Saga The Jedi Empire (4/8/15)

Luke Skywalker stared aghast at his hands; one natural, one artificial, both clutching the hilt of his lightsaber; raised in a moment of weakness in the face of anger and despair. He had gone against everything Ben and Yoda had taught him, everything he knew about the Jedi code of morality and conduct. It had been an unconscionable act of lethal aggression, a willful and deliberate step down the path of darkness. The bisected body in the seat before him smoked and sizzled, its hideous face still frozen in a hateful snarl of shock and outrage. It took Luke a moment to process the complex and manifold implications of what had just happened, but in due time reality set in: Emperor Palpatine was dead, struck down by his own hand and Darth Vader, the Emperor's apprentice and most trusted servant did nothing to stop him.


Luke deactivated his lightsaber, slowly lifting his gaze to meet his father's. He had expected Vader to intervene. He knew his father would stop him. The utter futility of the attack had been part of what fueled its catalytic anger. Yet when the strike finally came, Vader merely watched as the attack met with its intended but unexpected result. “...Why?” Luke said at last.


To anyone else, Vader would be wholly inscrutable, but Luke possessed powers of perception beyond the ken of most mortal beings. He could feel the surge of conflicting emotions that had erupted behind the mask of Darth Vader, even as the man continued to stand there, breathing noisily, showing no outward signs of the spiritual battle that raged inside.


Meanwhile, a physical battle raged outside. Luke cringed as the Death Star's superlaser obliterated another Rebel Star Cruiser, the devastating attack prompting him to focus on more immediate matters. “Please!” he pleaded with his father, gesturing to the viewport. “You can stop this! With the Emperor gone you're the highest authority! You can stop this!” he said again, turning to face him directly. “We can stop this! Together!”


Vader stared at his son for a moment, then glanced at the Emperor's body, then at the battle outside. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes we can.” Wasting no more time, Vader unceremoniously shoved both halves of the Emperor's body out of the throne and pressed one of the buttons on the armrest panel. “Commander,”

“Yes, Lord Vader,”

“Cease fire,” Vader ordered. “Alert all commands; stand down.”

“...My lord?” There was no mistaking Jerjerrod's confusion, not even over the comm.

“The Emperor is dead,” Vader announced, but offered no further explanation. “I am in command now. All forces are to cease fire and stand down immediately.”

“...Understood, my lord.”

“Come with me,” said Vader, turning to Luke. “We must take command of this station so you can contact the Rebel leadership.” He gestured to the Emperor's corpse. “It is no longer safe here. When the Guard learns of their master's death, they will seek their revenge.” With that, Darth Vader strode toward the turbolift. He was finally free, his son with him at last.



***
“What!?” Demanded Admiral Ackbar. He could see it himself, but he still couldn't believe it.
“I don't know!” Replied an exasperated General Calrissian. “They just stopped shooting! The fighters are falling back to defensive positions around their ships!”
“All craft, hold your fire,” ordered Ackbar. “I repeat, do not fire unless fired upon!”
***
Leia Organa, who recently learned she was by birth Leia Skywalker dropped her jaw in disbelief. Like the old remote-controlled battle droids of the Clone Wars, the Imperial troops and vehicles had simply stopped. They neither moved nor fired as they received the very last of all possible orders. The confusion was contagious as most of the joint Rebel-Ewok force stopped fighting as well, though a few overzealous Ewoks attacked the stormtroopers as they began to fall back. Defensive fire was apparently still authorized and they were summarily blasted for their trouble.
“I wonder what that's all about,” mused General Solo as he kept his blaster trained on the tree line, ready for any sudden reversal in the situation.
Luke! Suddenly she understood. “He did it! Han, he did it!”
“Who did what?”
“Luke! He- order everyone to stand down!”
“What!?”
“Han! Just do it!” Her expression softened significantly. “Just trust me! Please!”
Han's face displayed several emotions, but trust was not one of them. Nevertheless, he brought the comlink to his mouth. “This is Solo. Everyone, stand down. I repeat, stand down. 3PO, call the fur balls off right now!” Within seconds, the sound of trumpets spread throughout the forest.



***
The tension was palpable as Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker arrived on the Death Star's main command bridge. Moff Jerjerrod nervously backed away from his console as Vader usurped it, just as he had apparently usurped The Throne of Galactic Emperor.
“Call off the Rebels,” said Vader, oblivious to the stunned stares of the personnel on the bridge. Luke immediately set about bringing the Battle of Endor to an end.
***
“Admiral, we're receiving a holographic transmission from the Death Star.”
Ackbar whirled in his chair to face the projector. “Put it on,” he commanded. He wasn't sure who he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't Luke Skywalker. “Commander,” he said, stunned.
“Admiral,” Luke's hologram bowed slightly. “The Emperor is dead.”
“What!? How!?”
“That's... not important. What is important is that this fighting ends now. I'm advising you to have your forces stand down.”
“They already have.”
“Good,” Luke nodded. “The Imperials are doing the same. Rest assured this isn't a trick. Palpatine is dead; and the Empire is... under new management.”
“Whose?”
Luke swallowed. “Lord Darth Vader's.” Ackbar opened his mouth, but Luke raised his hands to preempt the protestations. “I promise, Admiral, everything's fine. This is the best chance the Alliance has to accomplish its goals.” He smiled, “but that's for the politicians to decide, don't you think?”
Ackbar closed his mouth, apparently mulling it over. In truth, he had little choice. The Death Star was operational, its impenetrable shield was still up and the infamous Death Squadron had been laying in wait. He had only three real options: Fight, run or agree to negotiate. Only one had any chance to make this otherwise disastrous day a success. “I must confer with the Chief of State,” he said finally.
Luke's hologram nodded just before it disappeared.

 

Unlike his father, Luke was acutely aware of the Imperial personnel staring at him. The abrupt end to the skirmish meant there was little to do that couldn't be handled by automated systems and command substations. He knew that what happened in the next few hours would be complex and delicate; for both sides. But with the immediate crisis behind them, he returned his focus to more personal matters. Was his father still Darth Vader? Had he merely killed his master to take his place? Why then would he agree to stop the battle? Luke could feel the conflict within him; the good, the light, it was stronger than ever. Luke could still sense the dark emotions, the pain and the hate, but Vader was in firm control of them for the moment. Was Luke?

Vader laid a mechanical hand on Luke's shoulder and gently moved him aside. “There is much to discuss, my son,” he rumbled. “But there is more to do.” He manipulated the controls and entered a code of his own, then prepared to address the Imperial forces at Endor.

“Attention,” he began. “This is Lord Darth Vader, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces. As of 14:00 hours today, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Palpatine is dead; killed in a training accident. As the Emperor's apprentice and heir apparent to The Throne, I am assuming an unlimited regency until a new Emperor can be selected. My first act as regent will be to pursue a peaceful resolution to our war with the Rebel Alliance. That is all.”

A 'training accident'? Luke smiled to himself. Well, it's technically true, I suppose. “Father-” he began.

Vader raised a hand to interrupt him, then pointed at the console. “It's the Rebel admiral,” he announced, motioning for Luke to join him in front of the projector.

“Commander Skywalker,” Ackbar began. “...Lord Vader,” the Mon Calamari seemed to change in color ever so slightly. The discomfort in the human woman next to him was even more obvious.

“Admiral Ackbar,” Luke bowed respectfully. “Chief of State...”

The four officers stared at one another for a moment. No one had any idea how to proceed. The most skilled and experienced politician present, it was Mon Mothma who spoke up first.

“Commander Skywalker,” she said. “I hope you can understand our surprise and confusion toward this turn of events. The Emperor's sudden death is most unexpected, but not unwelcome.” She shot him a nervous look. “Are you absolutely certain he's dead?”

Luke nodded. “Absolutely certain, madam.”

Mon Mothma seemed to deflate, as if untold decades of anxiety had left her lungs in the form of breath. “I don't believe it,” she said quietly.

“I was there when it happened,” Luke shrugged.

“But how did it happen, Commander?”

“Lightsaber training accident,” Luke winked. “They're rare, but they do happen.”

“Then it's over,” her voice still held that quiet, distant quality.

“I'm afraid not, madam. There's a lot of work that needs to be done to end this war. To end it on terms that will be favorable for both sides.”

“Are you interceding on behalf of the the Empire?” she asked darkly.

“I am,” Luke nodded gravely, and both Vader and Jerjerrod turned to face him, the latter's surprise not hidden by any breath mask. “Darth Vader, the Emperor's apprentice and successor... is my father.” Everyone present on both bridges who was not already privy to that information reacted visibly. “And Princess Leia,” he continued, turning to face his father. “Is my twin sister.”

Vader said nothing, but Luke could sense his emotions, now stronger than ever. Surprise at learning he had a daughter, joy that she was alive, shame and self-loathing at what he had done to her, fear that she would hate and reject him, hope for the future...

Luke offered his father a nod and a reassuring smile, “My family is in a unique position to restore peace and freedom to the galaxy. I will do everything in my power to see that it happens. If the Empire can change, it doesn't need to be overthrown.”

“And you, Lord Vader?” Mothma demanded, her eyes still accusatory. “Are you committed to those same goals? Will you treat with the Alliance for peace? Will you hear our grievances?”

“I will,” Vader said simply.

“Very well then,” she swallowed. “On behalf of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, I welcome the beginning of diplomatic relations with the Galactic Empire.” She paused, “Will your lordship be coming aboard or-?”

“No,” Vader replied. “The Death Star would be more secure.”

“For you perhaps, but-!”

“Chief of State,” Luke interrupted. “It's clear that some kind of secure, neutral territory will be needed for the official proceedings.” He smiled again, “How about the Endor Moon?”

Mon Mothma fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment. “I suppose that can be arranged. Assuming you agree,” she gestured to Vader.

“Agreed,” Vader offered a slow, singular nod. “Will the base suffice?”

“Assuming we can bring our own security detail, yes.”

“I will inform the Legion Commander.”

