must go. My father demands my presence. Will you join me tonight for dinner?"

She looked up. "You, or you and your father?"

"Just me. I can even send Han away for the evening, if you feel safe without a chaperone."

"Yes, I will join you." Her lips were in the perfect position for a kiss, and he gave her the merest brush of one, at the same time deepening the healing bond into something more erotic, more controlling.

"My very dear, I can take away the pain of the memories if you request it. You will remember, but it will be an old grief, not the raw ache it is now."

"What?"

"I can feel it, on the healing bond. You hurt, and so do I. Let me take this from you tonight." This and many other things, he thought, but did not say.

"I will consider it." Had she really said those words?

"Then farewell for now, sweet Leia." His lips never touched the back of her hand, but she still felt their electricity. She lay down on the large bed and thought of a home that no longer existed, and a beloved father, now dead. The tears came hot, scalding her cheeks, choking her as they welled from her throat.

In the hall, Luke savored her anguish, and smiled unpleasantly. This game was wearing thin, and he was ready for the resolution. Taking her pain would be only the first step. Then there would be her willpower, her body and ultimately her soul.

They would all be pleasant diversions. He hadn't had a woman in over a year, and she would make a nice change.

He stopped in his quarters to find an unpleasant surprise. Instead of quietly watching the holonet, or tinkering with the autovalet and foodsynth, Han was waiting for him. Luke found himself slammed against the wall, his feet dangling four inches off the ground. The bigger man's fists were balled in his still-damp tunic, and an angry, ugly look glared back at him.

"I take it the demonstration was not to your liking?" he said menacingly.

"Why?" The word rasped out, harsh and hateful.

"To break her, of course. If she had revealed the Rebellion's location, we would have profited. If she lied, I still profited by becoming her support. Or are you jealous of the fact that she'll be in my bed tonight while you sleep in the barrack room?"

That last impudence resulted in him being slammed into the wall again. "If I killed you now, Vengar, I don't think you'd be missed except by that demon father of yours. He'd kill me, sure, but I'd be free of you!"

Tiring of the charade, Lord Vengar nudged the Force, and sent the bigger man sprawling across the table. He levitated to the floor, and stalked slowly over.

"I don't think you'll sleep in the barracks tonight. You're a bit too spirited for that, my pet. And when a pet takes to biting, it must be disciplined."

Han fought this time, no longer caring about his own fate. Now that the Empire had a planet-killer, Kashyyk might as well be rubble already. The planet had been a thorn in the Empire's side for decades.

The damnable Force held him more securely the more he struggled. Metal binders were almost a relief when they closed on his wrists. He heard armored feet behind him. "To the detention block. I'll send for him when he's calmed down. No food, constant light."

The stormtroopers marched him through the station. Everywhere, he heard whispers and saw heads turn. Apparently, personal aides were not incarcerated with common prisoners.

Luke meditated the entire time before dinner.

Leia stared at the meal in front of her. She wasn't sure anything could get past the huge lump blocking her throat, threatening her control at every breath.

She sipped the pale green wine, and found it helped.

"Leia? You aren't eating." The concern was almost touching, would have been touching had not her dinner partner's father destroyed her whole world that morning.

That wasn't fair, she realized. Luke wasn't his father, couldn't help who his father was. Hadn't he said he'd have faced down the Emperor and Tarkin to spare her that demonstration if he'd known? She looked at him, dressed in a soft grey shirt, so different from the formal black he usually wore. He looked so very young, no older than she was.

Oh, Luke, why aren't you one of ours? she mourned silently, visualizing him in a flightsuit.

He refrained from smiling as he caught the tenor of her thought. She didn't know much about the healing bond, thinking it only gave him access to her strong emotions.

"Please, I don't think I can."

"Alderaan," he said softly. He rose, and offered her a hand. "Let me help."

"I want to remember, to hate." She took his hand and stood up.

"You will. The pain will transmute into power instead of crippling you as it does now." This was too easy. Her aura was already streaked with the darkness.

The Death Star had few amenities, even in the officers' quarters, and there was no sitting area. He led her to sit facing him on the edge of the large bed. Softly, he placed his fingertips on her temples, cupping her face in his hands.

