Heat.

Twin Suns.

Desert.

Tatooine!

Movement.

Somersault.

Confidence.

Confusion.

Fighting

Pain.

Death!

LUKE!

"My Lord?"

Vader slowly realised where he was. He was on the bridge of the Executor, one knee resting on the deck where he'd been forced down by the power of the visions that had burned through his mind. He was acutely aware of his prosthetics, as he hadn't been for years, as they were the only parts of his body that were not aching in sympathy with the mental blow. Standing over him was Admiral Piett, one hand twitching slightly as he hesitated whether to dare touch the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"My Lord," Piett repeated, trying to decide how to ask if Vader needed help without insulting him, "are you… do you…"

Vader stood, one gauntlet pressing to the brow of his helmet, and loomed over Piett silently for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. Piett's nervousness increased as Vader remained silent and the Admiral began to wonder if he, and the rest of the bridge crew, were about to be killed to hide the Dark Lord's moment of weakness.

"Thank you for your concern Admiral," Vader rumbled, "you may go about your duties."

"Ye-es My Lord," Piett replied in surprise before hurriedly retreating.

Vader turned back to gaze at the partially completed second Death Star and the greenness of the Forest Moon it and his flagship orbited. Waking visions were rare for any Force sensitive and those of the strength of what had flooded his thoughts were almost unprecedented. Two things only were certain. The first was that the images did not have the feel of something that was yet to happen, the events he'd seen had occurred and could not be changed. The second was that this meant that his son was dead and nothing he did could bring Luke back.

He needed to learn more, to mediate on the images and try to bring them fully into focus rather than being blurred impressions. Vader turned and strode from the bridge, noticing even in his distracted state how Piett glanced up nervously as he passed him. Piett's expression showed his fears and Vader realised suddenly just how appropriate that fear would normally be. Surprise nearly broke his stride as he realised just how strange his immediate reaction had been. As a Sith he should have crushed Piett's throat for his insolence in noticing his collapse, not felt actual gratitude for his subordinate's concern. Something very strange had happened and the sooner he reached his quarters to meditate and restore his mental balance the better.

The hyperbaric chamber often seemed like a prison as its thick walls closed and cut him off from the outside world but today it was more like sanctuary. Vader felt like he had shed a shell that had been growing increasingly tight, relieved at no longer being confined but vulnerable until his new defences hardened. Ignoring the automated systems as they did their tasks he turned his attention inwards, enhancing his short term memory and seeking more insight from the Force.

Meditation had always been difficult for him. For most Jedi it was like gazing into an open fire to see shapes in the flames but for Anakin Skywalker it had been like looking straight at a sun. For Vader it was different, he could see more subtleties now when he meditated but the fact his inner sight was no longer so overwhelmed reminded him of how his connection to the Force had been dimmed, and brought back remembered hate and resentment over his injuries. The irony that he had only gained the level of mastery he'd have required to filter his inner sight when this was no longer so necessary was not lost on Vader.

What also was not lost on him was how much he had loved his son and how much he desired revenge. They had barely met but their matched strength in the Force had let them know each other on a deep instinctive level. A bond had been formed and through that bond the visions had flowed and through that bond he had felt Luke die as powerfully across the light years as he had felt his mother die in his arms. A small voice of caution reminded him though that it had been feeling his mother die and avenging her with the slaughter of the Tuskens that had led him here to Vader's armour. Releasing his rage, however justifiable that rage was, had been one of the first major steps from the man he had been to what he had become.

Vader's meditation broke as he realised what he was thinking, behind his mask his jaw dropped as he noticed that the part of him that was Anakin Skywalker, that he had been trying to purge and suppress for decades, was no longer skulking in the recesses of his mind. For a brief moment Vader had known his son's mind and felt the goodness and compassion resonate with parts of him he had thought lost.

He was not Anakin Skywalker but, somehow, he was not Darth Vader any more either- he was both. Anakin would have tried to control his desire for revenge, even if this control failed as with the Tuskens, rather than being filled with a grim determination. Darth Vader would have denied his grief and the love he'd felt for Luke and justified revenge through supposedly wounded pride rather than admit his true feelings.

For the first time in decades he felt whole, no longer split between a public persona and his inner self. Between the hard invulnerable shell of Darth Vader and the wounded soft flesh of the man within. Even as a Jedi he had felt a separation between the image of calm detachment he was meant to project and how much he cared about those around them, be they people, animals, or even droids. This separation had only worsened with his acceptance of the Sith ways and the strain had begun to tell as the years passed. Dormant feelings had made themselves known, like gases released from a long stagnant pond, as Luke had disturbed Vader's delicate balance and they rose.

