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Lord of Darkness, Lord of Light
"The report of the computer is inconclusive, Skywalker."
"I've answered every question."
"The computer found your answers confusing."
"Oh."
This was a strange sound, soft and mocking. Lil Ha Akaria, psych-analyst par excellence, did not like it. There were a great many things in the process of this particular evaluation that she didn't like -- among them her own reactions. She herself was much more confused than her computers. Her professional pride in getting the assignment had vanished soon after the Jedi was brought to her Institute. Although she'd seen the holos of the trial, she was surprised to see how young and slight the man looked. Lil trusted the computerized analyzing program to unravel whatever mysteries Vader's son hid in his soul, and when her computer nearly short-circuited, trying to find the proper labels for Skywalker, Lil felt a very uncharacteristic anger. Whether toward the man or the machine, she couldn't decide.
The man on the other side of the desk moved slightly, resting his manacled hands on his knees. "I'm afraid your computer isn't programmed to understand the power of the Force."
"It doesn't have to. Our office deals regularly with very strange religious beliefs, and the computer is instructed to look beyond such matters. The questions were designed to reveal your human potential, nothing else."
"My human potential to do what?"
"Good or evil."
Steady blue eyes measured the woman. "And what, may I ask, confused the computer?"
"It concluded that you have an even chance to do both."
"Doesn't everybody?"
Lil Ha Akaria swallowed hard. "The New Government must ascertain that you don't become a danger."
"They have my word for it."
"The word of a man who has an even chance to become good or evil."
"I'm here, Madame Ha Akaria; I came willingly. It is my wish that this evaluation be done."
"Because you hope to be vindicated, and freed."
Skywalker laughed. The binders fell away from his wrists, and he rose abruptly. "How do they propose to hold me back, should I decide to go, vindicated or otherwise?"
Lil stared at him, amazed. The presence of the man was mesmerizing. Restrained power radiated from his slight frame. His eyes measured her with an urgency she did not know how to interpret. She thought she saw pleading in their blue depth, pleading and hope.
"You're very eager to go," she said, trying to mask her astonishment.
"I have reasons." Luke sat down again and leaned towards her, his hands flat on the desk. "Madame, I have children waiting for me. Children who trust me and need me. This trial started four weeks ago, Madame, and the children are waiting."
Lil was thoroughly shaken by the intensity and pain in Skywalker's voice. "The clones, you're talking about the clones..."
"Children." The prisoner's eyes bore into hers. "Seven years old. They know nothing of scientific labels attached to the different ways of birthing. They're my children, and I cannot be with them, because your computer is confused." Luke paused, his lips dry. "If your computer pronounced me fully evil, I'd know what to do. I'd then be officially an enemy of the New Government, fine, I can deal with that; as you know, I have some experience with being hunted. If your computer said I should be freed, again, I'd know what to do. How long do you want to keep me in limbo, on the word of your, hm, confused computer?"
Lil couldn't answer.
"Please," he said.
The word was unexpected, the voice gentle and pleading. It found its way to her heart, to the part of her brain that made instinctive judgements. She touched his hand.
Lil Ha Akaria, psych-analyst par excellence, had never wanted a man more.
"This is not good," Lil whispered much later in her room. The subject of her psychiatric evaluation rested his blond head on her breasts. She stroked his soft hair, touched his warm lips, traced scars on his skin and hard muscles on his abdomen.
"...t's good," Luke whispered back, his mouth moving against her nipple. "I like it fine..."
"No... I can't evaluate you now... I've completely lost my objectivity..."
"Don't you know me better than before?" He was suddenly alert.
"I don't think I know anything anymore. My report would be inadmissible."
"Then what?"
"There's only one other scientific institution that does this... the Kesselian Thirty, the board that runs the Kirdaal prison."
Luke backed away from her. "That's a lunatic asylum for hopeless cases!"
"The Kesselian Thirty has an excellent professional reputation... they've been known to handle Jedi... and... I know they say that Kirdaal's gates have no exit, but that isn't true at all."
"Handle Jedi?" Luke shook his head, and, with a strange, defensive gesture, he pulled the covers around his naked waist. "What do you mean?"