“Very well,” Mon Mothma returned a short bow of her own. “We will meet there at 17:00 hours, Galactic Standard Time. I hope we can reach an understanding,”

“You may land as soon as you wish,” Vader turned to Jerjerrod. “Make the necessary arrangements.”

“At once, my lord.”

“Commander,” Luke broached respectfully. “Could you have Princess Leia Organa, General Han Solo and their personal entourage escorted to the base as well?”

Jerjerrod glanced ever so briefly at his new dictator, unsure if he was to honor his son's request. Prince or not, he was still first and foremost a Rebel. “As you wish, Your Excellency,” he said finally, offering bow that was infinitely polite in form but, Luke could feel, decidedly curt in spirit.

As the Moff went about his orders, Vader led Luke off of the bridge. As they walked down the passageway, Vader brought up the expected subject. “So, you have a twin sister...”

“Yes, father.”

“Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me,” he mused, then turned to Luke. “Does she know?”

Luke met his unblinking gaze and nodded. “I told her shortly before I left to meet with you. I found out myself only recently.” He smiled, a bit sheepishly. “The galaxy can seem pretty small sometimes.”

“Indeed, I...” Vader trailed off and stopped walking, gesturing for Luke to do the same.

Luke was just about to ask when he felt the presences himself. Several zealous, fanatical minds were approaching, thinking thoughts of hatred and accusation and personal shame. He reached for his lightsaber, but Vader stopped him. “Leave them to me,” he rumbled.

Around the corner marched six of the Royal and Imperial Guard, distinctive in their crimson armor and robes. While inscrutable to the Force-blind, they had murder on their minds. Specifically, the Emperor's murder.

“Lord Vader!” the lead Guardsman sounded anything but deferential. “Explain yourself, at once!”

“I already have,” growled Vader, making it obvious he was less than intimidated. “Did you not hear the announcement?”

“Pale lies!” shouted another Guardsman. “You are a traitor to The Throne and will be-!” He was cut off by a deep bass rumbling that seemed to echo through the corridor. He dropped his force pike immediately and began clawing at his throat.

“Will be what?” Vader demanded, perfectly aware that the Guardsman could no longer speak. The others, for their part, had raised their pikes in a defensive posture but made no advance. They knew exactly who and what they were up against.

Father, Luke pleaded telepathically, unable to hide his dread. Please don't do this! This isn't the way!

The Sith Lord was invisibly stunned. Immediately he unclenched his fist and the Guardsman dropped to the deck, coughing and gasping for breath. The five who remained on their feet were visibly confused by this unexpected display of mercy; such was rare from either their late master or his apprentice. “Perhaps I am a traitor to The Throne,” he admitted. “But I now occupy The Throne. Would you now turn traitor as well? Will you serve a new master? Or will you join your old one in death?”

The Guardsman had already recovered and in one swift motion he was back on his feet, pike in hand, charging the hated usurper. He was fast, but Vader was faster. With a blithe gesture he was knocked to the deck by an invisible shock wave and held fast by an irresistible force; the Force. “Traitor!” the Guardsman snarled with impotent rage. “You killed him! You killed His Majesty!”

“No,” Luke corrected. “I killed the Emperor.”

“Impossible!” the lead Guardsman shouted. “A mere Jedi could never-!”

“It's true,” Luke insisted, his face making it clear it was a feat he wasn't particularly proud of. “He was training me in the ways of the dark side, goading me, provoking me, compelling me to give in to my anger.” He lowered his eyes in shame. “I did. He told me to strike him down and that's exactly what I did!”

“So it is true,” a third Guardsman said. “The recording isn't fake! Lord Vader was-!”

“Negligent!” the lead Guardsman interrupted, pointing his pike at Vader. “Why didn't you stop him? Why does the Emperor's killer still live?”

“Because he's my son and I say he lives.” Vader ignored the first question, glowering at the assembled Guardsmen, the air practically rippling with unspoken threats. “I am the master now. You have no hope of defeating me.” He seemed to relax his posture, then asked, “How are you serving the Emperor by throwing your lives away? That cannot bring him back.” His voice softened further, “Nothing can.”

“You're wrong!” The Guard-on-the-deck growled. “His Majesty will return!”

“Don't be absurd,” Vader admonished. “Or would you serve a clone?” He emphasized the word. Despite the fact that a fair number of the Royal and Imperial Guard were clones themselves, the point was still valid. The Throne of Galactic Emperor had never been established as a hereditary monarchy. Indeed, no concrete scheme of succession had ever been established. Even a perfect duplicate of Palpatine, complete with memories and thought processes, had no more or less a claim to The Throne than the Emperor's apprentice and heir apparent. For the natural humanoids among the Guard, the stigma was still strong. For them, even if the Emperor were to return, it would not be a miraculous reincarnation, but a technological abomination... so far as they knew.

 

Oh, I like this!!! So much OT AU goodness.

 

Yeah, this is looking really interesting!

 

“I'll never serve you!” The deck-bound Guardsman seethed.

“Then you are free to leave the Guard,” Vader said simply. “Or you are free to commit suicide on my blade.” He turned to the standing five, “That goes for you as well.”

With that, the pressure was gone and the Guardsman stood shakily to his feet, raising his pike. For an instant he hesitated, but with another war cry he hurled himself at Vader, swinging his weapon with wild abandon. He was skilled, but he was hopelessly outmatched by the Sith Lord. In a fraction of a second it was over, Vader's lightsaber was out with a flash and the Guardsman returned to the deck for a third and final time.

For long, seemingly endless moments the seven surviving men stared each other down. Only Vader made any sounds, and those were involuntary. Other than mechanical breathing, the thrumming of his blade and the ambient sounds of the Death Star it was entirely silent. Luke didn't need the Force to feel the tension, and the most rudimentary empathy was all it took to read the Guardsman. After a small eternity the lead Guardsman raised his pike and lowered himself to his knees. The other four followed one after another.

Vader nodded, extinguishing his blade. “I am not the Emperor,” he clarified. “I have no interest in becoming the Emperor. I am merely a regent, a custodian of The Throne until it can be filled by one worthy to claim it.” He raised his right hand, clenching it into a fist. “Until that time, it will fall upon us to hold the Empire together. His Majesty's work will not die with him, I swear it!”

“All hail Lord Vader!” the lead Guardsman practically screamed.

“Hail!” the other four echoed.

“I want the Emperor's clones disposed of,” he ordered. “Those imitations were created to sow destruction and discord and that I will not allow. Spread the word to all the Guard: You serve The Throne still, but that means you serve my family. The Imperial Family.”

“With respect,” the Guardsman prostrated himself, pressing his helmet to the deck, “Most will not see it so,”

“I know, which is why we must act quickly! Go now!”

“My lord!” The Guardsmen shouted and rose to their feet, all in perfect unison, then promptly left to be about their new master's business.

“There is much to be done,” Vader explained for Luke's benefit. “Without an Emperor the State will quickly begin unraveling. I command the Death Star and I command the military... for now. But our enemies are legion. If we hope to prevent a civil war, a real civil war, we must act quickly and decisively. It may already be too late, but the sooner we have an Emperor the more bloodshed we can avoid. My regency, however unlimited, will not be sufficient.” He gestured to the corpse of the slain Guardsman. “Because not everyone will accept it.”

“What was that about the Emperor's... clones?”

“In his years of studying the dark side of the Force, the Emperor searched for the secret of immortality...” Vader trailed off for a moment. “Eventually, he found a means to transfer a person's spirit into a clone body. The process is far from perfect, but despite what I said Emperor's return is a very real possibility. We must not let it happen.”

Luke understood more than his father knew. While he had no idea the Imperial State was so fragile, in retrospect it made sense. Vader may have been Palpatine's apprentice, but he was to be a perpetual apprentice. No engine of succession existed because Palpatine believed he would live forever, and in the event of an unforeseen death, he had set things up so that the Empire would fly apart without him; probably out of spite. “Then why not take The Throne, father? Why not become Emperor? If that's what is needed then who better to succeed Palpatine?”

“There could be none worse,” replied Vader. “I'm sorry Luke, but I am a warrior, not a politician. And my hands are far too stained with blood.” He looked down at his open palms, as if he could see the atrocious liters accumulated during his violent life. “I'm... so very tired,” he said quietly, but quickly regained his composure. “What we need is someone young and vibrant. Someone with the skills needed to unite the galaxy, but uncorrupted by them.”

The Imperial Family... “You mean to make me Emperor,” said Luke. It wasn't a question, it was an observation.

“I had,” Vader's voice was apologetic. “But I fear even you are not qualified. Though I trust you completely, your destiny lies down a different path. You will be the shield and I will be the sword,” he turned to face him, his posture resolute once more. “But she will be the heart.”

'She'? And then it hit him. “Leia!”

“Because of me, she will never be Queen of Alderaan. The least I can do is make her Galactic Empress.”

***

Leia watched nervously as the lone stormtrooper approached. A dismount in scout recon armor, his weapons were holstered and he made no attempt at stealth as he approached the makeshift camp the strike team had set up about a klick from what had just recently been a battlefield. The Ewoks had spotted him first, and Rebel sharpshooters had kept a bead on him for most of his hike. His intentions clearly benign, he was allowed into the heart of the camp unmolested and closed to a polite distance from the princess, General Solo, Chewbacca and the droids nearby.

“Princess Leia Organa?” the trooper asked. “General Han Solo?” Once it was clear he had who he was looking for he continued. “Prince Skywalker has requested your presence at the installation. The Imperial and Alliance leadership will be meeting there at 17:00 hours GST. If you'd follow me, please.”

“Prince Skywalker?” Han had that almost-smile that he wore when confused. “Does he mean Luke?”

“Yes, General. His Excellency the Prince Luke Skywalker,” the trooper clarified.

“Luke's a prince?” He turned to Leia. “How did that happen? When did that happen?”

“He's my brother,” replied Leia.

“But aren't you adopted? Wait, what?”

“Oh my goodness!” 3PO exclaimed.

“He told me just before he left. He also told me that Darth Vader is his- our, father.”

