[FIC] The Protege' 4/? (Vader, ensemble, PG-13)
Title : The Protege'
Author : jedinemo
Rating and disclaimer : Rated PG-13. The Star Wars Universe belongs to George Lucas and Lucasfilm Ltd, and I have gained nothing but satisfaction from this fanfic.
Summary : Darth Vader has an unsettling encounter within the Imperial Palace that changes the course of Galactic history.
Timeline : A few years before the events of ANH.
Chapter Four
Nodding thanks to the moisture farmers who had graciously allowed him a ride, Obi-Wan slid out of the back of their worn speeder and onto the Mos Eisley side street. When he first arrived on Tatooine, Obi-Wan dared not show his face in the space port for fear of attracting those who wished to collect the Imperial bounty on Jedi. Over the years, though, his fear of discovery had faded, and now he simply disliked coming here. Too crowded, too dirty, too full of pathetic lifeforms. But after questioning Luke's friends in Anchorhead, he realized he had no choice.
His hood shielding him from the intense sunslight, Obi-Wan made his way to a storefront he'd previously always avoided, and paused outside its door. If this was truly the decision Luke had made, then his failure was indeed complete. The first thing he felt as he stepped off the sand-banked street and into the small office was the fifteen degree drop in the temperature. Few on Tatooine could afford cooling systems, and this total escape from the searing heat must have impressed more than a few young men with the power and the resources of the Empire. The second thing Obi-Wan felt was the flash of amusement coming from the Imperial recruiter seated behind the desk at the rear of the office. With a flawlessly creased uniform accenting his muscular build, the recruiter's square jawed face completed his poster perfect appearance.
"It's too late for you to be a hero, old timer," the recruiter said with a laugh. "You're a little over the age limit."
Obi-Wan held the man's gaze and flipped down his hood. The soldier before him couldn't be more than thirty standard years, his military experience most certainly limited to serving in Palpatine's New Order. He was sure the man had never known real war, or what it was like to be prepared to fight to the death for something he believed in. "I need to know if my...nephew...enlisted in the service."
The recruiter smiled pleasantly. "I'm afraid I can't tell you. That sort of information is confidential."
"Oh, but you can," Obi-Wan said in a honeyed voice, gliding closer to the desk. The man had no idea how small an obstacle he presented. From within the bell of Obi-Wan's sleeve, two fingers swept an arc. "You can tell me about Luke Skywalker."
The recruiter looked thoughtful for a moment, then accessed his computer. "However, I can tell you about Luke Skywalker."
------
"I thought you said these reports had to stay between us," Anakin said.
Darth Vader glanced up from his computer and across the oval conference table that dominated what used to be Palpatine's anteroom. He'd only allowed the boy to work in here on the condition that he remained quiet. "Yes," he said, and returned his attention to the report from the governor of the Harron Sector.
"But these test results are coming in straight from the Imperial Services," Anakin said, his eyes fixed on the screen of his own computer. "Lots of people could have seen them before they get to me."
He leaned back in his chair and considered his clone. The boy was nothing if not observant. However much Anakin might have complained about this assignment, his analytical ability was first rate. "True, but they have no meaning to anyone else."
Anakin looked puzzled. "No one else knows what a midi-chlorian is?"
"No one else cares," he said.
Anakin was silent for a moment. "So did you start the testing?"
"No. Palpatine did," he said, wondering why the boy was concerned. "I only intercepted the task after I realized what he was doing."
"Which was?"
"Looking for more Force sensitives to add to his stable," he said. He gestured in the air to amplify. "All those Emperor's Hands he liked to keep around."
The boy's crestfallen expression matched the ripple of emotion that emanated from him.
"Surely you knew that," he said, although he remembered how disheartened he'd felt when he'd discovered his status with Palpatine was not unique. "You must have seen the collection of seconds he kept hidden from each other."
"Like he did with you and me," Anakin said, nodding slowly. "But you're not like that, are you?"
He saw a glimpse of what was bothering the boy. "Hardly. I value loyalty far more than he ever did."
"Well, then I don't need to look through these anymore," Anakin said. "Because you have me, right?"
His answer caught in his throat. While he had wanted a different future for the boy than what Palpatine offered, he hadn't realized until now that Anakin had his own expectations of the future. And that included expections the boy had for him. He couldn't tell Anakin that he searched simply because the Force instructed him to, because he could feel that there was something, someone, he was supposed to find. No, that wouldn't do at all after their last exchange on the nature of the Force. He reached for a reply that would be truthful. "Don't worry. I'm not looking for another apprentice."