With any other man, Leia would have expected the prelude to a kiss, but all Luke did was shut his eyes and match his breathing to hers. She shut her eyes too, and relaxed, merely waiting, open, but cautious. She was very aware of him inside her mind as well as outside of it. Somehow, he felt right, like he should be there, like he was the last piece of mental furniture needed to complete her.

She wasn't sure just what he did, but Alderaan seemed to fade. The pain of losing it was there, and the hate for the Emperor that had been just Senatorial politics and idealism deepened into something much more personal. But she could think clearly again, and the anger burned through her like a purifying, galvanizing flame.

She knew what she wanted and how to get it. She would have reparation for her world, and vengeance for herself. With Luke's help, she could have anything.

Her eyes snapped open, and he was smiling at her.

"Better, my darling?" Her aura was no longer a soft pale blue as it had been, but deep royal, with streaks of midnight. She was beautiful.

Darling. His Darling. She liked the sound of that. "Much."

What she could not know was that her soul was inexorably bound to him now. She was his. She was so aware, so busy guarding her deep thoughts about the Rebellion and its safety, that she had forgotten to shield her feelings and spirit.

He leaned in closer, and she met him halfway. Her lips were soft and warm under his. He slid into her mouth slow and smoothly, savoring the taste of her, as his arms went around her.

"Stay with me tonight," she whispered. "I can feel the dreams hovering and waiting to take me. Be my hero."

"Of course, dear Leia." Luke kicked off the low soft boots he wore and stretched out on the bed. She lay beside him, pillowing her head on his chest, the grey ver-cloth soft on her cheek. He wrapped her in his arms, and she felt safe for the first time in years. The small voice of rationality screamed at her that she was in the arms of her enemy's son and aboard the deadliest battle-station ever built, but the voice was squelched by the darkness that devoured her.

Her breathing evened into slow regularity. Luke smiled as she slept, exhausted. He watched as she slipped into rapid eye movement, and insinuated himself into her dreams. He was already there, and only needed a few nudges to be making love to her. She was passionate in her dream, and inventive. He made himself everything she wanted, taking her into ecstacy time and again, pushing her beyond the boundaries of her waking body.

Mission accomplished, he slept.

Luke awoke in the middle of the night to soft kisses on his cheek. He opened one eye to see a mischievous smile.

"Hey, hero." She kissed him full on the lips, rather vigorously.

"No bad dreams?"

"On the contrary. Very nice ones, thanks to you. Want to help me make them come true?"

"You sure?"

"I may regret it in the morning, but I will be dead by this time tomorrow, so why not?"

"As her Highness orders," he teased, and kissed her back. "On one condition."

"What?"

"Take down your hair."

She smiled, and reached up to unpin the coil at the side of her head. The heavy lock spiraled down her body, a whisper of chocolate silk. She undid the other and combed her spread fingers through them. The heavy mass of her hair fell to her knees, half cloaking her.

Luke reached up and opened the senatorial gown, helping her out of it, until she stood robed only in her own hair.

"Beautiful. You are so beautiful," he whispered reverently. His hands slid over the cool ivory skin, tracing her petite curves. He brushed his thumbs over her collarbones before slipping down to palm her breasts. She smiled and pushed her shoulders back to give him more. His hands on her waist pulled her to kneel on the bed beside him. Two fingers did a gentle and cursory exploration of the soft satin barely hidden by a triangle of dark hair.

She dropped lower to kiss him and he pulled her close. She smoothed away his shirt and opened his trousers. The small hand was far more delicate than what he was used to.

"Lie down, lovely," he said softly. He rolled up over her, and kissed her at length, learning all the nuances of her mouth. It felt so perfect, like she was exactly what he needed to be complete, a part he wasn't even aware he was missing until he found it.

She gasped as his kisses worked their way down her throat, lingering, and tormenting her with intensity. When he reached her breasts after many minutes, she was almost whimpering. He indulged himself, one feather-light finger teasing lower, until her rapid breaths dissolved into a silent shout.

He continued, the soft skin of her belly, the smoothness of her hipbones disclosing their secrets to his vigilant exploration. He parted her legs and licked the soft skin of the inner thighs raising goosebumps and working his way slowly back up.

