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Summary: The Sith Lord glanced into the heart of the wounded Rebel Commander to torture him with the truth of his desire - a truth that held within it an intolerable future. Luke had ventured into the labyrinth to assail the beast, only to discover that he was, himself, the beast.
Time-line: Rebellion, following the events described in the movie, 'The Empire Strikes Back' (1980)
Rating: PG
Keywords: Luke, drama, Rebellion
© Copyright 2000, Lynne Freels
www.westies.com
"Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, |
I am your hate: of self, of circumstance, of things that smother. I am your fear: of pain, of repetition, of insanity. They know that who I am is what you are. They can smell it on you. You reek of the truth: a loathsome liability.
I am your father.
I am your weakness, and I will stalk you even as your hair bleaches grey, and time carves your skin in passing. I will not sleep, I will not erode, and I will gorge on your interminable uncertainty.
I am you.
"Ben, why didn't you tell me?"
The beaten warrior flooded his mind with agony, abruptly uncoupling the mental link with the monster, and he plaited senseless to the floor, even as the stars outside the cockpit window elongated into the safety of hyperspace.
"I told you, we've got a medical emergency here," Princess Leia never took her eyes off the damp grey of Luke Skywalker's face, skin slack with vacuous relief. A breath with the plea, 'Aunt Beru', barely passed through the parted, ashen lips, and his half- lidded eyes glazed over.
Exhausted and still sore from her recent ordeal, Leia's impatience was blatantly evident. "Unless the clearance code has been changed since the Hoth evacuation," she blustered, "you damned well better allow passage, now!"
A single shot was fired from Blue Leader's X-Wing fighter, whose squadron had halted the Falcon's progress. The old freighter twitched from the blast that singed her belly. In the pilot's chair, Lando lifted an eyebrow at his Wookie co-pilot. "Nice welcome," he said sarcastically. "First the Empire tries to kill us, now the Rebellion decides to use us for laser cannon practice. Maybe we should have removed that universal target signal, after all."
"Millenium Falcon," Blue Leader's voice interrupted,"you have been cleared to dock under our escort. Do not deviate from this course or you will be destroyed."
"How do you feel?"
In an empty surgical preparation room on one of the Alliance's three Medical Frigates, Luke opened his eyes and tried to remember the name of the man before him, the same man who had pulled him into the relative safety of the freighter beneath Bespin's Cloud City. "Very tired," he admitted. "But my ribs are almost healed. Also, this is weird, it feels like I still have my right hand. I mean, I have the sensation that my palm and fingers are burning. The treatments are helping, though."
Lando Calrissian, former self-titled Baron Administrator of Cloud City, pulled a chair up to Luke's bedside. "No really," he said, his deceptively casual manner hid an extraordinary perceptiveness. "How do you feel?"
"In a way, I was hoping that you'd be satisfied with that half of the answer." Simple no more, the young man let his eyes fall to the tourniquet that still encased the symbol of his mistake. "It's been a few years since I was disciplined for doing something stupid."
"I don't see how trying to save your friends deserves punishment, let alone what happened to you in Cloud City."
"But I didn't save them." Luke said softly. Raising his head, he accidentally looked up and into the deformed features of his reflection in the polished metal of an indescript piece of medical equipment. "You know, I never got much praise from my uncle when I was growing up. I guess with everyone congratulating me on that shot that blew the Death Star --"
"YOU fired that shot?" Lando sat forward, reassessing the youth. "Maker, that was a one in a million chance!"
"Yeah, well listening to comments like that all the time made me reckless." A few months ago, such praise would have generated an abashed smile. Now, Luke's face darkened with a frown. "I lost perspective and started believing that I was more than I was. In the moment that I stood facing Vader before we fought, all I could think of was that I could beat him. I'd beat him, and then people would continue to like me. I'd beat him, and make him pay for what he took from me. I'd beat him because I'm young and invincible.
"I won't make those mistakes again," he resolved.
A tall woman, dressed in ankle length, abstemious robes, entered the room. Luke had never met the Alliance Leader in person before.
She inclined her head, acknowledging Lando. "Administrator Calrissian, I am Mon Mothma, one of the Alliance Leaders," she said. "I will need to speak with you at some point within the next few hours, if you would make time before you leave."