------
Luke rolled his shoulders against the confines of his gray uniform, unaccustomed to the stiffness of the fabric after years spent in loose desert garb. The din of voices surrounding him in the concourse of the Raithal processing center was almost overwhelming, as was the sheer numbers of recruits, who turned the concourse into a sea of gray and black. He would have never guessed that he could feel lonely while in the midst of so many people. Of course, the call home he'd just finished didn't help, either.
He looked up at the wall chrono. If he didn't find Biggs soon, he'd have to board the shuttle to basic training without saying goodbye. He jostled his way through the crowd, trying to catch sight of his friend, but Biggs' height was no longer distinguishing as it had been on Tatooine.
"Luke!" he heard to his left, and he turned to see the one familar face in the whole processing center. Smiling, he made his way over to Biggs, and they carved a spot for themselves against the wall of the concourse. "Hey, I guess this is it," Luke said. "From here on out I call you sir."
Biggs grinned back, but lowered his eyes. "You should be in my class. You wouldn't believe some of the idiots who are signed up with me."
"It's okay," Luke said. Despite their friendship, he was always aware that Biggs came from money and he didn't. "I'll bet I have more fun than you do."
"Maybe. But I'll get all the perks," Biggs replied.
"I don't know about that," Luke said. "Doesn't look like your barber was any better than ours."
Biggs ruffled his hand through his newly shortened hair. "Yeah, I bet they wouldn't even recognize us back home."
Luke touched the back of his own hair, feeling it stop above his collar. Bending his arm made the sore spot in the crook of his arm throb. "So, I made contact with Uncle Owen."
"Yeah?" Biggs said. "Was he mad?"
"No, that's the hard part," he said, dropping his arm back down. A feeble smile escaped him as he thought of the conversation. "He just told me to be careful."
------
Seated in a dim corner of an undistinguished cantina, Obi-Wan sipped his drink. Even though he'd known what the recruiter was going to say, the actual words had still been a shock. Luke, his ward and the last hope of the Jedi Order, was now in service to the Empire. His sip turned into a gulp.
How could he have let that happen? Why hadn't he told Luke sooner about his heritage, about his destiny? Surely if Luke had understood his importance, he would have never placed himself in such jeopardy. Instead, Luke was completely ignorant of the Force and his own abilities. So many times throughout Luke's youth he had wanted to begin his training, but he had always held back, restrained by Yoda's instruction to let the Living Force decide the time. It felt wrong to wait, but then he no longer trusted himself. After all, the Galaxy had never recovered from his last lapse in judgement.
He slipped his left hand under his robe to the lightsabers resting on his hip. The first, his own, comforting and familiar, especially when he was traveling into unknown circumstances as he was now. The other he usually kept hidden away, touching it only when he needed a reminder. A reminder of who Anakin had been, and that he had actually existed. In his first year of exile, his former padawan's presence had reflected from the saber as brightly as a gleam of light, but with time the sensations he received from it had faded. Sometimes he wondered if it were all in his mind, the feeling of irrepressible energy that still brought a smile to his face.
Luke was like that, a reminder of Anakin. On the rare occasions when he talked to the boy, the words of the conversation tended to slip away, and he saw only Luke's face. A flash of a smile or a glint in the boy's eye would make his heart jump, and then memories of Anakin would come flooding back. Many times he realized that Luke was looking at him expectantly for a reply, and he could only nod, never having heard the question. It probably confirmed the boy's impression of him as a crazy old man, but he didn't care.
He clunked his empty glass against the table. If only he understood better what had happened to Anakin, he might not be so afraid for Luke. Though at first he blamed himself for Anakin's fall, Yoda's and Qui-Gon's insistence that Anakin's own choices brought that reality finally rang true. But absolving himself brought him no peace. Placing the blame on Anakin's shoulders only made the situation more incomprehensible. All he knew was that the darkness had swallowed his padawan and transformed him into someone unrecognizable. And with Luke now a part of the Empire, it was only a matter of time before the Sith discovered him, and swathed him in that same darkness.
The barkeep motioned to refill his glass, but Obi-Wan waved him off. From somewhere inside him, the man he used to be pushed aside his desperation and replaced it with determination. He would not lose them both. Whatever it took, he would make sure Luke did not share his father's fate. But he was going to need help, help from someone able to negotiate the Imperial bureaucracy. He rose from the table, his sense of purpose now augmented by a sense of direction. This time he didn't need Yoda's help, he needed the third partner in their deal.