“You can't be serious!”

“I am,” she shrugged. “Believe me, you're not half as shocked as I am.”

“So what, Vader's the Emperor now?”

“Regent sir,” the trooper clarified again. “Though it's an unlimited regency, so I suppose he's Emperor in all but name.”

“Wonderful,” commented Han, deadpan.

“You don't understand,” Leia insisted. “Luke was right, there is still good in him! Just look!” she pointed at the trooper. “We're having a civil conversation with a stormtrooper! A polite stormtrooper!”

“Thank you, ma'am.” For all anyone could tell, the trooper was entirely sincere.

“So what?” Han demanded, angrily. “The Evil Empire that we just had to fight or else is now a big, happy producer of candy and pillows? How do we know that Vader didn't turn Luke evil?”

“How dare you!” she also demanded angrily. “He wouldn't do something like that!”

“Who? Luke or Vader?”

“Luke! Besides,” she growled through clenched teeth. “I can feel it.”

“So what, you can- well, that makes sense, I guess.” Catching her hurt expression he added an “I'm sorry.”

“Your Highness, General, you can meet with Lord Vader and Prince Skywalker shortly if you'd follow me,” the trooper reminded them.

Leia looked at Han, pleading in her eyes. “Alright,” he relented. “But Chewie here's coming with us.”

The trooper raised his hands. Even with his face-obscuring helmet, it was plain to see he found the Wookiee intimidating. “You're clear to bring whatever security detail you feel is necessary, sir.”

“Alright,” Han said, still deadpan. “Maybe this won't be so bad after all.”

 

That is just cool! Empress Leia! Loved Vader/Anakin's thoughts and conclusions on the Empire and how it must continue. Yup, getting rid of all the Emperor's leftover clones is priority 1.

 

LOLOLOL. And unicorns, while we're at it.

 

shh that is the new secret weapon....unicorns..

 

Majestic.

 

The Galactic Empire. For a fourth of a century Palpatine's New Order had kept the corpse of the Old Republic shambling along in an unnatural state of undeath. Even Mon Mothma was forced to marvel at how that monster disguised as a man had managed the feat. Despite the best efforts of herself and countless others, order had, for the most part, been maintained, which was the raison d'etre of the Empire in the first place. In a sense, the glorious civilization that had dominated the galaxy for thousands of years still lived. It had survived the terrible upheaval of the Clone Wars, but at an equally terrible price. For if that civilization's body still lived, its soul had surely perished in that great and horrible war.

The Republic that had once stood for freedom, liberty, equality and enlightenment had become an Empire that embodied terror, oppression, bigotry and corruption. She had watched the process herself, from her admittedly rather influential seat in the Senate. Still, for all the votes she wielded, the sycophants and yes-men were legion. In its last days the Senate was little more than a rubber stamp that served the Emperor first and itself second, with the welfare of the galaxy rating a distant third. After the tenets of Tarkinism became official doctrine, the council was swept away like the irrelevant formality it had become. She had been forced below ground before that, however.

In a way, the official policy of state terrorism (embodied by the wicked battle moon that hung in orbit) did more for her cause than it had for Palpatine's. Alderaan's destruction bred hostility, not fear, and the herd-like people who brought the Empire upon themselves for their own safety suddenly found that Big Brother was the greatest threat of all. Alliance membership had soared, and it enjoyed an exponential increase following the miraculous Battle of Yavin. While a decisive victory in its own right, the greater struggle was far from over. For they had merely destroyed a weapon. So long as the black heart of the Evil Empire still lived, it would never be over. Endor had been their one chance, their last, desperate hope to prevent another Death Star and decapitate the Empire in one fell swoop. They- she had failed on both counts, but Palpatine of Naboo, that monster disguised as a man, was finally dead. While the relief had been tremendous, the nominal regency had passed to a monster that didn't even bother disguising himself as a man. And for that she could feel nothing but dread.

That monster- the proper term was cyborg, she reminded herself- stood before her now. Both shuttles ferrying both delegations had landed on the same platform at the same time. While that had not been arranged, it had been quietly decided by all parties independently that it would be the best demonstration of good faith.

“Lord Vader,” she had met him in person before, but that never made new encounters any easier and she could only manage a curt nod. “Commander Skywalker,” she said, a bit more easily.

“You will address His Excellency as 'prince',” barked one of the scarlet-clad Imperial Guards.

“That won't be necessary,” Luke called him down gently. “We can dispense with unnecessary formalities here, I hope.” He bowed, “Chief of State.”

Vader, for his part, stood silently. Except for the sounds of his life support, of course.

Prince? “I see,” replied Mothma. “So you have defected to the Empire, then.”

“My loyalty is to the Jedi Order and to the cause of peace and justice in the galaxy. Just as it's always been.”

“So the Emperor is dead,” it wasn't quite phrased as a question.

“Yes,” both Luke and Vader replied in unison. A few of the Guardsmen fidgeted uncomfortably.

“I believe you,” she said in a voice that lacked anything resembling sincerity. Then, with a glance upward at the malevolent monstrosity in orbit. “It's not like I have much of choice, after all.”

“I assure you madam, we mean you no harm. Both my father and I are committed to bringing a peaceful end to this war.”

“And to restoring the Republic?”

“Well,” Luke's composure faltered for a barely perceptible instant. “Not exactly.”

“What?” Mon Mothma demanded.

“That will be the prerogative of the Empress,” Vader explained.

“Empress?” She turned to Luke, “What is he on about?”

“Perhaps we should discuss this over dinner,” Luke deflected the query. “With both the Emperor and some of his Ruling Council in-system until just recently, I think you'll find the cuisine most agreeable.”

Reluctantly, Mon Mothma allowed herself and her entourage to be shepherded inside and the more important elements of both parties were seated at a long, rectangular conference/dining table. Mon Mothma at one end, Darth Vader at another. Luke Skywalker took a seat toward the middle of one side, but with an even number of seats he couldn't sit exactly in the middle. Mon Mothma noted bitterly that even here he was slightly biased toward the Empire.

Upon learning that his best friends would also be present, General Lando Calrissian requested to come along. While he was less than enthusiastic about having dinner with Vader a second time, he exchanged pleasantries diplomatically and seated himself across from Skywalker. Diagonally, and on the Rebel side.

Apart from those four, no one else had apparently rated a seat at the table which wasn't quite as long as it had initially appeared. Only Vader and, most probably, Skywalker represented the Empire. But due to the dictatorial nature of the regime, underlings of the self-proclaimed Imperial Family were hardly necessary. Subconsciously, Mon Mothma was aware that she had an almost equally powerful autocracy as well, and that she would be representing the Alliance unilaterally herself. The thought was dismissed before the apparent hypocrisy could register. The situations weren't remotely similar, regardless of what Garm believed.

***

An Imperial functionary in the gray uniform of the Civil Service entered and announced, “Her Excellency the Princess Leia Organa!” then promptly stood to the side and allowed the new arrivals to enter. Everyone at the table, Vader included, stood respectfully.

Han and Leia entered arm in arm, both still wearing what they had in the skirmish just hours before, with Chewbacca and the droids bringing up the rear. Leia was the only one wearing an amiable expression, Han and Chewie both wore scowls that ranged from suspicious to hostile.

Luke made the first move, crossing to Leia and giving her a brief embrace followed by a (strictly platonic) kiss on the cheek. The three Rebels made the rounds between Skywalker, Calrissian and Mothma, while Vader stood in his place at the head of the table. When all were finally seated, Vader dismissed his Guards and, in a reciprocal gesture, Mon Mothma dismissed her analogues. Leia took the chair directly opposite of Luke and, rather than sit on the 'Imperial' side Han sat across from Lando, Chewie beside him.

The droids, while allowed to stay in the room, were made to stand off to the side, there they attracted Vader's silent gaze.

“Father?” Luke asked.

“It's nothing,” Vader assured him.

Luke sensed otherwise, but he didn't press the issue. “Well then,” he gestured to the assembled group. “Let's bring an end to this war, shall we?”

“Were it only that simple, Your Excellency,” Mon Mothma stressed the new honorific. “Even with the Emperor gone most of our grievances with his Empire remain-”

“It is not his,” Vader insisted firmly. “Not anymore.”

“Be that as it may his dark legacy lives on in one form or another,” she allowed the allusion to speak for itself. “One would be mistaken to assume our quarrel was with Palpatine alone.”

“Chief of State,” Luke broached, “I understand what you're saying and I can assure you the Empire is willing to work with the Alliance in full good faith. Our faction, anyway.”

“Your faction? What do you mean?”

“My claim to The Throne is only legitimate insofar as I can defend it,” Vader explained.

“Are you saying that you aren't still Executor of the Imperial Armed Forces?”

“I never was,” Vader corrected. “That title exists only in your propaganda. And my official role as Supreme Commander will likely be revoked as soon as word reaches Imperial Center, if it hasn't already.”

“The Councils,” Leia said aloud, but to herself.

“Exactly,” Vader confirmed. “The Emperor's Advisory and Ruling Councils will most certainly move to disinherit me. Especially considering the... extraordinary circumstances surrounding the Emperor's death. COMPNOR and the Emperor's cult will be even more problematic.”

“I had no idea the Empire was such a house of cards,” mused Lando.

“Without the Emperor it is,” Vader continued. “He set everything up so that only he could hold it together. There are too many rival agencies with overlapping duties and authority. The Ruling Council versus the Privy Council, the ISB versus Imperial Intelligence, the military versus COMPNOR. There's too many to mention.”

“But you were his right hand,” Mothma pointed out. “Are you telling me you don't know how to fill in for Palpatine?”

“It's not a matter of 'knowing', Senator,” Vader used her last legitimate title, refusing to acknowledge her as the chief of any state. “It's a matter of being. I cannot replace the Emperor without becoming the Emperor. And I have neither the means nor the desire to succeed him.”

“So he has changed,” Leia said to Luke. It was bit awkward, what with the subject of the sentence sitting not meters away.