"Kirdaal Center is a space station, orbiting between the Shining Brothers on the Rim, the twin white dwarfs. They say that the Force doesn't work on Kirdaal," Lil explained.
"You'll suggest that the Ethics Committee should entrust Kirdaal with my evaluation?"
"I can't do anything else." She was close to tears. "I love you... I can't be your judge. I will, of course, submit my subjective opinion, demanding that you be set free... Trust me... The Kesselian Thirty is an entirely objective, professional body, they'll do you justice, better than my computer."
Luke stood up, letting the covers fall on the floor. "At best, another goddamn delay for me. I'm not sure I want to know what happens to a Jedi in a place where the Force doesn't work, Lil. I'm not sure I want to understand how your professional integrity found its way into this bed."
She reached out for him, and Luke stepped back. "Don't touch me now."
He walked out of her room without bothering to gather his clothes.
Admiral Ackbar arrived the next afternoon.
He came with two aides, but left them outside, wanting to have a private conversation with Skywalker.
"I received an urgent message from Madame Ha Akaria. She wishes to terminate the evaluating process. She says her computers are not sophisticated enough to judge Jedi behavior, and she cites personal reasons as well."
Luke shrugged.
The Calamari studied the face of the Jedi. He had a hard time interpreting human expressions, and in this case, he found nothing to interpret. That the Jedi was exhausted, he could see. Skywalker was pale, the only color in his face was the shadow under his eyes.
"This process... is very hard on you," the Calamari said gently.
"I've been trying to keep in touch with my children, Admiral. The distance is vast, and holding the mindlink wasn't easy. I had to reassure them... they were frightened. Time is passing. I'm losing patience."
"It might be considered a test of your character, Skywalker."
The motionless silence of the Jedi was almost threatening. Ackbar thought, he thinks we're playing with him --- he wants me to know that it's he who allows us to play... 'til he says enough.
"Luke," Ackbar said, using the first name deliberately, trying to bring back the old intimacy between them. "I have a message for you... from Captain Solo."
"Captain?"
"Well, he resigned, you know... He moved to Irfogan with the Princess... He wants you to know that your clones are safe and well taken care of."
"I know that."
He refuses to be friendly, Ackbar thought, and I can't even blame him. "We have to accept Madame Ha Akaria's proposition. Your evaluation will continue on Kirdaal. This is by no means a judgement; you're not going there as their prisoner."
"Not yet? Admiral, let me repeat, I'm doing this because I'd like to see justice done, in a way that'll put everybody's doubts to rest. However... I don't think any evaluation would detect a masochistic streak in my nature. If this... process... goes on much longer, I'll refuse to subject myself to it."
The Calamari pulled up a large chair and sat down, motioning to Skywalker to do the same. Luke sank into the chair opposite. Ackbar hissed softly. "I talked to the Kesselian Thirty this morning. They said it won't be long... nevertheless, there's something I must emphasize, Luke. Have you considered that your children will be subjected to extreme prejudice? Most people have a deep aversion to clones... disgust, I'd say."
Luke laughed shortly. "Why, for example, the Huttese are convinced that the Calamari are utterly revolting..."
"Oh? They do?" Ackbar blinked twice. "Well, I didn't know. I always thought the attraction was mutual... Ah, then... maybe some races might find the Huttese revolting, too."
"Standard Humans do." Luke smiled.
"I see your point..."
The Jedi's smile didn't linger too long. "The New Government could help by legalizing the status of already existing clones, while it outlaws cloning in general. You should not give in to the demands of those who equate the clones with the monsters who created them. Besides, I think that any prejudice encountered by the members of my family should be my problem... and let's not continue this line of conversation any further, Admiral, before I start suspecting that you'd rather murder my children -- out of compassion, hm? -- than have them suffer from anti-clone discrimination."
Ackbar swallowed hard, and the slight green hue of embarrassment was obvious on his face. "Skywalker, your choice of words--"
Luke interrupted. "In my vocabulary, a spade is a spade, Admiral. It was a spade during the Empire, it will remain a spade under the New Government as well." He closed his eyes for a second, forcing himself to relax. "I've had enough of fighting. I want to build. I've had enough of guerilla wars, regular wars, legal wars, diplomatic wars and bureaucratic wars. I'm going to Kirdaal, if that's what you want... as a last attempt to find a legal way of establishing a new Jedi order. If this doesn't work out...be advised that I'll do it illegally. This is a very big galaxy, and not all the planets belong to the New Government."