She shuddered at the first touch of his tongue between her legs, pushing him away.

"No. That's repulsive."

"Shh. Let me show you. You're not repulsive. You're beautiful here too, all pink and soft. Just let me kiss you."

She didn't push him away again and he took it as encouragement. Very gently, he demonstrated all the skills Arnowa had taught him, and found Leia far more sensitive than the Askjian. She was nearly weeping when he tapered to a stop. He moved slowly up to kiss her again, and she turned away from him.

"You taste so good, Princess. Kiss me and see." She couldn't disobey for some reason.

Hesitantly, she kissed him, getting the first salty metallic taste of herself on her lips. She kissed deeper, curious, not sure she liked it, but not hating the taste. Luke sent the barest touch along the bond, forging another bit of it into steel. She plunged into his mouth wantonly, having decided she liked it very well. Her tongue flashed over his lips, and delved into the dimple of his chin seeking out all of her own flavor.

He pulled back. "Are you ready, sweet one?" He rubbed gently at the entrance of her body as his hands went around her back to press her even closer.

"Yes."

He entered her, just barely, and paused, letting her feel him. She moved a little, signalling him for more. He thrust to the hilt. She sighed.

"You should have said you were a virgin."

"And died that way? No, my love."

The words fired him, telling him his corruption had been a great success. He moved within her, pacing himself. Once, Arnowa had timed him, and he knew he could last almost an hour if he was careful.

But Leia wouldn't last that long, so he followed her lead. After the third orgasm, when she was showing signs of flagging, he took it upon himself to finish.

"My beautiful princess," he whispered softly as she curled into him. "You will not die. If I have to take Tarkin apart, I will do it to save your life."

"My hero." She pillowed her head on his chest, and ran delicate fingers over the smooth skin. He stroked the long chestnut hair that draped over both of them.

"Sleep now. We have a few hours left before I go on duty." He kissed her once more, and sent her to sleep with a twitch of the bond.

He held her until he had to leave, and slipped out without waking her, knowing he would be back in this bed tonight.

The small ship, drawn in by the tractor beam, was landed automatically in the same docking bay as a very battered freighter.

No one noticed the small vent under the afterburners opening, or the two men who slid out, one young and dark, the other much older. The Imperial petty officers who made a life-form scan overlooked the crates of droid parts scattered about the hold, since the cargo manifest stated tech droids for a farming world. The organic captain had bailed out when his life-support failed, according to the log reader outside the missing escape pod.

The two men, cloaked in Force-generated dimness, passed unnoticed into an empty guard station. Obi-Wan Kenobi seated himself at a terminal and and began tapping the station nets.

"Artoo would have found it more quickly, but we couldn't risk him. Here. Go and find Princess Leia. I will deactivate the tractor beam."

"Sir, my ship doesn't have amenities for 3."

"We'll steal another flight suit and I shall be fine in the hold. Quickly, son, and the Force will be with us both."

"Yes, General." Biggs studied the locator and considered his options. He would skulk about, take an officer and steal the uniform. One more officer on a place this size wouldn't be noticed, especially near the officers' quarters. He wondered why she was being held there instead of in the detention area.

Carefully he moved through the corridors, working his way nearer with each cautious turn. The man ahead looked about his size, and when he stepped into an empty conference room, Biggs followed. He'd meant to strike quickly, but the Imperial's reflexes were faster than his.

In the brief scuffle, he gained the upper hand and took a good look at his opponent. "Solo? What are you doing here?" He'd met the smuggler one evening in Chalmun's while he was trying to find a cargo. He didn't much like the smug Corellian, or Chalmun's, and had avoided the place since, knowing there was nothing legal to ship there.

"Better question is what're you doing, Darklighter? With the reward out for the Rand Ecliptic mutineers, you've got nerve leaving the Rim."

"I was taking a passenger to Alderaan, but it's not there."

"I know. I watched it destroyed three days ago. Why'd you jump me?"

"Tell me why you're here and in a rankless uniform."

"I'm the personal aide to Lord Vengar."

"Lord Vengar? He's here?"

"The Emperor left this morning so he's not only here, he's in charge."