“I wouldn't be here otherwise,” Luke said earnestly.

“Luke, no offense,” Han began, “But this is all just a bit hard to swallow, even with all this Jedi business.” Leia shot him an angry glare, but he didn't relent, instead pointing an even angrier finger in Vader's direction. “That... thing has personally murdered and enslaved billions. And he's helped murder and enslave billions more. I was tortured. I was frozen,” he suppressed a shudder. “On his orders. Now you expect us to believe that he's suddenly seen the error of his ways? That he's reached some kind of... sudden enlightenment and is a good guy now?”

“Yes,” answered Luke, helplessly.

“Well I don't!” Han insisted, standing up angrily. “That man is a monster and he's every bit as bad as the Emperor was. I don't care if he's your... I don't care! The only reason I don't blast him right here and now is I know it wouldn't even score him!”

“Deja vu,” muttered Lando.

“Han!” Leia admonished angrily.

“And you!” Han seamlessly changed targets. “You of all people! He stood there and watched while they blew your homeworld away. Destroyed everything and everyone you ever knew and cared for. He tortured you too! That he's your biological father doesn't excuse it! That makes it worse!”

“You are absolutely correct,” Vader agreed, quite to Han's surprise. “There is no excusing the crimes I have committed and any apology I could offer would be an insult. I am unlikely to ever atone for my sins, but that will not stop me from trying.”

“Well gee,” Han shot Vader his phoniest smile. “How downright honorable.”

“I am not seeking your forgiveness.”

“That's good, 'cause if it were up to me you'd get a date with a disintegration booth!”

“HAN!” Leia was on her feet and so forceful that he immediately withered under her gaze. “That. Is. Enough.”

“I know it's difficult to understand,” Luke tried to defuse the situation. “and it may take a long time, but just try to, Han. Try to understand. The best Jedi can fall to the dark side. Easily.”

“And that excuses it?” he demanded, with a bit less vitriol than before. “So what then, he wasn't really responsible?”

“It's more like that wasn't really him.”

Han had an eight letter word for what he thought of that.

“Please, General Solo,” this time it was Mon Mothma of all people. “Do try to contain yourself. You know better than most that we can't afford to be choosy about our allies.”

“Are you comparing me with him?” he demanded hotly.

“No, I'm merely saying that what he is offering is the best chance we have of accomplishing our goals. Possibly the only one.”

“You helped me kill millions,” Luke reminded Han.

“That's-! That's totally different! The Death Star was a legitimate military target!”

“Oh I agree, but don't think that we're totally blameless saints here.”

“Compared to him we are!”

“Well if it is all relative then try to look at the big picture. Put aside your personal feelings and look at what would happen if we let the Empire destroy itself in a civil war. Trillions would die. Whole worlds would be razed. It would make the Clone Wars look like a minor dispute. You may think he's still evil, but by your own logic he's obviously the lesser of many evils!”

Chewbacca growled something at Han, which he seriously seemed to consider. He then turned to Vader and offered him a similar series of snarls and roars.

“Chewbacca suggests that Lord Vader prove his sincerity,” 3PO translated.

“He wants me to free the Wookiees,” Vader didn't need to understand Shyriiwook to understand Chewbacca. Not when he had the Force. “Consider it done.”

“With respect Lord Vader,” 3PO was utterly terrified, but anything if not dutiful. “He wants you to free all slaves, everywhere.”

“As one former slave to another,” Vader began. “It will be done. You have my word.”

Chewbacca nodded and communicated his guttural satisfaction to Han.

“That's most admirable, Lord Vader,” Mon Mothma said, “But it brings us back to our original topic. To make reforms like that you will need to cement your control over the Empire.”

“Indeed. Which why I must return to Imperial Center with all due haste. The sooner there is an Emperor or Empress on The Throne the sooner this... junta will have the legitimacy it needs.”

“If not yourself, then who did you have in mind?” Mothma got straight to the point. Vader's earlier remark was not soon forgotten, especially against the backdrop of the traditionally chauvinistic Empire. He said Empress...

 

Fantasstic conversations and confrontations. All were very much in character.

 

I love a good AU, and this looks like a great one! You've got an intriguing premise and solid characterization, and I can't wait to see where the story goes. I'm adding this to my watch list

I love your dinner scene and the fact that Han, the pragmatist, is the only one not interested in holding hands and singing "kumba-yah" in the interest of ending the war (but still absolutely true to form, given his natural skepticism). I wonder how he's going to take it when Vader nominates Leia as Empress....and how she'll take it. Could be trouble in paradise for these two.

 

“There is none more worthy than my daughter.”

At that, Leia's eyes grew impossibly wide and she turned to Vader, addressing him directly for the first time. “What? Surely you can't be serious!”

“It was going to be me,” Luke explained. “But we both agreed that you're infinitely more qualified. My task will be rebuilding the Jedi Order.”

“It's the least I can do,” Vader said quietly. “After all I've done to you, this is the very least I can do.”

Lando whistled, “Galactic Empress. You're moving on up, Princess.”

Even Han and Mon Mothma seemed mollified by the announcement. If there was going to be a new Emperor- or Empress- someone like Leia Organa was positively ideal. In fact, the only one present who didn't seem thrilled was the would-be Empress herself.

“No,” she said at last. “I can't! I won't! I don't want it! You know that's not me! No one should have that kind of power! Not even me!”

“Don't you see?” asked Vader, as gently as his vocabulator would allow. “That is why it must be you.”

The Death Star's command bridge. It was sickeningly familiar, a scene right out of her worst nightmares. Indeed, the recurring dream and its central setting had plagued her sleep for the last three years. In a rare fit of lucidity, Leia realized that this was a dream and that her detached, disembodied frame of reference was not the only difference. Tarkin was gone. In his place stood a woman, infinitely regal in her resplendent purple robes and elaborate, bejeweled headdress.

An Imperial her mind told her was Jerjerrod, now a Grand Moff, approached the woman and gave the customary short, deferential bow. “We've entered the Eriadu System,” he announced.

Soon thereafter, a pair of Naval Security troopers escorted a female prisoner onto the bridge. She was pretty; about Leia's age with long, red hair and an unfamiliar military uniform. Her composure was proudly defiant as she was brought before Tarkin's replacement. “Princess Leia,” she blustered. “I should have expected to find you holding Vader's leash.” Her grin grew vicious, “I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.”

Leia turned to the woman and matched her smile. “Charming, to the last,” she crooned. Then, grabbing the woman's chin and examining her like a specimen, “You don't know how hard I found it signing the order to terminate your life.”

“I'm surprised you had the courage to take the responsibility yourself!”

“Corporal Daala, before your execution, I should like you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make my coronation effective.” Leia gestured grandly to the gathered technicians, hard at work taming the power to annihilate worlds. “No petty warlord will dare oppose my Empire now.”

“The more you tighten your grip Organa, the more holdouts will rise up against you.”

Leia raised a correcting finger, “Not after I've demonstrated the strength of my resolve. In a way, you've determined the choice of the planet to be destroyed first. Since you are reluctant to provide us with access to the Maw, I have decided to make my intentions clear to the people of Eriadu.”

As the Death Star rotated on its axis, a planet was centered in the viewscreen. It was an ugly gray ball of barren rock and lifeless machinery. Only the dense space traffic and glittering night side suggested habitation.

Daala's proud front immediately collapsed. “No! Eriadu is neutral, its weapons are too important, you can't possibly-!”

“You prefer another target? A less ironic target? Then give me the coordinates!” Leia closed to an uncomfortable, almost intimate distance. “I grow tired of asking this, so it will be the last time: How do you enter the Maw?”

Daala gazed at the planet in the viewscreen for a moment, tears welling in her eyes and then, like clockwork, she gave in. She offered a set of tri-dimensional coordinates and the appropriate approach vector.

Leia smiled in self-satisfied triumph. “There, you see father? She can be reasonable. Continue with the operation. You may fire when ready.”

“What!?”

“You're far too trusting,” Leia chided. “Eriadu is a bastion of New Order sympathy and a linchpin of the Loyalist insurgence. But don't worry, we will have the Sun Crusher soon enough. And Alderaan will have its revenge.”

“No!” Daala exclaimed, helpless in Vader's unyielding bionic grip.

Moments later, a bright green ray lanced out and struck the planet's shield, which collapsed instantaneously. In the blink of an eye Eriadu and its billions of inhabitants were obliterated.

***

Leia awoke with a gasp in what she realized to her great relief was her cabin aboard the Home One. A glance at the chrono beside her bed told her she had only four minutes before the alarm, so she decided to get up. The sensors detected her feet touch the floor and the room's computer gradually began raising the ambient lighting and temperature. She preempted the alarm before heading to the refresher. As reality forced its way into her mind the surreal, ephemeral dream was forced out and soon forgotten.

Han was, in his paradoxically infuriating and endearing way, waiting for her outside her cabin. He was wearing his general's dress uniform for a change. Something she idly wished he would do more often, as he looked absolutely stunning.

"Well, don't we look respectable?" she mused, slipping her arm inside his as they proceeded down the passageway.

"Yeah, we do. I haven't seen you that dolled up since-"

"Cloud City?"

"I was going to say Jabba's Palace."

She punched him on the shoulder, but leaned in and said quietly, "I still have that outfit, you know." Before he could recover from that and pursue the tangent she jumped tracks, gesturing to her robes, "This was Mon's idea."

"Oh really?"

"She thinks I'll make a better impression if I emphasize my nobility. Knowing them better than she does, I'm inclined to agree."

"Yeah, she made it clear that this is a formal occasion. I just assumed you put her up to it. I hate formal occasions. High society. Respectable company."

"So you go after a princess."

"And you go after a scoundrel," he countered, tapping the switch to call the turbolift.

"I thought you quit being a scoundrel."

"I thought you quit being a princess."

"I thought so too," she answered, her voice suddenly quiet.