"Certainly," he agreed, smoothly. "How about over dinner?"
"Administrator -"
"Call me Lando," he encouraged her with a smile. His first impression of this Alliance Leader was one that forewarned a distinct disadvantage for him if he conversed in territory familiar to her.
"As you prefer. Lando, it is my habit to discuss business matters without such distractions, but thank you for offering. Now, I need to speak to the Commander privately."
He inclined his head, still smiling. As a free agent, he hoped that he would not have to unduly concern himself with her intentions or motivations. After all, she was no Darth Vader. Waving a farewell to Luke, Lando left with a rustle of his klis shirt.
As the partition slid shut, Mon Mothma turned to address the youth. "Commander, the Princess debriefed the Council on the events that occurred on Bespin, and I will speak to Calrissian later about this. First, though, I want to confirm Leia's statements with yours, if you're well enough."
"I'd rather get this over with now. What do you want to know."
Without preamble, Mon Mothma seated herself before him. "First of all, will you explain your absence between the Hoth Base evacuation and your encounter with Darth Vader on Bespin?"
Unaccountably, Luke felt strongly that any revelation of Yoda's existence would constitute a betrayal of an assumed trust between the teacher and his student and, more than that, would put the diminutive Jedi Master in mortal jeopardy. He was undecided if this belief originated from intuition or from a Force enhanced premonition. For all he knew, Yoda had placed this trigger in his mind. "I cannot," he said, uncertain of the consequences of his refusal. "I'm sorry."
"Then explain this to me: you fought against a powerful Sith Lord, one who is credited with the genocide of the Jedi Order, yet you lived with comparatively little damage to show for it. Why?"
How now to vanquish the goulish shadow of his father's failure, and his own? "He told me, at the moment of my helplessness, that it was he was who was responsible for my life." Still, there was an irresistible vanity in the idea of a freed conscience, released by the foundation of genetic inevitability. Ego.
"Explain what you mean by that statement."
"Only that I underestimated his power. He can destroy me at his leisure."
Something intangible within the Alliance Leader solidified, although Luke could not detect any outward change. "Then he does not consider you a threat to the Empire?"
'You can destroy the Emperor. He has foreseen this.' "Not to him, anyway."
"Commander, you do not help your situation." Her tone gained aloofness. "It is in your best interest to reveal everything that has happened to you in the past several months."
Luke spread his arms in a submissive gesture. "I've said all that I can say."
Mon Mothma stood, then. "Here is what I interpret from both of the statements I've heard, thus far. You will not reveal your whereabouts between Hoth and Bespin because you did not make it through the Imperial blockade and were taken prisoner. They threatened, or brainwashed, or did something to you to convert you into an Imperial Agent."
She removed the chair from the bedside, in an act of objectification. "Since the Alliance is never in one place for too long, the only way you could easily infiltrate the Rebellion was through Leia, who was a prisoner of the Empire at the time. Vader then allowed her to escape, so that she could rescue you and return you to the Fleet. You agreed to be beaten and mutilated to make your return to us all the more convincing."
Luke stared at her, incredulous. "How could you make that stuff up? I am not an Imperial Spy!"
"Then what are you?" She countered.
'A loathsome liability.' "Confused. I've got a lot to work out, but I'm no threat to the Alliance," he answered honestly. "Besides, if I were a spy, I'd put a tracer on the Falcon to lead the Imperial Fleet here, not just send one guy in to spy for them."
Mon Mothma's expression hardened. "We blasted one off the Falcon's keel before she was allowed to dock with us. The Empire would hope that we thought that the tracer was the only threatening cargo."
She paused at the edge of a decision. "Commander, I know that you are very close to Princess Leia and, therefore, may have more access to sensitive information than others of similar rank. I need your honest answer when I ask how much you know of our manoeuvrings and future strategies."
Nervous and scared now, Luke stared at her, not comprehending her motivations. "Let me rephrase the question," she said. "Do you act as her confidant?"