Biggs, knowing time was slipping, pulled his blaster. "Give me your uniform."

"What?"

"I need your uniform. You can give it to me, or I'll blast you and take it."

"Save me from heros and idealists! One guess, you're here for the Princess."

"Good guess. Too good. Now I have to shoot you."

"No, look, I want her safe too. Wouldn't mind getting out of here myself."

"Why?" Biggs finally let the older man up, watching how stiffly he rose. "You OK?"

"Let's answer both and say Lord Vengar's definition of personal aide doesn't include recording correspondence. That punch you landed isn't helping much, though."

Biggs rubbed his own jaw ruefully. "You didn't do too badly either." He didn't want to think about Luke and the smuggler spending time together. He wasn't sure he liked what he was piecing together from the spaces in Solo's words.

"If you don't mind the old posing-as-a-prisoner-to- move-freely scam, I can take you back to our quarters and get you a uniform. And we can both take the Princess from there. Lord Vengar often sends me to bring her to him."

Biggs agreed, not really trusting Solo, but knowing the Corellian had a reputation for personal honor. He hoped to hear more about Luke as the plan unfolded.

They made it to the Officers' Quarters without incident, and Han shoved Biggs quickly through the doors before anyone could see.

"They'll either think you're a present for him, or that I'm sneaking around."

"You're his lover?" Biggs managed. He couldn't keep the shock, hurt and slight jealousy out of his voice.

"No. Love isn't part of this." Han turned to program the autovalet. "I'm his, like he owns his boots and lightsaber. And I'm tired of it. If all of Kashyyk wasn't hostage to my good behavior, I'd fly you out myself. Can you fly a YT-1300?"

"Yes." Biggs was looking about the room, and found the holo of Luke and his father. Badly shaken, he moved away, seeing nothing of his boyhood friend in this near-sterile room.

"Take the Princess out on the Falcon. It's faster than anything you could be flying. Just just don't mess with any of the modifications. I'll find a way to get out and get her back." The autovalet beeped, and dispensed a lieutenant's uniform in Biggs' size. "Get dressed. You have a princess to rescue. Do you have a plan?"

"Yeah. It involved mugging you for your uniform, stealing a spacesuit and getting her out that way."

"Don't you have a spare? Unless you're not alone..."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Princess sent him a message. Droids! We've got to get the droids onto your ship."

"You're a lieutenant now. Go down and have some stormtroopers do it. Invoke Lord Vengar if you need to. I'll give you a ten minute head start, and go get the princess. I can bring her aboard, ostensibly on an inspection tour, you two dump me off the ship and leave. Damn. Wish I could come."

"Not with a whole planet hostage. That changes, take the Shooting Star and get out."

They clasped forearms in the manner of spacers. As Biggs reached the lift, he turned. "Take care of her!" Han said. "I'll get your Star back to you."

Han paced out the ten minute wait and then strode casually to Leia's quarters. The stormtroopers, used to him, waved him through.

"Where to today, Mr. Solo?" The princess stood up a bit too carefully. "Not far I hope." Her walk was hesitant as she came to the door.

"The General demands your presence." Mindful of the cameras, he was cryptic.

She tucked her arm in his and pulled his face down as if to kiss his cheek. "Who?"

"Obi-Wan," he answered, giving the name Biggs had given him.

She tucked her hand in his arm as she had so often these last few days, and went with him. He set a slow even pace, but every few steps, her jaw clenched and once she stumbled.

"Are you hurt, Your Highness?"

"Just uncomfortable. You're right. Morning sparring can be a bit vigorous. I apologize for calling you a bad liar."

She watched his reaction carefully. Six or seven emotions warred over his set face, but none the expected jealousy. Concern, and relief seemed to be winning, oddly enough. Anger at her cold calculation was there, too.

"Sure you want to leave, Princess? Or are you enjoying your morning workouts enough to stay?"

She stared at him in shock. He had never said anything that harsh to her. "How dare you?" she finally spat. "How dare you suggest I would betray my cause for a man? Especially the son of our enemy!"

The lift arrived cutting off further arguement. A Captain and two troopers joined them on gthe next floor. They stood at the back of the lift, Leia's hand still firmly on Han's arm, and waited.