"Thank you, my friend, I appreciate your bluntness, believe me," said the Admiral. They shook hands. Ackbar frowned for a moment. "Aren't you supposed to wear binders?"
"Oh, these?" Luke reached into his pockets and drew out the plastisteel circlets. "Certainly." He slipped his hands into them with the ease of a conjurer.
"Well," Ackbar sputtered, "At least in public, eh?"
Han stood silently in the darkened room where the children slept. Chewie, as always, had spread his own bedroll on the floor and rested with them. The faint nightlights between the beds illuminated the small faces. At the beginning, the Corellian had found the identical little heads very disturbing, but after a few weeks, the novelty wore off.
Han was glad he'd been able to bring them to Irfogan. This was the planet Leia had chosen for their home, one of the kingdoms that formed the Glorious Cluster Alliance. Han had never liked the pompous name for the union of seven planets, each with their own royal families and remarkably prosperous economy. But names were just names, and life on Irfogan was good. The Glorious Cluster Alliance installed their new Galactic Ambassador, the Princess Leia Organa, with old-fashioned generosity.
The "modest home", as they called the accomodations assigned to Leia, was a rather large and very old palace on a hillside, with a garden big enough to be counted as an estate anywhere else. Threepio had the pleasure of using an outrageously generous budget to furnish the mansion with all necessities, including a herd of droids. There was another home on Mord, near the New Government buildings, where Leia had to stay for six standard months every year, during the senatorial meetings. And Irfogan's rulers were more than eager to welcome the "Prince consort", a title that made Han jump every time he'd heard it. Still, the best part of the arrangement was an unconditional offer to establish a Jedi enclave on Irfogan, and the acceptance of Luke's clone-children.
Irfogan's king had talked about it breezily, and not entirely without sarcasm.
"We are such an old-fashioned society, kir Solo," he'd said to Han at the first audience. "We don't understand the sophisticated arguments of the New Government... Our knowledge about genetic experiments is very limited. Oh, we don't know how unacceptable clones are. Even Jedi clones, results of devious Imperial experiments. We don't know what that is! Irfogan's humble people understands only that they are Jedi... and therefore they belong to your kin, Master Skywalker, the Obi-wan. We, so far from the galactic center, don't know what kind of dispute the New Government has with the Jedi Master. When he is ready to come here, he can occupy the old monastery on Monk's Hill... most suitable for a Jedi enclave." The King had leaned close to Han and whispered:"Frankly, kir Solo, we Irfogans can't imagine how any other planet could miss the golden opportunity of housing a Jedi order."
After this conversation, Han felt that he could safely bring the children to Irfogan from Dagobah, where Chewie was hiding with them. The Wookiee had grown attached to the boys as if they were his own. Han knew from experiencehow gentle and loving Chewie could be with little ones.
Still, the boys were fearful and restless, their need for Luke's presence never diminished. Only a Jedi could communicate with them the way they needed it. Their bodies had been in the cloning vats until they'd grown to the age of seven, but their minds had opened only two months ago. They have the right to be babied, Han admitted.
Looking at their restless tossing and turning, he sighed. Maybe it's time to look into the "evaluation" and see if there are any strings to be pulled, he decided. Luke should be here with us now! Han felt vaguely guilty; after all, he was the one who'd suggested that Luke should try all legal ways before going underground...
Might have been a mistake, Han thought grimly.
Luke was surprised to see the small woman again. Lil came into his room as he was getting dressed to go to Kirdaal. She wore a long, red dress and her hair was down.
"I must talk to you," she said.
"You've been very foolish."
"I did what I had to do. My professional integrity--"
"--is more important than your sex life."
Lil gasped. "No, it's not like that! You're not... you are more to me, you... you know I love you... You can't leave me like this! You wanted me... don't deny it, don't throw it away. We've been wonderful together. It must continue! You will be exonerated, I know, the Kesselians must see you the way I do!"
