More WIPS, all Star Wars

[valarltd]

AU, gender-swap

The sandy haired man glared up at his Captor. "Darth Vader. I should have known.
Only you could be so bold. The Imperial senate will not sit still for this.
When they hear you've attacked a councellor's ship on a diplomatic mission--"

The black-armored giant cut him off. "You weren't on any mercy mission this
time, your highness. Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by rebel
spies. I want to know what happened to the data they sent you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He drew back, affronted.
"I am a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to--"

"You are a member of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor. Take him away."

The young man was marched out. A slim Imperial officer caught up with the Sith Lord. "Holding him is dangerous. Word of this could give his father an opportunity to stir up the Senate and generate sympathy for the rebellion."

"I will have the location of the base. I will use him up if I have to, but I will learn the location."

"He'll die before he tells you anything."

"Leave that to me. Send out a distress beacon. Inform his father and the senate that all aboard were killed."


It all started, Leia reflected later, with the droids her uncle bought. Aunt Beru had wanted a protoccol to help out, and another astromech was needed because the Tatooine desert ate them like candy. Her skyhopper was down with sand-fatigue, her Academy application was permanently stalled, and the Tuskens were bad that season.

She sometimes wondered about heading straight to Mos Eisley, charming the first pilot she came to and getting off this rock. But the galaxy was a big place, and
not always kind to young human females. Especially attractive ones.

She'd fought the Anchorhead boys to a standstill about the time she'd started sprouting curves. They knew better than to touch her. She might come no higher than their shoulders, but she was an agile rough-and-tumble fighter. Groping with grimy mechanics might be Cammie's taste, but she wanted better.

And there was always the threat of Biggs. The oldest Darklighter boy had adopted her when they were six. He treated her like another of his little sisters. He had
taught her to fly a skyhopper, when all her uncle wanted her to learn was a speeder. Because of Biggs, she could hold her own in hand-to-hand, with a hand blaster or rifle, and knew a bigger galaxy was out there waiting for her.

She had triggered a message of a serene looking young man while cleaning the new R2. Just a fragment, asking for the assistance of Obi-wan Kenobi. Leia wondered if he meant Ben Kenobi, the old hermit out near the Dune Sea. She kept her mouth shut at dinner. Her aunt and uncle were talking about about the coming harvest, and didn't notice her thoughtful silence.

"Leia, honey, clear up. I need to talk to your uncle."

"Yes, Aunt Beru." She gathered the dishes and ran them through the sonic recycler. The voices from the other room were low, but she knew just where to
stand to hear things she wasn't meant to.

"Owen, we can't keep her here. Not any longer. Her mother wanted--"

"I know what her mother wanted for her. But what's waiting for her out there is even worse. I should never have listened to my brother."

"She'd be dead if we hadn't. We have to send her away, Owen, for all our sakes. I'll approach him if you want."

*Now how did I know they were talking about Old Ben?*

"The dishes are cleared, Aunt Beru. I'm going to work some more on the droids, and then go to bed."

"She's not meant for this kind of work, Owen. And you know it as well as I do," Beru said as the door cycled closed.

The old man looked beaten. "I know, missus. I'll call tonight. We'll tell her everything tomorrow."

In the garage, Threepio explained that the Artoo unit had run off. It was too late to track him, so Leia promised the droid she'd get up early and they would find him.

His Serene Highness, Lucian Organa of Alderaan, sat quietly on the sleeping shelf of his cell. His whole being was centered and his mind was passive, receptive. He breathed slowly, as his tutor had taught him. Slowly, he felt peace begin to banish the fear he had felt since being brought aboard the battle station.

The detention cell door slid open, and his captor entered, followed by a major and
a floating ball. The prince had heard rumors of such devices, but hadn't expected to ever see one. The syringe arm lowered as the droid floated over to him. A carefully calibrated dose of TellAll was stabbed unceremoniously into his arm.

Lord Vader waited as the drug began its work. "Now, Your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden Rebel Base."

The screams were well muffled by the heavy door, but even so, the troopers on duty outside found it expedient to be elsewhere.

The speeder skimmed the shimmering desert. Even this early the twin suns were hot, and glinted off the metallic sun-cloak of the small human and the bright plating of the droid companion.

Leia stopped to scan the horizon with her binocs. "There's something. It could be our little wanderer."

They sped into the canyon, and overtook the astromech. Leia gave only half an ear to Threepio's scolding as they loaded up the R2 unit. She caught the smell of
something on the wind and turned in time to take a gaffi stick to the temple. It had been meant to decapitate.

The Tuskens ignored the small woman as they looted her speeder, only to startle at the sound of a low, moaning wail. The eerie sound was repeated again, and they fled.