"Heard our next destination?" The contempt for both of them was clear in the Captain's voice. He stared at the level numbers.

"Dantooine," Han answered, grinding his teeth at the Captain's tone. "Thanks to this lovely traitor."

"Yes, lovely," the Captain commented, turning his attention to the Princess. He lifted her chin and she resisted the urge to snap at his fingers like a bad-temper caniad. "Has our handsome Dark Lord convinced you to join us yet?" Leia kept her face immobile and glared at him. "Is she any good, or does he share the sweetmeats that drop in his lap?"

"I suggest you remove your hand from the Princess' face at once, Captain Azar," Han said in the quietest, most deadly voice he had. "Lord Vengar does not share. What is his, he keeps. I would regret having to tell him of your imposition. He has spoken of the need to keep discipline lately."

The Captain's hand dropped away as if the Princess' jaw were afire. One of the troopers surreptitiously pressed the button for the next floor, and they left hastily.

They rode the rest of the way to the docking bay in silence. Han led her through, as if on a cursory tour while on the way elsewhere.

"And this was my ship," he said, more for the benefit of the listening stormtroopers than the princess.

"That piece of junk flies? You're braver than I thought."

He pointedly ignored the amplified snickers. Apparently the entire battlestation knew what was going on in Lord Vengar's quarters.

He caught a swift glimpse of Biggs in the cockpit. As he and Leia walked toward the ramp, something caught the stormtroopers' attention. They jogged off toward a set of blast doors.

Han heard a distinctive hum. He shoved Leia toward the ramp. "Get aboard, now!"

In the hallway, an old man with a blue lightsaber was parrying Luke's every stroke. Han started toward the duel, at least attempting to look as if he was supporting his superior. Luke caught sight of him, and snarled. His words were barely audible over the distance.

"And you turn my people against me, old man! Just as you turned my mother against my father. Did she welcome you into her bed to cuckold him the same way my grandmother welcomed your master when he cuckolded you?"

"You know not of what you speak, young Luke. You have tasted only the Darkness."

"I have the Force, which you cut me off from. I have my father, whom you tried to murder!" The anger in the boy was palpable, affecting everyone.

"You cannot win this battle, Darth. If you fall, there is not even the Force for you. If I fall, I shall become more powerful than you can imagine."

"Jedi lies and riddles. You are weak, old man. And you will pay for all your crimes." Distracted by his anger, Luke's parry was a half-second slow, and the blade wasn't there anymore, but slicing through bone and flesh to send his lightsaber dropping to the floor, as lifeless as the hand that still held it.

The blast doors began to close, and the last words Han caught were "You are dead," directed at him.

Han marveled as the old man ran lightly toward the ship, using his saber to deflect blasterbolts from the stormtroopers with the ease of long practice. He saw Kenobi was headed for the Shooting Star and groaned aloud at what he was about to do.

"This way, old man!" He directed the Jedi onto the Falcon and bolted up the ramp himself. "Darklighter! Fire us up! And get in the right hand chair!"

Falling into his chair, much missed in the last weeks, Han noticed that Biggs had run a precise if fussy preflight. He made one of the fastest take offs in a life characterized by rapid departures. The old man, still breathing hard, sat in the seat behind him.

"Hope you got that tractor beam out of commission, or this will be a real short ride."

The Princess was strapped into the comm seat, holding tightly as he made the jump. The chaos on the station was apparently great enough that no pursuit was launched.

In the safety of hyperspace, Han relaxed. Introductions were made all around, and he excused himself to his cabin. The ship had been left intact, and he changed out of the uniform, delighting in his freedom. His spare shirt was still folded, and he found a second vest. He still felt naked without a gunbelt, but he could replace that soon enough.

In the main compartment, Biggs and Obi-Wan were assembling an astromech droid. "What's so important about the droids?"

"This one carries the tactical readouts of the battlestation," Leia answered. "I only hope when it is analyzed, a weakness can be found. This isn't over yet."

"Not while they've got my buddy grounded, it isn't." Han agreed.

"That's all you care about, isn't it?" she snapped. "Your friend, your ship, your skin! I'm surprised you aren't charging for this rescue!"

