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Vader's Child	By : elizstuart Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 6586 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Vader's Child
- 1
Originally published in Dark
Fantasies #5, 1997

Warning: Vader/Luke content

VADER'S CHILD

by Elizabeth Stuart
The makeshift cantina was dimly lit by portable gensets, and it was
lively with the sounds of laughter and youth. Leia tapped her foot to the
music's beat, trying, for one night, to forget that Han was lost somewhere
in the galaxy, locked in a carbonite prison. She hadn't been able to rescue
him, but they'd saved Luke from a deathfall into Bespin's atmosphere. The
Rebel troops had spent the weeks that followed running from Imperial forces,
finally finding a small moon with an atmosphere that shielded them from
scans, and this celebration was a welcome respite from the work and tension.
Despite their earlier defeats, optimism was tonight's ruler, and everyone
was definitely in a festive mood.
Except for Luke Skywalker. Leia sighed as she looked over at him. He'd
been spending more and more time alone. Now he'd moved off by himself and
was sitting motionless near one of the windows, half-turned on the bench,
gazing into the night sky.
She wondered what he saw there - or what he was looking for. Since their
return from Cloud City, he became more subdued as each day passed. She
knew that losing his hand had been a shock both physical and psychological,
and perhaps being defeated in a terrible battle with the Dark Lord of the
Sith - which he would not detail beyond that one fact - had been even more
damaging emotionally. Maybe that was why he'd changed so drastically in
so many ways.
Luke was no longer the enthusiastic youth who'd burst into her cell
on the Death Star, the one determined to follow in the steps of his heroic
Jedi father, nor was he the brave officer who'd led the defense of the
Hoth base. Now he was quiet, introspective, a stranger who refused her
repeated offers to share his confidences. It bothered her, this abrupt
change into a depressed man who'd withdrawn into his own mind, oblivious
to the worries of others. She wondered if he ever thought of Han.
But what troubled her the most was the rapt expression that frequently
crossed Luke's face. His eyes would grow paler and larger and emit a strange
glow that she didn't recognize. At those moments, he became another creature,
something more than human, ethereal and other-worldly. Sometimes the corners
of his mouth almost lifted in a smile; other times he appeared haunted,
angry, or close to tears. She wondered if he was talking to someone she
couldn't hear. He looked like that now, like he was talking to the stars
and they weren't answering him.
Or worse, that they were replying.
Leia frowned, trying to brush away the beginnings of dread. Maybe this
change was the effect the Force had on a Jedi. She suspected that she would
never understand the Force, despite the teachings of her father. There
had been many times when she was certain that it was just a myth, another
religion invented to control the masses. But when she looked at Luke...
well, she wasn't sure of anything.

* * *
He was more at home among the stars than among the living. There were
moments, too many of them, when he felt as though he'd died in Cloud City.
Or at the very least, lost his soul.
He should have died. Death would have been preferable to living with
the burden that his father was supposed to be his enemy - an enemy he was
expected to kill.
Luke gazed at the sweep of stars that swirled overhead. His father was
out there. If he extended his senses just a bit, he would meet the Dark
Lord. Many times in the past weeks, Vader had searched him out and touched
his mind, sending no word other than 'son'. And often he'd returned an
involuntary call of 'Father!' unable to hide his longing.
He wasn't an orphan after all - he was the son of the Empire's most
visible symbol of authority. It hurt... but on some level, it didn't matter.
He'd wanted a father for longer than he could remember. Maybe Vader wasn't
as evil as Leia said. Maybe his father missed him and wanted to be with
him, too - for his own sake, not just as an ally in a plot to overthrow
the Emperor. Maybe his father hadn't abandoned him. Vader had been
a soldier, called to defend the Empire - maybe he regretted leaving his
son behind.
To become a Jedi like my father.... He'd wished for that. Only
fools wished, Han warned him once, and added: Be happy with what you have.
But Luke Skywalker had never been content. He'd always wanted more, had
always searched for excitement, adventures, faster speeders, fantastic
daydreams - more of anything that would help his mind escape the boredom
of life on Tatooine. He'd been driven by a need he still didn't understand,
and it had left him restless and dissatisfied. Maybe he should have listened
to Yoda and stayed on Dagobah. Or fled Cloud City with Leia instead of
searching out Vader. He should have done what people expected of a Jedi
and a soldier. Instead he'd taken one step too far and discovered a truth
he couldn't share with anyone.
To be a Jedi.... He didn't understand what that meant, and now
there was no one to explain - except his father. Darth Vader was a Jedi,
which confused him even further. Dark Side Jedi, Yoda had whispered, but
what did that mean? What was the Dark Side? He'd only heard warnings, never
explanations.
His father sliced off his hand. Was that what the Dark Side meant, that
one could maim a son? But had he the chance, he would have killed Vader
during their duel. Did that make him Dark Side, or did ignorance of his
father's identity absolve him of guilt? Or were there no Dark or Light
sides to the Force? Had Ben and Yoda lied to him about that, too?
Luke couldn't make sense of it. Everything was confusing, and there
were no answers anywhere he looked. If he said yes, if he went with Vader...
would Vader teach him, help him sort through Jedi mysteries, and... love
him?
Heat warmed his cheeks. There was another reason he wanted to meet Vader
again. Growing up in the barren void of the desert planet, he'd depended
upon the dramatic image of Darth Vader to bring excitement via holovid
newscasts... the Emperor's warrior-mystic offering the promise of a future,
of a galaxy beyond Tatooine. The huge form draped in a fantastically flowing
black cape, a voice of steel and honey, power radiating from every motion,
obeyed, envied, flattered. How many times had he pretended that Vader was
his coveted father - or himself? How often had he wanted to imitate the
man, to command the Emperor's troops, to receive homage for battles won
and respect for simply existing? His youthful fantasies had been fired,
and he'd spent his private moments indulging them. First being Vader, then
being wanted by Vader, taken by Vader. A soldier, a friend, a son, a lover.
Someone important, someone indispensable. Alone, he'd touch himself, dreaming
of Vader and that power unleashed, maybe even shared with him. His dreams
were the reason he'd sought out Vader in Cloud City and followed a trail
that had been as clear as a light shining in a darkness.
And now he was facing the reality. He could live his dreams, all of
them. All he had to do was renounce the Rebellion and... take the final
step.
Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru would have been ashamed that he considered
such things. They'd tried to teach him their beliefs. Outwardly, he'd behaved
like a good foster son, chaste, hardworking, and non-political; inwardly,
he'd dreamt of power and conquest and dominion and Vader and sex that was
both pleasure and pain. The mysterious masked figure, alternately tender
and rough with him - and the power he attained when pain turned inward.
Pain.... Luke felt a throbbing sensation in his wrist and rubbed it
absently. His arm still sent messages of phantom pain searching along nerve
endings for his severed human fingers. It seemed most of the Alliance staff
resented his amputation more than he did. In a way, he thought darkly,
the wounding was a gift from his father, the aching a reminder of how the
hand had been lost.
His father had taken it, along with his heart.
A shooting star sped past quicker than he could blink, and his thoughts
went with it. Father? he questioned through the Force. Father,
where are you?
He sensed the reply coming before it actually brushed his mind.
I am here, son.
Luke closed his eyes. Every time he heard that word, his need became
more exquisite, and he was stricken with the desire to touch Vader, to
make him proud, to share his secret fears and wishes, to be loved in every
way.
I'm so lonely, Father. I need you.
There was a tiny flicker in the Force - an indication of Vader's surprise
at his soul-deep cry?
I am here, the Force reiterated. Come to me, Luke. We will
rule the galaxy together.
Luke smiled. His father shared his dreams. For now... I only want
to know you. I want you to teach me.
A wave of something he didn't understand washed over him. It was from
Vader, and it was rich with possessiveness.
I will teach you, my son. Come to me.
To you - or to the Emperor? I will not go to him!
He sensed a hesitance in the Dark Lord, then a kind of pressure that
nudged his unyielding resolve.
I will come for you. Be ready.
I won't go to the Emperor. Only to you.
Luke... we must talk. We must be together. It is our destiny. Can't
you feel it?
Father--
I will let no harm come to you, young one. Wait for me. I am never
far from you.
The connection dissolved. Luke blinked and looked around, mildly surprised
by the music and laughter. All these people. He'd forgotten where he was.
For a moment, he was paralyzed, bereft of purpose. Then he stood, trying
to orient himself in this emotional vacuum. Fellowship. Songs of loneliness,
lost loves, and laughter. The hidden base on the Cor moon. With the Rebellion.
With his friends.
Friends. He scanned the room. Princess Leia. Lando Calrissian, Chewbacca.
All here. Luke Skywalker was here too, happily innocent, lost in his usual
daydreaming fog.
Reality: I am Luke Skywalker.
Reality: I am Luke Vader, son of the Dark Lord.
His cloak was still draped on the empty chair next to Leia. He strode
across the room and picked it up, flinging it over his shoulders and clasping
it shut in one smooth movement.
"I have to leave." To his own ears, his voice sounded strange. Breathless.
Excited.
The conversation at the table ceased. He surveyed them with newly acquired
wisdom; their concern and puzzlement was transparent.
"Are you turning in already, Luke?" It was not the first time he'd felt
the Force in Leia's voice, but tonight it shone like a beacon. "I'll walk
with you."
"No." He raised his hand, commanding the Force to stop them from rising.
Where had this sudden influx of power come from? Father, are you with
me? He relished his unexpected omnipotence. "I have to go," he repeated.
"I don't know when I'll be back. I don't know if I'll be back."
"Hey, Luke." Lando tried to push his chair, but it wouldn't move. He
frowned and looked up. "Something's bothering you, I can tell. Why don't
we have a drink and talk about it?"
Luke smiled at them, and the motion felt strange on his face. He released
his Forcehold. Leia looked at him with some alarm. "I have to go," he repeated
reasonably. "He's coming for me."
And he strode into the night, out of the encampment to the nearby clearing
where he knew he must wait a little longer for the father he'd waited for
all his life.
Behind him the music resumed, voices raised again in laughter and comradeship.
He felt nothing for it; he didn't belong with those people who belonged
together. Luke Skywalker was truly alone.
Except for his father. He folded his hands and waited patiently.
A gust of wind swelled his pale cloak. He stared at the faint shadow
the other moons cast on the ground. His shadow could have been Vader's
shadow, for his image was tall and broad. Powerful.
Invincible.
"Luke." Leia's hand was on his arm.
He turned and smiled at her, feeling at peace. Knowing that he was almost
home. He looked at the tall man hovering by her side. "Lando," he said,
bestowing a designation on the man who should have been Han.
"Yeah, Luke?"
He turned back to the stars. His home was out there, somewhere he'd
never been. "He's coming."
"Luke, you're not well. Why don't you go back to the barracks and lie
down? Maybe we can contact Yoda--"
"Yoda won't teach me anymore." A tiny sliver of anger shafted through
him. "He will."
"He's startin' to give me the creeps," Lando muttered under his breath.
A small hand rested on his arm again. He shifted slightly to look at
it.
"You mean Ben? Is he talking to you?"
"Ben is dead," he explained patiently. "Ben won't teach me anymore.
He
is coming."
"Who?" Her face paled. "Who's coming, Luke?"
"The Other," he murmured dreamily. "Yoda will soon die and then we two
will be the only Jedi left. He will teach me. He wants me to rule with
him."
Leia stepped back. "Lando, there's something wrong - something with
the Force maybe. I don't know, but we have to get him help. Luke... come
with Lando and me. Come inside."
Her little bit of Force-persuasion couldn't begin to touch him, but
Luke swayed easily under his father's will, drowning in the glorious sensations.
He felt exalted, touched by the gods. "You don't understand. He loves me,
I can feel it. And he's coming for me."
"Luke--"
"There!" He pointed upward, toward the star that moved. The star that
quickly became a small Imperial transport.
"What the-- Damn, alert the--"
"No, Lando," Luke whispered. "It's all right. It's me he's come for,
not any of you."
They waited, Leia and Lando standing very close to him. The shuttle
skimmed the surface and landed. A few moments of quiet, then the deck ramp
began to rumble. Luke sensed the Rebels pouring out of the cantina, and
he used the Force to hold them back - a Force that was augmented by another,
much more powerful than his own.
Father! His heart beat faster.
Silhouetted by the light that streamed from the ship, a dark legend
strode down the ramp, cape billowing as the surface wind caught it.
"By the Goddess, Luke, not Vader!"
Lando groaned. "Not again."
"Luke, even if Vader's the only Jedi left, you can't go with him," Leia
whispered hotly.
He sensed the revulsion in her voice and tore his gaze away from the
man who waited at the foot of the ramp, legs planted wide. "It's all right,"
he assured her uncertainly. Why was she so afraid?
"No, it isn't." She touched him again, this time with only her hand.
Her Force knew it wasn't strong enough to reach him. "He is Evil. The Dark
Side. You told me the Emperor wants you. Luke, don't surrender to Vader.
You mustn't."
"What do you know of the Dark Side?" he asked curiously, but she only
shook her head.
"Luke."
One word, deep and intimate, and it sent shudders coursing the length
of his body. He turned to his father. One black hand outstretched, offering
love and salvation. Deliverance.
Again. One hand outstretched to save him.
This time he wouldn't flee from it.
Luke took a step forward.
Leia's pain reached him.
He looked over his shoulder. "It's all right, Princess," he said gently.
"He won't hurt me."
"Luke--"
"Leia," he answered her with a brilliant smile, "he loves me. He's my
father."
A few more steps and he could touch his father's hand. He paused to
survey the scene. Leia stared, her face full of horror. Lando, blaster
dangling unused at his side, angry astonishment spread across handsome
features. All the others - the ones too far away to hear his words - their
weapons as useless as their feet and their voices. Frozen by the Force.
He dismissed them and turned away, smiling up at his splendid father,
full of pride. "You are indeed powerful."
"As you will be, my son."
He preceded the Dark Lord up the ramp.

* * *
The voyage was short, or so it seemed to him. His mind was filled with
such wonderment that he could no longer wonder at such insignificant matters
as time and distance. First had come the jump into hyperspace, then the
dreamlike trance in which he lost himself. Encompassing everything was
the warmth of his father's mind-touch, the depth of his strength. Luke
had never felt as complete and safe as he did now, wrapped in this dark
cocoon of a ship with the father who had returned for him.
It was night where they landed. Three moons banished the blackness.
Here was another planet of vast open spaces, with a wind that whipped tears
from his eyes. He caught his cloak, clutching it against him with tight
fists while he peered around curiously.
High, very high. A natural citadel perched atop a massive rock that
retained an endless view of endless desert. Too much like Tatooine. Space
on the top of the butte for a fully fortified complex, several hangers
to accommodate varied sizes of ships, a half-dozen flyways of different
lengths. A small cluster of buildings. And strange creatures who flocked
to meet them.
Luke shrank back, straining to divine their intentions. He'd never seen
beings such as these - except that time so long ago, in Mos Eisley with
Han. His father soothed him without words.
"Welcome back, lord." The man-thing was sturdy and compact, lightly
furred, its silver eye-orbs bright with intelligence. It offered a small
bow that spoke of respect rather than servitude.
"Greetings, Akita." Vader waited until the entire group was assembled.
He inclined his head toward Luke. "This is my son."
No further introduction was necessary. Luke heard awed murmurs and felt
all eyes focus on him. He nodded in their direction, attempting a shy smile.
Several beings made sounds that might have been giggles.
"Thank you for meeting us," said his father formally, and the group
slowly dispersed, filling the air with rumbles, mutters, and squeaks. "My
staff," Vader explained as they strode toward a sprawling, single-story
structure. Their feet kicked up red-tinted dust, and it swirled in miniature
tornadoes spawned by the steady wind.
Luke coughed and wiped his eyes. "What is this place?"
Beyond the low walls, a garden of heat-thrive plants created a calm
environment. The gusting wind became a mild breeze, and it was much cooler
than just outside the thick, sand-packed perimeter. Here there was peace,
no evil could he feel. It bore no resemblance to the nightmarish place
on Dagobah where he had met his father's doppelganger, just as his father
was nothing like the fearsome Dark Lord of Rebel propaganda.
So many contradictions to ponder.
Vader stopped on the smooth stones that decorated an entryway. "This
is my home. Now it is yours also. For as rarely or as frequently as you
wish to be here." He pushed open the wide door and made a sweeping gesture
with his arm. "Welcome home, my son."
Luke caught his breath, overwhelmed by the words, the action - the entire
concept. Home. Father. He was looking at his dreams. Trembling with anticipation,
he stepped into his future, feeling the warmth of his father's hand on
his shoulder, guiding him. Welcoming.
His eyes searched out every detail, hungry for intimacy. Curving rooms
connected yet very separate, lighting obscure and moody. Plants proliferating
on walls, crawling up to ceilings. The furniture was low-slung and looked
achingly comfortable to his weary gaze. There was nothing here to reflect
the holovid image of Darth Vader, the Emperor's Right Hand. It was the
home of a wealthy country squire, and it reflected personal pleasure rather
than fashion. It was very nearly hedonistic.
Was there room here for him? Uncertain of his place in this bright new
world, he looked questioningly at his father.
"Does the castle suit the youngest Lord Vader?" the Dark Lord asked,
his deep voice rich with amusement.
A smile slowly spread across his face. It felt natural, not like the
smiles on the Cor moon. "It's beautiful," Luke said happily. Then felt
a blade of anxious jealousy slip into his heart. "Do you live here alone?"
A gentle mind-touch reassured him. "No longer, child of mine." Vader
paused. "Come, you are very tired. I will have refreshments sent to your
room, then you must sleep. We have much to discuss tomorrow."
He followed, quickening his pace to keep up with the long strides, and
tried to sneak glances at the exotic artwork they passed. The spoils of
war? "It surprises me that you have a home. I thought--"
"That I lived with the Emperor in Imperial City? I do, at times. But
this place is for me. For us. Luke." Vader stopped and faced him. "One
word of warning. I shield my home as much as possible from the Emperor.
Now I am shielding you, keeping your emotions from him. As I begin to train
you, shielding is the first and most important thing you must learn. Without
it, we may not survive. Guard your sleep, and limit your flights of imagination
during the night."
Luke blushed. His father knew about those feelings? "You mean--?"
"No, Luke, I do not mean that the Emperor would be enthralled by your
erotic dreams. I am referring to your calls to me." Black fingers curled
around his forearm, a hint of restrained power behind the light touch.
"The expressions of anxiety that ripped my attention from my duties and
drew the Emperor's interest. I will heal your pain, my son. You will never
feel that way again."
When the hand released him, he entered the room - his room -
with a pounding heart. It was as spacious and cool as the rest of the house.
One entire wall opened onto the garden. He crossed over to it. No window
or door, just the soft 'whoosh' of an air curtain to keep out pests. He
inhaled the fresh new scents.
"It's wonderful."
To his left, a portion of the side wall slid back to reveal a row of
clothing, all black. He flushed and looked curiously at his father. "Were
you so confident that I would come to you?"
"Let us say that I was hopeful."
He tried to smile but unexpected exhaustion pulled at his face and turned
his expression into a yawn.
"Go to sleep, son. My suite is next door should you need me in the night."
Heat flooded his face, and he stared fixedly at the thick carpet. "Good
night... Father."
Even as he fell into a deep sleep, the realization followed him: It
was the first time in his life to say those simple words. The first time
he'd known such feelings of peace and serenity - and they were from the
place Yoda and Ben had labeled Dark Side. If this was Darkness, it was
giving him a new life, and it was the life he had always dreamed.

