Pax Blank - Into the Storm

Then reality closed and in a scarlet burst of horror one fact cried out in his mind: My son!

He reached out through the Force, hoping to slow the fall, to save the opportunity he had found and lost. But the distance was too great, panic clouding his perceptions...then the boy was gone.

For long seconds Vader stood at the rail, absolutely still, mind reaching out...searching....

There! Alive!

Far below...too far to reach. Then with a flare of shock the sense was lost, vanishing again in a flurry of movement.

But alive. Falling away still...

Fate had not yet finished with his son, Vader knew...nor himself, he felt.

Twisting away, he headed for his shuttle with new purpose in his stride.

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"They'll be in range of our tractor beam in moments, My Lord." Admiral Piett hovered nearby, anxious to reprieve himself following his last debacle with this dilapidated Rebel freighter.

Vader did not bother to acknowledge the words, eyes trained out into the umbra of Bespin's atmosphere, senses straining, searching for the boy. That this damn freighter was here again to plague him was beyond belief--particularly since he had dispatched its cocksure pilot.

But he had heard his son call out through the Force, and as his Destroyer had come about the freighter had appeared on the forward scopes, racing through the thin atmosphere of the gas giant toward the underside of the city. Powering through open space just beyond Bespin's gravity, the Star Destroyer was slow and cumbersome to turn so that the tiny, maneuverable freighter had reached the city and blasted off for deep space before the Executor had even leveled its huge bulk up.

But Vader was not concerned; he'd prepared for every eventuality. There was just too much at stake to take risks.

"Did your men deactivate the hyperdrive on the Millennium Falcon ?" If they hadn't...

"Yes, My Lord," Piett acknowledged sharply.

He smiled--Vader smiled beneath his mask. "Good. Prepare the boarding party...and set your weapons for stun."

"Yes, My Lord." Piett turned away to the young lieutenant nearby, who fairly blasted out his nervousness in the Force. "Lieutenant..."

"Yes, Sir," the young man said smartly, and Vader could sense his fear, his eagerness to get away.

Weak. All weak. Which of them possessed the strength of spirit to be prepared to die for their convictions? A whole ship of their worthless hides could not equal the soul of one Jedi. Of his son...

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Luke lay alone in absolute desolation, pain slicing up his arm with the staccato beat of his heart, his spine burning from the impact of the fall. Not one coherent thought could form in the chaotic jumble of his bewildered mind, the once-secure surroundings of the Falcon's hold a distant blur about him. He stared sightlessly, absolutely still, unable to process the enormity of this revelation...

--Luke-- The word coalesced from nothing in the centre of his mind, strangely compelling in that moment.

"Father?" Had he said that? Had he spoken that name out loud?

--Son... come with me--

Luke shook his head as he shrank back onto the bunk, broken and lost. "Ben...why didn't you tell me?"

Two huge impacts shook the Falcon and Luke rose, dragging himself up against fatigue and pain, unable to stand the voice in the quiet hush of his solitude; unwilling to think of the consequences.

He walked in silence past the irate Chewie, half-hidden beneath deck plates, yelling back into the jabbering comm. Light-headed, reality a distant whisper, he reached the cockpit, strangely calm in the bedlam which seemed to boil all about him without ever touching him. The simple act of walking, of remaining upright, seemed to require such total concentration as to block out all other considerations.

Leia turned --where was Han? The stranger who had helped him into the Falcon paused to touch his arm, glancing down at the sterile unit which protected it now, concern in his eyes. Luke nodded once, wondering whether he should know the man -- in that second he had absolutely no idea -- then glanced up.

The Star Destroyer completely enveloped one side of the skies, the Falcon tiny, a flea on a bantha as it struggled to outrun its imposing foe.

Luke sighed, exhausted past any sense of anxiety, only blank resignation remaining. How could they fight this? How had he ever thought they could win?

"It's Vader." He heard his own voice, low and hoarse, aware of Leia's eyes on him.

--Luke...it is your destiny--

Luke's breath caught and stilled as he shrank back, unable to block out the words which burned through his thoughts. Darkness swirled, but now it was different, strangely familiar; both repulsive and reassuring...calling him on, drawing him in.

He shook his head slowly against the pull, weary and empty and crushed. Why had they lied? Why? Why had they trained him to face his enemy yet left him with this huge, desperate, debilitating weakness?

Betrayed, by those he had trusted most. "Ben...why didn't you tell me?"

The Falcon shook as TIE's harried her to destruction, and Chewie howled his frustration at recalcitrant machinery.

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Threepio balanced against the bulkhead, severed foot in his hand as Artoo clanked uneasily across the deck towards the mainframe, ignoring his counterpart's alternate scolding and pleading.

Artoo, who had been in the back corridor onboard the Tantive IV three years earlier, when Leia had needed to hide the Death Star plans. Artoo, who had carried the message to Kenobi. Artoo, who had shown Luke Skywalker the fragment, and changed his life forever.

"Artoo! Come back at once, you haven't finished with me yet! You don't know how to fix the hyperdrive -- Chewbacca can do it. I'm standing here in pieces..."

Artoo tracked determinedly across the hold, indifferent to his counterpart's alternate pleading and demands. Another heavy bolt wrenched at the Falcon , careening her to one side faster than the artificial gravity could hope to counter. Threepio scrabbled momentarily, his metal hand slipping against the smooth pad of the bulkhead before he fell back in a flurry of noise. "Artooo!"

Distracted, Artoo paused on his way to the hyperdrive link-breaker, his intention to reconnect the hyperdrive at the point that Bespin's central computer had listed it as disengaged momentarily forgotten as his domed head spun back...

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-:The univ erse tilted :-

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... Onboard the Star Destroyer, the Pit Officer lifted his hand in acknowledgement, searching for confirmation. "We have a lock. Admiral?"

"Engage," Piett ordered, not taking his eyes from the tiny freighter as it accelerated away from them...

Silence stretched for long seconds, the atmosphere tense and expectant.

"Positive lock, sir. Establishing back-up..."

Caught in the invisible beam which held it stationary as the Destroyer powered toward it, a moment's optical illusion occurred as the Rebel ship seemed to Piett to reverse course, speeding backwards to them whilst they remained stationary.

"Confirming secondary lock. Tractoring it into forward bay nine."

The words were spoken automatically now, everything in hand, procedure being followed. Still, Piett waited until the Pit Officer confirmed that the ship was aboard before he dared turn away...

"We have acknowledgement. The ship's in F-nine, sir, full lock-down. Boarding parties are on the deck."

Piett turned and hurried after Lord Vader, relieved; his job was done now. Anything which happened from here on in was on General Veer's head.

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