Confused by the sudden rush of anger, and tired of holding his own tongue, Han exploded. "Maybe I should! I haul your pretty double-buns out of Lord Vengar's bed, get you back into the fight for your cause and save your life, and you're mad at me? I should charge, but no reward is worth this!"

He stomped back to his cabin, and dropped onto his bunk, feeling as if he'd just been batted around by the Force Luke had used on him so often. Leia's anger had the same feel to it for some reason.

Leia stalked to the small cabin she'd been given, and tried to figure out what was wrong. She analyzed her behavior the last few days and was shocked at herself. She had welcomed her enemy into her bed, and even now desired him. She could feel him, in pain, and resting under a meshy haze of drugs. She wished she were there to comfort him and shook herself free of the thought.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, last of the Jedi, sat glumly in the Falcon's forward compartment. His failure was complete. He had lost father and son and now the daughter as well. When Leia had lashed out at the pilot, only he had seen the dark wall of Force rise off of her to batter at him. What amazed him was how well the pilot shielded himself from the attack. He was not Force-sensitive, but had apparently endured many such assaults. The Force-stench of the Sith was fading off of him with each moment. And what had the man said about taking the Princess from her brother's bed? Did they know? And was it possible? Force no! He tried to find his center, but meditation wouldn't come.

Luke sat up on the bed in the medcenter, flexing his new right hand. There was still some itching where it was attatched, but the med droid assured him that would fade in the next week.

Kenobi! He spat the name. The old man had taken his father's health, his mother's love, his family life, and now his hand. And Han and Leia had chosen him! That hurt most of all.

He calmed and stared at the grey on grey of the hyperspace limbo, slowly trying to center himself. The pain would become hate. He willed it so. The betrayal would become anger. He willed it so. They would pay. He willed it so. He willed it so.

He could feel Leia along the bond. Ironically, she was asleep and dreaming of him. She missed him. He felt along the bond and touched her ever so slightly.

Dear Leia, you left me.

In her dream, she turned and saw him there. She reached to him. "I didn't mean to. They didn't tell me."

They stole you?

"Yes, my love."

Who? Who stole you from me?

"Han and the other one. Darknight or something."

Biggs Darklighter?

"Yes. Luke, don't go! I--"

She tossed and he left her dream as she slipped out of REM. He knew everything he needed to now. The tracking device was in place on the freighter. The Death Star would hold the Rebel base hostage until they delivered Leia and Han and his treacherous best friend and the old wizard. Once those four were aboard, they would destroy the Rebels once and for all. Leia would come to him completely in the Darkness, and the three men would beg for death before he was finished. A very unpleasant smile crossed his face as he began planning what to do to his former aide.

"Princess, you're alive. We heard about Alderaan and feared the worst."

"No time for that now, General." She brushed him aside brusquely. "I have the tacticals for the Death Star. Get our best techs on it. General Kenobi may be helpful in the command center. We were tracked here."

The Rebel Base exploded into action. Han watched as people rushed here and there, doing this and that.

"What of your pilot, Your Highness?" asked a young man in a flight suit.

"Guest quarters so he can clean up and eat." Leia strode off with a stride too long for her tiny legs. "See to it."

"I'm Wedge. I'll take you to your room."

"Thanks," Han responded, following the young man, watching the princess as she vanished. Biggs had gone to report to the flight commander as soon as they landed.

"You helped rescue her, huh? Wish she'd look at me like she just looked at you."

"Shoulda seen the way she looked at me yesterday," Han mumbled.

"Your rooms, sir."

As Wedge left, Han realized the rumor that the Princess was sweet on him would be common property before the briefing. When would he learn to keep his mouth shut? Not in this life, he decided.

A real water bath, and a decadently soft bed greeted him in the small guest quarters. He soaked at length in the hot water, trying to ease some of the stiff ache out of his body. The med-droid had repaired his broken ankle without a trace last week, but it was still talking to him in Yavin 4's dampness.

Dressed, he decided to go to briefing after a nap. The bed beckoned, and he stretched out. After a few minutes of tossing, he began to wonder why. Then it occurred to him: he was alone. He hadn't slept alone since the arrest, barring those nights in the detention block. Not that he'd slept there under the bright glare of the lights. He lay, looking at the ancient ceiling, and thought about his Luke.

Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to free the beautiful young man from the icy hold of the Sith Lord. But the last words had not been encouraging and he suspected his flagging libido was doing some dreaming it hadn't informed his mind about. He wondered if he could market the Dark Side of the Force as the lust-suppressant the moralists were always looking to apply to Corellians. He half-chuckled at that one.

Sleep wouldn't come. A parade of faces played across his mind, Luke, Leia, Chewbacca. Older acquaintances made guest appearances in unlikely places. The buzzing of a General Quarters alarm woke him.

"All pilots to the briefing, please. All pilots to the briefing."

Han went anyway.

"Your approach won't be easy, you must maneuver straight down this trench," the bearded man was saying.

All the rebels in their flight suits listened like their lives depended on it. Actually, they probably did.

"Green and Yellow wing will make the first runs. Then Blue, then Red."

"And after that?" Wedge asked.

"There won't be any 'after that.' Man your ships. May the Force be with you."

After what he had seen on the Death Star, Han wanted nothing to do with any Force, but took the general's departing blessing as it was intended.

"Incoming message from Imperial cruiser."

"This is Professor Jan Dodonna of the Massiassi Xenoarchaological Project. How can we help you, Imperial craft?"

The voice of Lord Vengar filled the temple on the com system. "Return the Princess, and Captain Solo to me along with those who took them. Do this, and we shall leave you in peace. If they are not aboard my vessel in fifteen minutes, we shall leave you in the same state as Alderaan. What is mine, I do not relinquish for anyone. Lord Vengar out."

"Scramble! Scramble! Battle Stations!" blared the loud-speaker.

Green and Yellow, already in their y-wings, began to take off. Han sprinted for the Falcon. Biggs caught him at the foot of the ramp.

"You'll be up there with us?"

"My fight too. My friend and life are at stake here."

"We could use a good pilot like you in an x-wing."

"Uh-uh! I've done my time in those suicide sleds. X-wings and I don't get along. It's the R2 units. The Falcon's as fast as any you've got, and better armed. I need a co-pilot. You want to show some Imps what they don't teach at the aAcademy?"

"No, but I heard the Princess say she had a perfect co-pilot."

"General, are you sure you won't reconsider?" Leia asked as they approached the Falcon.

"Dear child, I'm no use here on the ground. I'd be an old fool under everyone's feet and in everyone's way."

"Han, your new co-pilot."

"You're kidding me, right?" The words fell out of his mouth as he gawked at the old man.

"I've flown most sorts of ships, Captain. Your freighter shouldn't be hard. We are approaching the young man's deadline. Shall we get aboard?"

The oldster looked small in Chewie's seat, and Han futilely wished for the comforting bulk of the Wookiee.

"They keep calling you General. How'd you get them to let you off the ground?"

"The Force can be very persuasive. And the last of the Jedi Knights didn't do too badly either."

"One thing, old man, we'll be just fine as long as I don't have to hear about your Force. I know all about what it can do."

"Yes, you still carry the taint of the Dark he used on you. It will pass. Is that light supposed to be flashing blue?"

Han thumped it, and it resumed its normal steady gleam. "Nope. Coming up on the fleet. We aren't going down the trench, but I can provide covering fire for the ones that do. Can you fly this alone? I'm taking the top turret."

They listened as Green and Yellow runs failed. Kenobi was a pretty fair pilot. Solo wouldn't stake him for a Kessel Run anytime soon, but a cool head, a keen eye, and a knack for holding steady at the right second were exactly what the battle needed.

The TIEs exploded like firecrackers outside. The Empire was still too cheap to shield the things. Han caught a glimpse of something odd, and called over the com link "Bank left." Kenobi obliged.

It was a modified TIE interceptor, the ion panels flexed in, and a shield and hyperdrive as well. The two wingmen stayed in close formation.

"We've got serious company, old man."

No answer came over the headset. Cursing, Han bolted out of the gunner's turret and took the rungs as fast as he could. The old man was slumped in the co pilot's chair semi conscious, yet giving the sense of being locked in a titanic struggle.