The turbolift arrived and its doors parted. The pair stepped aside to let a labor droid out before they went in. As soon as the doors closed Han took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him, "Hey, you going to be alright?" he asked. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

"They've always been cold. But no, I talked it over with the Chief of State and we agreed that it couldn't hurt to have a Rebel on The Throne. It's just- I think she trusts me more than I trust myself."

"I hear you," said Han, punching a button on the panel. "You know what they say about absolute power. There's probably a few things I'd do if I could get away with it. With authority like that..."

"It won't be absolute," Leia insisted. "When- if I become Empress, the first thing I'll do is bring back the Senate, bring back the courts and put real limits on the monarch's authority. It may not be a republic, but a constitutional monarchy wouldn't be so bad. Something like Hapes or Naboo or-"

"Alderaan?"

"Yes!" Then, she added darkly, "Han, just what are you suggesting?"

"Only that you try and keep your head on straight, that's all." The turbolift came to a stop and its doors parted. "If- when you become Empress, you should do what's right, not what's politically correct."

"And you would trust me with that kind of power? With absolute power?"

"It doesn't have to be absolute," he reminded her. "But it doesn't need to be thrown away either." He turned to her. "And yes," he said earnestly. "I trust you. I trust you completely."

***

 

Bravo! That dream/could be that way sequence was chilling! The scene afterwards was a relief and quite endearing.

 

Very Nice sir. I'm liking these characterizations.

 

Thank you both for the reads. This story has been a back project of mine for a year or two now.

 

They met up with the rest of the delegation in the Home One's hangar bay. Mon Mothma was joined by numerous prominent leaders of the Alliance, both civil and military. In addition to the Advisory Council and Cabinet more than a few Intelligence officers were also present. On the military side it was a veritable who's who of Rebel heroes.

"Talk about a target-rich environment," Han muttered.

"We can't go around suspecting our allies," said Leia.

"Since when?"

"Point, but we're about to sign a treaty that will formally end the Rebellion. We can't afford to show anything but the best of good faith right now." Despite what she said, the delegation was noticeably splitting up and embarking on several separate shuttles.

Han sighed, "I just wish we could take the Falcon."

"We're trying to look respectable, remember?"

"I think the Empire respects her by now, don't you?"

Leia smiled at that. The common adage of 'don't judge by appearances' was never more true than in the case of the Millennium Falcon. The old, ugly YT-1300 freighter had been extensively (and illegally) modified over its many years of service to become what would be the fastest ship in its class, were it not for her defying all attempts at classification. She had the sublight acceleration of a recon fighter, the firepower of a gunboat and the defensive shielding of a transport ten times her mass. Her centerpiece was a Class 0.5 hyperdrive, almost never seen outside the military. She was every bit as wild, dangerous and unpredictable as her captain, but without the substantial aesthetic appeal. That was the main sticking point against flying her to the Death Star for anything but an attack.

“Why don't we leave her here where she's safe,” Leia suggested diplomatically.

The pair made their way to the throng of dignitaries and made their introductions. The Chief of State and her Cabinet were clean and well-dressed, but they had the haggard look of beings who neglected their night's sleep. Unsurprising, as there was undoubtedly much to discuss and more to plan, even for a polity that had been on a perpetual war footing since its inception.

“Good morning Princess, General,” her voice was weary, but cheerful. “I do hope you slept well.”

“So you can live vicariously through us, no doubt,” Leia replied.

“Even stims have their limits,” Mothma nodded. “I estimate it's somewhere around the seventy-two hour mark.”

“The legal ones anyway,” Han informed her.

“So long as you're well-rested, Leia. That's what's important. You are to be the guest of honor at today's ceremony. The symbol of unity between the Alliance and the Empire. At least between the Alliance and your father's piece of the Empire.”

“That bad, huh?” asked Han.

“Well, it's not good at any rate. We've been told that the Grand Vizier has made a contending claim of limited regency and for now the government on Coruscant is behind him. Fortunately, that seems to be the extent of their solidarity. Although the Moffs answer to the Privy Council, most seem to be sitting this out for now.”

“Until they know which swoop to bet on.”

“Precisely. Lord Vader has the nominal support of the Army and the Navy. There have been defections among the stormtroopers and Imperial Intelligence but the military is, for the most part, behind him.”

“I never imagined him to be that popular,” Han said dryly.

“He isn't,” she confirmed. “We are apparently seeing the Tarkin Doctrine at work here. The military may not like Vader, but they still fear and respect him; especially so long as he has the Death Star. It helps that the matter of the Emperor's succession is in legal limbo. Vader and Pestage can accuse each other of treason and the judges will simply shake their heads and shrug their shoulders. We're the main thing hurting him now.”

“We are?” asked Han.

“The Emperor's death,” said Leia.

“Yes, but that's not the whole of it. There are rumors, but the Emperor's death hasn't been made public yet. Not officially. Furthermore, the only recording of the incident was made by the Imperial Guard and while they're sorely fractured right now, the ones in-system are loyal to Vader. He assures us the recording has been destroyed.”

“Still,” said Han. “Who's going to believe that his death was an accident?”

“That isn't our top concern right now. What's more damaging to Vader's position is the treaty we're about to sign. Even the military is most displeased with what they see as the appeasement of Rebels, though they won't say it to his face. That, and the reforms Vader has promised to enact have thoroughly alienated the ideologues.”

“You mean COMPNOR,” Leia growled.

“And their Imperial Security Bureau. I think it's safe to say we shouldn't count on their support.”

“It's safer to say we don't want their support,” Leia countered icily.

“If they were on our side, I'd be having second thoughts,” Han agreed. “At least more than I'm having already.”

“Be that as it may, the war may not be over. In fact, it could very well escalate. Still, for the first time we have what appears to be the upper hand.”

“What about our end?” asked Leia. “How is the Alliance leadership reacting to all this?”

“As well as can be expected. They're not thrilled with the prospect of amnesty for known war criminals and mass murderers, but the list of reforms has them pretty well mollified.”

“And the rank and file?”

“That I can't tell you. You know how diverse our membership is. There are Republican loyalists, neo-Separatists, ex-Imperials and everything else in the Alliance. Some will obviously be more amenable to this development than others, but I can't give you anything concrete.” She gave a nervous glance to the side, “We were actually hoping that they rally around you and yours.”

“Gee, no pressure,” Leia deadpanned. “So what's going to become of the Alliance?”

“By a strict interpretation of the Declaration of Rebellion we can make a truce without losing face, what with the Emperor dead. The treaty we're about to sign will change our name to the Alliance of Free Planets and will make us nominal allies of the Galactic Empire. We're going to become an independent, associated state along the lines of Hutt Space or the Corporate Sector.”

“What are our territorial holdings?”

“Undefined as of yet but I wouldn't expect more than a dozen sectors on the Outer Rim. The capital will be Mon Calamari.”

“Nothing Coreward?”

“The Corellian Sector looks promising as it's semi-autonomous anyway, but anything beyond that is unlikely.”

“You really expect them to join?” asked Han.

“Perhaps not. More likely they'll declare independence and then neutrality. The shipwrights can make more money that way. Do forgive me, but this exchange grows overlong. The full text of the treaty will be made available and I can offer further details as I have them. If you'll excuse me.” With that, she disappeared into her crowd of advisors which were being funneled aboard the Tyderium.

“Huh, things are actually better than I expected,” Han peered up over the sea of heads in an effort to locate Chewbacca. It wasn't hard. “Hey, Chewie!”

“I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not,” Leia mused as they approached the shuttle where Chewbacca, Lando and the droids were waiting.

“Would you quit worrying?” Han scolded her.

“Who's worried?”

***

The meeting on the Sanctuary Moon had only been a prelude, and an abortive one at that. Not long after Vader revealed his plans for Leia both he and Luke were recalled to the Death Star to deal with unrest among elements of the stormtroopers and the Guard. Later, in a bizarre bit of unrelated sabotage, a program trap had infected an essential computer core, which had to be replaced. While the process took several hours and a not-insignificant number of lives, the Death Star was eventually secured and was once again the safest place in the galaxy. Thus, it was to be the location of the formal signing of the Treaty of Endor.

To Leia's surprise, while returning to the Home One, Mothma confided in her that she believed Vader's reformation to be genuine and that the benefits of having a Republican partisan on The Throne far outweighed any risk that this was an elaborate farce on the part of Vader and his newfound son. Leia agreed in principle, but that did little to pacify her anxieties about succeeding the worst tyrant in history or with getting to know the runner-up personally.

Those anxieties only intensified as the Theta-class shuttle folded its wings and was swallowed by one of the Death Star's colossal hangar bays. There was a slight jolt, a hiss of decompressing gas and the groan of the lowering ramp. She clutched Han's hand tightly as he led her down the ramp and back into her nightmare; made worse by the visceral reality of it all. To be sure, it was different this time. One could call her a guest and it would be literally true and not a sadistic euphemism. A quartet of Royal Guards, assorted personnel of all branches and rank after white, plasteel-armored rank of stormtrooper had assembled to greet her personally. While it was an honor guard, ostensibly for her own protection, after years of conditioning she would have felt more at ease had the hangar been empty. It was so surreal and yet so physically, oppressively true that she couldn't deny the reality of it all.

Han put words to her thoughts, "Well, this is quite the change."

Another pair of Guards entered the bay, flanking a hooded, dark-robed figure. For an instant Leia's blood ran cold as she thought it was the Emperor reborn, but as the trio approached she realized it was Luke. They knelt before her, Luke doffing his hood and grinning as he did so. "Your highness," he could barely contain his bemusement. He had affected the resemblance on purpose.

"Luke! Don't scare me like that! I thought you were-" Her face reddened.

Luke rose to his feet, but the Guards maintained their kneel. After an awkward moment, Luke nodded to her and back to them with faux impatience.

"Oh! Uh, rise! Rise!”

They rose, turned and fell into step with the four assigned to guard Leia. All together now, the procession walked down the parted sea of stormtroopers toward the exit.

“The Death Star will be completed on schedule,” Luke announced.

“Wonderful,” her voice made it clear it was Opposite Day.