He needed passage to Alderaan.
------
If he was going to be at the Senate Rotunda, this was the location Darth Vader preferred. Standing far outside its walls. From the edge of its plaza, he watched a stream of senators enter the building in preparation for the upcoming session. It had been one thing to declare an emergency gathering to announce his assumption of the throne, because that had all the adrenalin of military invasion. He'd used the same strategy, too: launching an overwhelming numbers of troopers on a completely unsuspecting group, demanding their cooperation while they feared for their lives. In fact, becoming Emperor had been easier than an invasion, since Senators were ill-prepared to return fire.
But as he readied himself to lead the first general session of Congress under his rule, he realized that the hard part was not becoming the Emperor, but staying the Emperor. As much as he hated to say it, Tarkin had been right: he had few friends in any part of the governmental structure. Every time he presented himself in public, he was an open target for those who hated him, or simply wanted the power of the throne for themselves. It might be necessary to become a recluse as Palpatine had been, seldom venturing out of the Palace except under heavy guard. He shook his head at the irony: now that his master was gone, he was even more a prisoner.
Imagining a life spent confined to the Palace made his lip curl in disgust. But to release the Empire from martial law, he would have to do something even more distasteful. He would have to gain the support of either the senators or the increasingly powerful regional governors. Either way it was politics, and he could hardly believe he was considering such a manuever. He longed for the simplicity of life on his command ship, wherein duty and performance were all that mattered. But if he refused to wade into the tainted waters of the politicians, he risked the Empire falling into the hands of Palpatine's inner circle, or worse.
From behind him he sensed Anakin's approach, and turned his head to see him coming up the plaza walkway. He had to admit that he was becoming accustomed to having his apprentice with him. Despite their disagreements, the boy's straightforward manner and lack of an agenda was refreshing, especially given the current circumstances.
Anakin bounded up to him, a micropad in his hands, and angled the device so that they both could see the screen. "I configured the security holocam to send images to my handheld."
The boy's display of technical ability warmed him. He glanced at the screen, and saw that it captured each senator as they entered the foyer of the Rotunda.
"There's Nimal," Anakin said. "Nothing but trouble."
He squinted at the micropad, not recognizing the face at all.
"Oh, and there's Gerdd. He'll vote however Mor-Kaffeq tells him to," Anakin said.
"And how do you know all this?" he said.
Anakin shrugged. "I overheard a lot of conversations. With Palpatine. About Palpatine. You know."
He looked at the boy with new appreciation. He'd never dreamt Anakin could be so useful. As he refocused on the micropad, a face familiar to him finally came across the screen. "Mon Mothma," he said absently.
"Now there's one we should off right away," Anakin said.
He was aware of Mothma's suspicious activities, but killing her hadn't been at the top of his to-do list. "Why do you say that?"
"Oh, come on," Anakin said. "Even you must know that she leads the Rebel Alliance."
He smiled at the boy's confident attitude, and allowed the insult to slide. "That's never been proven."
"What?" Anakin said. "You're going to just ignore the Rebellion?"
"No. But cutting off its head won't eliminate it," he said. "Instead we must stop feeding its roots."
Anakin looked at him quizzically, seeming not to understand. He felt relieved to know he could stay ahead of the boy at least some of the time. "There is a difference between discipline and oppression," he said. "Since we had the same master, I doubt I need to explain."
Anakin stared at him for a moment, then nodded.
"Populations respond like individuals," he elaborated. "When pushed too hard, they fight back."
Anakin tilted his head. "So you're saying the Rebels are just like us?"
It was his turn to stare. He'd never thought of it like that. "I only meant that increasing pressure does not always bring the desired result."
Anakin appeared to consider the idea, then turned back to the parade of figures on his micropad. "Wait," he said, pausing the display. "Who's that?"
He glanced to see who had so captured the boy's attention, and saw a young woman, dark haired and almond-eyed, with a regal bearing. Ah yes, the other thing he had been continually at sixteen besides hungry. He leaned his head towards Anakin. "She is a distraction."
Anakin shot him a hard look. "But seriously, I've never seen her at the Senate before."
On the other hand, the young woman was faintly familiar to him. Vaguely he recalled meeting her at some Imperial function. Anakin resumed the display and a bearded man now appeared beside the girl, his head bent down to reach her much shorter stature. Now he remembered her. "That is Senator Organa's daughter."