* * *
Vader switched off the comlink that updated him on events in the Empire.
He could devote several weeks to his son's conversion unless the Rebels
came up with some extraordinary plan, and there was nothing in Luke's mind
to indicate the likelihood of such an occurrence.
He checked his chron and wondered when his son was going to rise. A
Jedi completely attuned to the Force needed little sleep. Vader felt restless,
anxious to talk to the boy. There was much he wanted to understand about
Luke's existence and Obi-Wan's ultimate betrayal.
There was also much to understand about the boy himself. Vader had never
known such a high level of emotional hunger in a human, and it piqued his
interest. His delicate mind-probes had revealed much about the boy's foster
parents - Beru, well-meaning but with priorities focused on her husband;
Owen, with his hard-work ethic and no time to waste for nurturing a child's
dreams. An incomplete though not uncommon upbringing. It could only have
been the Force that had left Luke so famished for attention and with a
strange combination of jaded innocence and adolescent yearnings. A Force
child of such talent needed a Jedi's guidance from the day of his birth.
Obi-Wan knew that to be true.
"You're thinking about Ben." A soft voice interrupted his concentration.
Vader was startled. The child's perceptions were more developed than
he had suspected. He was torn between pride and annoyance. "Yes." He gestured
to the empty seat and the pitcher of freesi juice that awaited.
Luke poured himself a glassful and gulped it thirstily. He wiped his
mouth on the back of his hand - a farmboy gesture, Vader chastised
silently. Guiltily, Luke reached for a napkin and dabbed at his grin.
"Sorry." The crystal eyes studied him with open interest. "What were
you thinking about Ben?"
"When did you meet him?"
"Two days before you killed him." Luke's answer was thoughtless. "I
mean, before you--"
"Your meaning is clear." His voice held only the faintest allusion to
censure, but he was pleased to see that it scratched the boy's ego. "Then
you are how old - twenty?"
"Yes. Almost twenty-one," Luke replied with a hint of recrimination
in his tone.
So, his old Master had stolen his son and hidden him for two decades,
not only from his father but from the Force. "He was wrong to do so."
"To do what?"
Vader studied him. At this point in his development, Luke was easily
controlled, and it was tempting to feed him lies. But that would bode ill
for their future relationship. Better to have an emphasis on truth from
the start, and then the boy would be more willing to believe the falsehoods
of the future.
"You should not have been parted from the Force. It is exceptionally
strong in you. There was no justification for Obi-Wan to have waited eighteen
years to begin your training." But how fortunate that the overdue training
had come to such an ignominious end.
"Maybe he didn't know about me."
He permitted himself a smile. "Ah. You believe the happy coincidence
that he hid your birth from me, stole you from your mother, stored you
on a remote wasteland, and just incidentally became a hermit and lived
nearby?"
Luke shrugged, color peaking to his ears. "I guess I'm pretty stupid
about a lot of things."
"No," he snapped. Nothing in the galaxy could have prevented his hand
from reaching across the table to caress the face that bore the unmistakable
stamp of his own, younger features. "Just untrained. I will create someone
quite extraordinary out of your uncommon matter."
The boy sent him a quizzical half-smile, then touched the fingers that
cupped his chin. "Why do you always wear gloves?"
The grasshopper mind of a child. Never mind, it would be corralled in
time. Vader raised his right hand. "This one is a prosthetic, like yours.
Another sign of our destiny." He stripped off the glove and flexed the
hand; its synflesh was unmarred.
Luke frowned. "And the other?"
"Original equipment, extensively damaged."
Compassion flowed from the boy, and it unsettled Vader. "But you don't
have any trouble using it, do you?"
"Its functions have been restored. The damage is purely cosmetic. In
plainer words, child, it is an unpleasant sight, even for me."
"I'd like to see it." Luke held out his own hand in an imperious gesture.
Vader hesitated. The boy's Force-persuasion skills were already powerful.
In time, it was possible that his son would best him, in which case it
was wisest to yield a little today as insurance for tomorrow. He turned
his left hand palm up and surrendered it.
Luke unfastened the clips and carefully removed the leather sheath.
Vader studied the disfigured hand with a steely gaze. How ugly it must
seem when compared to the perfection of youth. Luke traced the scars with
his fingers, touched the puckered tissue with ill-concealed pity.
"Does it hurt?"
"No." Physically, the pain was years in the past. Emotionally, he no
longer gave it thought - or hadn't, until this moment. Luke brought the
hideous fingers to his cheek, and Vader disguised his dismay. The softness
of young skin - how long had it been since he'd felt it? Or revealed that
hand to another living creature?
"Are you like this all over?" The boy's voice quivered, setting up a
resonance in the Force that his father promptly shielded.
"I--"
A kiss was pressed against his withered palm. Vader drew a sharp breath
that made his respirator gasp in protest. Luke's eyes smiled at him, filled
with an adoration that he had never before received - not even from this
one's mother. And there was something more in the gaze than the simple
worship of a child for his parent - something that could be used to control
the boy. Vader withdrew his hand and curled his bare fingers, allowing
them to stroke the pale cheek, indulging them in the silky coolness of
golden hair. This was like nothing he'd ever known, and his tentative feelings
were so complex, so confused--
Vader slipped the glove back on. "I shall begin your training today.
We will work on shielding."
"You cannot shield yourself from me," the boy said slyly.
In the act of rising from the chair, he shot a sharp glance at Luke.
"Nor you from me. Remember that."
"I shall." His son rose with him, pulling himself to his full, absurdly
short, height. "I'm ready to begin." Then it was Luke's turn to show an
indication of embarrassment. "Father?"
"What is it?"
One perfect hand rose, brushed the unblemished cheek as if to capture
a memory. "I haven't been touched very often. Thank you."
Stricken by the absence of any appropriate phrases, Vader gave his son
a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Let us begin your training."
He would do penance tonight and pray to the Sith spirits who ruled the
Darkness to reinforce his strength against this dangerously seductive child...
his child of the Sith.

* * *
Luke snapped off the lightsaber, disappointed with his performance.
"I don't understand. I can't do it! What's wrong with me?"
"It is not your failure," his father said mildly. "I will help you construct
a lightsaber of your own. They respond best to their creator. Your first
one was impressive."
He wondered if his right hand was still attached to the old one. Perhaps
someday a geoarchaeologist would find them and wonder. Perhaps one day
a legend would arise of the battle between the young Jedi and his father,
the Dark Lord. "It was yours."
Vader looked up. "You had mine?"
"Ben said you wanted me to have it when I was old enough, but Uncle
Owen wouldn't allow it. I believed him."
"But now you do not. Or do you still distrust what I have told you,
Luke?"
He closed his eyes and turned his face away. In the sanctuary offered
by the darkness of the glass, disguised by the stark richness of the courtyard's
succulents, he opened them again and saw the reflection of his father -
a powerful giant. A man of legend, a superhuman of heroic stature. The
man of his childhood fantasies. The mythical father he'd boasted about
to his scornful childhood foes, the father who'd looked like Emperor Palpatine's
Dark Lord. The dashing warrior, unsurpassed in skill and valor. The masked
prince who'd sneak into his bed at night and touch him in vague ways. Now
his imagination added an outstretched hand that beseeched his love and
understanding, a gesture rich with promise. It was a heady feeling of power
that rushed through him like adrenaline, the vision of the great Dark Lord
pleading for his forgiveness.
Lord Darth Vader. Lord Luke Vader. Lords of the Galaxy. Father and Son.
Gods.
Cheering crowds: The Emperor is dead. Long live the Lords Vader.
He'd felt the approach of this moment since the terror above Bespin.
Then, clinging to the cold metal for the sake of his life and his sanity,
his father's words had pierced to his very soul and lingered no matter
how hard he tried to erase them from his consciousness. Awake or asleep,
he was haunted by the dream of ruling the galaxy at his father's side.
Luke swung round and removed his battle helmet, tossing it aside. "I
believe you. I just don't believe you're telling me the whole truth."
The Dark Lord made a sound - or perhaps it was only in Luke's mind.
A chuckle? It mirrored a depth of understanding that he hadn't felt before,
not even from Ben Kenobi.
"You are the true son of your father. Stubborn to a fault."
A thrill of delight ran through him at the comparison, and he studied
his father's mask. Did the voice augmenter turn upward in a smile? Did
the hollow insect eyes really twinkle with amusement or was it just a reflection
of light? Did that tilt of the helmet mean his father was proud of him?
Pride. Not disappointment, not rejection. Of his three Jedi teachers,
only Darth Vader praised his skills and encouraged him. Only his father
saw a future for him.
"I know your fears, my son. I share them."
Share? Not possible, but he didn't doubt for a moment that his father
sensed his years of loneliness and frustration. Knew that he had wandered,
unwanted, disconnected, through an empty and boring existence. But could
Vader know the feeling that he wasn't whole, that the rest of him waited
somewhere in the universe? That he had called and called and received not
even a whisper in response - until after the horror of Cloud City.
And could Vader understand the stigma he bore, real or imagined, of
a child without parents? A scar that had no possibility of being healed.
Until now.
This was his time. He could put everything right, throw those desperate
years into ancient history where they belonged. If only he could say the
words of assent that would reconnect him to his heritage. If only he could
surrender the man he was struggling to become to the man who wanted his
soul.
A dark glove came to rest on his shoulder.
"Can I change myself? Should I be... you?" he whispered uncertainly.
You will be my shadow, was the answer he heard in his mind. But
aloud his father replied: "I don't want you to be me. I only want to help
you realize your true potential."
Luke shook his head, more against the yearning caused by the words than
in denial of the offer.
The hand caressed his hair, fine strands slipping easily through the
gloved fingers. "You are so much like me, Luke."
The fingers brushed his face, and he trembled on the brink of understanding.
"Father...."
"You have my eyes."
"Do I?" He almost asked to see his father's face, but hesitated, reluctantly
acknowledging that he feared the destruction of his fantasy. "Part of me,"
his voice trembled with the effort of making this confession, "part of
me wants to be like you."
To become the father he'd created in his mind.
For a moment he felt that he could almost reach out and touch the dream-image
that had appeared to him in the cave on Dagobah. His face inside his father's
helmet. Himself inside his father. His father inside him.
And still he could not grasp the true meaning.
But what if these thoughts were not his own? What if his mind was bending
to the will of Vader's desires? What if his father was lying to him the
way Ben had?
He hid the anguish that possibility brought behind a defiant smile.
"You're very good at mind control games - almost as good as Ben. You're
trying to convince me that our causes are the same. That we can join together
and turn the galaxy into some kind of corrupt paradise."
"Your words, Luke, not mine." The reply came sharply, with a bitterness
that equalled his own. "Don't judge me by your limitations."
He was stricken into silence, wounded by the arrow he'd meant for his
father.
The Dark Lord sighed. "Luke... son. Your limitations are the result
of my absence. Had I raised you, you would have been trained in the Force
from babyhood. You would understand your place at my side, your importance
to the galaxy. You would not now feel the confusion and loss that I sense."
"Then why did you leave me?" His grief and anger burst out with the
accusation. "Why didn't you come back for me?"
"I did not know you existed. Your mind wasn't strong enough to reach
out to me. Perhaps, at the moment of your birth, I might have sensed you
- but I was... otherwise occupied." One hand reached up, clenched, then
slowly dropped. "Had I known, I would have come for you. Obi-Wan was wrong
to think that keeping us apart would bring you no harm. But he was afraid
of your potential."
"That I'd become a Dark Jedi like you?" He pushed aside his sadness
and tried to concentrate, to discern the truth.
"Partly. He was afraid of the scope of power we would - a son of mine
would have. Obi-Wan was not always the humble, self-effacing master he
appeared to you. His talent in the Force bordered on sorcery. He wanted
to train me, but refused to share his deepest knowledge - he held me back,
so I had to find my own way. I will not make that same mistake with you,
my son."
Vader hesitated, his head turned to the side as though he listened to
a voice Luke couldn't hear. "When I became powerful, Kenobi saw in me what
he wanted for himself. In keeping you from me, he thought he could control
us and thereby change his own destiny. Despite his dreams of greatness,
he was a small man. As for Obi-Wan's carefully staged death --" Vader uttered
a harsh bark of laughter "-- the sacrifice of a martyr, designed to reinforce
your adolescent illusions of his godhood."
Luke leaned against a support beam. It disturbed him that these words
were so powerful. He wanted to resist them, but it was impossible.
"As your first Force mentor, Obi-Wan had an unfortunately strong influence
on you, that is why you continue to have difficulty accepting the truth."
His father chuckled at the expression on his face. "I can see that you
and I share the same annoyance that our thoughts can be so clearly perceived
by another Force-sensitive."
"Is this what the Emperor does? Does he know everything you think?"
His jealousy stunned him; it was bright and sharp, cutting deeply into
his heart. At that moment, he would have joyfully slain Palpatine to excise
him from his father's life.
"No." The answer was deliberately calming. "Nor have I ever been able
to read anyone as easily as I sense your thoughts. We are not just blood,
son. We are Jedi blood, a very ancient tie."
"Ben told me."
"Told you, yes. But could not share it with you. That is your father's
responsibility. The father teaches the son - it is our way."
"You should have found me sooner," Luke repeated stubbornly and turned
away, confused by his conflicting feelings. So much of his life was lost
and could never be recovered - stolen by Ben Kenobi, the man he'd thought
was his friend. He should be furious... but a Jedi didn't feel anger, Yoda
said.
But you are not a Jedi yet....
How could he ever become something he didn't understand?
His father moved behind him, strong arms circling his shoulders, pulling
him back, sheltering him. Perhaps it was an apology of sorts. He felt the
cold of the helmet as it bowed down against his own head, the gentle pulse
of the respirator, the hum of machinery that kept his father alive in impure
atmospheres.
...more machine than man....
Was that Ben's voice? Luke raised his head. Even if it was, it was just
another of his lies. This was not a machine that held him.
"Your emotions call to the Emperor. He responds to the Dark. Calm yourself
- or I will do it for you."
"Then do it," he whispered, relinquishing his will to the guidance of
his long-awaited father. The Force trickled from Vader, at first gentle
and erratic like a million crazed fireflies darting through the night sky.
It increased, creating a refuge from his confusion. Luke felt something
press against his breastbone - from the inside. A feeling - the Dark, the
Light? No, something more, something better.
I'm here, son. I will protect you.
I know you will. But, Father, what is this feeling? I like it....
Wanting. Fulfillment. Both and neither. It is everything for which
you hunger, young one. It is all your wishes come true.
Darth Vader clasped his son tightly, satisfaction rushing through his
veins. Luke was so immature, so naive. It was scarcely sporting to alter
his perceptions, to play on his emotions as easily as fingers plucked a
stringed instrument. But there was no alternative. The boy had to come
to the Dark Side to be under his protection, otherwise the Emperor would
never allow him to live and risk fulfillment of the boy's destructive destiny.
It was fortunate, indeed, that the child was affected by his words. Perhaps
Obi-Wan had done him a favor after all. Now Luke was so starved for his
father's affection that he was more easily led.
Son of Skywalker, the Emperor had hissed, outraged. The boy
seeks my annihilation.
Vader's child, in his own thoughts. My son. Mine, belonging
to me, part of me. The one who will set me free of my enslavement to Palpatine
and give me the throne.
Vader closed his eyes. It would be a relief to again be alone, to remove
his battle gear and not see the world through computer-enhanced orbs. The
images were imprecise, too digitized to give him the true sense of his
son. He longed to rip off this armor and to once again feel the softness
of the boy's face under his touch - soft as his own flesh had been before
synflesh replaced it - to press a kiss in the silky hair, to inhale its
fresh scent, to hear his son's voice with his own ears.
He sensed the boy's raging need. "Luke," he whispered persuasively,
"stay with me. Only our combined strength can save us. You and I share
one mind, one heart. One destiny from which there is no escape."
The boy struggled in his grasp, and Vader released him. "Ben said that
I had to confront you. I thought he meant--"
"That murdering your father was your destiny?" He watched Luke's anguish
and held his great body in check, fists clenched at his side. "And still
you think that I am the Evil One?" He spat the words. "They tortured
you with that command - and for what reason? Why should you kill me?" His
fury built. "They had their own agenda and it had nothing to do with you.
I was one of them, and I preferred the Dark Side. The Dark called to them,
but they were cowards and ran from it. I accepted their betrayals, but
I cannot accept what they tried to compel you to do. They were sentencing
you to your own destruction. Or could you have knowingly murdered your
father and then resumed your life?"
Vader walked a few steps away to compose himself. He would free his
son from the isolation of his grief, teach him the legacy of his Sith forebearers,
as he should have been taught at his father's knee.
"Father?"
He returned to Luke's side. "Yes, son?" Pleased, he sensed the thrill
that ran through the boy each time he used that designation.
Two small, strong hands grabbed his arms. "Why did they do it? Why did
they tell me to kill you? You're not evil - not really."
Not evil. Though the galaxy might disagree, he knew it was his curse.
Neither strong enough nor evil enough to be a true Sith and hold the Thousandworlds
in his fist. Always he had lived in the Sorcerer's shadow, watchful, waiting
for his chance. Now....
With this boy, his wait was ended. "They assumed that you would destroy
me," he replied evasively. "Then my murder would have eliminated you, also
- or at best left you a Force cripple, unable to cope with patricide. Now
tell me again, Luke, which of us is evil - Obi-Wan or me?"
"No!" Pain radiated out from the boy in palpable shock waves. Surely
the Emperor must sense it. Vader tried to block the feelings, to contain
them here in their home, to keep the Emperor out of their lives for at
least a short while longer.
"That doesn't make sense. It couldn't be for selfish reasons - not just
because they hated you - or me. I don't believe it. You're lying to me
- just like they did!"
Curse be to the Sith who created this difficult child. Vader hesitated
before surrendering to the decision that the truth was unavoidable. He
clasped the boy's hands between his two, offering his own strength as an
anchor. "Forgive me for what I must reveal to you. But this is your destiny.
You were meant to correct my 'failure'. I was supposed to destroy the Emperor,
not become his servant."
Pale lips parted. "You?"
"Yes. When I failed, The Jedi intended to use you to destroy the Dark
Dynasty with one blow of your lightsaber. Your action would have destroyed
me, the Dark Lord, and crippled you, my heir. Then, due to grief over the
destruction of his future, they hoped my own father would wither and die."
Luke looked up at him, eyes huge with fear and reluctance, face so white
that its tones barely registered as human through his sensors. "Your f-father?
I don't understand."
"Yes, you do," Vader answered as gently as he could. "He is--"
"No!" Luke's voice cracked, and he pulled his hands free. "I don't want
to hear anymore - it's not possible!"
"You must. At some level, you understood your destiny even before we
met. - as I understood mine from the moment your grandfather restored my
life and made me his Right Hand."
"No!"
Despite their mental connection, he was ill-prepared for the shattering
denial that battered his mind. It took all Vader's Force mastery to take
control and bury himself in Luke's senses. Quickly, he built walls to keep
the truth inside and force Luke into acceptance. The boy could do it, and
the damage would not be irreparable. Skywalkers were a strong line - he
bore witness to that strength.
Luke began to fight his control, and Vader took a mental step backward,
startled by the strength young Skywalker revealed. "You're lying," the
boy accused, his voice tight with pain. "I want to know what happened to
you. What happened to your body - what Obi-Wan did. I want the truth
from you. No more lies, Father - not from you, not from anyone."
Incensed, Vader forced his way back into his son's mind to discover
what barrier remained. He found a protected corner, a place where the boy
still believed in Kenobi, a place strong with the Light. Until that place
was destroyed, they could never be joined. Obi-Wan! His rage, so
long denied an outlet, began to surge inside him, and it was a pleasure
set it free.. Obi-Wan wasn't here to receive it, but his loyal apprentice
was.
"Very well. You wish to know how I was damaged, son of mine?" He paced
his words slowly and deliberately. It would be cruel, and he would glory
in that cruelty. It was time to eliminate the rest of his son's resistance
with a stunning display of his power. "I will show you. Behold - this is
what your Obi-Wan did to me. Now you will live it, too."
With the strength of the Dark Force, he thrust Luke backward in Time
and into the lava pit that had eaten through his body while Obi-Wan watched
and gloated and laughed.
Now the boy would understand all.