"Yes, I do. She trusts me with sensitive information, as you ought to." Suddenly, he realised the absolute truth of what he had just stated. Leia was his anchor; he knew that now. How could he be his father's doppelganger, when her trust in him - in his goodness - never faltered? At last, he saw the nobility that lay at the quiet centre out of which he should always act. It had not mutated at the touch of Vader's revelation.
A sigh from the woman beside him brought his attention back outward. She glanced over at the 2-1B medical droid that rolled to a position next to Luke's bed. "The patient requires rest," it said in a soothing voice. "I kindly request that your visit conclude, presently." Had it been coded for emotions, Mon Mothma would have thought it was trying to protect its charge.
"Very well," she acknowledged. "Luke, I have to meet with the Council at 0400 hours about this situation. I can only tell them what you told me. Many will interpret your account in the same way I described to you. Please reconsider your silence."
"And that eviscerated supplier is relatively close to our current position. Our delay in leaving this area may have jeapro -"
"What in the hell did you just do?!" A little figure in white assailed Mon Mothma's office, like an avenging squall.
The members of the interrupted meeting rose to intercept the intruder. "No," the Alliance Leader checked them. "It's alright. I need to address the Princess's concerns. As agreed upon, the Fleet will break up within the hour to stager-rendezvous at Fo Chasaibh Nan Mamb."
As the door slid shut behind her, Leia closed in on the other woman. "Luke was suppose to be discharged and let off at the nearest port; so, why did you just murder the pilot that destroyed the Death Star? You just assassinated Rogue Leader, whose courage and tactical manoeuvrings allowed the Alliance to escape the Imperials on Hoth! Did you forget that you, and billions of other people, owe him your lives?!"
Weary, Mon Mothma closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she seemed imperfect, perhaps frailer. "Princess Leia, under normal circumstances, I would not debate you. But the time that we live in now is far from normal. Our present circumstances require extraordinary caution and demands overly much of each of us."
She indicated a chair for Leia to sit in, but the other remained standing, arms folded in front of her. Sighing, Mothma continued, "If we are, indeed, the last hope for the restoration of basic freedoms to the peoples of this galaxy, who now suffer unimaginable atrocities under the current totalitarian rule, then we must at times be ruthless ourselves. In the very least, we cannot afford to take any chances."
Incredulous, Leia stared at her associate, trying to discern the base of the platform she now stood on. "'Be ruthless ourselves'? Are you actually listening to what you're saying?"
"Yes, I am! It sounds as grating to me as it does to you, but there is a definitive reality here that must be faced, whether we like it or not." Mothma stood and walked to the end of the room, staring inward.
After a few moments, she turned around. "Mister Skywalker's Imperial collaboration was not disproved, and the Alliance could not allow his knowledge of our affairs and, more importantly, his demonstrated Force abilities to fall into the hands of the Imperials." Her voice did not modulate. "The decision was not an easy one, as I like him on a personal level, but it was a necessary tactical choice that, otherwise, might have meant our destruction."
Leia sat down, noting Mothma's forced use of a civilian title when speaking of Luke, and folded her hands in her lap. "The only way we will win this struggle is if we win the hearts and minds of individuals. The only way to do that is through example. You cannot compartmentalise your mind like that, because you won't be able to change what is inside you. If you can't do that, then you will not be able to change what's around you."
Mon Mothma closed the distance between them to take the Princess's rough hands in hers. Leia looked uncomfortably down at the entwined fingers, but allowed the touch to continue. "That's what I need, sometimes; your idealism. I'm afraid that practical matters have hardened my own heart, to a certain extent. I often wonder how far such thoughts as you expunge can be carried into the workings of this Rebellion. It began as such, but should we allow this wish for a political utopia to dictate our actions now, even when we know that these actions could mean the utter obliteration of the Alliance?"
The Princess, who had already suffered more than most others in her short life, reversed the hold of her encased hands as she stood, to grip the older woman's shoulders in an act of circumspection. "Ultimately, our success will depend on the strength of all aspects of our strategy. What I want to make clear is that if we choose not to act out of moral integrity and personal example, then the misery and perversion of the Empire will simply be replaced by the misery and perversion of the restored Republic."