------
Even though he knew it was senseless to shout into a holoprojector, Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin was unable to stop his voice from rising. "I don't care what it looks like. Will it work?"
The flickering blue figure on his desk faded away for a moment, and then Bevil Lemilisk reappeared. "At the very least, more work has to be done to brace the superlaser."
Good. A solution. "Put all efforts into that, then. Forget everything else."
Lemilisk's image shook its head. "But the structure could be breached if the external shielding is not in place."
"I have a fleet of Star Destroyers to protect it," Tarkin said. "Nothing will get past them."
"I don't know," Lemilisk said, a pained expression on his face. "I'm not sure how well it will stand up to the stresses of hyperspace if it's incomplete."
"You're not understanding me," Tarkin said. His blood pressure surged as he thought of Vader. "I will not have that posturing simpleton sitting on the throne."
Author : jedinemo
Rating and disclaimer : Rated PG-13. The Star Wars Universe belongs to George Lucas and Lucasfilm Ltd, and I have gained nothing but satisfaction from this fanfic.
Summary : Darth Vader has an unsettling encounter within the Imperial Palace that changes the course of Galactic history.
Timeline : A few years before the events of ANH.
Chapter Four
Nodding thanks to the moisture farmers who had graciously allowed him a ride, Obi-Wan slid out of the back of their worn speeder and onto the Mos Eisley side street. When he first arrived on Tatooine, Obi-Wan dared not show his face in the space port for fear of attracting those who wished to collect the Imperial bounty on Jedi. Over the years, though, his fear of discovery had faded, and now he simply disliked coming here. Too crowded, too dirty, too full of pathetic lifeforms. But after questioning Luke's friends in Anchorhead, he realized he had no choice.
His hood shielding him from the intense sunslight, Obi-Wan made his way to a storefront he'd previously always avoided, and paused outside its door. If this was truly the decision Luke had made, then his failure was indeed complete. The first thing he felt as he stepped off the sand-banked street and into the small office was the fifteen degree drop in the temperature. Few on Tatooine could afford cooling systems, and this total escape from the searing heat must have impressed more than a few young men with the power and the resources of the Empire. The second thing Obi-Wan felt was the flash of amusement coming from the Imperial recruiter seated behind the desk at the rear of the office. With a flawlessly creased uniform accenting his muscular build, the recruiter's square jawed face completed his poster perfect appearance.
"It's too late for you to be a hero, old timer," the recruiter said with a laugh. "You're a little over the age limit."
Obi-Wan held the man's gaze and flipped down his hood. The soldier before him couldn't be more than thirty standard years, his military experience most certainly limited to serving in Palpatine's New Order. He was sure the man had never known real war, or what it was like to be prepared to fight to the death for something he believed in. "I need to know if my...nephew...enlisted in the service."
The recruiter smiled pleasantly. "I'm afraid I can't tell you. That sort of information is confidential."
"Oh, but you can," Obi-Wan said in a honeyed voice, gliding closer to the desk. The man had no idea how small an obstacle he presented. From within the bell of Obi-Wan's sleeve, two fingers swept an arc. "You can tell me about Luke Skywalker."
The recruiter looked thoughtful for a moment, then accessed his computer. "However, I can tell you about Luke Skywalker."
------
"I thought you said these reports had to stay between us," Anakin said.
Darth Vader glanced up from his computer and across the oval conference table that dominated what used to be Palpatine's anteroom. He'd only allowed the boy to work in here on the condition that he remained quiet. "Yes," he said, and returned his attention to the report from the governor of the Harron Sector.
"But these test results are coming in straight from the Imperial Services," Anakin said, his eyes fixed on the screen of his own computer. "Lots of people could have seen them before they get to me."
He leaned back in his chair and considered his clone. The boy was nothing if not observant. However much Anakin might have complained about this assignment, his analytical ability was first rate. "True, but they have no meaning to anyone else."
Anakin looked puzzled. "No one else knows what a midi-chlorian is?"
"No one else cares," he said.
Anakin was silent for a moment. "So did you start the testing?"
"No. Palpatine did," he said, wondering why the boy was concerned. "I only intercepted the task after I realized what he was doing."
"Which was?"
"Looking for more Force sensitives to add to his stable," he said. He gestured in the air to amplify. "All those Emperor's Hands he liked to keep around."
The boy's crestfallen expression matched the ripple of emotion that emanated from him.
"Surely you knew that," he said, although he remembered how disheartened he'd felt when he'd discovered his status with Palpatine was not unique. "You must have seen the collection of seconds he kept hidden from each other."