* * *
Luke awoke with a start, pulse fluttering wildly in this throat. It
took a few minutes to calm himself, to realize that he was in his father's
home, safe, not drowning in a fiery pool of hell, and that what he dreamed
had never happened - to him. But in the weeks since his father had shown
him the images, the scalding torture had become part of his own memory.
He'd lived through the horror and its aftermath: Kenobi; lightsabers clashing
as teacher turned on student; pushed into a pool of lava that instantly
cooked the flesh from his bones; magically lifted from the liquid fire
by the invisible Masters of Darkness, Sith spirits. Then had come months
of pain, years of restorative surgeries, failure after failure, despair,
courage, Palpatine's constant presence.... Now Luke knew his father's agonies
intimately, and the realization that he could offer no solace and no cure
unsettled him. What sort of ruin lay behind the mask? Did his father have
the face of a monster instead of a man? He couldn't ask and put his father
through more pain. But... do I look like you used to? he wondered
wistfully.
He swung his legs out of bed and paused in front of the mirror. His
reflection reassured him. There were no burns, no scars; his limbs were
tanned and lithe, muscles more sharply defined than they had ever been.
Weeks of pushing his body's limits, both here and on Dagobah, had left
him in superb physical condition. He slid his hands over his torso, allowing
himself a moment to enjoy his frustrated sensuality before belting a loose
robe over his nakedness. A more immediate urge demanded to be sated. He
was starving.
From the kitchen cooler he grabbed a cold roos leg and tore at the tough
flesh with his teeth, strolling into the spacious study where his father
was watching holocasts from the Empire. Luke studied the black figure of
his dreams and nightmares. Vader had never given any indication of the
pain he'd suffered, and Luke's admiration was grew.
"What's new?"
"Your unconventional breakfast, for one." A large hand flicked off the
vid. "A minor metropolis on Den Two has been wiped out - by a small meteorite,
they believe."
"Damn. Why didn't I feel it?" The depth of the catastrophe touched him
only peripherally. The fact that he hadn't sensed it was much more distressing.
Shouldn't a Jedi know such things?
"It surprises me that you did not. Perhaps in your sleep... did you
have a bad dream?"
"The usual." He shrugged, feeling oddly disoriented. "Maybe I've just
had too many tragedies to sense another one."
"And exactly what great tragedies have you had in your short life, my
son?"
"How quickly you forget." His response held anger, but it was more a
matter of form than fury. "You took away my life and everyone I had. Your
troopers killed Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen - don't you care? They were your
relatives, too."
"They were neither relatives of mine nor yours. Your 'uncle' was Obi-Wan's
brother."
"Ben's? Are you certain?" He remembered the bloodless reaction of his
former master to their massacre. "He didn't even flinch when he heard they
were dead." His estimation of the old Jedi rose a notch.
"He was a hard man who had lived long and seen much. Perhaps his compassion
had withered."
"Maybe." He tossed the unfinished fowl aside with a moue of distaste
and sprawled in a chair, hooking one leg over the arm. He rubbed his fingers
along the smooth skin of his exposed thigh. "Doesn't it bother you that
your troopers destroyed my life?" he asked, disguising his uneasiness as
an idle question. He felt so strange today, so detached, as if....
Something was going to happen... something more important than a meteorite
obliterating a city.
Vader watched him. "If they hadn't, you would still be a callow, fatherless
farmboy, anxious to get off that useless rock. Was your old life so preferable?"
It was logic with which he couldn't disagree. He wanted to surrender
to it, but he also wanted to battle. "Other people's lives are a high price
to pay for my happiness."
"It is a frequent occurrence, Luke, for a Jedi. I'm sure Obi-Wan considered
their deaths a small cost since the result was to set you on the path to
your destiny."
His father's philosophies made sense. His motives were pure and straightforward,
not like the calculated manipulations of Ben and Yoda. And there was something
about Vader's cold logic that excited and empowered him, giving him strange,
lush feelings he'd never had before. Now he could see himself reflected
in Vader's mind, as if in a great cloudy mirror that magnified him many
times. He studied that mental image, running his fingers through his hair,
gratified by its added length and luxuriant texture. Everything about his
body had improved tenfold. If this was a side effect of embracing Dark
powers, he was all for it.
"My heartbreaker son."
He dropped his hand, eyes narrowing. "What does that mean?"
There was a shadow of angry envy in Vader's voice. "You have a cruel,
careless beauty about you. I think you will cause great pain to people
who have the misfortune to care for you."
A small smile canted his lips. "Including you, Father?" he challenged
pitilessly.
"You forget yourself!" the Dark Lord hissed. "Remember your destiny."
"Let me guess. My destiny is to kneel at your feet? Sorcerer's apprentice."
"I have no doubt of that." Vader leaned forward, elbows resting on the
pale, rich wood of the table's surface. "Soon, I think, it will be time
for you to return to your friends."
"Go back?" Luke blinked. "No! I thought you wanted me with you. We're
going to confront the Emperor. I'm not afraid of him anymore."
"You should be. You are not yet prepared, and I do not want to risk
you. Your powers require some practical experience. Your position as an
Alliance pilot - "
"I'm not leaving," Luke said firmly and changed the subject. Perhaps
if he demonstrated again what a quick study he was, his father wouldn't
make him go. "I need you to teach me. I've already learned so much from
you."
"More than you realize." Vader stood, towering over him. "Clothe yourself
and we will go into the desert and practice what you have learned."

* * *
The large sun was cresting the horizon, but the desert still held the
night's cool. Luke bounded out of the speeder, spreading his arms to welcome
the rising warmth with an exultant gesture. He felt so alive, so happy,
so - real.
"What else do you feel, child of my heart?"
Laughing, he spun in a circle. "I feel - powerful! Like I'm going to
explode! Like I can do anything!"
"Then proceed."
Freedom erupted out of him, totally unfettered. He was gloriously alive,
a god in charge of the universe. This was the Force! This was what
had been missing in his life, this would fulfill him. All around the sand
rose and grew into towers, a castle whose builder had been crazed by the
sheer power of creation. He laughed at it, building and building until
he was enclosed in the darkness of a dungeon - then smashed it with the
force of a typhoon, sand swirling but never daring to touch him.
He ran through the storm, and it parted for him, creating a motile archway.
He flung himself at his father's feet, panting. "I'm a god!" he declared
impulsively. "We both are!"
"Yes."
He felt the swell of Vader's power as it grew to twine with his. Together
they began to build, until a sky-splitting spire of sand stood in the empty
desert, higher than any mountain he'd ever seen. "We can do anything,"
he whispered in awe, slowing rising to his feet.
"Yes. The Force is with us." Vader turned abruptly and grabbed his forearms.
"We can take one more step. If you are not afraid."
His breath clogged in his throat, and he trembled with impatience. "I'm
not afraid of anything! What is it?"
"We can join our minds." The fingers tightened. "A Jedi can only link
with his equal. We will forever bonded more closely than you can imagine.
I will always be inside you and you inside me. Always touching, needing
no one else. Always with the other's power at his command. No one will
be able to stop us."
Omnipotence! He knew his feverish enthusiasm blazed through his
gasping breaths and lit his eyes. Power... he craved it the way a hungry
child did the sweetness of candy. And to bond with the Dark Lord... was
this what the vision in the Dagobah cave meant? "Yes, I want to - but..."
The grip tightened further, biting into his flesh, bruising him. He
allowed himself to feel the pain and revel in the sensations it created,
his perceptions overflowing with frantic anticipation.
"What?" his father growled.
"It feels...." With a confused blend of pride and chagrin, he let his
father see his lust, daring the older man to either criticize or indulge
him.
A bark of laughter was torn from the Dark Lord. "Power is an aphrodisiac,
Luke. But never allow sex to stand in the way of power. As a Jedi, you
may find that while sexual indulgence is a pleasurable sensation, it is
a small delight when compared with exercising your other powers. And the
consequences...."
"What consequences?" he asked, shaking his head, trying to clear the
fog that was smothering him.
Vader's voice lowered. "Luke, a Jedi must not have children. I should
not have - it is why you feel so much pain, because you are the child of
a Jedi. The Force is too strong in you."
Too strong? Then the meaning of Vader's words sunk in, and Luke
blinked. "But.... Your father had you! Are you saying that I can't--
I mean, can I still...?"
"There is no contraception that will prevent a Jedi baby."
He stared at the Dark Lord, his mind whirling. Yoda hadn't mentioned
this - and neither had Ben. Yet when he considered it, they had both been
living as hermits, alone and chaste. And hadn't he felt it all his life,
this knowledge that he would never have a woman? He'd thought it had meant
something different. "But I'm your child," he said finally, "and
we're both Jedi. Won't any kind of bonding--"
"A Jedi parent-child bond is rare; very little is known about its effects.
There may be a possibility of... one's personality becoming... submerged."
"Did that happen with you and--"
"The danger is passed for us," his father interrupted impatiently, "Once
we join, all your senses will be heightened. You will be part of me. You
will learn to hide nothing from me. You will be
unable to hide from
me." The voice turned into velvet and stroked his senses. "Nor will you
want
to."
There was a faint warning voice in his head, but it was so small, its
words so meaningless, that it was simple to ignore it. Luke raised his
hands and gripped them around the powerful arms, dizzy with excitement.
"Do it," he whispered, willingly succumbing to the shadowy realm of unspoken
desires. Take me, be part of me, Dark Lord, before I take you -
but he dared not utter his challenge aloud.
Sand whirled, mad dancers centering on them. His body was racked with
convulsions, and the cold strength of his father's embrace was essential
to keep him on his feet. Storm clouds moved across his vision, swooping
by his closed lids like winged demons. His mind was pierced, severed, then
returned to him reformed, and in it he could feel his father's irresistible
will. He felt the other's mighty body as if it were his own, knew all its
strengths and understood the machinery that supported it. He felt both
cold contempt and fiery passion in their mind - one mind now, not just
his alone - and fusing with it came his own youthful exhilaration and a
dying memory of innocence. Every feeling swirling and merging until he
thought he might explode from the volatile mixture.
It stopped with soul-shocking abruptness. He shuddered against his father,
panting, and squinted up at the sun that blazed directly above him. Had
so much time passed? Confusion clouded his thoughts; he drew away from
the tall figure of his father. What had he done?
"It is too late for second thoughts, young one. Once done, it cannot
be undone."
The father-part of him was disoriented too. Together they worked, picking
careful steps through the shambles, gathering up the silver threads of
remembrances. "We can still be private. I feel you, but... I have my own
thoughts. And... Father?" His voice was husky with emotion. "I don't want
to undo it."
"Yes." There was a faint tremble in the Vader's voice because, Luke
instantly understood, he was no more familiar with these feelings than
was his son.
His compassion flooded both of them, and their thoughts turned inward.
The present and future Dark Lords remained motionless in the desert as
the sun traversed the sky and darkness settled once again upon the land.

* * *
He raised his head. His father lounged in one of the living area's comfortable
chairs, bent leg propped casually on a polished table of naturally-shaped
wood. "It seems like I make a lot of mistakes," Luke said despairingly,
staring at the shards that had been an example of rare Alderaani pottery.
"Learning is constant," Vader answered mildly. "You are not unwise for
your few years and lack of experience. Good judgment will come. And good
balance," he added drily.
Some of his depression slipped away. No one else would ever understand
how his father could soothe him. His deficiencies were smoothed over with
matter-of-fact encouragement. "I love you," he whispered impulsively. It
was so easy to say those words to this man, words that he had never considered
saying to anyone else.
"Yes." Vader clasped both hands around his knee and studied him. "You
need a haircut. You are beginning to resemble a pelted creature."
He laughed, delighted with the ordinariness of the conversation. "I
like it long."
"Long it may remain, but the lack of style is unbecoming. We shall trim
it."
"It looks fine," he protested.
"Why look merely 'fine' when you could be beautiful?"
Luke caught his breath. "All right," he whispered. He came to sit on
the floor by his father's chair. He leaned his arm on the black-clad knee,
rested his cheek against it, pleased when his touch was accepted. "I've
missed you. I mean - "
"I know what you mean, son." His unspoken invitation was answered when
his father's hand began to stroke his hair. "Since I have known you, I
have often thought about the moments we did not share."
He ducked his head under the caress, longing to hear the words. "Like
what?" he coaxed.
The Dark Lord chuckled, indulging his blatant entreaty. "Mmm... Luke
as a babe in my arms. Luke as a toddler, falling over his own feet. Luke
the adolescent, discovering adventure with me. Luke the teenager, driving
me to distraction with demands for his own skyhopper. Luke and the thrill
of his first love."
The images were so like his own dreams, but these had no possibility
of coming true. Did that realization sadden his father? "That's one you
haven't missed. I never fell in love. Back on Tatooine... no one really
liked me. Except Biggs Darklighter - he was my friend. But he died during
the assault on the Death Star. I guess... you killed him," he added pensively.
The hand rested against his head, benediction and consolation. "You
were miles above those commoners on Tatooine, my child. They were jealous
of your brilliance. You should have been with me. I would have taken you
soaring."
"I wanted a father." He laughed awkwardly. Such simple words couldn't
describe his years of loneliness. "I missed you and - everything." He thought
of Owen and Beru without regret. "They told me lies about you."
The gloved hand raised his chin until he stared directly into the black
orbs. "You have me now, young one. I will never leave you."
Why did it still seem like a dream? Where was reality, where was disappointment?
This was too much happiness... it couldn't be real. "What about my... grandfather?"
he whispered, stumbling over the word. "Will he want to see me?"
His father sighed. "Of course. Soon. Luke... he receives enjoyment from
observing suffering. Any failures or errors on your part would bring him
great pleasure."
Luke shuddered. "Is there no love in him at all?"
"None."
"Someday... tell me about you and him. But... not now." He twisted his
legs around. "I'll try not to make any mistakes when I meet him."
Vader was silent for several moments. "It would be better if you did."
Luke bowed his head. Here was the Darkness - and it was no less than
he'd expected. Pain and pleasure, love and hate. He'd always known there
were no vast differences between them; now he saw they were inexorably
linked. Power was with them, too, and he wanted that more than anything
else.
Except for his father. And even that once-simple desire had become complex.
"My little Shadow Jedi."
Luke looked up questioningly.
"Neither Dark nor Light.... Go now," his father said gently. "Amuse
yourself. There is a gift - Akita will show you. I must attend to my duties."