Luke moved closer to her, close enough to touch. "And how do you see me? Good enough to bed, but not good enough to vouch for?"
"I stated clearly in my report that they have nothing to fear from you!"
"And added that, of course, this is not an official statement, as you don't trust your own judgment anymore. A fine touch, considering that they're already mortified by the Jedi ability to influence the minds of others.You've buried me in your professional integrity. I wish someone would evaluate you, Lil. I wonder what they'd find."
"I'm not afraid of you," Lil said. "I want you. Never wanted anybody more. Yes, I am confused, I admit. Do you think it's easy to cope with falling in love with Vader's son?"
She instantly regretted saying this. Luke's eyes narrowed at the words, their blue darkened. He pulled her closer.
"I feel your emotions, Lil, and they're not as confusing as you think. I wouldn't call them love, exactly. Lust, yes, heightened by fear, fear of Vader's blood, power and Force-mysteries. Maybe a little professional arrogance, too; after all, who else but a master psych-analyst would dare to bed Vader's son?" His arms tightened around her. "Your beauty against my powers! Isn't that how it is with us, Lil, aren't you the maid who tames the Krayt dragon?"
"I love you!" she cried, pulling his head down, kissing his lips.
"But if Kirdaal were hell, you'd still send me there! Damn, have your wish then! A last one, for the road!" Luke lifted her up and threw her on the bed, pinning her down with his full weight. She screamed. This was not the sweet, seductive fear she'd always felt in the presence of the Jedi - this was an endless, dark wave that rose from her passion and grew to frightening proportions, fed by her desire and Skywalker's anger. Power -- much more, much stronger than she'd ever imagined, power that threatened to consume both of them, and she clung to his body in terror. She did not know whether his anger was directed against her or against the whole galaxy, or simply against the new delay in the process -- nothing was clear, but the anger itself, loud, alive, like dark wings, black dragonfire, burning.
As if he wanted to drive this anger into her, to ride her to hell on those dark waves.
She heard her own cries and Skywalker's.
Her nails dug into his bare skin, protesting his last, uncontrolled thrust. "No!" she screamed.
Luke rolled away, got up and continued dressing, cutting off all communication, mental, verbal or physical.
Lil buried her head in the pillow, waiting to hear the door slam.
He closed it softly.
The change came suddenly as the ship entered the radiation zone of the Shining Brothers. A white, impenetrable fog rose between him and the world, and he was alone. Confused, he reached out to touch the table he was sitting at and felt the metal edge under his fingertips, as if it was a mile away. He waited, hoping he'd get used to the sensation. After a while, he stood up. The world tilted, and he floated in nothingness. His fingers searched for the table. He decided to sit down and felt himself falling.
Fear gripped him in this milk-white universe without reference points, and the more he reached out into the Force, the less he knew where he was. He tried to touch his own face, as there was nothing in the world but his own body that he could be sure of. Pushing back the panic, he curled up on the floor, hugging his knees, and waited. There was to be a psychiatric evaluation: somehow, someone must come for him and penetrate the nothingness. Until then, he would have to be patient. He thought of Han in the carbon freeze -- that couldn't have been any more pleasant. At least I can move, he consoled himself, or could move, if I knew which way is up.
He had no idea how much time had passed when a hissing whisper reached his ears.
"You are on Kirdaal, Skywalker Jedi. Do you hear me?"
"I do," Luke said. His own voice sounded painfully loud, and he, too, reverted to whispering. "Who are you?"
"I am The Honored Chief Evaluator. Your test has been started, and it will soon be over. The Kesselian Thirty are listening to your emotions as we speak. Do not be alarmed. You are lying on a bed in a small room. There is a pillow under your head, and you are covered with a blanket. Touch the blanket."
"I feel it," He whispered gratefully.
"You are afraid needlessly," the voice continued. "You will not lose your sanity. This is not allowed. Your torment is but temporary."
"It's been too long," Luke said. His fingers involuntarily clutched the blanket.
"Zornomic psychiatric evaluations never take longer than a day, Skywalker. We hear your soul clearly. Your emotions, your character, the zogat, as we call it, is audible to us. Trust me. You have been patient for so long, hold on a little longer."