Leia held onto Mon Mothma in silence, hoping that her words would ferment within the Alliance Leader. "I'm sorry, Leia," Mothma said, her gentle voice contrasting her words. "But to have allowed Skywalker to live would have posed an unacceptable risk to the freedom movement. Most of the Council, who endured Palpetine's purges and the atrocities committed by his Sith puppet, reluctantly agreed that the unusual circumstances of Skywalker's Force abilities and his prolonged, unaccounted absence, called for swift and final action on our part."
Mothma's grip tightened in the only evidence of her frustration. "We could not afford the very real potential risk of another Sith, one with crippling tactical knowledge. Skywalker, himself, said that he would not be able to resist Vader."
Dropping her gaze as she dropped her hands, Leia formally resigned her commission. "You may have just eliminated our last, best hope," she said, and walked away.
Dazed from the impact caused by the shock waves of Calliope's destruction, the escape pod's lone passenger nevertheless had enough sense to shut down all non-critical power, and seal the structure's main debris-caused puncture wounds with aerogel.
Turning his attention next to the life support- powered auto distress signal, the Jedi Learner visualised its components, then, with a mental tug, tore it apart. He hoped that the Alliance did not pick up its signals for help, or the last thing he'd see would be cannon fire from his own squadron.
The images and feelings he had purloined from the Deck Captain turned out to be true. Had he not acted on what he absorbed and stayed in the shuttle, he would be dead now. The Alliance had betrayed him, just as Ben had.
Luke had accounted for everything his panicked mind could remember from General Dodonna's survival courses. Now, as he finished patching the smaller leaks in the hull, fear saw an opening in his defence and rapidly rose to grapple with him.
Lonely and angry, he looked critically upon himself, wondering what that futile wonderer did and why. Thinking himself detached, madness approached as these severed selves conversed in the void.
What did Ben and Yoda want from him? What fate awaited him? What if his destiny was nothing more than to die there, in a tiny coffin that once offered him hope? What was the purpose of that conclusion? What if there was no destiny, apart from whatever fantasy he constructed?
"No," he said.
Why 'no'?
"Because I don't want to hear anymore."
Why?
"If I'm going to die, I don't want my last moments to consist of regrets."
What do you regret?
"Stop it! Everything. I don't know, just leave me alone!"
You regret that you wasted your time daydreaming, when you should have been preparing.
"My uncle needed me, he said so himself! He said that he needed my help until the next harvest. I stayed because I had a duty, a responsibility, to him."
Did you? Look closer. You had a much greater duty, but you allowed your fear to stop you from performing your responsibilities.
"I wasn't afraid! I begged my uncle to let me apply to the Academy."
To which you knew he would forbid it, then argue against it. Besides, you could have left the farm whenever you wanted, but the pain, the destruction, the death that you knew would partake in your life, scared you into inaction.
"And who wouldn't be afraid of such things? Who would want it?"
You had a duty, and your procrastination cost the lives of millions.
"One person cannot change the outcome of the war."
Really? Do you truly believe that? Be honest, now. It was not death that scared you; it was the possibility that you'd enjoy the killing.
"I don't enjoy killing others! I do it to help restore freedom to the oppressed."
Yes, and you still clutch frantically to that ideal; but, in the middle of battle, how do you feel when you destroy a target? That's a good, sanitary name for your victim, isn't it? You never see the pain and death you inflict. The blip on your targeting computer simply disappears.
"If ... if I don't neutralise the enemy, I could - my squadron and my friends - we all could be killed."
You're saying that you ... what was the verb you used? "Neutralise"? - a very nice distancing term - you only kill in defence? You never yelled with delight after one of those targeted blips disappeared?
Aren't you being hypocritical?
"I was ... I was as cruel as the enemy I fought."
Staring vacantly at visible tracks in the invisible void, Luke tried to calm himself by meditating on a self-portrait, gliding on the waves of billions of life energies through space and time. Meditating, he considered the pasts contained within the starlight that now reached him - stars that had, long ago, exhausted their fuel and died - the civilisations that orbited them, having either moved on or perished where they once flourished.
Luke placed a hand against the transparisteel to hide his distorted reflection. Freedom from condemnation was contained within the form of the icy touch of infinity beyond the confines of the pod and the one within it.