* * *
"My Lord Vader," Palpatine said softly. "I am much relieved. I had grown
worried and fearful for your health during your extended absence."
Vader winced. The honeyed tones issuing from the comlink were a sign
of great displeasure. "My conversion of young Skywalker took longer than
I expected. His will is great. However, I am pleased to report that I have
succeeded."
"You have turned him to the Dark Side?" Disbelief was reflected in the
Emperor's words.
"I have direct influence over his mind," Vader replied, prevaricating
slightly.
"Aaah." It was a sigh of pleasure. "I will enjoy observing his final
metamorphosis. However, I would hope, Lord Vader, that your control over
your son is indisputable. I would truly regret your failure in this matter."
A thinly veiled threat that he was intended to recognize as such. "My
control over the boy is complete, master."
"If you were to find some... lapse in his conversion," the Emperor continued,
ignoring his servant's words, "you would, of course, take immediate remedial
action."
He recited the words that Palpatine wanted to hear. "He will join us
or die, my master."
"Excellent."
The transmission ended, and Vader switched off his comlink. He wondered
if Palpatine discerned the depths of his treason and to what extent his
power base, as well as his Force skills, had expanded over the years while
remaining ever hidden from the Emperor. Soon he would rule the Empire,
expanding it beyond the reaches of the galaxy, and his son would be at
his side, an extension of his power. Emperor Vader's Right Hand.
Foolish child. He leaned back in the chair, indulging in uncharacteristic
idleness. Carelessly, he searched for Luke. Found him practicing unorthodox
maneuvers in his new gift, a modified TIE interceptor, much like Vader's
personal fighter. He smiled into Luke's mind, letting the boy feel his
touch. A rush of cheerful emotions shot back at him.
Interesting. Luke had found that his happiness came from the Dark Side,
that the wasteful Light brought nothing but martyrdom and a boring existence.
Vader withdrew his presence, leaving a delicate connection to ensure that
the child didn't crash his ship into a meteor or run into another of life's
absurdities.
Even considering Luke's previously sheltered existence and his extraordinary
naivete, Vader found it disturbing that the boy believed the mythical concept
of mind-joining when it had merely been another way to bind his son to
him. But Luke not only believed it, he'd embraced it with fervor. As if
he really trusted that the Dark Lord of the Sith would voluntarily share
his powers with a boy whose awesome skills were so uncontrolled, a boy
hungry for the stimulation that conflict provided.
The arrogance that implied disturbed him, as did the depths to which
the boy plunged with a nudge from the Dark Side. There appeared to be a
deep well of vanity and insolence in his son which he didn't care to evoke.
Vader stood and paced to the patio, glaring at the desert flowers that
bloomed in the cool of the night. Something else had changed since that
"joining", and brutal honesty compelled him to admit that the boy's free-ranging
emotions were affecting him. It had not been his intention, but there seemed
to be no way to halt the progression of these distasteful emotions. It
was mostly sexual, but there was something else with him now; a feeling
that had not always been a stranger to him. With scientific objectivity,
he scrutinized and attempted to identify it. As near as his examination
could determine, it appeared to be remorse. Absurd, really, but there it
was and he would have to endure it.
And worse than remorse was this unmistakable feeling of loneliness.
Damnit, he missed the boy. Immediately he realized the value of that thought
and sent it to his son. Luke's reaction was as he'd expected - a sweeping
wave of longing, a poorly hidden rush of lust.
Improbably, that response also caused an inconvenient reaction in him.
Vader made an involuntary gesture of frustration with his hand.
He began to pace restlessly, annoyed with himself for this atypically
skittish behavior. Why these ludicrous feelings of anxiety? Why this single,
overriding worry that he would lose Luke? There was no force more powerful
than the boy's love for his father - not even Palpatine could separate
them.
Yet he worried.
His rational mind reminded him that he would be continuously monitoring
the boy and if any problem arose he could take mental control. Surely the
risks were worth the reward. The entire galaxy worshiping Emperor Vader....
Once Luke surrendered his self to his father, nothing would stop them.
The combined power of Jedi parent and child was unequaled in the galaxy.
The only person who could thwart his plans was Luke himself.
But the irrational part of him still had qualms. He reinforced the connection
with his son, felt Luke's response like an embrace. It was foolish to worry.
The boy hadn't even shown any indication of wanting to return to his friends,
so why... ?
He looked down at his closed fist. Odd that he hadn't remembered grasping
anything. Slowly, with an intensifying feeling of dread, he uncurled his
fingers. The first pale blossom of the night had been crushed in his grip,
its ivory petals bruised and crumbled. He closed his fist around it again
and stared up at the night sky.
Unlike the flower, his son would be undamaged by his touch. Of this
he was certain. Quite certain.
With an angry gesture, Vader threw the broken petals to the ground and
pivoted on his heel. It was time to bring Luke to the Empire.

* * *
Vader probed his son's mind carefully. Praise the Sith, the boy was
still asleep. The Dark Lord relaxed, tossing aside his dignity to sprawl
across the overstuffed sofa. He'd never imagined that having a son could
be so taxing.
He reflected on recent events. Luke still needed to learn discipline
and how to channel the impatience and Dark power that simmered beneath
the boy's usual exuberance. Left as it was, one day it would not be only
Alderaani pottery and TIE fighters that suffered from his temper - one
day the violent release of Luke's repressions could have disastrous consequences
to those around him. If his Forceful abilities continued to grow, as it
appeared they were doing, it would take all of Vader's cunning to keep
the youth under his control. Fortunately, he understood the most direct
route: emotional appeals and overt affection were what the boy craved.
As long as Vader continued to use them successfully, he could set aside
his natural fear that one day Luke would destroy him along with the Emperor.
There was the possibility, of course, that Palpatine would be fascinated
by this boy who was more like him than his own son had ever been. Vader
frowned, uncertain of his feelings in that regard, then dismissed the problem
as unworthy of his concern.
The way to deal with his son's sexuality was not as simply defined,
particularly since it was focused on his father. That was where the path
became more dangerous.
He had no scruples against engaging in a sexual relationship with his
son - indeed, the boy was disturbingly desirable - but the emotional consequences
would be difficult to predict. Sex would add to his control as long as
the relationship was successful. Any problems, any jealousies, any slights
real or imagined, had the potential to unleash Luke's terrible fury. And
the Dark Lord definitely didn't want to be on the receiving end of that
reaction. Luke could destroy him in a fit of rage, because he would find
it very difficult to defend himself against this vulnerable child he'd
brought into existence - a weakness he disliked admitting, but his reluctance
had to be acknowledged.
He'd been unable to kill Luke in Cloud City; even earlier, in the Death
Star trench, he hadn't fired the final torpedo that would have blown the
little x-wing to bits. He'd sensed a connection between them then; now,
as they spent time together, he admitted a growing attachment to his son.
Regardless of his feelings, it would require careful thinking before
he could decide on the direction in which Luke's passions could be safely
turned. In the meanwhile, he would exert a bit more control over his son's
mind and cool those reckless desires... if he could.
"Good morning, Father."
He lifted his head. In the bright light of day, Luke appeared as sleepy-eyed
and tousle-headed as an innocent baby... dragon. Vader smiled at the comparison.
"Good morning, boy. I trust you slept well?"
"I did, though I don't know why," Luke admitted sheepishly. "I should
have had nightmares about wrecking the TIE." He stretched his arms over
his head, waving them in giant arcs. He paced to the window and back, then
flung himself onto the other end of the sofa with the restlessness of youth.
He draped one leg over the sofa arm and swung it. "So what are we going
to do now? Will we stay here? Are we going into the desert again? Do you
want to - "
"I must return to my flagship," Vader interrupted before the endless
list of possibilities could continue. " I would very much like for you
to come with me. You need command experience. And I dislike being parted
from you."
It was the last that would make the most impression on the vulnerable
man-child that lived inside his son; that was why he'd added it. Not surprisingly,
Luke's eyes brightened at the statement. "I wouldn't like that either,
but... your flagship? Somehow I can't see myself as an Imperial officer."
"You wouldn't be. You would be a Lord and responsible only to me and
to the Emperor."
"Not the Emperor." A flicker of anxiety briefly touched the crystal
eyes. "I... worry about him... but I'm not sure why."
"It would be a matter of protocol only. I would be the buffer between
the two of you. The Emperor rarely strays into space so you need not concern
yourself. In any case, I suspect that he should be more afraid of you than
you of him."
Luke giggled. "I like the sound of that! So can I be Lord Skywalker?
Lord Skywalker of Tatooine! That would show all those idiots back home!"
He swung around to sit cross-legged. The sofa cushions tipped, and the
Dark Lord braced himself with one foot planted on the floor.
"You may choose another name." Sith help him be patient!
"I think I'd like to keep the family one."
"You must consider, Luke," he replied carefully, "that 'Skywalker' has
negative connotations within the Empire. You will be working alongside
officers and soldiers who lost friends and family members on the Death
Star."
Luke's excitement subsided, and his expression became grave. "I never
thought of that."
"You rarely seem to think about the consequences of your actions, son."
The mouth opened to issue a protest, then snapped shut again. The boy
shrugged. "We're alike in that, aren't we? So... you want me to be Luke
Vader."
"Perhaps that is not the best choice either," he said stiffly.
"No?" The bright mood vanished, consumed by something darker. "You don't
want people to know I'm your son? Are you ashamed of me?"
"Sometimes a secret is best revealed when its significance can be utilized
to its fullest extent."
Luke frowned. "So I can be anyone. Or no one at all."
There was a certain pleasure in knowing that he could so easily control
his son's moods. "Just come with me, my precocious offspring. I will teach
you everything I know. And perhaps you will teach me a few things."
Luke gave a short laugh. "That would be interesting! Father...."
He recognized that yearning tone. "What?" he asked warily.
"I liked it that time you called me 'child of my heart'."
Moments such as these, when the boy's shy innocence resurfaced, unsettled
his composure. But he reached over and ruffled the sunny hair. "Well, then,
child of my heart, can I offer you breakfast before we start another long
day?"
"Sure! I can fix it. I'm starving!" Luke leaped to his feet, his exuberance
restored. "Are we leaving today?"
"For - ?"
"Oh." Color swept into the boy's cheeks. "For your flagship. Yes, Father,
I'll be honored to accompany you and be your Shadow Lord. I don't ever
want to be apart from you again."
A possibility that was both reassuring and frightening. Vader accepted
the hand his son proffered and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet,
envying the agility of youth. "Excellent. We shall toast a long and productive
association."
"With Norvanian grog?" Luke suggested brightly.
The idea of an intoxicated Skywalker filled him with misgivings. "I
think not. We shall rest today and return to the fleet tomorrow."
"Rest? Well... I'll find something to do. I have to think of
a name - that won't be easy! And I'll be ready to go first thing in the
morning!"
He didn't doubt it for a moment. Vader watched wordlessly as his son
bounded from the room.
Luke hoped he wasn't insulting Akita by banishing him from the kitchen,
but for once he wanted to prepare his father's breakfast himself. He wasn't
such a bad cook; one advantage of living on a wasteland planet like Tatooine
was that everyone learned the basic survival skills.
So it was with pride that he placed the heaping plate in front of the
Dark Lord. The meal of eggs and fried strips might not look pretty, but
it would taste wonderful. His father studied it silently.
"Try it. It's good," Luke urged, dropping into a chair.
"How do you expect me to eat this?"
For a moment he was confused. Then: "Oh. You could... take off your
mask," he suggested hesitantly. "I wouldn't mind. You don't have to eat
by yourself every day."
"I prefer to dine in my chambers," Vader said stiffly, then softened
the rejection by reaching across the table and squeezing his hand.
The touch reminded Luke of another time. Color rushed into his face,
and he had to force his voice to be steady. He didn't want to bring it
up, but it was proper to do so. And he was curious. "I want to apologize
for...um, what happened."
"I beg your pardon?"
"For... you know. In the desert." His cheeks were burning; the temperature
in the room must have warmed by a hundred degrees. "When I... I...." It
was impossible to continue. He drooped in his chair. Picking up the fork,
he flattened the mound of eggs.
"When you were sexually aroused?"
Shame filled his heart as he nodded. How could his father talk of it
so bluntly?
"It's all right, Luke."
Easy for you to say. He shook his head.
"I fully understand why you feel that way."
"I don't. I've never...."
"I know you haven't. Which is part of the reason. You have never loved
a woman, you have never engaged in intercourse, you have never had an emotional
closeness such as you have with me - and now you have learned that some
of those things are not possible for you. It is not surprising that your
latent sexual urges would become linked to the stimulation our new relationship
provides."
"But it's not right. I'm your son," he said tentatively, wondering
if Vader's values were as rigid as those he'd known on Tatooine.
"There are no moral considerations such as right or wrong regarding
physical relations between people."
He blinked. "There aren't?" This was contrary to what Owen and Beru
had taught him so many years ago. But he liked this new rule better.
Much better.
"Of course not. Anything is acceptable as long as all parties are willing."
Vader lifted the plate and stared at its contents.
Luke watched him. "It felt for a moment like... you were willing," he
finally breathed daringly.
The helmet tilted toward him. "Of course I was, child. Aside from the
emotional closeness I feel for you, you are a very attractive and, I suspect,
sensual young man. And, my boy, when you aimed that intensity at me, it
was difficult to resist."
"Really?" He rested his chin in his hand and watched his father stand
there with that shattering calmness. Luke Skywalker, attractive and sensual?
But... sometimes he did feel that way. And he liked that feeling.
"So...?"
"Eat your breakfast."
"I am." He was giddy, nearly giggling. Did he hold a certain power over
the Dark Lord? He pushed the eggs around with his fork. "So... are we going
to do it?"
"You are the most precocious-- You may be attractive and erotic, but
you are still my son."
"But you said there were no moral--"
"I know what I said. You need not repeat my words back to me." Vader's
mood became serious. "The emotional consequences of such a relationship
would be grave for both of us. I do not want to risk hurting you."
"How could you hurt me? You're my father - I love you!"
The Dark Lord reached for his hand again. "Exactly. You are very vulnerable
right now. This is a difficult time for you in many ways. It would be quite
easy for your love for me to turn into romantic love. And that is how you
could be hurt."
"Why - don't you love me?" He knew the answer, but refused to accept
what his father was saying. This was something he wanted, and he
was determined to have it.
"Don't be childish." Vader's tone was tense, as though he was losing
patience. "I am not, however, prepared to 'fall in love' with anyone, least
of all you."
The scornful words pierced his heart, and Vader released his fingers.
"You see? Already you are hurt."
Luke slumped back in the chair, his appetite gone. He nodded. "I guess...
I just wanted to.... I didn't mean...."
"Perhaps you should follow my example and keep your mouth closed unless
you are eating. If you will excuse me...."
Startled, he looked up. For the first time in quite awhile, he couldn't
read his father's mood. Subdued, Luke folded a cold fried strip and slowly
chewed it, listening to the heavy thudding of booted footsteps as his father
crossed the foyer.
It was a perilous path he tread when he walked alongside the Dark Lord
of the Sith. His father might not always indulge his foolishness. In fact,
his ultimate folly might be in assuming that he was safe from Lord Vader's
famous brutality because he was his son... in reality, that might
put him in mortal danger. He really did need to be more careful.
Luke vowed to himself that he would work harder. At everything. He would
make his father proud, not angry.
And his father would learn to want him, too.

* * *
A dangerous excitement coiled in the pit of his stomach like a viper.
Luke studied his reflection in the full-length mirror. His nerves were
alive with dangerous feelings of pride, power, and lust, and they showed
in the image that was reflected back at him. His face was pale except for
flushed cheeks that made him look as if he'd been running across the icy,
wind-swept plains of Hoth. His hair was sun-bleached and nearly shoulder
length, but it had been styled beautifully. In short, he looked... damnably
sexy.
Which was a total waste.
Deliberately, he filled his thoughts with bitter, defiant pride and
gazed arrogantly in the glass. There was something wild and dangerous about
him now - he was no longer an ignorant farmboy. He imagined himself a rogue
prince whose sprawling kingdom was a savage and untamed wilderness... or
a young Vader whose kingdom was the galaxy.
He wore his new uniform - luxurious black leather, a duplicate of his
father's ensemble without the life support apparatus. Black knee boots
polished until they glistened. Padded shoulders and chest tapering down
to a nipped waist, then soft leather that caressed his thighs like searching
fingers. High, square black collar to frame his face. Fallen angel was
the description that leaped into his mind. If he met himself on the street,
he would be stunned by the sight of such beauty. And maybe a little afraid.
"Luke."
He turned. His father slipped leather gloves over his hands. They were
heavy with sensors and protective armor. Luke wet his lips as his pulse
raced. There was something unquestionably erotic about being dressed. He
held deathly still as the gloves were fastened. Vader clenched both his
wrists with a tight grip. Luke stared at the black mask, senses running
wild. He craved being touched; every fiber of his being screamed for it.
He swayed with unbearable tension, and his father released him. Disappointment
surged through him like a living thing.
"I have something else for you." The Dark Lord's voice was gruff. "Close
your eyes."
He waited, listening, attuned to every movement. Trembled as the large
hands brushed his throat. Twice. Then the hands turned him to face the
mirror again.
"Look at yourself, my son." Pride shimmered across the Force.
Luke stared. Color rose high in his cheeks, and his eyes glowed with
unfulfilled passion. Two iridescent stars shimmered on either side of his
high collar, reflecting prismatic colors. He gasped. "Father?"
"The Stars of the Order of the Jedi." Vader stood behind him, gloved
hands resting on his shoulders, pulling him back against the broad chest.
In the mirror, it seemed to Luke as though they blended into one great,
dark being. "They were mine. I wore them proudly for many years. This may
be the only pair left in existence."
Because you killed the other Jedi. "Thank you, my father...."
He didn't understand why his words were slurred. Eyelids half closed, Luke
leaned his head back, exposing his pale throat.
Reflected in the glass, Vader's fingers caressed its slender expanse,
lingering where the pulse fluttered wildly. "You are indeed beautiful,
child of my heart."
He felt like a spoiled, beloved pet. Lazily turned his head to the side.
The great black hand slid across his cheek, brushed over his mouth. His
teeth nipped at the tips of the fingers. The thundering of Vader's heart
vibrated the length of his spine. He closed his eyes. Waited.
"It's time."
He turned drowsily, wavering inches away as though his father's body
was magnetized, and he was being inexorably pulled toward the older man.
"Is it?" he whispered huskily.
Vader's respirator seemed to skip a breath. "For... our journey. We
must go." He stepped back and turned away.
It was like a splash of water in his face. Luke blinked. "Yes, of course."
The words caught in his throat. Why was he so out of control like this?
What was it about his Vader's nearness that made him crave... that which
his father withheld. "Father?"
The Dark Lord spun round, cape swirling like huge wings. Luke's face
was caught and framed by rough fingers. "Later," the rich voice hissed.
He nodded automatically. Later... for what? He felt so much confusion
and his body ached so.... Later... how long did he have to wait?
More shattering questions, the answers to which he both dreaded and
coveted. He followed, leaving his new home without a backward glance, following
the father for whom he had waited for so many years. The father who would
grant all his wishes, touch him and love him--
No. Luke cleared his mind. He must concentrate his new duties at his
father's side. He would learn Imperial strategies and....
Betray his Rebel friends? Put his father on the galaxy's throne - or
rule by himself?
His choices were no longer clear.