Luke tried to relax, to call up the Jedi calm that could help him in any situation, but now, without the energy of the Force, he could draw only on his inner reserves, draining his very essence.
"Skywalker... Skywalker...! Don't try to master the present. You'll consume yourself. Flow with the moment. There is no need to be strong."
He cried out, fighting for control, and felt it slip away. From a great distance, he heard the whimpering of a child.
The Corellian banged on the door of the squat, powderblue building until a peach-colored Zornom came out and let him in.
"You make noise," the Kesselian said in broken Standard. "You want?"
"Do I ever. I want to see the High Evaluator, or whatever his rank is."
"His Honor is busy now."
"I know, hell, that's why I wanna see him."
"You here wait."
Solo hated to wait. He paced up and down like a caged gundark, growling just as frequently until a heavy drapery swung aside and a Zornom rolled in, wearing a purple sash around its rotund form.
"Greetings, Human. I am the Honored Chief Evaluator," it said. "What is the name you desire to be called by?"
"Skywalker, where is he?"
"Why do you ask?"
"He's my kin, damn you, and he's been toyed with too long. You can't keep him somewhere where he can't feel the Force! Do you know what this could do to him?"
"Why, of course we do. We have been doing evaluations for centuries. Skywalker is not our first Jedi."
"But he could die there!"
The Zornom wiggled its stalks. "Skywalker's Kin, Kirdaal provides paid services to many distinguished clients. Your interference is not desired. I know how you feel about Skywalker, but I do not wish you to be trampling all over Kirdaal in your well-meaning efforts."
"I bet you don't," Han said threateningly. "And what are you going to do about it?"
"I am going to reassure you that we wish Skywalker no harm. We do him no harm."
"Hell, it's not what you do, it's that without the Force, a Jedi can't even breathe!"
"That is a gross exaggeration. Skywalker's Kin, I guarantee you that the Jedi will be completely healthy. He shall return to his eggs, or whatever you call the little mammals, forgive my ignorance." The Zornom continued evenly: "I swear by the eyestalks of He Who Is The Most Honored."
The Corellian bit his lips. "Say the whole damn sentence."
The Zornom repeated seriously. "I swear by the eyestalks of He Who Is The Most Honored, that Skywalker will be completely healthy and sane when he leaves Kirdaal."
Han hung his head. He could not doubt this Zornom oath any more than the Zornom could doubt a Corellian blood-promise. Just in case, he countered with an oath of his own. "Should you break your word, Zornom, takh t' Solo anid graal, my family shall erase your bloodline."
He felt great relief seeing that the Kesselian didn't look worried at all.
To the Honored Chief Evaluator
from The Zornomic Advisory Council
Summarized decision
We have completed thirteen hours of listening to Skywalker's zogat. Not counting the uncertainties inherent in his short-lived race and a perfectly natural amount of spiritual damage he has suffered to this point, the Jedi Skywalker is an exceptionally healthy organic being, insofar as he is selfless to a fault, gentle, understanding, compassionate and pure. His motives are noble, the whole Galaxy will benefit from his plans to recreate the Jedi Order.
The problem is a very old and fairly common one:
An exceptional individual evokes misunderstandings in the basically disfunctional Standard Human society, and in turn, he himself becomes uncertain. You may reassure our clients that the Jedi Skywalker represents no danger whatsoever. We suggest to use the wording: "he will never turn to the dark side", as it seems that this is the reassurance they need the most.
Further legal suggestions are as follows:
The Jedi Skywalker should be given access to his full heritage, including all the holdings of the Sithlord, such as the Twin Towers on Mord and the data bank of the computer housed there, and, of course, the credits held by various banking institutions around the Galaxy.
Furthermore, the Jedi Skywalker shall remain a prisoner of Kirdaal until he himself decides that he has cleared up his uncertainties and divorces himself from the petty worries of others, through a better understanding of the Force.
In addition, an initiative to legalize the status of the existing clones must be our first priority. The Jedi Skywalker has twenty-four cloned Jedi offsprings whose future must be ensured. The Irfogan King has been most helpful in this. We recommend that a fine present of great value should be sent to him, as a humble token of our most Zornomic appreciation.