Vader clamped down on his mental shielding. It was probably too late and had probably been far too late even when he was still kneeling in shock on the Executor's bridge, but until he knew what he had become he did not want his master, the Emperor, to learn of the change in him. The priority, for now, was to learn more of the circumstances of Luke's death. Vader was sure that his son had been on Tatooine and that the only thing that could have taken him there was concern for the smuggler in the same way as that concern had drawn him to Cloud City.

That meant that disgusting corpulent slug Jabba had probably been involved since he had been given possession of the smuggler. Vader nodded to himself as this suspicion was confirmed as he recovered more of the images and recognised Jabba's sail barge. That did not answer the most important question though and seeking the answer Vader tried to concentrate on the parts of the vision coloured by surprise and confusion. If he could see those in more detail then he might discover just how such an unworthy opponent, so pitiful a foe, had defeated Luke.

'Yes,' Vader thought, as more came into focus, 'Luke was over the Sarlacc pit, the signal was given, and suddenly his new lightsaber was arcing towards him and Luke had turned and was somersaulting over the guards to meet it.'

Pride at his son's grace and at his accomplishment in constructing a new lightsaber disrupted the vision for a moment, but then Vader felt his son's shock as the lightsaber changed direction. Another Force grip, weaker but more skilled, slipped between Luke's and his weapon and took hold. Luke tried to regain his grip but the other Force user deflected his attempts, parrying them aside or making the lightsaber slip through Luke's mental fingers as if it had been oiled. Timing had been crucial, Luke would only have had a moment to catch his lightsaber before the guards turned. Now he only had that same moment to glance across to follow the lightsaber's path before he had to attack the guards bare handed and hope to catch them off balance.

Vader felt fresh pride in Luke, even an experienced Jedi of the Old Order might have wasted more time in shock rather than adapting so quickly to the situation, but this pride was buried under his other feelings. Where Luke had felt puzzlement at why his Force grip had slipped and surprise at what he saw Vader felt a rage like he had not felt since Mustafar when he'd thought Padmé had betrayed him. Luke had not understood why or how that black haired woman had diverted his weapon but Vader knew both. Despite the dye disguising her naturally red hair he recognised Mara Jade, the Emperor's Hand, and he knew she would not have acted other than on orders from her master. Without Jade's actions, Vader could feel intuitively, Jabba could not have succeeded so the blame was clear.

The Emperor had killed his son and now the Emperor must pay. It would be wise to take a cautious approach, to explore the changes Luke's death had wrought in him, to build his strength and prepare himself. Charging headlong into a confrontation with his former master would have little chance of success…

'Kriff,' Vader thought as he surrendered to the inevitable and opened an audio channel to the bridge to order Piett to prepare a shuttle.

=x=x=

Yoda opened his eyes and looked around what had been his home for more than twenty years. Something strange had happened, Luke was dead but somehow the Force was telling Yoda that Luke had fulfilled the role it had written for him. Something had happened, something that meant he did not need to stave off death for a few extra months, maybe a year, in the hope that the other twin could be drawn to him for training. His task was complete.

He could rest, forever sleep, allow himself to become one with the Force and its mysteries. Yoda could feel that transcending the crude matter of his existence was the right thing to do as well as being what he had wanted for many years. Calmly Yoda shuffled across towards his bed, to settle down and wait for the death he had not feared on a personal level for decades. To finally join the other Jedi and feel their presence, and to apologise for how his decisions had led to their deaths.

=x=x=

The doors slid open and Vader stepped into the throne room on the second Death Star, struck afresh by how this resembled the General's Quarters in which Palpatine had supposedly been held hostage on the Invisible Hand. Like then Palpatine was alone and unguarded, unlike then Vader knew that did not make him vulnerable as he knew Palpatine for the Sith Master he was.

"I have been expecting you," Palpatine sneered from the shadows of his hood, adding when he felt Vader's slight surprise, "you did not truly think you could succeed in hiding your intentions from me?"

"You know why I am here," Vader stated.

"Of course," Palpatine said with a sniff of contempt, "though you have no chance of success. A slave you were born, and a slave you will remain or you will die."

Vader declined a verbal response, instead simply snatching his lightsaber from his belt and throwing it backwards. The blade snapped into existence as it flew and Vader guided it with the Force in a tight arc across the join of the doors, melting and welding them together. As the lightsaber returned though it stopped, it didn't divert and wasn't deflected, it just stopped. One pale withered hand had risen from the arm of the chair and the Emperor had seized it in a Force grip that was as strong as it was lacking in subtlety.