* * *
Luke's unnatural reticence held for an entire day until they came into
visual contact with the distant Executor. Vader had allowed his son that
solitude, breaking the silence as they approached his Star Destroyer.
"Have you decided upon a name for yourself?"
"Yes." Luke looked at him, an even expression on the usually mobile
face. "I'm going to keep Skywalker."
Vader shook his head. "A poor choice. I thought you understood that."
"I do," the boy said quietly. "But it's my name, and it was your name
for a long time. I'd rather be straightforward from the beginning than
have everyone mock me later for hiding behind a pseudonym."
"An honorable objective, certainly. But there is a second interpretation.
Under another name they will come to know you without prejudice, and learn
to trust and respect you so that when your true identity is revealed -
"
"All that trust will be ripped away."
"The trust and respect which you have earned will outweigh the fact
that you turned the Death Star into so much space trash."
"We're both right." Luke half-smiled. "But I don't want to have a new
identity. I don't want to be a stranger to myself or to the people who've
known me. I've always been Skywalker. I'm proud of being Skywalker. I was
proud as a child because the name belonged to my father." The gaze focused
on him. "It was all I had of you. Besides... who's going to harass a Skywalker
who hangs out with the Dark Lord?"
"None of my crew," Vader conceded tiredly.
"Well, then." Luke spread his hands wide in a gesture of satisfaction.
"There you have it."
"Very well. You are Luke Skywalker, Shadow Lord of the Sith."
A strange expression flitted across the boy's face. "I suppose I am."
"Having second thoughts?"
"Don't I always?" The blond head turned toward the craft's front viewport.
Stars lit the blackness outside, distant ones sparkling like jewels on
a cold, delicate necklace. "I wish... things had been different. No Empire,
no Alliance, no war. Then we could have been together - I don't know, somewhere
else doing something else - smugglers or pirates or mercenaries-- Anything
but this. It... won't bring us happiness."
There was a sense of foreboding in his son's voice that disquieted him.
"You wish to be an ordinary mortal?" Vader asked.
The head turned again, and crystal eyes settled on him. "I wish it for
both of us."
"Have you never heard the phrase 'be careful for what you wish'?"
"That was a careful wish." Luke sighed. "It's been difficult
to give up my way of life and learn new beliefs."
"You think I do not understand this?" He stared fixedly at the Executor,
a symbol of the rewards his sacrifices had earned him. "I, too, gave up
a life when I became Darth Vader. It was, as you succinctly say, 'difficult'
for me also."
Luke touched his arm. "I'm sorry."
"For?"
"I feel your pain, Father. Someday will you tell me how you made the
decision to surrender your identity and take another path?"
He smiled behind his mask. "Someday you may ask yourself that same question."
Luke blinked and withdrew his hand. "I doubt it," he said coldly. "Can
I fly us up to the ship?"
Wordlessly he released the controls. His son handled the craft expertly;
despite the unfortunate episode with the TIE, Luke had obviously inherited
his father's piloting skills.
"How long have you had this shuttle?"
"Several years."
"Really?" It was more an exclamation of surprise than a question. "I
seem to lose all my ships, one way or another."
"Really?" Vader mimicked gently. "I had noticed. Next time I shall buy
you a used fighter. I had no idea that raising a son was such an
expensive proposition."
Luke laughed. As they approached the Executor, Vader retook the controls.
Final security clearance obtained, he brought the ship down in a perfect
landing in the main bay.
Luke draped the black cape over his shoulders. Instead of placing a
battle helmet on his head, he pulled the hood up and forward. It was an
eerie reminder of the Emperor. Palpatine always liked to hide his corrupt
visage in the shadows offered by thick fabric.
"Do I look all right?"
His son's nervousness rippled through the Force. Vader mentally reached
out to calm him. "There is no need for worry."
Luke rolled his eyes upward. "Right. And taun-tauns can fly."
Vader paused before disembarking. "It would be appropriate for us to
address each other as Lord Vader and Lord Skywalker."
"Are we going to pretend to be strangers? Or merely unrelated?"
His son's sharp tongue reminded him very much of his own. "You must
learn never to reveal everything at once. Let your knowledge trickle to
others in ways best suited to your purpose. For now, you will be another
mysterious sorcerer. Fear and uncertainty are the quickest routes to obedience."
"If not respect."
He shook a warning finger at his son. Luke grinned at him, and he felt
an answering smile twitch his mouth. Annoying, aggravating, thoroughly
impossible, and thoroughly charming. A true Vader.
Admiral Piett stood at the foot of the ramp with his usual ramrod-straight
posture and painfully tense expression around his mouth. A platoon of stormtroopers
flanked their disembarkation route. Vader gave no indication of his approval
of the reception. He stopped in front of the Admiral and gestured Luke
to his side.
"Admiral Piett, this is Luke Skywalker."
Piett's eyes widened, and his lips formed a protest. "The rebel traitor?
M'lord!"
"The former rebel," Vader clarified. "I can now reveal to you that Lord
Skywalker is, in truth, a Shadow Lord of the Sith and has come to rejoin
our cause. He will serve at my side. You will take orders from him as you
would from me. Inform the command crew."
They left an astonished Piett to mull that over. Luke's steps were definitely
lighter.
I can command your Star Destroyer? All right!
Merely a figure of speech. If you do anything to 'lose' the Executor,
I will flay you to ribbons myself.
Touchy, touchy, Father. There was a ripple of laughter in the
Force. Still, flaying might not be a bad idea.

* * *
Administering discipline always gave him a rush of pleasure... the feel
of another's wounded soul at his mercy, knowing he held the power to renew
or defile it... or leave it waiting, uncertain for eternity. Since he didn't
want to kill Captain Redah, the Dark Lord refrained from using the most
efficient method of dispatching a wayward officer, crushing the windpipe
and the fine bones of the neck. This time he dispensed fiery wedges of
pain that would not leave Redah permanently crippled; there was no reason
to deprive the Empire of a fine officer who would undoubtedly learn the
error of his ways. The same could not have been said of Redah's former
crew.
Vader sensed his son approaching. To Luke he sent a warning squeeze
to the throat. Do not interfere. This is my way. His child brushed
off the threat and came to stand by his side. Clear eyes took in the scene
that had rapidly unfolded. Redah, and a mistake by his maintenance crew
that had nearly shut down the main tubes from the reactor that powered
the destroyer. An unfortunate error, and one that Redah would never repeat.
The rest of the command crew sat frozen in their places, either watching
the writhing captain with fear in their hearts or staring fixedly at their
monitors. Admiral Piett stood near Redah, fright and anger apparent in
his expression.
Vader felt a wave of calmness fall over the bridge. Gently at first,
it swept out of Luke to touch Piett, then moved over the rest of the crew.
There was a perceptible lightening of the dark atmosphere, and Piett's
expression changed to one of patient waiting. Even Redah relaxed as much
as possible in the circumstances. Interesting. A technique he never would
have thought of using. The Dark Lord completed his discipline, and Piett
gestured to the military police to remove Redah for a short period of recuperative
incarceration.
Vader paced the skydeck, son at his side. A fascinating approach,
my child.
I trust it met with your approval, Father. The bright eyes turned
on him.
Perhaps. We shall see if any consequences arise. It is not wise to
allow your crew to become comfortable.
I hardly think we need worry about that, Father! I merely soothed
a few rebellious thoughts.
It may be an interesting shortcut to loyalty. As I said, we shall
see.
Indeed we shall. With a little grin of triumph, Luke altered
his course and headed for Redah's vacant station. Vader nodded his approval
of the action. These past weeks Luke had learned well. He had not overstepped
his blossoming authority nor openly defied his father. Having his son learning
at his side had a benefit that Vader had not anticipated. For the first
time that he could remember, he was actually enjoying his command.
Palpatine would be horrified. Which, of course, made it all the better.