"Like he did with you and me," Anakin said, nodding slowly. "But you're not like that, are you?"
He saw a glimpse of what was bothering the boy. "Hardly. I value loyalty far more than he ever did."
"Well, then I don't need to look through these anymore," Anakin said. "Because you have me, right?"
His answer caught in his throat. While he had wanted a different future for the boy than what Palpatine offered, he hadn't realized until now that Anakin had his own expectations of the future. And that included expections the boy had for him. He couldn't tell Anakin that he searched simply because the Force instructed him to, because he could feel that there was something, someone, he was supposed to find. No, that wouldn't do at all after their last exchange on the nature of the Force. He reached for a reply that would be truthful. "Don't worry. I'm not looking for another apprentice."
------
Luke rolled his shoulders against the confines of his gray uniform, unaccustomed to the stiffness of the fabric after years spent in loose desert garb. The din of voices surrounding him in the concourse of the Raithal processing center was almost overwhelming, as was the sheer numbers of recruits, who turned the concourse into a sea of gray and black. He would have never guessed that he could feel lonely while in the midst of so many people. Of course, the call home he'd just finished didn't help, either.
He looked up at the wall chrono. If he didn't find Biggs soon, he'd have to board the shuttle to basic training without saying goodbye. He jostled his way through the crowd, trying to catch sight of his friend, but Biggs' height was no longer distinguishing as it had been on Tatooine.
"Luke!" he heard to his left, and he turned to see the one familar face in the whole processing center. Smiling, he made his way over to Biggs, and they carved a spot for themselves against the wall of the concourse. "Hey, I guess this is it," Luke said. "From here on out I call you sir."
Biggs grinned back, but lowered his eyes. "You should be in my class. You wouldn't believe some of the idiots who are signed up with me."
"It's okay," Luke said. Despite their friendship, he was always aware that Biggs came from money and he didn't. "I'll bet I have more fun than you do."
"Maybe. But I'll get all the perks," Biggs replied.
"I don't know about that," Luke said. "Doesn't look like your barber was any better than ours."
Biggs ruffled his hand through his newly shortened hair. "Yeah, I bet they wouldn't even recognize us back home."
Luke touched the back of his own hair, feeling it stop above his collar. Bending his arm made the sore spot in the crook of his arm throb. "So, I made contact with Uncle Owen."
"Yeah?" Biggs said. "Was he mad?"
"No, that's the hard part," he said, dropping his arm back down. A feeble smile escaped him as he thought of the conversation. "He just told me to be careful."
------
Seated in a dim corner of an undistinguished cantina, Obi-Wan sipped his drink. Even though he'd known what the recruiter was going to say, the actual words had still been a shock. Luke, his ward and the last hope of the Jedi Order, was now in service to the Empire. His sip turned into a gulp.
How could he have let that happen? Why hadn't he told Luke sooner about his heritage, about his destiny? Surely if Luke had understood his importance, he would have never placed himself in such jeopardy. Instead, Luke was completely ignorant of the Force and his own abilities. So many times throughout Luke's youth he had wanted to begin his training, but he had always held back, restrained by Yoda's instruction to let the Living Force decide the time. It felt wrong to wait, but then he no longer trusted himself. After all, the Galaxy had never recovered from his last lapse in judgement.
He slipped his left hand under his robe to the lightsabers resting on his hip. The first, his own, comforting and familiar, especially when he was traveling into unknown circumstances as he was now. The other he usually kept hidden away, touching it only when he needed a reminder. A reminder of who Anakin had been, and that he had actually existed. In his first year of exile, his former padawan's presence had reflected from the saber as brightly as a gleam of light, but with time the sensations he received from it had faded. Sometimes he wondered if it were all in his mind, the feeling of irrepressible energy that still brought a smile to his face.
Luke was like that, a reminder of Anakin. On the rare occasions when he talked to the boy, the words of the conversation tended to slip away, and he saw only Luke's face. A flash of a smile or a glint in the boy's eye would make his heart jump, and then memories of Anakin would come flooding back. Many times he realized that Luke was looking at him expectantly for a reply, and he could only nod, never having heard the question. It probably confirmed the boy's impression of him as a crazy old man, but he didn't care.