"That," Palpatine chided, "my once apprentice, is the weapon of a Sith. Something you are no longer worthy of."

The grip tightened, metal designed to resist the worst Vader's bionic grip could inflict crumpled like flimsiplast, and with a flash of discharge the power cell ruptured and the lightsaber exploded. Small components and the focussing crystal sprayed from either end of the grip and the Emperor dropped the mangled remains. Vader had not paused to watch this but instead had started forward towards the still seated figure of his enemy.

Almost casually the Emperor made another gesture and Force Lightning crackled across the gap still separating them and into the advancing Vader. Pain ripped through the former Sith as he tried to deflect and absorb the attack as he had the smuggler's blaster bolts on Bespin. Energy crackled across the surface of his skin and his armour and through Vader's prosthetics.

But the critical words were surface and through. Vader had long anticipated this confrontation and had carefully crafted his armour and artificial legs to provide easy paths for energy to follow. It was not as effective as he had hoped but enough of the Emperor's attack flowed harmlessly down into the deckplates for Vader to only be staggered rather than instantly incapacitated.

Vader could feel the pressure building inside him as the energy he was absorbing from the Emperor's attack built up, so he released that into a telekinetic counterattack. Almost any other opponent would have been smashed back and through the window into space but the Emperor had enough power to counter those thrusts and still redouble the intensity of his Force Lightning. There was a muted clanging like metal on metal as air was compressed between Vader's thrusts and the Emperor's shield.

The pain was immense and part of Vader simply wanted to give up, to curl up on the deck and die, but pain was something he lived with every day. It was no stranger and nothing to be feared. He let his pain fuel his rage, if he was to die here then it mattered little if the glimmer of light he had discovered within himself was extinguished again. More lightning flowed into him and Vader launched more and more telekinetic attacks, his preference was a direct attack but now he switched tactics.

Each thrust now came in from a different angle, with a different power, and in different combinations of attack like the darting arms of a demon squid. The Emperor disdained subtlety and simply created a wide shield rather than trying to parry individual thrusts, but however sufficient his power he grew weary of this conflict. If Vader wished to absorb his Force Lightning and throw it back at him then the Emperor saw no need to help him in this.

A tingle of warning gave Vader just enough time to gather his own defences before a massive telekinetic attack slammed into them. As with his defence the Emperor saw no need to be elegant, his attack was a simple direct one but incredibly powerful in its simplicity. Vader barely managed to deflect the incredibly powerful attack, he knew he had little chance of doing more than turning the thrust aside, and deckplates crumpled as they took the diverted impact. The Emperor thrust again and again Vader managed to send this aside to spend itself on the material of the Throne Room. Another attack and yet more metal tore with a screech.

Within the shadows of his hood yellow teeth gleamed as the Emperor smiled in satisfaction and gave a low cackle of glee at finally having a chance to face a personal challenge again. Dominating the Galaxy with your armed forces and political machinations was all very well, but he'd been anticipating this fight for decades. Palpatine smiled again as he sensed how hard pressed Vader was, deflecting his attacks was taking all his former apprentice's power and concentration.

Suddenly Vader took a step forward, the sort of lurching stride he'd not taken since the days following his installation in the suit. Puzzlement creased the Emperor's already deeply wrinkled brow as he tried to sense how this was possible, but then realisation dawned. Vader had programmed his bionics to carry him forward and into striking range. The Emperor felt no desire to see what else Vader had programmed his limbs to do, it was time to end this farce and show Vader how little chance he had truly had.

The attacks ceased and Vader felt a moment of hope that the Emperor was tiring before he felt the shift of focus to behind him. With casual ease the doors he had welded shit ripped free of each other and their frame and thudded to the deck. Almost before the way was clear two Royal Guardsmen, the same two that would have normally been in the throne room, rushed through the doorway and at Vader. For all their speed and training though they were only human, by the time they reached Vader he had turned with surprising agility and was ready for their attack.

One Guardsman swung his bladestaff low at Vader's legs while the other leapt into the air to swing down at Vader's neck and head. His battle with the Emperor had only been brief but it had been very intense and Vader found it hard to gather enough concentration and enough of the Force to do more than anticipate the Guardsmen's attacks and enhance his own speed and strength slightly.

One black gauntlet stabbed upwards and with his Force-enhanced reflexes Vader caught the shaft of the second guards bladestaff before the blade could descend. Simultaneously he stepped forward into the other attack so that impact also came from the shaft rather than the blade of the weapon. As a tactic both would have been unwise for most people as even a Wookie or a Trandoshan would have suffered a broken leg and a shattered hand. Vader's prosthetics were more durable though and there was a muted clang as metal struck the metal within the leather. Even so the power of the blow to his leg was, if nothing else, enough to sweep Vader's feet out from under him.