* * *
The Dark Lord inhaled the purified oxygen that pumped into his meditation
pod. It was refreshing, a welcome respite from the forced air that his
respirator provided. His moments in the chamber were his reward at the
end of each long day spent on the bridge, planning the next attack against
the Rebels or recalcitrant planets. Now he sensed his son was in their
communal quarters and commanded the mechanical arms to replace his helmet.
Once it was in place, he ordered the chamber parted, the top half to raise.
He swiveled his chair.
Luke was sprawled on the couch, legs stretched out, half asleep. Wake
up, child.
"I'm awake," came the mumbled protest. "Though I don't know why." The
blond head lifted, eyes squinting to seek out the chron and reacting with
surprise. "It's early yet."
"Shall we party?"
Luke laughed at his teasing. "I think not, Father. Remember your place."
"You are sitting in my place." He rose and waited while Luke removed
his legs and dropped his feet to the floor, groaning in protest. When Vader
had settled against the cushions, he made an assenting gesture with one
hand, and Luke curled against him, head resting on his leg.
"Are you tired, young one?" Vader asked solicitously, stroking the slender
neck with a possessiveness that grew fiercer as Luke became more independent.
A shiver ran through the boy's body. Luke rubbed his cheek against the
leather, though Vader could not tell if the response was meant to be affirmative
or negative. Fingers cautiously inched up to rest on his knee. They moved
in a barely perceptible motion that was too light to be called a caress.
"Not really," Luke finally said. He sat up, sliding his hand onto his
father's thigh.
Vader hid his smile. The touch was delicious, familiar... tempting.
"Perhaps we should engage in lightsaber practice."
The blue eyes widened, and Luke blushed, snatching his hand away. "Uh...
I.... Whatever you want."
He laughed aloud, unable to control his delight. "Or are you hungry?"
The blush deepened. "I'm... uh... not.... I don't know."
"For one who professes to be brimming with desires, you show little
interest in fulfilling any of them." He shifted and rubbed the boy's arm,
unwilling to relinquish contact.
Luke slouched and was silent for several minutes. Finally: "Father?"
He waited.
"In your meditation chamber...."
"Yes?" He hoped this was not going to be one of those painful sessions
during which he had to continually prompt Luke to release his questions.
"You have your helmet removed and... maintenance done on your... life
support equipment?"
The Dark Lord remained silent.
"Why...." Luke hesitated. "Why didn't Jedi healing powers work on you?
How
can a Jedi be so badly damaged yet remain alive? Why couldn't you repair
your lungs? Why can't you do it now? Why are you dependent on mechanical--"
"Are you planning on allowing me a moment to answer?" His fingers moved
upward to stroke worry from the forehead, smooth away lines of concern.
"Oh. Sorry. Go ahead."
He lifted his head and stared across the room at the tapestry that covered
the opposite wall... Jedi warriors being slaughtered in an ancient, bloody
battle against Sith magicians. The Power of the Dark Side. "I was very
badly damaged. The Jedi left me to die. Sith spirits maintained my essence
but elected not to restore my body's functions. Instead, they gave me into
the care of my father. Palpatine returned my life, but preferred to leave
me... this way. He felt that a threatening, masked figure would be of more
use to him than-- I was once like you, son. Handsome, charismatic, and
arrogant in that knowledge. The Emperor felt I would serve him better without
those... distractions." He faltered and cleared his throat. "We need be
very careful that he does not cultivate a similar aspiration for you. We
must destroy him."
Luke straightened and reached for him. "The Emperor left you like this?
Why can't you heal yourself?"
"I have attempted and been partially successful at small repairs, however...."
"What?"
He looked down at the hand that rested on his waist, so pale against
his reinforced black armor. It was possible, he supposed, that the Emperor
would not be offended by Luke's beauty... but unlikely. Palpatine would
have to die quickly before he struck at Luke and deformed him forever.
"The Emperor has built a barrier in my mind that prevents me from performing
major repairs."
"He built--" Luke caught his breath, horror spreading across his features.
"Father... may I see your face?"
Vader hesitated. The request had been brewing for months, but he hadn't
prepared an answer. The mask was more than a symbol, it was his entire
identity. To remove it would leave his soul bared, in jeopardy, exposed
to his son's probes.
Strangely, the notion didn't frighten him as much as it should. He,
who had trusted no one in his life, was beginning to trust Luke.
"The aeration process to purify the oxygen in this room will take several
minutes," he began, and stopped when he saw the surprise and pleasure in
Luke's eyes. Involuntarily, his fingers returned to the boy's cheek and
rested there.
They stared at each other. Vader watched, hypnotized, as Luke's breaths
became quicker, then he felt his own respirator increase its rate. He wanted...
everything. But did he dare risk--
A chime from the comscreen made Luke start. Vader withdrew his hand
and allowed the screen to flicker to life. Sentra Rrullin appeared, haughty
and full of his usual sense of self-importance.
"My lord - lords, please pardon the intrusion. The Emperor commands
you both to make contact with him immediately." The narrow eyes flicked
over Luke, and Vader detected a sense of scorn that puzzled him.
He waited until Captain Rrullin's image had faded, then faced his son's
anxiety. "There is nothing to fear. From this distance, only Palpatine's
image can reach us through the holo. He cannot touch you. Follow my example."
Luke nodded, and they waited in tense silence as the signal traveled
through the vast reaches of space. When the connection was established,
Vader knelt on one knee on the transmitting pad. "What is thy bidding,
my master?"
The image wavered. The great distance made it indistinct and erratic.
"Lord Vader. I wish you to proceed to the Endor system and take charge
of the construction on the Death Star. They need your incentive. I will
follow in twelve weeks. The Death Star must be completed according to my
schedule."
"I will see to it, master."
"I know you will, my trusted one. And now I wish to speak to Skywalker."
He brushed Luke's arm as they exchanged places. Humble yourself,
my son. Bury your true feelings - they matter not.
Luke knelt, duplicating his posture, and lifted his head to the image.
"What is thy bidding, master?" There was the faintest hint of a tremble
in his voice.
"Ah, young Skywalker. Lord Vader reports to me that you are quickly
learning the ways of an Imperial officer."
"Yes, master." The voice had steadied.
"You displease me, however, with your lack of discipline. You must learn
control."
Luke's eyes widened. "I... I am sorry for my impetuous actions and lack
of wisdom, master."
Bless the child, his words had touched the right chord. Palpatine's
image waved its hand. "No matter, you are learning. Now tell me, boy, is
your father teaching you the ways of the Dark Side?"
"Yes, master."
"And are you enjoying the power you have found?"
There was a pause. Vader felt a surge of something strange rush through
his son. "I am... enjoying it very much, master."
"Good. I feel certain that you are capable of great Evil."
Luke's face paled, but his voice remained even. "Thank you, master."
Palpatine smiled and ended the transmission with his customary abruptness.
Luke slowly pushed to his feet. Vader brought him into the circle of
his arms, felt the trembling that tore through his child. The head rubbed
against his chest, hair tangling between the buttons and lights on his
respirator. "Capable of great evil? He made it sound... desirable. As if
I should want that."
He held his tongue, busying himself with the task of freeing those errant
strands of blond silk.
Luke's arms slipped around his waist, and he clung tightly. "I don't!
I've never done any evil."
"You are far too naive," Vader finally said, his words double-edged
and cold, "if you think that you can keep yourself pure by instructing
your body to deny the desires of your mind."
Luke inhaled sharply. "I have done nothing-- "
"But you've wanted to do much." The Dark Lord smiled faintly. "Blood-lust
is your heritage - it is the way of Skywalkers. Did you not feel pleasure
when you destroyed the Death Star and its occupants? Does not battle quicken
your pulse and arouse your bestial nature? Look into your heart and see
the truth."
"No." Luke pulled away from him and flopped back on the couch. "I can't
think about all this right now. Did you know that Rrullin and most of the
command crew think we're lovers because we're sharing these quarters?"
He was startled by the sudden change in conversation. His son was very
persistent. "Yes - does that surprise you? The way you gravitate to me,
always looking, frequently touching, has influenced that perception."
"You do it, too."
"Do I?" Interesting. He hadn't realized it. "Would you prefer separate
quarters so that you may keep your reputation intact?"
Luke glanced sideways at the door that led off the gathering room to
his bedroom and grimaced. "No, thanks. I feel safer here than in the officers'
quarters. There are several men who are interested in the Shadow Lord.
And," he added, good humor reviving, "quite a lot who are intrigued by
you, Father."
He chuckled, amused by Luke's naivete, but felt again the personal uneasiness
caused by his son's mood swings. The Dark Lord was uncertain if he was
impressed or disconcerted by the ease with which Luke put aside those things
he did not wish to confront. Extraordinary. If Vader had one wish for his
son, it would be that the boy learned consistency.
Luke mumbled something. The Dark Lord looked at him sharply. "What did
you say?"
The blond head slowly lifted, and a familiar combination of anger and
longing were revealed in the sparkling eyes. "I said, 'like me'. You want
me, Father, but all you do is taunt me. You know I want you." Luke stood
and walked toward him. "Why do you deny us?"
Vader nearly flinched, but managed to remain motionless. The small hands
ran up his arms and rested on his shoulders, the lithe body pressed against
him. "I could make you take me," Luke whispered.
"You are my son--"
"What does that--?"
"I do not wish to hurt you," he shouted, half-mad with frustration.
His entire life had been built around control and duty, and now this boy,
this child dared challenge that.
"You--" Luke stopped his immediate objection. For once, Vader couldn't
read the thoughts that were racing through his son's head. The pale lashes
fluttered several times, then lifted. "I wouldn't mind if you hurt me,"
the youngster finally said.
He knew a moment's panic; he couldn't breathe - had his oxygen supply
been cut? Then his respirator resumed its normal pace, and he knew it was
anticipation that had sent his heart racing beyond the capacity of his
life-support. He tried to turn away, but Luke hung on him.
"I might even like it," the Shadow Lord added.
Visions rushed through his mind, erotic fantasies, giving pain, taking
possession, demanding submission-- Angrily, Vader shook his head and pushed
the boy away. Luke lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.
The boy pushed himself onto one elbow. "I didn't mind that," he said
softly.
"I will not jeopardize our future!" Under his breath, Vader muttered
the most vicious curse he knew - and stormed out of the room.
The throne-- Luke was tenacious, almost frighteningly so. What if the
boy lost interest in their goal, became enamored of his father and forgot
everything else? The Old Ones were correct - Jedi should never have offspring.
How could he have begotten such a danger?
And why did he now behave like an adolescent? He wanted the boy
in his bed; why did he allow his fear to turn him away?
No! It was not fear.
Angry at his son, but angrier at his own foolishness, Lord Vader returned
to his quarters. Luke was slumped on the floor, wallowing in puerile rejection.
"Enough, young one," Vader said gruffly.
"Enough? But--"
He silenced the boy by pulling him to his feet. "Enough," he repeated
more softly when he saw the wary expectation on his son's face. The boy
thought his father was about to succumb to his blandishments. The boy thought
that his beauty and vulnerability, his eagerness and lust would vanquish
Lord Vader's famed control. The boy thought....
Vader's own thought processes became hopelessly clogged when his son
smiled at him, an openness and generosity shining in his eyes that recalled
earlier times for the Dark Lord. Alderaan. Her. That same expression on
her face when she looked up at him. The same guilelessness, the same pure
love. But even she hadn't loved him as much as this boy did.
He couldn't look away.
Luke quivered as his eyes searched the mask for understanding. Did his
father mean--? Tentatively, he slid his hands down the strong arms and
leaned against the huge body. He made an inarticulate sound of joy when
his contact was not rejected and pressed the length of his torso against
the hardness of the wide belt, the monitors, the-- His body responded immediately,
leaving him surprised and delighted and... something else.
Finally, this was sex! What he'd heard about, read about, dreamed about--
He laughed, his unloosed elation spilling over both of them.
Without warning, his knees weakened, and he let his father support him.
One hand came up, and black leather cupped his chin, fingers sliding over
his jaw. Luke tilted his head as two fingers brushed against his lips.
Eagerly, he opened his mouth to receive them. They slid past his teeth.
Instinctively, he closed his lips around them, let his tongue caress their
tips. The leather was tasteless, but its smell was potent and exciting.
It reminded him of nothing - nothing - he'd known before, not even
in his dreams.
Another hand spread its fingers on his back, then slid lower to cup
his buttocks and pull him against the hardness under the leather pants.
The feeling was remarkable, and he moved his hips, shifting, raising on
his toes to press against his father's body. Vader's sex was huge, much
bigger than his own, and its impatient reaction excited him further. Luke
whimpered and bit down on the fingers in his mouth. The Dark Lord snarled
and pulled them out. Both hands went to his shoulders and began pushing
him downward. He resisted the instruction at first, but couldn't prevent
being forced to his knees. He was eye-level with the straining leather,
and he gawked at the outline of the solid flesh. He brushed it lightly
with his fingers, enchanted by the warm reality of it, so like and so unlike
his dreams.
"Go on," the voice commanded hoarsely.
Luke snatched his fingers away. "What?" he asked, thoroughly bewildered.
What was he supposed to do? Touch it? Didn't his father understand that
his dreams were unformed and unpracticed, that there had never been anyone
to explain?
The father teaches the son... it is our way.
He looked up and smiled radiantly.
Both hands cupped his face, hurting as they pulled him to his feet.
"My virginal son - but not for long." The laughter was harsh, full of lust.
"Yes," Luke whispered. "I mean... no."
With a snarl, Vader pushed him across the room. One hand shoved against
his spine, held him in place over the back of a chair, the other hand ripped
at his pants. Luke bit down on his lip, trying to control the apprehension
that accompanied his growing desire. Blood trickled over his lower lip;
he swiped at it with his tongue, savoring the taste. Leather caressed his
buttocks, slid between them in a deliberately sensual rubbing motion. He
pressed back against the touch wantonly, tossing aside the lessons he'd
been taught about chastity and decency. "Yes!" he cried again, not certain
what he wanted, only that this wanting should end and he should be fulfilled.
Almost immediately, the leather curved, demanding his muscles obey.
One finger pushed inside him. Instinctively he spread his legs. The tight
ring of muscles clenched around the finger, and he sighed at the pain the
dryness was causing. He felt another demand as a second finger forced entry.
He tried to relax, to spread further, but he was so tight and it was so
painful. "Father!"
Vader didn't respond to his confused plea. The invasion continued. Luke
cried out and slumped, but that only served to impale him more firmly on
the hand that possessed him. Making his decision, he thrust back and felt
warmth, the pressure of the thumb below the point of entry, the wriggling
of the fingers that owned him. Then the other hand clasped his sex firmly,
and he whimpered a name as all his physical senses came together in a confused,
fervent mix of pain and ecstasy. With a hoarse shout, he spurted the juices
from his body and collapsed, all his thoughts dying.
Lucidity returned gradually, and he tried to understand what was happening,
though he felt too warm and lethargic to think. The fingers had been withdrawn,
but something else was slowly replacing them. He raised his head and pushed
back to aid the entry. The black cloak fell around him, and he shivered
as it brushed his naked arms. He wished he could watch what they did. He
curled his hands around the chair and rounded his back, straining against
the leather that both cooled and heated his flesh. Peering under his arm,
he could see one black leg. It was pressed inside his own bare thigh that
looked pale and thin in comparison. He watched the muscle play under the
leather. The black boot slid slightly, separating his legs. Luke groaned
a wordless encouragement as the pressure increased. He knew what it was
- his father's huge organ was moving inside him. This was what people
said was wrong and evil? - but it was the best feeling in the galaxy!
Laughing ecstatically, he moved his hands to the top of the chair and
arched his back, welcoming the sensations that were at once alien and familiar.
Warmth of flesh against his buttocks, leather hands on his hips, caressing
his pelvic bones. One of his father's hands traveled slowly up his groin
to his chest. Paused to fondle his nipples, tweak them until he moaned
a delighted response. Then it slid to his neck, caressing his throat, moving
to tug on his hair. All the while the cock moved slowly inside him, maintaining
a steady rhythm that seemed to open him further, to lull him with its gentleness.
He began to move his hips, instinctively knowing this was right, that it
would give pleasure to his beloved father. Experimentally, he squeezed
his muscles tightly around the engorged sex. His father groaned, and Luke
shuddered with triumph at the response he'd evoked. His own cock awakened,
rose again until it was stiff. Vader's hand moved to capture it. The leather
kneaded his most sensitive flesh patiently, but without gentleness. His
heart began to race, and he pumped his hips faster.
"Father --"
"Tell me you want, child of my heart." The whisper was harsh.
"More," Luke demanded, shoving back, anger and impatience pounding through
his limbs. "More!"
"More what?"
He shook his head, filled with furious need. His hips no longer belonged
to him. They moved in counterpoint with the hand that squeezed and stroked,
competing in a glorious race. "More everything!" he cried out finally.
"More of you - Father - Force damn you - all of you!"
The Dark Lord growled something in a foreign tongue, but he obeyed.
Luke grunted as the fingers tightened and Vader pulled him backward. Luke's
toes were lifted off the floor, and he sank down on the shaft, his entire
weight supported only by its iron hardness and the fingers that gripped
him. The hand still stroked him frantically, urging his explosion. A final
scream was torn from his throat, and he came again, body jerking spasmodically,
his mind a morass of carnal pleasure. Then he spiralled into a dizzy darkness
of satisfaction.
He'd either slept or been unconscious, because when he recovered, languid
and sleepy-eyed, his father was gone. Luke stretched, revelling in the
new feelings in his body, then ran fingers across his belly and between
his thighs, seeking the reality of what had happened.
There - stickiness, his own, his father's. He laughed in gratification.
This wasn't another dream. He'd seduced the great Dark Lord and become
all things to Vader - soldier, friend, son, lover. Everything.
Maybe his boyhood dreams hadn't been dreams at all, maybe they'd been
glimpses into the future.
He arched his back and stretched again, satisfied more than physically.
Vader belonged to him, power awaited his command, and the galaxy would
bow to him. All things were possible now that he knew how to make dreams
come true. Now that he knew who he was...
...the Dark Lord's cherished son, a Jedi in his own right, and...
Shadow Lord.

* * *
Darth Vader returned to their quarters hours later, wondering what he
would find when he entered. He paused for a moment at the door, reaching
out with his senses. His son was asleep, all the traumas of his life forgotten
in the afterglow of sex. With a smile, the Dark Lord entered his chambers.
He walked to the bed and pulled the sheets away. The golden body was sprawled
on its stomach, one leg bent, sweet curve of buttocks displayed for his
gratification. He ran a finger down the length of the spine and caressed
the softness. The boy snored softly, then stirred. Vader smiled again.
Such a pliant child.
Buttock muscles tightened as Luke rolled onto one hip. Pale lashes fluttered
and eyes that were as blue as his own opened. They widened abruptly, and
the boy began to sit up.
Vader stopped him with a gesture. "Stay as you are. I enjoy looking
at you."
Pink touched the golden cheeks, and Luke smiled sheepishly. He reclined
back on the pillow, torn between embarrassment and newly-learned sensual
power.
Vader threw back his head and laughed heartily.
"Why are you laughing at me?"
"Not at you - at your situation." His chuckles slowed. "Your emotional
state has greatly changed since this morning."
Luke slid down the bed, stretching out his legs. "Tonight I don't care
about anything else," he said with the sly smile of one who has just discovered
the world of erotic delights and believes it to be his own invention. "You
worried that you would hurt me. You didn't."
"I was easy on you." He smiled appreciatively and ran his hand down
the bruised flanks.
Luke watched him speculatively. "Next time - don't be."
"My daring son," he mocked quietly. He caressed the smooth thighs, watched
the beginnings of wakefulness in the limp sex. His gaze slid away and found
the lightsaber that had been abandoned along with the torn clothing.
"Father?" A strange glow appeared from under the lowered lids as Luke
followed his stare. The small hand touched his knee.
"What?" Vader asked.
The boy urged him closer. When their faces were almost touching, their
gazes linked, their breaths intermingling, Luke whispered: "Fuck me with
it."
Vader jerked back, as surprised as he'd ever been in his life. Then
the erotic possibilities overwhelmed him, and he knew he was right to never
let this boy go. Palpatine would not have Luke. No, the boy would stay
with him no matter what the cost. This one he would have in ways he'd only
dreamt and never dared try. He didn't reply, but rose and crossed the room,
grabbed the lightsaber with a hand that trembled. In the cabinet he retrieved
a container of thick cream and carried it back to the bed. Luke's eyes
followed his every movement.
Hungry child, eager, starving, wanting... wanton. Vader smiled cruelly.
He unscrewed the lid and slathered the lightsaber with the cream. Pleasure
and punishment - this would punish the boy for desiring his own father.
Give him both satisfaction and pain beyond his expectations. He stared
at the button that would ignite the saber. It would be so simple to push
it while the saber was buried in the child. The energy blade would pierce
through organs and bone and flesh, and impale the youngster to the bed
like speared prey.
And there would be only one Dark Lord.
Luke stared at the lightsaber, then at him. A shadow flitted through
his eyes. "I wish I could see your face," he whispered.
Vader froze, his passion dying. "What?" he asked numbly.
"Your face." The boy was all innocence suddenly, child-like and lethal.
"In case the Emperor kills me. I'd like to see you before I die."
Clever boy, to have chosen this moment. Vader felt nauseous - the boy's
fault for gnawing at his emotions until they were a tumultuous mass of
love and eroticism. Yet he could deny his son nothing; even his own heart
longed for truth between them.
Near the door, he touched a switch, and specially-filtered air flowed
generously. He waited without words as it was pumped into the chamber.
Luke drew his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, oblivious
of his nudity. Eventually a soft chime broke the silence, and Vader deftly
unfastened his helmet. He paused, then tossed it aside, knowing what Luke
saw.
His head was totally hairless, the roots of his hair burned away so
many years ago. Deep scars crossed it, delineating the scope of brain surgery,
the transplants that had returned his life.
"Your mask...."
He wasn't ready for the final unveiling. "If you wish to perform the
functions of a droid, you may put this on my head."
Luke rose and accepted the jar of cream, dripping his fingers in it.
Vader involuntarily sighed as the cool ointment was smoothed on the dry
skin that stretched across his skull. The fingers trembled as they explored
the ridge left by his final surgery.
"The scars are revolting, I know."
"I don't think they're revolting!" Luke protested immediately. "It's
just hard to accept what you suffered, even though I... shared some of
your feelings. I wish I could heal your scars. And your pain." He touched
the mask. "May I remove this?"
It occurred to him that he should have died before this moment. Before
his son saw the wreckage of the man he'd once been... before he spoiled
the boy's foolish dream-image of his father. Now Luke would see the monster
he'd befriended and bedded.
Vader nodded.
Latches were unfastened, and the mask was pulled forward. Luke detached
it and put it aside, finally raising his gaze.
"I look older than I am," Vader said stupidly, and immediately cursed
himself for the apprehension he revealed. "Lack of air and sunlight have
a detrimental effect on--"
One finger rested across his lips, silencing him. "Hi," Luke said softly.
And smiled.
He couldn't look into those piercing eyes - but he couldn't look away.
"I thought I would see more horror there," he finally said.
"You look wonderful to me."
Laughter bubbled out of him. "I shall send you for eye transplants as
soon as we reach port."
Luke inhaled sharply. "Your eyes...."
His relief died. "Are they so terrible?"
"No! They're... just like mine."
"I told you that."
"I know." Luke's face changed. His fingers went to the neck of the black
armor and began to release the fastenings. At the respirator, his touch
faltered.
"It can be removed. I have an implant." He remained motionless while
the boy partially undressed him, then retook control and stripped off the
rest of his clothing.
Luke returned to the bed. He picked up the lightsaber and studied it,
then held it out. Vader accepted the offering, and the boy reclined, began
stroking himself.
Vader tilted back his head and drew a long breath. He looked down at
his son. The eyes were focused on the lightsaber. Luke's breathing became
erratic as his hand stroked the solid column of his flesh. The tip of his
cock glistened, mute testimony to the increasing level of excitement. Vader
knelt between the boy's legs and hoisted the thin knees onto his shoulders.
Soft, mewling noises came from his bedmate.
He raised the lightsaber. "You want this, my Shadow Lord?"
Luke groaned, his hand moving faster. "Yes, Father," he muttered, head
thrashing from side to side on the pillow. "Yes, yes - please!"
For another long moment, Vader was tempted to tear into the tender flesh
with the Jedi weapon, but the risk was too great. Soon they would face
Palpatine; if Luke didn't assist him, he would never succeed in grabbing
the throne. And... there were other reasons.
He tossed the saber aside. It fell to the floor with a clatter.
"Young fool," he whispered, "you have much to learn." He clenched his
teeth as he pressed his engorged sex against the tiny opening in the boy's
body. It was undoubtedly sore from his earlier abuse, but he didn't wish
to be gentle. His ears absorbed the short cry of pain that turned into
a moan of agony as he thrust through torn tissues. The warmth of blood
surrounded him, but he didn't stop until the entire length of his sex was
embedded in his son. The child's penis had softened, and the fragile limbs
jerked and shuddered. Vader smiled, lips pulled into a grimace. He began
to move his hips forward and back. Gave an occasional twist to the side
that made the boy jump and whimper. But Luke didn't ask him to stop, he
noted with approval. A trickle of red appeared at the side of a mouth that
had already been bruised and bloodied. He bent down and lapped at it with
his tongue. The blue eyes opened.
"I made you with this cock," Vader murmured, and lowered his full weight
onto the boy. The smaller sex began to harden again. He smiled, remembering
the resiliency of youth.
"Father...." Luke's answering whisper was dazed, and the boy reached
out with arms that trembled. They clutched his waist, urging him to move.
Vader slipped his hand between their bodies and began rubbing in a motion
that mimicked that of his cock. His son made incoherent sounds, the small
fingers digging into his hips. Their pace quickened, and Vader closed his
eyes, letting his body take control. Everything blurred, time ceased. All
he felt was a great striving to reach the goal, being carried away, helpless
on a huge tide that swept over the galaxy. Then, for a moment, his mind
was back and he acknowledged that he was fucking his son until screams
were ripped from the youthful throat - and, clutching that knowledge, he
plunged into oblivion and a final pleasure unlike anything he'd known for
years.
When he regained himself, he languished in a lush peacefulness that
warmed his soul. The breeze made by the artificial air brushed his limbs.
Beside him, Luke shivered violently. Vader pulled the lean form into his
arms, waiting until the eyes opened and focused on him, blinking rapidly,
worship glowing in their gaze. Filled with pride that he could evoke such
adoration - even unmasked - he brushed the reddened lips with his mouth,
devoting all his unforgotten skills into a kiss of such passion that his
son would be bound to him forever.
Even as he lost himself in the heat of Luke's response, a voice in his
mind whispered: Who is bound to whom, Vader?
And he wasn't certain which of them had asked.