The figure that appeared was hardly monsterous. The elderly human was no threat to the droids, but gave the horrible cry once again.

"That should keep them running," he commented, well satisfied. He checked Leia's pulse to the frantic beeps of the small droid. "Oh, she's all right, little friend." He rubbed her wrists and cheeks. "Easy, sweet. You've had quite a morning. Can you stand?"

"I think so." Leia took a good look at her rescuer. "Ben Kenobi?"

The old man smiled fondly at her. "Indeed. And on my way to see your uncle, no less. You can get me there quicker."

"Uncle Owen always runs you off." Leia gained her feet, leaning heavily on him. She checked to make sure the droids were secure and climbed into the speeder. "You can drive this, can't you? I'm still dizzy."

"I shouldn't wonder. It's a miracle your head is attached to the rest of you. I was piloting speeders before your mother was born." He took the controls and explained that Owen and Beru had contacted him on an urgent matter.

A plume of smoke showed on the horizon, slightly west of the homestead. "We'd better have a look at that," Kenobi insisted.

The Sandcrawler was still afire, and the jawas lay scattered about it. Leia climbed out of the speeder, and looked. "Sand people. See, bantha tracks, and here," she held up some metal, "part of a gaffi stick."

"Not quite," responded Kenobi. "These tracks are side-by-side. Sand people ride single file to hide their numbers. And the blast points are too precise. Only Imperial stormtroopers are this accurate."

"These are the jawas that sold us Artoo and Threepio. If the Imperials traced them here, they may have learned who bought them. That would lead them...home."

Kenobi watched as the young woman sprinted for her speeder, pale from her concussion, and worried. He knew what she would find waiting for her. The Force had shown him. The troopers would likely be looking for him as well if they had traced his brother's last com call. He beckoned the droids to help him, and began the final disposal of the small corpses.

Governor Tarkin was not pleased. Death often followed in the wake of his displeasure. He stood watching the small blue and white swirled marble of Alderaan rotate. The large southern continent was in his line of sight, and he remembered visiting many years before when the game preserve was thinning the herds. His thin face held the look of a man well-satisfied with his position.

"Govenor Tarkin. I should have expected to find you holding Vader's leash. I recognized your handiwork when I was brought aboard."

"Ever perceptive. Even to the last. I took great pleasure in signing your termination order personally."

The prince's chin lifted just a little more. There was no fear, only peace.

"You have proven a most recalcitrant subject, your highness. We didn't know anyone could resist the drugs. I have decided that a demonstration of this station's power might prove more convincing. And you have provided us with the choice of targets."

His attention drawn to the viewscreen, Lucian stared in horror. "Alderaan is peaceful. We have no armies, no weapons!"

"Name a military target. Tell me the system of your base."

Principle and filial duty warred across the young prince's face. Finally broken he said "Dantooine. They're on Dantooine."

"You see, Lord Vader. He can be reasonable after all. Proceed with the demonstration."

"What?"

"You're too trusting. Dantooine is far too remote for such a demonstration
to be effective."


*****


Han/Luke, Vader/Luke mental

Thrusting into the warm, receptive mouth, both hands buried in the shaggy hair.
A tongue, wet, sliding over all the most intimate spots of his body. Big hands pulling him close, spreading his cheeks, sliding one questing finger inside him. Luke reveled under his lover's touch, arching into silent orgasm.

The dream slid away, drifting on the dark velvet voice that filled his head. *Yours if you want him, my son. Come to me.*

"Never. Father, get out of my dreams!" Luke tossed aside the light sheet, and rose from the bed. He stepped into the sonic shower, feeling defiled and invaded.

The chrono said it was still the middle of the night. He stripped the sheets and ran them though the cleaner before putting them back on the bed and lying down.

As Yoda had taught him, he opened himself to the Force, and concentrated. Distantly, he could sense the ancient Jedi master, awake. He threaded his way through all the life-energies he recognized: Leia, a bright white star as she slept; Chewie, warm and green like his homeworld; Lando, the cool redness of spice, and Wedge, dim and coppery, half-waking, both with the quietude of nonsensitives.
The acrid tingle of carbonated metal assailed him. Vader was too close for comfort and still reaching out to him. Carefully, he reached for one he had not yet been able to sense. Bright white cold bit at him, and buried within it, the sensation of screaming nothingness.

"Han," he said softly, coming back to himself, shaken. He rose unsteadily from the narrow bunk and got a glass of water from the house recycler. Ben Kenobi's house had all the amenities, and he found the Force more accessible here.

He couldn't sleep. Vader had robbed him of that for the night. He pulled out the meditation mat, and knelt to clear his head. The Force enveloped him and he rested in the peace of it.