Vader had anticipated this though and used the extra impetus the blow and his fall gave him to help throw himself to the left. He whipped the bladestaff in his right hand and the Guardsman holding the other end of it around, adding extra power to the momentum of that Guardsman's attack. The Guardsman lost his grip, thudding to the deck and tumbling in a swirl of red robes. Even as his comrade fell however the first Guardsman had continued the motion of his own bladestaff and stabbed the other end down towards Vader's back, which he had exposed in twisting his body.

The bladestaff made contact, but so did the one in Vader's hand and with more effect. Stabbing back past his own body Vader had driven the bladestaff he held into the Guardsman, robbing the Guardsman's attack of power and precision. With a savage motion Vader tore the blade free and the Guardsman collapsed with a hole torn through his armour and abdomen.

As Vader stood so did the second Guardsman, for a moment they faced each other until the Guardsman dove to the attack again. Vader disdained to use the bloodied bladestaff, instead with the speed and precision only the Force could provide he twisted away from the Guards attack and smashed his left gauntlet into his opponent's faceplate. There was a crack as the faceplate, and the Guards neck, broke under the impact. Vader whirled and threw the bladestaff with all his strength and as much of a telekinetic boost as he could manage straight at the Emperor. The blur streaked across the throne room as if the bladestaff had been fired from some cannon.

Suddenly there was no blur, no bladestaff, instead there was a cloud of tiny metal fragments hanging in mid-air. The Emperor took a moment to savour the situation and smile complacently at Vader before the fragments reversed course. Vader felt like he had been caught in a Tatooine sandstorm as the fingernail sized chunks of razor sharp metal pelted against him, scratching his helmet lenses and biting into the padded outer fabric of his armour. He fought the disorientating effect of this barrage, but too late as the control panel on his sternum flattened under an impact powerful enough to break some of his real ribs and bend the metal of his artificial and sparks erupted from his chestplate. Vader flew backwards onto the floor, he coughed and could taste blood in his mask as the backup systems of his respirator tried to compensate and help him breathe again.

"You pathetic fool," the Emperor sneered down at Vader, casually reaching out with the Force to crush the spines of the Guardsmen and kill them for their failure. "You have always been weak, but I am glad that you have weakened enough to care for others. This gives me another way to inflict pain on you for your treachery."

Vader tried to speak, to rage at the Emperor over who had been treacherous to who, to ask what the Emperor expected when he had killed his son, but all he could do was wheeze impotently. Palpatine smiled again, relishing this helplessness before he pressed a button on the arm of his throne.

"Open a channel to the fleet, save for the Executor, Moff Jerjerrod," the Emperor commanded.

"Ah, yes my lord," Jerjerrod replied, "channel open."

"Treason has infested even the highest reaches of the Empire," Palpatine began, enjoying the chance to make a speech and watch his captive audience react. "Those who we could consider the most loyal have sought only their own desires, have betrayed the Empire for nothing better than personal motives rather than any greater ideal. This will not be tolerated, all traitors shall be burned out like the disease they are…"

Vader realised what the Emperor intended, how he was going to punish the supposed treachery, and lost a moment in shock and then a moment more in surprise both at his own feelings and surprise that anything the Emperor did could actually still shock him. Vader focussed through the pain and lack of oxygen reaching his ruined lungs through his damaged respirator and cast his mind outwards.

=x=x=

The bridge of the Executor was quiet, Imperial discipline keeping and discussion of Lord Vader's strange behaviour until after the end of the shift. Admiral Piett was dealing with some of the thousand and one routine matters a ship the side of his threw up each day when in mid sentence he faltered. A strange distracted expression came onto his face as he straightened away from the console he'd been leaning down towards.

"Sir?" said the puzzled Lieutenant that Piett had been talking too as Piett's expression changed to one of horror.

"Helmsman, maximum rate yaw to port, clockwise roll, full reverse," Piett shouted, emotion tingeing his voice rather than professional calm.

"Sir?" replied the helmsman, echoing the Lieutenant.

"Now!" Piett snapped.

"Aye sir"

"Engineer, concentrate maximum shields starboard dorsal."

"Aye sir, maximum shields starboard dorsal," confirmed the bridge engineering officer, thankful that the Admiral had given the helm order first so the next set of orders wasn't such a surprise.