Last, but not least, the Advisory Council suggest that a subtle search be undertaken for a suitable mate for the Jedi Skywalker. He had two unsuccesful attempts at mating (see footnotes on Organa and Ha Akaria), and he is most unfortunately discouraged."
The Zornomic Advisory Council
Luke opened his eyes cautiously. The world was there for him again. He clearly felt the currents of the Force, the infinite colors of Life. He sighed gratefully, enjoying the moment.
It was a pleasure in itself to investigate the large, alien hall he was in. The floor, the ceiling and the walls were covered with embroidery that appeared almost colorless to his eyes. At the exact center of the ceiling, the tapestry showed a many-stalked Kesselian native, obviously in the act of creating the Universe. For the first time in a long while, a smile appeared on Luke's face.
He felt the silky texture of the embroidery under his feet, noticing that he was barefoot and wore a plain white robe. He had no recollection of the past days, except the terror of the milky, opaque fog which had surrounded him. Examining the alien tapestry with child-like curiosity, he wandered around the hall.
"Skywalker Jedi," a voice sounded behind him. He turned, to see a Zornom, pink, rotund and many-stalked, much like the Creator in the ceiling picture.
"I am the Honored Chief Evaluator. Your tests are completed." The Zornom rolled smoothly towards him on several flexible stalks. "The results are clear. You are to remain a prisoner."
"For how long?"
The Zornom looked at him with all of his eight eyestalks. "Only you can answer this question, Jedi. When the time comes, you will know. In a way, you have been free all along. Was it not your decision to submit to this investigation? Is it not your decision to cooperate still? Couldn't you walk off right now, take your offspring into hiding and never look back? Ah, we know that it is not the New Government holding you here... only your own doubts bind your hands, Skywalker."
"I know I'll never turn to the dark side..."
"Then why don't you walk out? The Zornom knows! You are convinced that such an arrogant gesture would lead you into darkness. Jedi, you have been warned many times about that one fateful step, one step that begins the irreversible journey to evil. Over and over, you still hear those warnings. That's why you can't shrug off the misguided worries of your New Government... You are very, very young, little Human, you still crave the reassurance of your elders. Permissions, travel documents and such...tangible proof of their approval. Believe me, the Jedi never needed any of those." The Zornom rolled closer to Luke, his stalks quivering. "You are the prisoner of your own uncertainty, young mammal. You demand perfection from yourself... a merciless judge you are! You detest your own fears, you've never learned to accept them for what they are. A blessing, helping you to stay untainted. You do not think so? The Kesselian Thirty has no choice but to accept your own judgement. We shall imprison you on Kirdaal."
"This cannot be Kirdaal, I can feel the Force," Luke countered.
"This is Kirdaal, of course, but not the same facility. We have many locations for many purposes. Right now, you are in the Twice Sacred Reception Hall on Kessel. This morning, we will transfer you to Mord."
"Mord!" Luke cried out, bewildered. "How can Kirdaal be on Mord?"
"Kirdaal is where Kirdaal operates," the Zornom wiggled his stalks in a scholarly manner. "If Kirdaal decides to hold you on Mord, then your Kirdaal cell is there. But do not fear the future. The Kesselian Thirty does not make mistakes. What happens will be the best for you. You might not know your own strength... but we do."
The Jedi felt strangely reassured. He realized that the Zornom's mental aura was rich with warmth, understanding and respect towards him. More curious than suspicious, he asked: "What's best for me?"
"Trust us, Jedi Skywalker, let us surprise you. The Zornom are an ancient race, introvert and unpresuming... but as your Corellian kin would say, we have it where it counts. May your load be lighter in the future." The Chief Evaluator withdrew his eyestalks, a gesture clearly indicating that the audience was over. Through a carpeted side door, a silver droid came in, bowing deeply towards the Zornom and again, to Luke.
"Respected Skywalker," the droid said in Standard, with a rather Zornomic accent. "If it so pleases you, you may follow me now to the transport vehicle."
Luke did.
On his way to the port, Han stopped at the portside pharmacy to pick up a dose of immunshots for the children. A familiar smile greeted him behind the counter. It took him a while to remember the man, one of the human doctors on the Medical Frigate. They exchanged a few friendly words while Han waited for the medicine.