That was the nature of all within the universe. Relativity, in relation to solar systems and other large masses, and quantum phenomena that he could only gain empirical awareness of through a very specific form of meditation. In between those two extremes were beings like him, whose struggles were comparatively either too quick or too slow but were, inevitably perhaps, inconsequential.
What had to concern him, therefore, was exactly what Master Yoda had emphasised: the present, and how one contributes to its quality. For Jedi Learner, Luke Skywalker, that meant hope - not only for his own survival, but also for the expansion of tolerance and freedoms, the maintenance of order and justice against violations, and the ease of providing basic needs for survival to all sentients.
He could not provide this hope without extensive assistance and education. Despite their paranoid attack on him, he still needed what the Alliance could offer, as they needed him in kind.
The Sith, and the legacy that slithered behind them, remained refreshed in the minds of the Alliance Leadership due to Vader's very presence. It had been so long since Jedi Knights existed that, for many, a Force-Conductor was a frightening thing. It was no wonder, then, that they allowed such emotion to justify their attempt on his life.
'A loathsome liability.' He'd been reviewing his conversation with Mon Mothma ever since it occurred. He was now so waterlogged with emotion, that he felt numb. That numbness, however, allowed him clarity of perception that he'd never experienced before. A liability ... whatever happened to his father could happen to him, but it did not have to be that way.
In his meditation, he considered the cosmos as its own kind of desert. A desert's heat would be very welcome now, he thought dryly. Shivering, he knew that the power couplings were spasming in the equivalent of death throws.
Peering at the depleting level of the oxygen supply indicator, he made himself as comfortable as he could in the cramped space. "Ben," he called to the martyred Jedi Knight; but, as on Cloud City, he was answered with silence. A grim smile briefly stretched his lips as he comforted himself with the notion that perhaps he would be making the final transition on his own terms.
"Leia," he amended, and concentrated on visualising his co-ordinates displayed on the navigational map. If she could hear his call as she had before, if there was some way she could contact the emergency unit at Ithaka without arousing Alliance suspicion ... if ... if.
Alone in the darkness, uncertain of his fate, he did the last thing he could think of to save himself. Closing his eyes, he drew on the Force to slow his breathing and heart rate, and rapidly sank into a state of suspended animation.
His mind and body swiftly focused as the youth summoned the Force. Feeling its power surge within him, Luke raised his lightsaber and, with one powerful stroke, severed the Dark Lord's head from his body.
As Luke watched in shocked disbelief, the broken helmet rolled to a stop at his feet. It flared briefly, then fell aside to reveal, not the unknown, imagined face of Darth Vader, but Luke's own face, looking up at him, immobilising him in mind and body. Even now, as he lay confined within the pod, he remained this immobilised prisoner of his own occluded control.
His needs for aversion, to be liked, and for non- existence, were the dragonesque inner ego that continued to command dominion over him through fear. If he could face them and stop avoiding them, maybe then the freedom of peace would not be so unattainable.
If he were to disentangle these knots he had allowed to form in his mind, he would need a great deal of time apart from anything familiar to him. This is what his teachers, Obi-wan and Yoda, had done. Now he saw the necessity of it, beyond political detection.
The silence and peace of seclusion, he believed would allow for the development of awareness, calmness, and insightful wisdom that would allow him to see things as they really are. And, perhaps, allow him to quiet his self-hatred. Only then, could he return to his teacher to truly hear the life in his words.
"I felt useless when I first saw the visions of you and Han suffering on Bespin," he explained. "I felt useless when I woke up on the Medical Frigate, when the consequences of what I'd done and ... and the truth ... finally impacted. I emotionally exploded: I could not remain patient, in the hope that the Force would guide me, like a lure; I could not remain anxiously inoffensive, unable to act."
"You're not alone in that sentiment. After I thought you'd been assassinated, I resigned, knowing full well that I, too, might be conveniently erased," Leia said quietly. "I believe that I was spared because the Leadership is paranoid that, given my former rank and position within the Alliance, I might have arranged to have certain tactical and personal information disbursed to the network in the event of my death.
"In any case, what's more surprising is that my recent request for reinstatement was accepted." She paused, then saluted sloppily. "Lieutenant Organa, at your service."