* * *
From the privacy of his chambers, Lord Vader had continuously monitored
Luke's performance. The long months of compressed training were bearing
the superior results he had expected. For nearly a week he'd allowed the
boy sole command of the Executor as they prepared for departure for the
Endor system, though he was constantly alert to intervene if a problem
arose. And now there was definitely a problem. He carefully watched the
confrontation between his son and the arrogant captain.
"You're wrong." Rrullin's tone was defiant, his expression smirking.
From the cruelly amused attitude of the bridge crew, apparently most of
them had been pre-warned about this small mutiny. Even Admiral Piett had
disappeared - deliberately, it seemed.
"Wrong?" Luke echoed gently. He smiled. "I am a Sith Lord, Captain.
I cannot be wrong. Obey my orders."
Rrullin chose not to take what was probably his only chance at redemption.
"I'm not going to do it. It is not what Lord Vader would order. He
is my commander, not you. You are his - vadlyh!"
As an Aurelian, the man held certain antiquated prejudices, and this
word obviously expressed one of them. Judging by the color of Luke's face,
he had made the correct translation. And Captain Rrullin had made what
appeared to be a fatal error - attempting to humiliate the young Shadow
Lord in front of the crew.
Vader could feel Luke's sudden wave of wrath, and its scale was awesome.
Not since Palpatine had he felt such icy, unforgiving, all-encompassing
fury. He hesitated, the natural caution that had saved him innumerable
times outweighing his instinct to go to the bridge and take control of
this situation. He held himself in check, eyes focused on the monitor,
waiting to see if Luke could resolve this problem alone.
"Perhaps a different assignment would be more to your liking, Captain
Rrullin?" The boy's voice was deceptively mild. Luke paused, waiting for
a reply. Giving the officer still another chance. Good.
"Bah!" Rrullin turned his back on Vader's child. Foolish man. With a
surprised grunt, the man fell to the deck, clutching his abdomen. Then
he shrieked.
When Luke struck out, Vader sensed that it wasn't simply rage that filled
his son - there was triumph, even pleasure. Those were emotions he understood.
They both shared the same craving, the same desire for any kind of violent
stimulation, anything to push back the boredom of life among Force-dead
ignorants. Luke was still testing himself and his limits, trying to broaden
the feelings accessible to him. Unfortunately for others, there was a price
to be paid.
Rrullin writhed on the floor, his screams of pure agony filling the
bridge. Luke was smiling, his head tilted back, eyes narrowing to mere
slits in his face.
"You appear to have deserted your post, Captain Rrullin. Would you not
agree, Admiral Piett?" The commanding tone in Luke's soft voice brought
the Admiral out of hiding.
Piett's nervousness was so strong that Vader was able to sense it. Pity
that the Admiral, who was so ruthless in battle, had no better control
over himself than to show weakness before a second Sith Lord.
"Yes, Lord Skywalker. I will have him arrested."
Luke held up his hand. "That will not be necessary, Admiral. I'm certain
that the Captain realizes his error." At his feet, Rrullin's screams redoubled
in intensity, piercing above the comforting hum of the engines. Around
the bridge, crew members were rising to their feet, talking among themselves,
gesturing fearfully. Where was that calm reassurance that Luke had used
so brilliantly weeks earlier - in a situation that had been much less volatile?
Vader stood. He would have a full-blown mutiny on his hands if this
activity were allowed to continue. There were depths to which even an Imperial
crew could not be expected to descend, and being subject to corporal discipline
from anyone other than their Dark Lord was not acceptable. He severed the
monitor's connection and strode from his chambers, his own anger beginning
to roil inside him.
By the time he reached the bridge, the black feelings from the crew
were drowning his senses, yet he could no longer feel any anger in Luke.
Pleasure, life-affirming pleasure at death coiled and echoed through his
son in great, pulsating waves. Vader stopped at the end of the long gantry
to survey the damage.
Blood pooled around the writhing form that had been his chief of communications.
Long twists of intestines spilled onto the floor as two bloody hands frantically
tried to stuff them back inside the ragged, exploded hole that had been
solid flesh just moments ago. Admiral Piett, his face nearly yellow, had
backed away, his eyes dashing frantically between Rrullin and Luke.
His son saw him and sent a slow, sensuous smile, expecting his praise,
anticipating a frantic sexual encounter as his reward. Discipline, Father.
I'm getting better at it - soon I'll be as good as you.
You fool! Look at what you've done. We're about to depart on our
mission, and now we're without a communications officer.
Luke's satisfaction faltered. His head slowly turned toward the remnants
of the man. He blinked at the sight of the torn abdominal cavity. Vader
felt a surge of shock and denial rush through the youth. Did I do this?
No - it's not possible!
Vader's own outrage peaked. You, no one else. Pretense will not work
with me, boy. This is not discipline. This is careless torture for pleasure.
From the beginning... admit what you have done. Admit that you enjoyed
it.
Luke stared at him. Slowly his head turned back to Rrullin. Vader felt
his son search the shattered body, trying to repair the thin strands of
life that remained. Disgust quivered through him. It is too late, boy.
Be merciful and end his suffering.
A perceptible shiver ran through the slender body. Luke reached out
one hand, clenched his fist. Rrullin gave a small, strangled sound and
then lay still. An inexcusable waste of an efficient if arrogant officer.
His son turned toward him. "I...." Any defense that might have been
formed was aborted when Luke sensed his rage.
The bridge was totally silent. No longer did his officers pretend to
be minding their jobs. Only decisive action from their true commander would
save this crew's loyalty and reinforce their courage. Had it been anyone
other than his son, this irresponsible torturer would have died on the
spot. Vader hardened his voice, letting it reverberate with all his scorn
and fury. "Leave the bridge, Skywalker."
He sensed first shock, then fear from his son. Luke whirled and stalked
off the bridge. But his departure did little to ease the turbulent feelings
of the command crew. He sensed Piett's demand before it began.
"M'lord--"
He silenced the Admiral with a small gesture. "Captain Redah, bring
a crew to clean this--" He gestured to the torn body, the blood that ran
across the deck as the ship shifted.
"Yes, Lord Vader."
Something had to be done to silence the rumors and discontent, the resentment
and terror. Preferably something that would reinstate Luke in their good
graces also - if that was still possible.
"Admiral Piett. Extend to Captain Rrullin's family my personal regrets
and indicate that he died in action. While I realize that Captain Rrullin's
disobedience called for discipline," he searched for the correct words
that would neither condemn nor support Luke, "I fear that my son does not
yet fully understand the extent of his powers. Now, Admiral, prepare to
depart for the Endor system."
"M'lord!"
He paused in the act of turning. Might as well let Piett ask what they
all were wondering. "Yes, Admiral?"
"Lord Skywalker is... your son?"
"Yes, Admiral." He added a faint tone of wonderment to his voice as
if astonished that Piett was unaware. He paused to allow further questions,
but the Admiral appeared to be stricken dumb. "Advise me when the fleet
is ready for departure."
"Yes, lord."
The bridge crew belonged to him again; he sensed their loyalty, even
their compassion that he had to try to teach such an impossible boy. And,
perversely, a touch of compassion for Luke, too -
With Lord Vader for
a father, what can you expect? - I wouldn't want to be in Skywalker's shoes
right now! Satisfied with what he'd accomplished, he headed for his
private quarters. Near the entrance, he lowered his guard, and Luke's anguish
battered at his senses. He braced himself for another emotional upheaval.
Parenthood, though he'd never given it any consideration, was more difficult
than he would have expected. It was, in fact, on the verge of becoming
- what? His conflicting feelings disturbed his equilibrium, and he silently
thanked Kenobi for stealing his son. He would not have welcomed twenty
years of unceasing dilemmas.
Yet reared with the Force, Luke would not have been subject to the confusion
that his lack of control brought. He would have been raised as his father's
servant, a Dark, brilliant star shooting across the galaxy's horizon.
Luke's body was pressed flat against the bulkhead, eyes wild with grief
and fear. "Don't hate me!" he blurted as soon as Vader entered their chambers.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
Vader frowned at the emotional display and held open his arms. The boy
flew into them, shaking like the leaves on the trembling crimor trees in
his garden. To his dismay, Luke was crying.
"Rrullin can be replaced; nevertheless, you were careless. I hope you
have learned from this experience."
"Learned?" The boy shuddered. The blue eyes were red-rimmed and full
of self-recrimination. "You're right - I enjoyed it. Don't you see
what that means? I enjoyed torturing another person. Ben and Yoda
warned me about falling to the Dark Side - this is what they meant. They
must have seen what I am - a monster! I'm a million times worse than people
think you are! Oh, I wish I'd never left Tatooine - or never been born
- or died before I got here. Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"
The melodrama of youth was annoying; Vader's temper frayed further.
Hissing his irritation, he backhanded the boy across the face, sending
him flying across the room. The body made a satisfyingly loud thud as it
crashed into the bulkhead. Luke lay on the floor for several moments, stunned.
Then he slowly raised onto his knees and lifted his face.
The Dark Lord smiled behind his mask, immense satisfaction rising at
the sight of bright color staining the golden cheek - the boy would be
bruised on the morrow, marked by his possession. Reaching down, he twined
his fingers in the pale hair, the leather glove a harsh contrast to the
fragility of the silken strands. Tightening his grip, he pulled Luke to
his feet, barely noticing the pained outcry. In one swift movement, he
tore the boy's clothes, shredding them with needless force.
"You want to be hurt, son of mine?" Vader snarled. "You beg me to fulfill
your heart's desire? - then I shall!" With total recklessness, he slashed
the leash that held his lust in check and set it free.
Luke's wild submission rose to meet him. "Leave the mask on," the boy
hissed.
Vader's rage exploded.

* * *
"You must pay attention," Vader said thickly, his tongue curling and
catching in his words. He cleared his throat.
The face rubbed against his knee once more, then Luke lifted his head
and smiled lazily. "I'm listening."
"Attention requires more than simple listening."
Luke draped one arm across his father's thighs and rested his chin on
it. "I've heard every word. I understand. I agree. I'll distract him, you'll
kill him. We'll go home until the government begins to crumble, then step
in as saviors. It sounds simple enough."
The boy's casual attitude toward their proposed assassination of the
Emperor was appalling. "You don't know the power of the Dark Side. You
don't know how easily he could kill you." He shuddered inside. This was
the weakness he feared; he'd become too attached to the boy. If the unthinkable
happened, he would sacrifice himself to save his son - or follow Luke into
death.
He still wanted the galaxy, but only with his son at his side.
One hand touched his glove. "We'll be all right. I can feel it."
He wondered about Luke's Foreseeing powers. They'd never been developed;
could they be accurate? "I hope you are correct."
"Me, too," Luke replied flippantly. Then he sobered. "Must I let him
into my mind? What if I can't shield well enough? He might see our plot."
"I'll be ready." His voice swelled with confidence. "If that happens,
I will attack him immediately and not wait for his defenses to be lowered
- you will need to assist. But you have no reason to lack faith in your
skills. Your shielding is excellent." Too good, he added to himself,
annoyed by how inaccessible Luke's mind had become to him.
"Thank you." The blue eyes studied him, and Vader had the uneasy feeling
that Luke could read his even these private thoughts.
He leaned over and closed his fingers around one shoulder, squeezing
where he knew fresh bruises must mottle the pale skin. Luke flinched and
bit his lip. The reaction sent tingles surging up Vader's arm. He couldn't
get enough of this one - the sparking of their bodies, the electricity
when their minds brushed and ignited... the old tales were true then. Only
two Jedi could mate on this level, and he was beginning to understand why
such mating had been discouraged by the Masters. It was addictive, a narcotic
that lulled judgment and inflamed senses. Only anger doused the flames,
but it was becoming increasingly difficult to feel true rage in his son's
presence.
They needed to plan, to rehearse - they were about to attempt the most
dangerous act in the galaxy-- But, at this moment, all he wanted was his
son.
He stood, and Luke immediately rose from the floor and followed him
into the bedchamber.

* * *
Luke anxiously paced the length of their quarters. He could feel the
Emperor's nearness, the oppressing evil that made him hunger for an antidote
- love, pain, companionship, anything to keep away the encroaching darkness
that was blacker than anything he'd ever felt. When he stopped and looked
out the port, he could see the flagship that held the Empire's commander.
The Vaders' time was drawing close, the time when they would either triumph
or die. Through his delicate probing of Leia's mind, he also sensed the
approach of the Rebel fleet as it set aim for the Death Star. So many thoughts
tumbled in his mind. Could he successfully play the role his father had
instructed? Was his shielding fully in place? Or would the Emperor see
his deeply hidden heart and know that he would do anything for his father?
His thoughts darkened. After they'd destroyed Palpatine, would his father
still need and want him? Surely after what had happened between them, his
father would never leave him. There would never be another who would both
submit and defy, who would call the Dark Lord's torture desirable. Even
though his body ached from constant abuse, Luke was eager to repeat the
experiences, to feel the thrills, the excitement. And if such acts would
bind them, keep this father he adored--
"Remember what you said to me about emotional closeness?" he asked abruptly.
"No," the Dark Lord replied in a tone that said he did remember and
didn't want to discuss it.
Luke ignored the reticence, overwhelmed by a sense of urgency. "You
said it was because I had never been so close to anyone else, so emotionally
close. And it's true - that's how I feel. I love you - no one else, just
you." His love was an obsession; he thought about it constantly. Thought
about the sex they shared - sex that reduced his boyhood fantasies to pale,
insipid illusions. He loved the mask--
He drew a sharp breath. Did he love the mask more than the man?
The answer nipped at his conscience, and he turned away from it.
Vader threw his cloak over his shoulders and clasped it around his neck.
"There is no time for your foolishness. The Emperor approaches, and I must
be in the bay to greet him. Look."
From the port he could see a tiny dot of light leaving the great flagship
and growing minutely larger. "Wait," Luke persisted, clutching his father's
mechanical fist, shuddering at the memories it brought. Stirrings of panic
bubbled in his mind, visions of dreams slipping away. "Before we face him,
I have to know - I need to know."
"Need to know what?" Vader pulled away impatiently.
"If you ever felt this for anyone else. Have you ever loved anyone more
than me?" Suddenly it was of astonishing importance that the answer was
negative. Before he confronted Palpatine, before they faced death, he had
to know his father's secret heart--
Pain and darkness exploded in his head. He staggered back, struggling
to maintain his footing. His body slammed into the wall, and he tried to
straighten. His face hurt. He lifted a hand to it.
His father had hit him, but this time there was no lust in the action,
only... annoyance. He looked up in disbelief. The Dark Lord was towering
over him, rage apparent in every motion of his body.
"Stop this absurdity. I am not a meal for you to devour." The voice
hissed through the respirator. "I am not the answer to your crushing needs.
Your constant hunger sickens me - as do these attempts to drain me of emotions
I have never had. We are facing the biggest crisis of our lives and still
you harp on this nonsense. Stop your womanish pleading and behave like
a man."
Luke watched his father stride out of their quarters. He pushed himself
away from the wall, numb with devastation. The confrontation with Palpatine
had become meaningless.
If his father didn't love him, what else could possibly matter? What
was left?
Deep within his core, the Sith began to rouse.