“I understand how you feel, but this station is essential to our plan. It's the most important military asset we have right now.”

“And just what is our plan, Luke? What plan could we have that requires a Death Star? By all rights this monstrosity should be scuttled.”

“This one will be used to save lives, not destroy them. Billions could die in a conventional siege of Imperial Center. With the Death Star, we can avoid that.”

“You're going to turn this thing on Coruscant?” she was horrified.

“Well, yes.” He clarified before she could interject, “Specifically, we're going to fire a series of low-power blasts to batter down the shields. If the Councils still resist by then, we can take the capital in an amphibious landing.”

“Is that safe?” asked Lando. “Couldn't you accidentally destroy the planet?”

“It's surprisingly safe,” Luke reassured them. “The precision with which the weapon's output can be adjusted and to which a planet's shield can be analyzed would amaze you. I'm no engineer, but I've looked over the reports myself and the risk is negligible.”

“How about a worst case scenario?” prompted Han.

“Worst case, they drop the shields just as we fire. That would be bad, but the devastation would still be localized. A blast at that yield wouldn't be powerful enough to destroy the planet.”

“Just powerful enough to take out a continent-sized city?”

“Consider the alternative Han,” Luke said, a touch of exasperation in his voice. “A pitched fleet battle with conventional forces followed by a siege that could last days, maybe even weeks. After that a full-scale surface attack until we finally take the second strongest citadel in the whole Empire. Can you imagine the death toll?”

“But isn't this station still vulnerable?” asked Lando, apparently in command of the coolest head. “There are still those big, gaping holes in the superstructure. Once we leave Endor what's stopping them from flying fighters in and lighting this whole place up?”

“That,” said Luke as the bay doors opened to admit them. “Is our real problem. At present rates, it will be another six weeks before the station is battle-ready, but the construction crews are already working way past their limits. I finally convinced father to push the schedule ahead,” he said, horror in his voice. “They were killing those men.”

“No doubt,” said Han. “Where is The Bionic Dad, anyway?”

“He's in briefing with the admiralty now, why?”

“Just thought he might want to see his daughter,” Han's voice was neutral, but the implication was not.

“He's avoiding me,” said Leia.

“Yes,” Luke admitted. “He is. After what he- what we both felt from you yesterday, we decided it would be best if he kept his distance. He doesn't want to put any undue stress on you. Especially not now. If you're up to it, we can meet after the signing, just the three of us. But for now, he thinks he should just leave you alone. It helps that he's been extremely busy.”

R2 chirped something in Droidspeak. To the organics it was just noise, but it stopped 3PO dead in his tracks.

“What did you say?” 3PO demanded. It was purely rhetorical, for his electronic ears had registered the sentence flawlessly.

The astromech humored his companion and repeated himself.

“R2-D2! You have no right to make such an outlandish request!”

“What's he saying?” asked Luke.

“I'm terribly sorry, Master Luke,” 3PO gave a dismissive wave of his arm. “But he had the audacity to ask if we might accompany you when you and Mistress Leia meet with Lord Vader!”

“Why?” Luke was genuinely curious.

3PO listened to the chittering response, shook his head in disbelief and translated. “He says that we were once the property of Anakin Skywalker, now known as Darth Vader, and it would please him to see us. I assure you sir, I have no idea what he's talking about!”

R2 gave another series of beeps.

“They did what to me!?”

“Woah, woah, woah, easy.” Luke knelt down in front of the short robot, “Are you serious? You knew my father? Back during-”

Without warning, R2's head swivelled and he began projecting a holographic image into the corridor. Luke knew what his father looked like before the incident that transformed him into Darth Vader twenty-three years ago. He had watched old Republic propaganda from the Clone Wars. The man climbing into the fighter's cockpit alongside the imager- alongside R2- was definitely him. "R2," said the voice of Anakin Skywalker. "Fire up the converters."

“I don't believe it,” Luke whispered.

“Small galaxy,” mused Lando.

 

Oooh, looks like the treaty is moving ahead and what an irony using the Death Star as a preemptive weapon not a destructive one.

 

A new update inbound

 

It was an affair befitting the grandeur of its pretensions. The auditorium was positively enormous, with seating for at least a thousand witnesses. Said witnesses were already present, most being Imperial military officers or high-ranking civilian functionaries, but a noticeable minority of Alliance personnel were also there. In the center was a large, round table with a gleaming black finish. Leia counted thirty chairs of equal size along its circumference, half filled by Alliance delegates, half by Imperial officials. Considering the chamber's radial symmetry there didn't appear to be an appropriate (or inappropriate) place for her to sit, so she simply made for the nearest cluster of empty seats. Han took the seat to her right, Lando to his right, Chewbacca to her left. Between the two, she felt secure at last, even though her rational mind knew there was nothing they could do to protect her if things got bad.

The last to arrive was Vader himself. No presiding official called for order. A deathly pall fell over the chamber and everyone, Rebel and Imperial alike, quickly became silent of their own accord. As the regent took his seat the only sounds that didn't emanate from him came from the station itself. "Citizens of the Empire," his voice was terribly loud. "We are gathered here today to witness the end of a pointless war; a useless conflict of ideals. Today begins a new era, an era of cooperation and reconciliation. As regent to The Throne I have made it my mission to sue for peace with the Rebel Alliance, and in a gesture of good faith they have agreed to treat with us. In exchange for a number of political and territorial concessions, they have agreed to lay down their arms. The Rebellion is over."

There was applause at this, which Vader allowed to subside before continuing, "Two sides, bitter enemies the day before, now stand united with the common goal of restoring peace, order and justice to the galaxy. The Emperor may be gone, but the principles for which he stood remain."

Pandering, Leia thought. Still, I suppose it's necessary. The Emperor was enormously popular, even in his final years. Few know what he really was...

"Until today, those principles were endangered. An alarming amount of corruption has infected the Empire, all the way to the highest tiers of its central government. This corruption is a far greater threat to galactic security than the Rebellion ever was. It is this very corruption to which the Alliance is opposed. Their grievances are legitimate, their requests are reasonable, and they will be honored. In my doing this, they have recognized that their enemy is not the Empire, but those within that ruthlessly oppress and exploit the people of the galaxy. In this conflict, the real conflict of our time, the Alliance and the Empire stand as allies against a common foe."

More applause, albeit subdued. The Imperials responded to the neo-Separatist pandering about as well as the Rebels took the Emperor-worship. The former greatly outnumbered the latter. However, nothing Vader said was particularly objectionable to anyone who considered themselves a loyal Imperial citizen. In fact, the dissatisfaction with what everyone believed was a hopelessly corrupt state was universal. What distinguished the loyal Imperial from the Rebel was a continued respect for the Emperor himself and a belief that the Empire's problems did not justify revolution. Vader's words spoke to that average Imperial citizen, and the rhetoric was such that a Rebel could also find it palatable. The only ones who wouldn't...

"But while the Rebellion may be over, our struggle is just beginning. Those who profit from the cancer that is killing the Empire are legion, and they are loath to hand the reigns of power to those more worthy than themselves. Even now the petty, self-serving bureaucrats on Imperial Center are resisting my rule and dangerous, misguided fanatics are moving against us. They must not be allowed to prevail. Make no mistake, I am heir to The Throne and I will not tolerate what, in his sickness and old age, His Majesty could not resist."

"But know this: While I am custodian to The Throne, I am not your Emperor. While I will lead the Empire at war, I am unworthy to rule a galaxy at peace. And the Empire needs a monarch. One with the combination of political skills and moral convictions that will best serve the people of the galaxy. A successor to Palpatine in spirit, if not in blood. That woman is the Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan."

Spotlights and imager remotes converged on her, and Leia stood to polite, yet decidedly cautious applause. "Thank you," she began. "Thank you, everyone. I am both honored and humbled by the opportunity offered to me by Lord Vader. There is little to be said that he hasn't already, other than that I am thoroughly committed to doing what I can to foster the unity and healing he spoke of. As your future Empress it is my solemn oath that I will do the absolute best for the Empire to the absolute best of my abilities. To those ends I will succeed or die trying, but even as Empress I am nothing without all of you," she turned where she stood, gesturing to everyone assembled. "You are what makes the Empire truly great, and I will accomplish nothing without your support. So I ask you: Join me, and let us work together to create an Empire we can all be proud of! Thank you again."

More applause, with a bit more enthusiasm than before. As she took her seat, the actual signing- Mon Mothma presiding- began. You're getting rusty, she berated herself silently. Her part in the ceremony finished, she paid little mind to the rest. Could you get any more hackneyed? You sound like an Apprentice Legislator! And then, 'A successor to Palpatine in spirit'? 'What makes the Empire truly great'? Ugh, I need shower.

Once the brief yet ostentatious affair had ended, the audience began an orderly and efficient withdrawal from the auditorium. Not so for the officials who had rated a seat at the table. While a few left the room immediately (most noticeably Vader and Skywalker), the majority remained behind to mingle and schmooze with the upper crust of the Reconciliation, as it was already being called. The short, impromptu speech had been the extent of her official role, but Leia knew that engaging the leaders of the Empire in idle conversation was just as important, if not more so. Thus, smothering her distaste with her best smile, she dutifully made her rounds of the gathered tyrants, war criminals and xenophobes. Her motivation was the knowledge that the longer she engaged in idle banter with Grand Admirals and Moff governors, the longer she could put off facing Vader- her father, reminded herself.

It was then that she felt a peculiar emotion toward the man behind the breath mask, one so unexpected it took a moment to identify: Pity. She remembered Luke saying they could feel her emotions the day before. At the time she could only feel patronized by their decision to shelter her like some fragile little girl, but recalling her mood on the Sanctuary Moon, she suddenly felt ashamed. To Jedi (even fallen Jedi), a person's emotions were an open book, and while she still felt justified in hating Vader- her father she mentally insisted- Leia regretted not shielding her thoughts better in his presence. Suddenly, she felt a powerful, inexplicable urge to run to him, to tell him she was sorry and ask for his forgiveness. It was patently absurd, and yet it was there just the same. There was no point in denying it. Fortunately, Chewbacca's presence kept the xenophobes at bay and her grasp of Han's arm kept the would-be suitors away. So she managed to make her way gradually and politely toward the exit.