"Damn wizards," Han muttered, setting the quad lasers to remote and taking them over. He flew into the midst of things, determined to blow Vengar out of the sky. Luke was long dead, swallowed by the darkness, and it seemed right to avenge him by killing what destroyed him. It was what Chewie would do if he were here.

Let me get this job done, old pal, and I'll be coming for you.

Below him, he heard Biggs start his run in the trench with Wedge and Porkins covering him. He skimmed along the top, staying back, keeping an eye open for the TIEs.

"They're coming in, Red 3," he called as the modified one and its wingmen swooped down. A quick burst from the bellygun knocked one of the wingmen into vapor.

Beside him, the old man's breathing stopped. He was too busy trying to target one of the two remaining hostiles to notice.

"I can't stay with you. Major malfunction."

"Get clear, Wedge. You can't do anymore good back there."

"Sorry." The x-wing pulled up and limped out of the trench as Han skimmed in for another run at the TIEs.

The wingman was in his sights and Han caught him in one panel, sending him spinning into the leader. The leader was knocked clear and out of control. The Falcon's targeting computer logged the prototype's signature before it was out of range.

"Darklighter, you're all clear. Blow this thing and we can all go home!"

Biggs watched the numbers run down on his targeting computer, took careful aim. "Torpedoes away."

"A direct hit," repeated the computer on the rebel base.

Biggs went light-headed as he pulled up. The human body really wasn't designed for more than 5 standard gravs, he thought.

Three x-wings and a few other remnants followed the battered freighter back to Yavin's moon. They sat down in the temple-hanger, and the joyous crowd rioted around them. The ramp of the Falcon went down slowly, but Han did not dash to join the celebration.

He came down the ramp slowly, carrying the still body of the Jedi knight. Silence fell over the hanger. Someone came up with a stretcher and four others fell in as an honor guard.

"He went into some kind of battle with Lord Vengar," Han explained, haltingly, not really having the words for what happened. "And he quit breathing during the last bombing run. That's all I know."

"He distracted our enemy, and lost his life. We will cremate him as the Jedi always did," announced Dodonna to the mass of people.

The old man's body was carried out of the hanger with great ceremony.

That night, the dignitaries of the Rebellion watched as Obi-wan Kenobi, last of the Jedi, was consigned to the flames. The sparks rose to blend with the stars that were just emerging.

Han shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with his status as a hero of the Rebellion. He watched the funeral, and slipped away early.

Leia found him at the foot of the Falcon's ramp, waiting. "You're leaving us."

"I have to, Princess. He's out there. Lord Vengar doesn't give up what is his. And we are his, both of us. I have a co-pilot waiting for me on Kashyyk. If you ever need a safe haven, go there. On the eastern continent, make contact with Malla, the mate of Chewbacca. Tell her you are the mate of her mate's life-oath-friend. The Wookiee word sounds better."

"I'm not your mate!"

"You know that, and I know that. Malla doesn't have to. I've bought your safety in many less pleasant ways."

"Someday, you'll have to tell me exactly what I owe you."

"Leia, you don't want to know." The haunted look was back in his eyes.

"Will you search for him?"

"The Sith holds my Luke hostage just like he held us aboard the battle-station. I will find them, and I will bring Luke back and Lord Vengar will die."

Biggs came to join them. "Clear skies, Solo. And good luck."

"Take care of her until I get back."

With that, he strode into his ship and began laying a course for Kashyyk.

Epilogue

The crippled TIE sat down on the outskirts of the small village.

The young man in black shed his breath mask and staggered from the ship. He had the emergency kit and made it to the trees before the ship exploded.

Damaged physcially from the crash and mentally from the Force battle, Luke Skywalker, Darth Vengar, lay unknowing as night fell and the small creatures sniffed around him.

"Pull over, Skelm." The repulsor truck cruised to a halt near him.

"Live one. Bet he came in the ship we saw burnin'. He'll clean up nicely." Skelm wiped some of the blood away. "Pretty. Lady Varla likes them pretty."

"Think anyone will come lookin' for him?"

"Nah. Load him in."

The grass-fire from the TIE burned itself out in the darkness.

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