* * *
"Come here, child. Don't be shy."
The boy walked slowly toward him, two Jedi stars arrogantly breaking
the solid black lines of his clothing, until he stood very straight in
front of the slotted viewports, chin lifted with proud resolve. Palpatine
could sense his fear as well as a healthy dose of anger. Unlike the fear,
however, the anger was not aimed at him but rather at the Dark Lord of
the Sith who still waited at a distance. The Dark Lord would obediently
wait there until his master told him to move.
The Emperor smiled to himself. "Excellent. Now tell me, boy, are you
fully trained in the ways of the Dark?" With a wave of his hand, he dismissed
the Imperial Guards, and they vanished into the depths of the Death Star.
"No." The single word was stark in its insolence.
"So I see," he said drily. He gestured for Vader to approach the throne.
"Your son is ill-trained as well as ill-mannered."
"I am sorry, my master."
Luke snorted derisively, and Palpatine turned to hear his words. "Don't
blame my father." The tone was patronizing. "He's taught me all he knows.
But I... can learn so much more." A hungry fire blazed in the pale eyes.
"I know I can. I am the Force."
Palpatine had a great feeling of recognition. This was the One he'd
waited for, the child who would continue his existence. The One with power
surpassing all the others. His own son had been a great disappointment;
his grandchild would not be. "And from whom will you learn it, boy?"
"From you, the master of darkness."
"Whose master?"
The eyes flashed. "My master."
Borderline impudence, the way the words were pronounced. Frightened
he might be, but Skywalker was still ferocious in his pride. As it should
be. "Has all your Good been crushed, boy?"
The child hesitated. "No. And... my name is not 'boy'."
He rose from the throne. "Never correct me. I will call you what I please."
"Very well."
"Address me properly." The serpentine edges of his anger began to uncoil.
Skywalker hesitated, uncertainty showing in his eyes. He knelt and bowed
his head submissively. "I am sorry, master."
"Better. Tell me, boy, what you want from me."
"I wish you to teach me everything, master." The child remained kneeling
at his feet, but his head lifted. Such a pretty face.
Palpatine loathed its perfection.
"To what end?"
A smile curved the pale lips. "Someday I will be Emperor."
Behind him, Vader moved restlessly. "Enough, my son. Remember your place."
The smile stayed on Luke's mouth, and his gaze never left Palpatine's
face. "The Emperor and I already know my place. Don't we, master?"
Palpatine caught his breath. This one would be dangerous if not properly
subjugated. "I know your place, boy. You do not. But you will learn." He
gestured for the child to rise, then turned to his own son. "Lord Vader,
my congratulations on a difficult job well done. I can see that this boy
must have been a challenge. I sense that he still has many conflicting
emotions."
"Yes, my master. But he is an eager student."
"Good." He reseated himself on the throne. Skywalker sank to the floor,
sitting cross-legged at his feet. "I did not give you permission to sit
in my presence."
"I am your heir. I do not need permission to be seated... master."
The arrogance amused him. He chuckled. "You are quite unlike your father."
"I know." The blond hair moved gently as the child nodded. "He is imperfect.
I am stronger. I have a greater capacity for... everything."
"Hmm." He leaned forward and brushed back an errant strand of the pale
hair. High on the left cheekbone was a swollen purple area. "Why did your
father strike you?"
Pink flooded into the face, and Skywalker's gaze became sly. "We were
talking."
"About?"
The blush deepened. "Love and... stuff like that."
This time he laughed aloud. "Such a youngster!" For a moment, from the
boy's evasive reaction, he'd thought they were plotting against him. The
lad's naivete held a certain charm.
Vader's anger roiled through the room. "You are a stupid child. This
is the Emperor of all the galaxy. Mind what you say."
Luke's eyes were cold blue fires. "I'm more like him than you'll
ever be! You're nothing! You can't teach me anymore. We don't need you."
"Don't be hasty, boy." Pleased, the Emperor lifted a hand to halt the
argument. He wasn't quite through with Lord Vader yet. And Skywalker was
not someone he wanted to handle alone. "I approve of the job your father
is doing with you. You may continue his education, Lord Vader, with Sith
matters. But, please, Skywalker, no further disciplining of my officers
without my express consent."
Embarrassment and pride shone on the boy's face. "Yes, master."
Vader took a single step forward. "He is not ready for Sith training!"
It had been many years since he'd seen his Dark Lord so upset. Obviously,
in his eyes, this child was a real threat to his position as the Emperor's
Right Hand. And well he should see it that way. It would be interesting
to cause a final confrontation between them. But it would have to wait
for awhile. Perhaps indefinitely. He turned to Luke.
"You understand, boy, that I am not Jedi, I am Sith - as you will be."
Total surprise flashed across the expressive face. "What do you mean?"
He looked at Lord Vader. "It appears that you have left an important
gap in his education, my friend."
"I did not feel it was necessary to tell him yet."
"Tell me what?" Luke stumbled to his feet, his anger sending thrills
through Palpatine's decaying body. "What's going on? How can I be Sith?
They're... magicians, wizards--" The boy blinked. "Someone... once called
Ben Kenobi a wizard."
Palpatine smiled faintly. "Sit down, boy." He waited until Luke was
settled at his feet again. Such a fiery young apprentice... it was an intriguing
feeling. "Ours is a family of sorcerers and Jedi mixing, skipping generations.
Those who are not Sith become their Dark Lords - a euphemism for 'servant'.
Your father is one such Dark Lord. He serves me. I am the only Sorcerer
left in the galaxy."
Those disturbing eyes watched him, the hunger burning brightly. "Then
what am I?"
He leaned over and tilted up the boy's chin with one finger. "You are
Sith, boy. You are my heir. And your father will serve you. Unless you
prefer to have another Dark Lord."
This time there was no hasty answer. Luke studied each of them in turn.
"How can there be another Dark Lord?"
"There are... Others," Palpatine said easily. That was all the knowledge
either of them required at this moment. He saw them exchange puzzled looks.
Luke turned to him again, leaning forward, watching him intently.
"What does it mean to be Sith? How much power will I have? What can
I do? When can I be Emperor? Will I be able to--"
"Enough." He held up one hand, feeling some sympathy for his son. He
looked at Vader. "Does he frequently talk this much?"
"Very frequently, my master."
"A pity." He smiled at the child. "Your answers will come all in good
time, boy, all in good time. You will not be a sorcerer unless I choose
to train you, to show you how to unlock the secrets in your mind."
"Maybe I can find them myself - without your help."
"Impossible." He kept an even expression on his face, revealing no indication
of the foreboding that declaration caused in him. It would be a pity to
have to destroy this boy rather than assimilate him.
Luke shifted onto his knees, his hands clutching the arm of the throne.
"Then show me now," he demanded.
Palpatine raised one eyebrow.
Luke hesitated. "Please show me, master," he requested politely. "Now."
The Emperor sighed and swiveled his throne until he faced the ports.
"Your father is correct. You are not ready. Ah, look, your former Rebel
friends have arrived." A few ships were destroyed in bright flashes before
the rest of the fleet turned away, aborting their attack just short of
crashing into the force field. "Very amusing, don't you think, Lord Skywalker?"
It reminded him of an invasion simulator game he'd played as a child so
many millennia ago.
"I am ready!"
He cackled with glee. This was the most amusement he'd had in generations.
What a delightful challenge this boy would be! No sophistication, little
formal education. Palpatine relaxed in his throne and checked on his Dark
Lord. Vader was unmoving, but anger and distress radiated from the body
held so tightly. Very rarely was Vader able to retain the discipline that
should have been second nature to him. "So, young Skywalker, do you still
wish to become my apprentice?"
"Yes, master." Unconcealed eagerness shone on the angelic face. A face
hiding a limitless inner capacity for evil that waited to be tapped.
"But you still have some Good in you."
"Yes, master." Now stubbornness replaced the other expressions. "But
I don't think that's a bad thing."
What extraordinary thought processes must exist in the child's brain.
Palpatine couldn't think of a single rational reply to that ridiculous
statement. He decided to ignore it. "Of course, I will want your body."
Skywalker stared at him, eyes growing even larger. "P-pardon, master?"
He chuckled. "For my own. This body grows old and withers. I will need
a new one soon. I will take yours. Today we will begin the process."
Horror built on the child's face, layer upon layer of it. He looked
to Vader for reassurance, but none was forthcoming. "You can't have my
b-body," he finally stuttered. "It's mine!"
"And in time it will be mine."
"But--" Luke scrambled to his feet, backing away. "But what would happen
to me? You can't just--" He whirled on Vader, every anguished line of his
body screaming betrayal. "You knew about this?"
"Never mind him." Palpatine smiled. "You will still be in your body,
child. Perhaps I did not make myself clear." It was perfectly clear, of
course. The preparations had already been made. "I will join you in your
body. My mind, my spirit, bonding with yours. But this cannot be successfully
completed until you are properly trained."
"Then who would I be?"
"You will be both of us. You will be Emperor. You will be the foremost
power in the galaxy. You will rule this galaxy - and those beyond the furthest
reaches of your imagination. You will have power the likes of which you
have never dreamed. This is the tradition for which you were born. This
is your heritage."
As he spoke, the child's fear slowly dissipated. Now ambition shone
on the eager face. Dark, hungering ambition. "Train me," Luke urged, kneeling
again. One hand hovered in the air, then rested delicately on the Emperor's
knee in supplication. There was a distinctly sexual aura in the demand.
Palpatine admitted fascination. For the first time, he entered the boy's
mind. He felt the automatic defenses submit under his pressure, allowing
him passage. There were several thick barriers not of the boy's construction.
He touched one and recognized Vader's work. It would be interesting to
see what lay hidden behind those walls, to learn what had seemed so uncontrollable
to the Dark Lord. Then he found the truth of their relationship - sex.
You
have always had an unfortunate attraction to fire, my son, he told
Vader, laughing silently at his wit. Palpatine withdrew from this brain
filled with confusion. "He's trying to devour your personality. Don't you
realize that? He's raped your mind as well as your body."
Vader moved, one arm raising, fist clenching. Dropping again in impotent
rage.
Luke looked at his father, then back at the Emperor. "I know he's put
up walls in my mind. I let him do it."
"Why?" Palpatine asked curiously.
"I...." Luke looked between them again, a sad longing on his face. "I...
love him."
Fascinating, even though he'd half-expected it to happen. Great love
and great hate, the stuff that brought down galaxies. So much love that
Vader risked being contaminated by the boy's passion. "Of course you do.
And you would kill him if I so instructed, wouldn't you?"
The face, already so pale, became bleached of color. The blue gaze flew
between them several times. Luke bowed his head. "I... don't know, master.
But...."
The vague response annoyed him; for now, he would ignore it. "I won't
ask you, child. We need a Dark Lord, after all. And Vader is the only one
available at the moment. Let us talk about you."
"Me?" The defiance was almost drained; the child was growing weary of
the verbal fencing. He was quite good for an amateur, but he couldn't hope
to compete with the great Palpatine when it came to subtleties and nuances.
"Specifically, your future. I want to teach you. I want your body. I
want you to belong to me. But all these acts must be allowed by you if
we are to be successful. Are you willing?"
Luke slumped, the energy nearly drained from him. Nearly defeated. "I...."
At the point of surrender, the head lifted, the body straightened. Slowly
Luke pushed to his feet. "I am willing. For a price."
"Ah." The child still hadn't disappointed him. "And what is the price
of a Skywalker these days?"
The face became stern, the voice firm. "My price is my father's walls."
He heard a sharp sound of protest from his Dark Lord and ignored it.
"What are you talking about, boy?"
"The walls you put in his mind. I know they're there." The blue
eyes were fierce, more the glare of an owner than a son. "You made him
your servant - you tied him to you. He belongs to me now. I want
your
walls down."
"And if that is not what I want?"
"Then you can't have me."
The declaration was stark in its purity. He knew that Skywalker meant
it. He studied the strong, youthful body. It was beautiful, and it could
be his, but not by force, never by force. He had never owned a body like
that, never had one so uncorrupted, so well-formed. And the mind! - how
he wanted to explore that stunningly complex mind. It would take little
to remove his personal claim in his own son. Vader had nearly outlived
his usefulness; he had weakened since finding the boy and did not understand
that it was he who was being lost in the rapacious mind of Skywalker.
But even with the walls removed, Vader would still obey them; it was obvious
that he was obsessed with his insolent, dangerous son.
A small concession then, to win such a prize and to claim young Skywalker
as his possession. "Very well," Palpatine said abruptly.
Without preparation or warning, he entered the Dark Lord's mind. Felt
the twin jolts of surprise and pain. The barriers were intricate, constructed
with the technique he'd perfected over years of trial and error. This had
been his most successful construction. He unwove the layers, all of them,
walls he'd built in case Vader had ever been able to destroy even one.
It was a long, complex job, but he did it well. There would be no reason
for Skywalker to renege on this agreement - nor would there be time. Once
this was completed, Skywalker was pledged to him. Mentally weary, Palpatine
completed the destructive work and began to withdraw. When he separated
himself, he was unsurprised to find Vader huddled on the floor, body bent
over his knees, hands clutching his skull. He turned to Skywalker just
as the Death Star shook in a violent convulsion.
"What--?"
A blinding brilliance swung at his neck. He lifted his arms in automatic
defense but it was too late. He knew a flash of outrage, then--
With one swing of his lightsaber, Luke severed Palpatine's head. The
cloak dropped to the floor and the body vanished just as Ben's had. Luke
staggered, panting, trying to keep his feet as the Death Star rocked beneath
him. Shards of metal and plasteel rained on his head as the upper level
began to collapse. He saw his father on the floor, legs pinned by a steel
beam. Frantic anger filled him, and he used its power to raise the beam
and throw it aside. He helped his father stand.
"We have to get out of here!"
"Leave me--"
"No! I've got to save you!" Staggering under the weight, he half-dragged
his father down the stairs, trying to avoid the falling debris. The private
docking bay below the Emperor's throne room held a small shuttle they'd
secreted there days earlier. "Walk, damnit! Help me!"
He kicked aside the work tools, the portable genset, the weld kit -
everything that had made it look as though the shuttle was in a state of
disrepair. Vader staggered onto the ship, and Luke heard the pre-ignition
warmup begin. He unfastened the workbolts that held the gear in place,
then ran on board. "Go! Go!" he screamed.
Vader had anticipated him, the craft beginning its ascent before he
finished his words. Horrified, Luke watched the fireball approaching from
the rear - the Rebels had blasted through to the central core! This was
the end! Would they make it, would they--
The shuttle skipped out of the collapsing Death Star scant seconds ahead
of the fireball. Luke knew the outer shell of the craft must have been
scorched, but the engines sounded undamaged. He struggled to the cockpit
and strapped himself into the copilot's seat next to his father. Now all
they had to do was evade the Alliance pilots.
Their craft was rocked by a laser blast. Luke fumbled frantically to
punch in an Alliance identification code. Let them wonder later just who
had been on the escaping Imperial shuttle.
They followed the Rebel ships to safety. A shower of golden sparks descended
around them, and he knew it was the end of the Death Star. The Millennium
Falcon went spiraling past, and Luke felt a faint pang of regret. His friends...
he would never see them again.
"You wish to go with them?"
Luke considered it for only a moment. "No." He grinned and touched his
bruised cheek. "Your performance earlier - I know you didn't mean those
things you said. You only wanted to make me angry to help hide my true
feelings from Palpatine."
Vader remained silent.
Luke laughed again, euphoric with relief. "These walls Palpatine spoke
of--"
"When we get home, I will remove the barriers I put in your mind. I
hope you will not be too upset with me when you learn their extent."
"I won't be. You're my father." To him, that was reason enough for forgiveness.
And yet.... "It was the mind-joining, wasn't it? That was... untrue. You
lied to me. You used mind-joining as an excuse to corrupt my mind. And
maybe... other times." He wasn't angry, not quite. Just... disturbed. And
curious as to his father's reasons. "But why?"
"Control," Vader answered shortly.
Luke sighed resignedly. No matter what his father did, his feelings
for him weren't-- A sharp pain lanced through his head. Something was wrong,
something was bothering him, interrupting - a disharmony in the Force,
a bending of what was proper. With a gentle touch he pressed the galaxy
back into shape.
"What are you doing?" Alarm reverberated through Vader's voice.
"I'm not sure." He tilted his face and studied the stars, searching
for an explanation. He relaxed and let the truth come to him. "The... Imperial
troops were confused. I... assisted them."
"You are instructing them?"
"No." He didn't understand his father's dismay. "Just comforting them.
Giving them direction. They must have felt Palpatine's death." Why did
Lord Vader need to ask? "Can't you sense the discordance?"
"No."
Interesting. The Emperor had been correct. Vader was not as powerful
as he pretended to be. Luke turned his attention back to his calculations
for the jump into hyperspace. "Do you think Palpatine meant what he said,
that I couldn't access my Sith powers without his guidance?" he asked casually.
"Yes."
It was a yes that meant no. Luke grinned. "Who do you think the Other
Dark Lords are that he referred to?"
"I have no idea." The reply was clipped and wary.
"Pity. Okay, we're ready to engage--" His hand jerked away from the
controls. "Do you think we should go to Imperial Center instead?"
He sensed Vader's head turning, felt the unreadable gaze focus on his
face. When his father didn't reply, Luke began to revise his calculations.
"I think we should. They'll need help. I can feel their confusion. There
is panic. Palpatine must have been mentally controlling the government
- by the Sith, imagine that much power! Yes, I must go there directly."
Still Vader stared without words. Luke probed his thoughts, infiltrating
the triumph the Dark Lord felt about his - his? - victory over Palpatine.
He sensed the first delicate tendrils of fear growing in his father, and
their existence interested him. He gathered up Vader's mind and took it
inside his own, where he could both cherish and examine it. The Dark Lord
fought him ineffectually, subsiding only after Luke's gentle chastisement.
I'll
take care of you from now on, Father, he sent compassionately, then
returned to his own considerations.
There were many possibilities to be explored, and he could study none
of them stuck in his father's desert home. That would only send him back
to his roots - the farm on Tatooine, the stifling boredom of a life in
exile. Nor could he learn enough as Emperor Vader's underling, because
his father would be busy and have little time for him... an alarming possibility
that hadn't occurred to him earlier.
That decided him. He would not forsake his father's company or his new
life of adventure, so he would be neither farmer nor Emperor's Son - he
would be the galaxy's Emperor-Sorcerer. He was Sith - better than Jedi,
much stronger. His childhood dreams hadn't been dreams - they'd
been Foreseeings.
His father would remain his lover and a useful assistant; his trustworthiness
was unquestionable, and there remained a few things to be learned from
him. But there was much more that Luke could learn alone. Maybe Palpatine's
private chambers held secrets and the key to Sith knowledge. Perhaps even
a mysterious, ethereal teacher who now awaited him. Power was not evil;
he could prove it by remaining uncorrupted, by ruling the galaxy with divine
benevolence. His father had hinted at something like that once, but Vader
wasn't strong enough to rule. Vader didn't have any sense of power.
Vader wasn't Sith.
Luke turned and smiled generously at his beloved servant. "It really
doesn't matter who the Others are. I want you to be my Dark Lord."
"I--"
He interrupted what was certain to be an embarrassing declaration of
gratitude by stroking his father's faceplate. He touched the troubled mind
and sensed Vader's experimental efforts to heal his body. With a whisper
of regret, Luke built his own walls to replace the ones Palpatine had removed.
The old emperor had been correct; a benign-faced, middle-aged Right Hand
would intimidate no one.
And more than that, Emperor Skywalker wanted that cool, beautiful mask
to remain forever in place. When the mental barriers were finally secure,
he leaned over and, with a satisfied smile, fulfilled another of his boyhood
fantasies. Infinitely gentle, he placed a lingering, passionate kiss on
the mouthpiece of the beloved disguise.
"I love you, Father," Luke said tenderly. "I'll never have enough of
you... and I'll never let you go."
A black glove snaked up his arm and curled around his fingers. Slowly
it tightened, squeezing until Luke heard the sharp crack of a bone shattering.
A wave of pain and nausea battered him, and he reached for his father's
mind to stop the assault, to return the pain - and found his access blocked
by an unfamiliar shield he could neither penetrate nor evade. Involuntarily,
he trembled and uttered a small moan.
"Ah, young one," Darth Vader hissed, a knife-edge of mockery and amusement
slicing through the measured breaths. "My thoughts exactly."

End
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Vader's Child