Once they were clear, she turned to the Royal Guard accompanying her, "Could you take me to Lord Vader, please?"

"At once, Your Highness."

"R2, 3PO, come with me. Han, Chewie-"

"You don't need to say it," Han laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We know. Family time. The three of us will take a look around." Han glanced up and down a corridor so long it had a horizon. "We'll try not to get lost."

The walk was surprisingly short; a couple hundred meters to the turbolift and again to the doors of what Leia assumed was Vader's cabin. Two Guardsmen were stationed to either side of the doors, which parted to admit her and the droids, but her own Guard went no further. The apartment was cold and gray, like everything else on the station, but it was slightly darker than the corridor outside. 'Spartan' couldn't describe it, as that would imply some furnishings. There was nothing in the room but decks, bulkheads, light fixtures and a lone terminal. And Luke.

"We've been expecting you," he said. "Are you ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Then come," the door behind him opened. "All of you, follow me."

The next room was much larger than the first, but it was just as dark and every bit as empty. Its greater volume only emphasized its emptiness, and Leia couldn't help but shiver in the stark desolation. At the end were three short steps leading up to a raised section of the deck. Sitting on the 'stage' was a large, metal pod of some kind. With a hiss and a mechanical whir the pod cracked open like an egg to reveal a reclining chair in the midst of what resembled an office. The chair rotated, bringing her face to mask with Darth Vader once again.

"Welcome Leia," he said. "I thank you for coming to see me."

"F- I- I don't know what to say," she finally managed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, puzzled.

"For letting my emotions overcome me yesterday. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"I see. Yes, your anger and hatred toward me is strong indeed, but it's for your sake they be avoided, not mine."

"Those are dark emotions Leia," Luke explained. "If you're to learn the ways of the Force you must learn to reject them."

"So what? You expect me to just forget everything that's happened?" She turned to Vader, tears welling in her eyes. "To forget everything you've done?"

"No," his synthetic voice was quiet. "But if you cling to your anger and hate, you risk making the same mistakes I did. If you give in to the dark side, you could repeat my crimes."

"I am nothing like you," she seethed.

"You're wrong, Leia," Luke interceded gently. "The dark side can corrupt anyone. It transforms you. Even the greatest Jedi, the best Jedi, can fall."

"Anger, fear, hatred," said Vader. "They will rule you, consume you, until they are all that remain. Eventually, all you can feel is rage. All you can do is hate."

"Then I don't want to become a Jedi," Leia said defiantly. "If the Force can do that then I want nothing to do with it!"

"That is your decision to make," Vader admitted. "Perhaps it is a wise one."

"Nevertheless," Luke wasn't ready to give up. "The Force is strong in you, Leia. With the proper training you could become a truly great Jedi."

"And where am I going to find the time for that, Luke? Or did you forget I just inherited an entire galaxy?"

"You can take all the time you need," he assured her. "It doesn't need to be done all at once. It just needs to be done right. As Empress of the galaxy, knowledge of the Force would serve you well."

"You don't need to decide right away," said Vader.

"He's right," said Luke. "But please, just remember what we've told you about anger and hate and try to keep an open mind."

"Alright," she agreed, more to abandon the topic than anything.

"I see you brought your droids with you. Why?"

"R2 wanted to see his old master," Luke replied with a smile.

Leia stepped aside to give Vader a clear view of the robots. He was silent as he studied them for a moment "...I thought they were merely the same make and model. That alone was quite the coincidence but... R2-D2? C-3PO, is that really you?"

R2 beeped an affirmative. 3PO seemed to be on the verge of a mental freeze-out. "Uh, yes, I, er, am. Lord Vader. My counterpart informs me that I've been subjected to memory wipes and have no recollection of my service to you. I am terribly sorry for any inconvenience."

"Amazing," said Vader. "I built him, you know."

"Which one?" asked Luke. "3PO?"

"When I was just a boy. I assembled him from a kit someone had thrown away. He was nearly complete when I left to be trained as a Jedi. R2..." he grew sullen. "Belonged to your mother. I flew with him during the Wars."

"He's an excellent astromech."

"That he is. For these droids to end up in your... Simply incredible. It must be the will of the Force."

The three were silent for a time, until Luke prompted further conversation. "That was a great speech you gave, Leia."

"No, it really wasn't. My speeches are terrible when I don't mean them and I'm out of practice. I haven't been that insincere since my days in the Senate. I seem to have forgotten how to pay lip service to the Empire."

"You made a good impression with everyone."

"How do you-? Forget I asked. Anyway, I had a tough act to follow." She turned to Vader, "I never knew you were such an orator."

"I'm not," Vader tapped a photoreceptor with his index finger. "Heads Up Display."

"Ah, I can see how that would be useful."

"Useful," he growled bitterly. "This armor is my punishment, my eternal reminder. To look on you with my own eyes... would you allow it?"

"I don't understand."

"The images I see are rendered holographically. While the range of visible light is greater, it never seems quite right. If you can bear to see my face, I can remove this helmet."

"I... I suppose. But won't you-!" Without warning, Leia's ears popped and she grew dizzy as the air pressure and oxygen content in the room soared. A mechanical arm descended from the apex of the chamber and grasped Vader's helmet and face mask. With a hissing squeak and a disturbing sucking noise both were pulled away and Anakin Skywalker was revealed. What remained of him, anyway. Leia was speechless. She knew the nature and origin of her father's injuries, or at least she thought she did, but that did little to prepare her for the horrible sight. Anakin was bald, scarred and pallid. Bulbous scar tissue and synthflesh grafts were everywhere. Still, he had spoken the truth. Somehow he still had natural eyes with fully functional lids, and they were welling with tears.

"You look so much like your mother," his voice was soft, quiet, weak. Human.

Leia was choking back her own tears. For the first time in her life, she saw the man called Darth Vader as a human being. Oh, she knew he was human, but it was on an abstract, intellectual level. Viscerally, he had always made the impression of a machine. An unstoppable, malevolent cyborg like General Grievous. Now she was acutely aware that her father was really, truly alive under all that wicked machinery. Letting her feelings guide her, she embraced him. His shoulders were every bit as hard and unyielding as she expected, but she didn't care. She had a family again.

Anakin hesitated before reciprocating, almost as if he couldn't believe what was happening. But after a moment, he held his daughter as tightly as he could without making her uncomfortable. "I'm so glad you're alive," he whispered to her. "We're all together now. And I'll never hurt you again, I promise."

Sirens sounded throughout the station. The wailing, blaring klaxon disrupting the Skywalker reunion. Leia backed away as she felt his anger. It welled up quickly, but was even more rapidly quashed. The arm descended and reattached his helmet and breath mask. "Pestage is making his move," his vocabulator boomed. He was Darth Vader again.

 

The speeches were fantastic and the family time - amazing! Bravo!!!!!! Wow, what a transition there at the end to heart-thumping action!

 

This continues to be an entertaining and intriguing AU!

Loved the dream sequence mirroring Leia's experience on the Death Star, especially:

Also enjoyed the fact that Vader uses a TelePrompTer!

Leia is more like Vader than she cares to admit. She is an idealist like Anakin was before he became Vader, believing absolutely in their ideals; he unfortunately chose the wrong person to believe in and had that absolut trust betrayed. She also has a touch of his temper. Listen to your father, Leia, you need to let go of that anger and hurt!

Your reconciliation scene was so touching; I love that Vader removes his helmet for her and she is able to see him as her father.

Looking forward to more!

 

I've always thought it would be funny if Vader sort of had this smart phone like gear inside his helmet.

 

This is a very interesting AU! Great scene there between Vader and Leia; keep it up!

 

The command bridge was abuzz with activity, literally and figuratively. The wailing din of the myriad consoles, alarms and displays was drowned out only by the horde of people who believed they needed to be there. Despite its large size the bridge was downright crowded. To Grand Admiral Ozvald Teshik, this was not an environment conducive to command and control.

"Commander," Teshik's unnatural voice made Jerjerrod jump. The Grand Admiral's larynx was lost along with seventy-five percent of his body in the Hapan Cluster. "Just what is this... rabble doing here?"

"They were quite insistent, sir."

"So you just- whatever," he growled. There were more important matters to address than the Empire once again sacrificing operational security on the altar of politics. "Attention," he yelled. It was not the kind of yell that went unnoticed. "As of right now this is a restricted area. All non-essential personnel are to leave the premises immediately."

No one budged. A few chafed at the prospect of taking orders from a cyborg (at least one besides the new Lord Regent). The rest surely considered themselves essential in this crisis they knew nothing about.

Typical. "For our purposes, 'non-essential' shall be defined as 'anyone without a dully-assigned duty station on this command bridge'! All of you, get out of here, now! I'm taking command!"

The crowd finally filed off the bridge and allowed Teshik to get to work. "What's the situation?" he asked Jerjerrod, even as he called up a hologram to see for himself.

"Over a thousand ships just entered the Endor System and are bearing down on the Sanctuary Moon."

"I see," it was literally true. A veritable swarm of capital warships were surging toward the moon about which the Death Star and the allied fleet were keeping station. "From the opposite side," he observed. "That keeps them out of the superlaser's field of fire."

"It would appear our secret is out," the Moff confirmed glumly.

"That happened after the first shot fired in anger. I'm more worried about the timing. Lord Vader," he greeted the regent as he entered flanked by his Guards and followed by his son and daughter. "Your excellencies, I'll not mince words and waste your time. The situation is grim. Someone, presumably the Grand Vizier, has assembled a fleet of a thousand Star Destroyers and various support craft. They're closing from the opposite side of the moon and we can't orbit around without losing shield coverage. Admirals Ackbar and Piett have already moved to intercept, but I'm afraid the Death Star will be useless. We're outnumbered by about three to one and that's counting the Rebels and adjusting for the Executor's tonnage."