Slowly, he came out of the meditation, each part of him awakening. All except one. Like this, still half-between planes of reality, he felt truncated. His awareness of his right side ended at the wrist. In full waking, he experienced his body as a whole, the sensations in the prosthetic as real as they had been in his own. In the Force, he was bodiless. But, in between, the awareness of the non-living nature of his hand ached like a physical pain.

Fully awakened, Luke went to the workbench. A half-constructed lightsaber lay there. Buried deep, in a false-bottomed chest, he'd found schematics and a cache of the Force focusing crystals. Marginal notes in Ben's elegant handwriting read, "Each saber responds best to its maker. The Force leads the maker to the
proper crystals and guides the construction."

The false compartment held a treasure trove of unidentifiable artifacts. A long, slim braid of hair a few shades lighter than Luke's own. A second braid, redder and longer, both with beads and bands at the end. A small mollusk shell bound in gold with a wire hinge and clasp yielded a slightly thicker braid, of grey and brown, plaited in a six-strand weave and a pinch of ash. Three holocubes. A small
blue blanket, as if for an infant, bearing what looked like a family crest of
some sort.

He had played the holocubes the day he found them. The first showed a competition
of some sort, with low-powered lightsabers. The date given had no meaning, since galactic standard years were measured from the beginning of Palpatine's reign. He knew he was looking at a holo from the Old Republic. All the participants wore the same sort of cream-colored clothing he remembered Ben wearing, and all had slim braids trailing from behind their right ears. One very handsome young man won the trophy and waved it aloft, only to be embraced by a very tall older man with long greying hair as the announcer congratulated a "Padawan Kenobi, sixth year running champion of the saber tournament."

The second was also a lightsaber tournament, dated later, only the winner was a very tall young man who fought as if possessed. Padawan Skywalker was awarded the trophy for the seventh year. The last had no date, and only showed the same tall man, only a little older, surely younger than Luke's 23 years, and a heavily painted young woman exchanging formal promises in front of a waterfall.

The images of the past had tantalized him, but he had work to do. He'd assembled the housing and circuitry, using the delicate tools. Now he lingered in front of the crystals, unsure which to use.

"The Force leads the maker to the proper crystals," he repeated under his breath and stretched out with his feelings toward the stones on the workbench.

As it had happend the last few times, he was drawn to the green. More correctly,
drawn into the green. Looking into its depths, he could see the huge waterfall. The roar of the water pounded in his ears.

He stood on the greensward, tasting the clean damp on his lips, feeling it on his
skin. Big hands moved over his bare chest, and warm breath drove the moisture from
the back of his neck. A warm body pressed against his back.

Even as his lover pulled him down to the cool, soft grass, he could taste the falseness of the scene. The aftertaste of darkness tinged the bright day.

*Father!*

*Yes, son?* The tenor of the Dark Lord's thoughts was that of a man lowering his newspad to answer a child's question.

*Get out of my thoughts, and out of my love-life!*

Laughter, bitter and hollow, sounded in his head. *What an interesting term for a loose collection of fantasies about someone who may or may not reciprocate. Shall I show you his last moments?*

The steam and heat of the carbon freezing chamber surrounded him. Luke watched helplessly from the top of the steps, through Vader's eyes, as his friends were marched in under guard.

Threepio complained and remonstrated with Chewie. The nervous bravado of Han, the
cold distance from Lando. Chewbacca losing his temper, and Han calming him, and transferring responsibility for Leia. Then a kiss, ended by stormtroopers pulling him away. A last half-quirked smile before oblivion and Leia burying herself in
Chewbacca's fur.

Luke had not seen his friend in carbon-freeze, and when the metal casing clanged
on the floor, it felt like it had landed in the pit of his stomach. He had never seen Leia that close to tears.


*****


A Funny thing happened on the way to Coruscant

"I'm vicious.
All I am is vicious
Vicious is the one thing I can do."


"My aide,
my aide
Bring to me my aide
My work for her no longer can be delayed."


"And how would the last of the Jedi take it if he knew his
trusted servant, the pillar of virtue, his translator droid had
in his memory banks the galaxy's largest collection
of Imperial comm codes. Where did you get the one
linking to Admiral Sdanza? He's so top secret
the Emperor denies he exists."



"You own what? Nine credits, a seashell collection and my work-pledge.
Keep the credits and the shells, but give me my freedom."

"People do not go around returning gambling debt payments! Besides, it's only for six months."

"Be the first! Start a fashion!"



"Did I not see a head of red hair go
wafting along that balcony?"

"Oh, her. She just arrived from Crete. A virgin."

"Is that good?"

"Is that good he says."

"She was sold just yesterday."

"Sold!