Han was about to go when the doctor pulled him aside.
"Solo, you are Corelli, and I am from Garanda, you know, our customs are very similar," he said.
"Yeah, and?"
"You're bonded to Leia Organa, who is the sister of Skywalker, clear and close blood."
This is getting serious, Han thought.
"Now I'm not supposed to tell you anything that's a medical secret," the doctor continued, "and I will not. But... have you heard any gossip about the psych analyst who did a compuscan on your bondbrother?"
"Rumors, rather. That she terminated her assignment because she got the hots for him or something," Solo growled.
The doctor lowered his voice. "I happen to know that she left for her homeworld, Taran Five, on medical leave. I cannot tell you more, but this should be enough for you, Han Solo, as Skywalker's oldest kin."
Han understood. "Khar midor, I thank you. I owe you one."
The doctor bowed slightly. "Khar tedor, may I never need your help."
The pear-shaped Zornomic spacecraft dived through the thick clouds that hid the city. It landed at the huge trading port, an insignificant vehicle among the multiracial freighters. Luke Skywalker disembarked in the company of the silver droid. He wondered how they'd get through the port checkpoints, considering that he was still a potentially dangerous individual under strict observation, but the droid apparently had clearance for him.
The droid was unarmed. Luke could have walked off easily. The Kesselian Thirty must have a great deal of trust in my honor, he thought.
The droid led him to a ground vehicle, and Luke let it drive.
The Twin Towers stood needle-like in the distance, their polished rockmetal did not reflect light at all: parallel minarets of darkness, a symbol of the Emperor's power. Luke began to think that the droid was driving straight towards them.
Ten minutes later, the vehicle stopped right under the twin black needles. Luke stared up at them; they looked incredibly tall this way. Wisps of clouds covered their pointed tops.
The droid got out of the vehicle, walked up to the door, and manipulated the coded entry panel.
"If it pleases you, Respected Master, you may now enter," the droid said. "The door will close behind you. This is now Kirdaal, your prison. I am also instructed to tell you that you are the owner of these towers, by the right of the will of your Father. Everything in there is yours, to do with as you please." A panel opened in the droid's chest, and a data disk slid out of it. "Take this, and use it in the main computer. It will establish your ownership, and the technology of these buildings will then obey your commands. The Kesselian Thirty wishes you a most enlightening time."
Luke passed the door with an amazement that resembled fear. It indeed closed behind him, and in the ensuing silence, he sensed darkness and pain. Was he alone in here? The towers were tainted with darkness. To his Jedi senses, this taint was palpable reality. How much the Zornoms must trust me, Luke thought, to leave me alone with this whispering, seductive temptation. Are they so daring, so reckless, that they'd risk creating another Vader... or do they trust me more than I trust myself? What did they learn about me?
Here was power beyond imagination. Safety, within the walls of this technology, safety within the dark-entwined rockmetal towers. Here was a computer that supposedly had access to every database in the Galaxy. All his. Here was the key to a vast fortune that could buy him entire star systems. Knowledge, power and money, enough to make Anakin fall.
I died twice, Luke thought, drawing his fingertips along the walls as he went. On Bespin, over Endor. Twice I chose death: this will be my third temptation. On Bespin, I was untried, alone. I'd seen Leia captured, felt Han's agony, heard Yoda's doubts, Kenobi's predictions of failure, Vader's gloating. Leia saved me there. Over Endor, I faced their seemingly inevitable death again, and the combined Darkness of the Emperor and my father. And again, my only escape was death. Anakin, long dead, returned to save me. Is this my destiny, to repulse the Darkness by offering my life, and be saved --- or is it that this third time, I must complete my sacrifice?
No. Now, I can't escape the confrontation by dying. I can't leave the children. This time, I must be saved by my need to take care of them... I am neither a son nor a brother now... now, I am the father.
He stopped, relaxing, opening his mind to the future currents of the Force. Faint, trembling flames of a possibility... a new life?
My sons? My... daughter? he asked softly as the uncertain suggestions took shape, and he remembered Lil.
I sired a child in pain and anger, he thought, and the weight of it brought him to his knees.
Around him, the darkness sang.
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