"Reinforcements?" asked Vader.

"The 89th Oversector Expeditionary is already inbound but they'll be about forty-five minutes. His Majesty sure knew how to pick remote systems. This will be over by then."

"How so?"

Teshik 'touched' an area of the hologram which magnified in response. A large, ovoid siege platform grew to dominate the display. "Torpedo Spheres. I believe they plan to tear down the shield and slag the moon from the far side. That would destroy the shield generator just as readily as a direct attack." He was confident he didn't need to spell out the rest.

He didn't. "Inform all commands; the Torpedo Spheres are their priority target. Move the Death Star to the highest possible orbit the shield will allow. That will narrow the corridor in which they can operate safely."

"As you command," he moved to relay the orders. As he finished his most urgent duties, "There is one other thing."

"Yes?"

"The timing of this attack is highly suspect. Somehow, Pestage knew the precise time when everybody who's anybody would be aboard the Death Star. It's too dangerous to evacuate and losing the station now would be a blow your lordship would not recover from, presuming you survive."

"You suspect a traitor?"

"One in particular: Nial Declann. He disappeared around the time of the late Emperor's death and no one on our side has seen or heard from him since. I'm no detective, but all of the evidence points toward him. Who else would know that the Death Star is operational and, more importantly, who could have mustered such a large fleet so quickly? Finally, he and I devised this very tactic as a contingency plan. Since all the Bureau spooks are locked up and all the mutineers are dead, it has to be him. It can't be coincidence.”

“And this is his fleet?”

“Actually, no. These are ships that by all rights shouldn't exist. That alone isn't unusual. The Navy habitually understates its strength both in manpower and material. But that's the thing, they're not Navy. They're not even military.”

“Then who?”

“COMPNOR,” Teshik replied darkly.

“Are you telling me those are privately-owned ships crewed by Party members?”

“'Yes' to the first part, 'not necessarily' to the second. They could be droids or mercenaries or clones. Also, we can't discount the possibility of embezzled Navy personnel, or 'all of the above' for that matter. I guess we'll know more once the fighting starts.”

***

"General Solo!" 3PO wailed. "General Solo! Oh, thank goodness we've found you!"

"Where's Leia?"

"She left for the bridge with Master Luke and Lord Vader!"

"Alright," he nodded to Chewie and Lando. "Back to the turbolifts!"

"But sir!" 3PO was aghast. "Access to that area is restricted!"

"One thing at a time, Goldenrod!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Hurry up or we're leaving you behind!"

"Wait, wait!"

"Are you sure about this?" asked Lando. Only loud enough to be heard over the alarm. "I heard they even booted Mothma off the bridge."

"I don't care," Han said firmly. "I am not sitting on my hands while we're under attack." If only I'd brought the Falcon. "I'm getting her off this station and I don't care what the Imperials say."

"Off the station!? This is the safest place in the whole system!"

"Then I'm taking her out of the system. This place is their prime target."

"And so are the people on board. You take her off the Death Star and you'll only be putting her in even more danger."

Han stopped to consider that for a moment, then shook his head and marched on. "No. I may not have the Falcon, but I haven't forgot how to fly."

"And they'll just let you take one of their ships?"

"Hey," Han gave his trademark grin. "She's a princess, remember?"

***

Day came early to the night side of the Sanctuary Moon. Countless millions of proton torpedoes initiated against the planetary deflector shield, which flashed just as brightly in an effort to shed the excess energy. Bright red and green bolts slashed through the warhead streams, blunting much (but not all) of what was only the opening volley. The joint Alliance-Imperial fleet had positioned itself between the moon and the sizable assault force. For now, the Torpedo Spheres were well-protected amidst the hundreds of Imperator II-class Star Destroyers that comprised their escort. The destroyers, for their part, were hammering the defenders, with a disproportional amount of fire battering the Executor and the Home One. The beleaguered battle wagons were focusing their fire on the nigh-solid streams of high-yield torpedoes that systematically identified weaknesses in the shield's strength or geometry and sought them out to grievous effect.

For now, what would one day be known officially as the Second Battle of Endor (but informally as the Real Battle of Endor) was a standoff. When fleet engagements devolved into stalemates, with turbolasers splashing harmlessly against equally powerful shields, that was when starfighters truly shined. The onslaught of capital ship-grade death forced shields to be projected at greater distances from the hulls they protected and at increasingly shallow angles. This opened them up to precision attacks by strike bombers, which in turn had to be escorted and intercepted by dedicated snub fighters. Tiny, single-pilot craft that wielded an infinitesimal fraction of the power capital ships commanded but could nevertheless shape the battle dramatically. They had the acceleration, maneuverability and precision to break the tie. Amidst the continent-shattering war of colossal titans these minuscule insects swarmed in a deadly, frenzied dance that was every bit as important.

And so the struggle for space supremacy raged on. B-Wings and TIE Bombers ran the blockade, their pilots keenly aware of the stakes as they sought their targets with single-minded determination. The bombers and their escort of assorted fighters weaved through both the enemy fire and defensive shields. Not all made it, some falling to enemy fighters or lucky ship-based gunners while others misjudged the openings and slammed fatally into the invisible walls of atomic and electromagnetic force. The bombers that made it through loosed volley after precision-guided volley of proton torpedoes into the most vulnerable sections of hull. Guns died, sensors went blind, shields failed and one by one Torpedo Spheres found themselves terminally crippled and easy prey for the capital ships of Death Squadron and the Alliance fleet. Without shields, the turbolasers blasted through with pitiful ease. Some broke up, others disappeared in a blinding flash of conflagration as reactors lost containment and went critical.

The battle was hard fought however and as the long, intense minutes rolled by, fewer and fewer bombers made it through. The enemy pilots and gunnery crews proved better than Teshik had expected. In fact, they were proving themselves superior to the allied forces present. Worse yet, the entire enemy fleet moved with a level precision and coordination that defied belief. Fortunately, the Grand Admiral knew exactly what was going on.

"I knew it," he folded his arms and gave a grim nod, signaling that he took no pleasure in his vindication. "It's him."

"Battle meditation," agreed Vader. Then, for the benefit of Luke and Leia he explained. "Grand Admiral Declann is a Force-adept, trained by the Emperor himself. His specialty is a technique that allows him to telepathically control and coordinate his forces."

"With that," Teshik grunted, "He could have just brought in random people off the street. Or, more likely, they're New Order fanatics and Imperial cultists. It doesn't matter. With Declann here, they're all of one mind. His mind. It's too bad we don't know which ship he's on. I suppose that explains why he didn't bring anything larger than a destroyer. It's much easier to hide his flag."

"Also, anything larger would be too attractive a target for the superlaser," Vader pointed out. "They will have to attack the station eventually. Have my fighter prepped for immediate takeoff. I will be able to find him if I can get close enough."

"I want to come too," said Luke.

"Remain here for now," the command was just firm enough to identify it as such. "You may be needed to defend the station if the shield is lost. Remain with your sister. You are her shield. I will locate the enemy command ship myself."

***

"Access to the bridge is prohibited by order of Grand Admiral Teshik," recited a weary Naval Security trooper. At this rate, he would be repeating the line in his sleep. "Alliance command is located on Level-"

"I've got to get in there," interrupted Han. "The princess is in danger."

"The Royal and Imperial Guard is responsible for the Imperial Family's security. You have nothing to worry about, sir."

"We're under attack! Spears aren't much good against a Star Destroyer!"

"I'm aware of this..." the trooper paused, he wasn't overly familiar with Alliance ranks. "General, which is all the more reason for her to remain here."

"That's what I tried to tell him," Lando offered the trooper a sympathetic shrug.

"You stay out of this," Han scolded. "Look, will you at least deliver a message to the princess? Tell her Ha-aah!"

Darth Vader stormed out of the doors and down the corridor at a brisk pace. Were he to walk any faster, he would have been running. Chewie and Lando gave him a berth wide enough to park a speeder in. Han glanced back and forth between Vader and the trooper. He knew which one he'd rather talk to, but he also knew which one would get him results.

"Hey," he called after Vader, who ignored him. "Hey," he called again. "Lord Vader!"

Vader stopped and whirled to face him. "What is it, Solo?"

He got straight to the point. "Leia needs to be taken someplace safe."

Vader resumed his march. "She is most safe here."

"Until the shield goes. You give me a ship and I'll get her out of the system."

To Han's great surprise, Vader actually stopped and looked at him for a solid moment. While he wanted to, while he physically needed to he did not wither under that terrible, unblinking gaze, instead hiding behind his best Sabacc face. What followed was even more surprising.

"Very well," Vader relented. "I will trust you to do this." Then, to the troopers at the entrance, "Let them in." Turning back to Solo, "Now, will there be anything else?"

"No," Han said quietly.

"Good," with a billow of his cape, he turned and stomped off toward the turbolifts. "We have little time."

Lando whistled, impressed. "That took a lot of guts, Han."

"Yeah. Feels like they're about to come out."

"Need to hit the 'fresher?"

"No," he returned his attention to the semi-stunned trooper, a smug grin plastered across his face. "No, I'm good. Well, you heard the Lord Regent. Let us in."

The guard nodded to his partner and escorted the visitors inside. "With the Lord Regent's permission," he announced. "Visitors for her excellency the princess."

"Han!" Leia was standing over a console when the group arrived. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to get you out of here. The Endor System isn't safe."

"You don't know the half of it," snorted Teshik.

Han ignored him. "Come on, Leia. We can get ourselves a ship and blow this place before they blow it up."

"I'm not going anywhere. My place is here."

"Yeah well, your old man happens to agree with me on this one. That's why I'm here. And I'm not leaving without you."

"Then stay," she matched his sardonic smile. "You're welcome to observe the battle with me. But I'm not leaving. Your chivalry is adorable Han, it really is. But I will not abandon these people in their fight for the very future of the galaxy. And for what? Just to save my own skin? If we lose here, the Empire is finished, whether I survive or not."