The bridge crew had just long enough to wonder what was going on, to wonder if Admiral Piett had cracked, when a brilliant green beam the width of a small starship lit the bridge with its sidescatter. The more alert of the bridge crew realised the Death Star had fired on them, the less alert wondered what was going on as the ship bucked and those not seated and strapped in acquainted themselves with the deck.

The yaw to port had swung the Executor away from the beam, the clockwise roll had reduced their target profile by making them more edge on, and the full reverse had slowed them so the strike was further forward where the ship was narrower. What could have been a direct hit was converted to "only" a graze but to the power of a Death Star the shields Piett had ordered concentrated were as insubstantial as mist. Effortlessly the superlaser beam pierced them and sliced deep into the SSDs hull. A great mile long flaming wound was ripped from the Executor's flank, pushing the whole mighty ship sideways in reaction to the expanding cloud of rapidly condensing vapour that had been solid armour and spaceframe only a fraction of a second before.

All around that wound secondary explosions rippled across the Executor as the tiny fraction of that superheated cloud that had forced its way back into the ship rushed through corridors and passageways. Even as it cooled and the metal vapour re-solidified it was still hotter than a furnace. Doors warped and gave way, decompressing yet more of the ship and letting the fury of the explosion devour yet more of the crew. Walls melted, exposing power conduits that fused and exploded. Turbolaser capacitors and missile magazines over heated and added their destructive force to the devastation.

Piett picked himself up off the deck and looked around the bridge, pleased to see his people already resuming their stations.

"Helm, engineering, prepare for emergency hyperspace," Piett ordered.

The engineer half turned as if to protest, but seeing the look on Piett's face thought better of this and turned back to his console. Damage control reports began to come in, the Executor's crew reacting with impressive speed to the almost totally unexpected attack. Piett felt a moment of pride in his crew, followed by sadness at how many of them must have just died. They had not been on alert so the blast doors, which would have helped contain and minimise the secondary damage, had been open and none of the emergency teams had been prepared.

A Lieutenant, the one Piett had been talking too before all this, offered him a datapad. Piett accepted it and looking at the initial estimate of the damage had to control a wince at how much had been caused by such a glancing blow. They couldn't take another hit like that, and it was unlikely that a second attack could be as nearly evaded. More likely it would be a direct hit and that would be the end of the Executor.

=x=x=

The Emperor stared out with hatred at where there was still a Super Star Destroyer where there should be nothing but debris. He had decreed that ship should die so why it hadn't was a mystery until he heard Jerjerrod's justifiably nervous voice stammering an explanation.

"My, my lord," Jerjerrod was saying, "the Executor carried out last moment evasive manoeuvres. We are recharging for a second shot."

The Emperor leaned down towards the audio pickup, an even sourer expression than usual on his ravaged face. "It had better be more on target," he almost snarled.

"Yes, yes my Lord," Jerjerrod replied, his fear of the Emperor waxing higher than ever.

The Emperor though for a moment and then realised that Piett could not have anticipated the attack. He must have been warned and there was only one possibility for who warned him. Not only had his apprentice sought to kill him, and not even for reasons worthy of a Sith, but now he had further defied the desires of his master. This insolence would be intolerable were it not for the fact that he planned to kill Vader slowly anyway. Suddenly the Executor leapt away into hyperspace and the Emperor's rage reached a peak.

"You did this!" the Emperor said accusingly, turning his throne to face back into the room again. Vader declined to reply as having regained some control of his breathing he was too busy crawling away.

The sight of Vader on his hands and knees was sweet to the Emperor and he enjoyed it for a long moment before standing from his throne and bringing his hands up. His fingers curved into claws and Force Lightning again joined them, but this time the Emperor could sense it hurting Vader more. With his injuries and fatigue Vader's ability to absorb or channel the energy of the attack was low and one leg began to spasm as the control circuits failed under the barrage.

"You pitiful wreck," the Emperor sneered, stepping forward to get a better view. "You proved your weakness by wasting your time and energy warning Piett. Crawling is a very appropriate thing for you to be doing, slave."

Vader suddenly dropped from his hands and knees and rolled sideways. Force Lightning crackled harmlessly into the deckplates. The Emperor shifted his aim but before he could resume the assault he saw Vader vanish over the edge of the reactor shaft and plummet out of view. That did not seem survivable but as the Emperor moved cautiously forward, wary of a trap, although he could no longer sense Vader's Force presence neither had he sensed his death. Whether Vader was concealing himself, despite his injuries, or had managed to die quietly the Emperor was not sure but he was not going to assume Vader was dead until they'd found, forensically tested, and then dismembered the body.