Luke turned slowly to face the Princess. A high collar framed his angular features, the black clothes blurring all but the blue eyes that glowed with an inner light. He was a dark stain against the bleached white of the room in which he stood.
His voice startled her. "Why did you return to the Alliance then, if you feel this way?"
"Because I can only change it from within."
He stood silently for a moment, studying her. "'From within'. Thank you, that is the key. Leia, our choices of action were simply naïve, being neither good nor evil. These concepts don't exist apart from each other. There is no duality."
"On the contrary," Leia said, "while it's true that we know of what is good in part by contrasting it with what we consider evil, these concepts theoretically can exist independently of each other. Further, I think that such polarised concepts can manifest themselves independently within the same individual, given a specific set of circumstances."
"Such as," Luke prompted.
"For simplicity's sake, let's take my reaction to Vader as an example."
For the first time since she saw him dangling, perilously from Cloud City's belly, he smiled.
"What I'm trying to say is that my reaction to that monster never wavers. I'd kill him, if I had the means." She righted herself, "Is that evil? Maybe, because my motivation is only to satisfy my revenge for Alderaan and everything else I loved that was taken from me. It's the same level of thought that he has, but I don't let it control me.
"It is because I don't saturate myself with this hatred that I am able to carry out deeds of philanthropy - deeds that, at their centre, are not born out of a need to prove that I still have this capability. Nevertheless, I can't alter the intensity of what I feel at the very mention of Vader's name."
Luke studied her in silence for a few moments, maintaining eye contact with some effort. "Or won't," and held his left hand up to her, in a gesture of cessation. "I think I understand what things lurk in such depths. When they are brought to the surface," he paused and turned his head slightly to the left, consequently shifting his line of sight from her eyes. It was as if he feared to corrupt her with nothing more complex than visual contact. "There is a lot that's unpleasant to see."
"It's the same for all of us, Luke. I'd be much happier and, admitedly less hypocritical, if I didn't cling to this anger." She inhaled loudly through her nose, then released the calming breath in a quick snort. "But I know I'd be less effective without it."
"Effective," he murmured and, turning back to the window, finally addressed his reflection twin hovering over the abyss, who regarded him in turn. "What I've been taught is fatally over simplified. The Jedi are dead, and I must now take responsibility for setting my own moral standards. It is what I may do, and not what I may not do, that will form the basis of this New Order."
He cocked his head in profile. "The Jedi Knights were the most visible symbols of the Old Republic. The public defeat of such a powerful and infamous figure as Jabba - by no less than this resurrected symbol of the O.R. - will force the Rebel Command to play along, if they want to prove the seriousness of their New Republic 'cause' to anyone."
Turning in full towards her, the cold steel of his gaze seemed to penetrate the distance between the two outsiders. "The time for action is approaching. You'll know, soon, when I need you to implement your part in the plan."
The communications screen darkened. Leia disengaged the splicer decoder from the public station she sat at, hoping that this covert conversation was not detected or traceable, and returned it to its hiding place in the emptied base of the hologram of her father, Senator Bail Organa.
"Dad, I hope you approve," she said to the inoperable object. "I have faith in Luke. Call it intuition."
When the night still cloaked half of the globe in a redeeming chill, a light was extinguished from within a small adobe hut on the shores of the Wastes. An abstemious garbed apparition materialised at the threshold.
Looking out at the blackened span of dust, Luke briefly longed for the shelter of ignorance. There was so much that he did not want to know or to remember, now.
The lessons of a harsh life had permanently changed him. He was more thoughtful, more cautious, but he could also not shake the darkness that obscured his perception. It would never fall from him, but perhaps all that defined 'good' was to never deviate from a self-defined ethical foundation.
He wondered what kind of a man he would be now, had he refused to answer the call of fate. A sigh banished these thoughts, and he turned to face the first of the twin suns as it broke the horizon.
Between the shadows and the wind, the blade of a Jedi Knight was raised once more.
Hovering over the burning sand, like a pool of black water, a shadow moved toward its destiny. The gate to Jabba's Palace opened with a gesture, and the wind from the risen sun howled inside.
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