He clunked his empty glass against the table. If only he understood better what had happened to Anakin, he might not be so afraid for Luke. Though at first he blamed himself for Anakin's fall, Yoda's and Qui-Gon's insistence that Anakin's own choices brought that reality finally rang true. But absolving himself brought him no peace. Placing the blame on Anakin's shoulders only made the situation more incomprehensible. All he knew was that the darkness had swallowed his padawan and transformed him into someone unrecognizable. And with Luke now a part of the Empire, it was only a matter of time before the Sith discovered him, and swathed him in that same darkness.
The barkeep motioned to refill his glass, but Obi-Wan waved him off. From somewhere inside him, the man he used to be pushed aside his desperation and replaced it with determination. He would not lose them both. Whatever it took, he would make sure Luke did not share his father's fate. But he was going to need help, help from someone able to negotiate the Imperial bureaucracy. He rose from the table, his sense of purpose now augmented by a sense of direction. This time he didn't need Yoda's help, he needed the third partner in their deal.
He needed passage to Alderaan.
------
If he was going to be at the Senate Rotunda, this was the location Darth Vader preferred. Standing far outside its walls. From the edge of its plaza, he watched a stream of senators enter the building in preparation for the upcoming session. It had been one thing to declare an emergency gathering to announce his assumption of the throne, because that had all the adrenalin of military invasion. He'd used the same strategy, too: launching an overwhelming numbers of troopers on a completely unsuspecting group, demanding their cooperation while they feared for their lives. In fact, becoming Emperor had been easier than an invasion, since Senators were ill-prepared to return fire.
But as he readied himself to lead the first general session of Congress under his rule, he realized that the hard part was not becoming the Emperor, but staying the Emperor. As much as he hated to say it, Tarkin had been right: he had few friends in any part of the governmental structure. Every time he presented himself in public, he was an open target for those who hated him, or simply wanted the power of the throne for themselves. It might be necessary to become a recluse as Palpatine had been, seldom venturing out of the Palace except under heavy guard. He shook his head at the irony: now that his master was gone, he was even more a prisoner.
Imagining a life spent confined to the Palace made his lip curl in disgust. But to release the Empire from martial law, he would have to do something even more distasteful. He would have to gain the support of either the senators or the increasingly powerful regional governors. Either way it was politics, and he could hardly believe he was considering such a manuever. He longed for the simplicity of life on his command ship, wherein duty and performance were all that mattered. But if he refused to wade into the tainted waters of the politicians, he risked the Empire falling into the hands of Palpatine's inner circle, or worse.
From behind him he sensed Anakin's approach, and turned his head to see him coming up the plaza walkway. He had to admit that he was becoming accustomed to having his apprentice with him. Despite their disagreements, the boy's straightforward manner and lack of an agenda was refreshing, especially given the current circumstances.
Anakin bounded up to him, a micropad in his hands, and angled the device so that they both could see the screen. "I configured the security holocam to send images to my handheld."
The boy's display of technical ability warmed him. He glanced at the screen, and saw that it captured each senator as they entered the foyer of the Rotunda.
"There's Nimal," Anakin said. "Nothing but trouble."
He squinted at the micropad, not recognizing the face at all.
"Oh, and there's Gerdd. He'll vote however Mor-Kaffeq tells him to," Anakin said.
"And how do you know all this?" he said.
Anakin shrugged. "I overheard a lot of conversations. With Palpatine. About Palpatine. You know."
He looked at the boy with new appreciation. He'd never dreamt Anakin could be so useful. As he refocused on the micropad, a face familiar to him finally came across the screen. "Mon Mothma," he said absently.
"Now there's one we should off right away," Anakin said.
He was aware of Mothma's suspicious activities, but killing her hadn't been at the top of his to-do list. "Why do you say that?"
"Oh, come on," Anakin said. "Even you must know that she leads the Rebel Alliance."
He smiled at the boy's confident attitude, and allowed the insult to slide. "That's never been proven."
"What?" Anakin said. "You're going to just ignore the Rebellion?"
"No. But cutting off its head won't eliminate it," he said. "Instead we must stop feeding its roots."
Anakin looked at him quizzically, seeming not to understand. He felt relieved to know he could stay ahead of the boy at least some of the time. "There is a difference between discipline and oppression," he said. "Since we had the same master, I doubt I need to explain."
Anakin stared at him for a moment, then nodded.
"Populations respond like individuals," he elaborated. "When pushed too hard, they fight back."
Anakin tilted his head. "So you're saying the Rebels are just like us?"
It was his turn to stare. He'd never thought of it like that. "I only meant that increasing pressure does not always bring the desired result."
Anakin appeared to consider the idea, then turned back to the parade of figures on his micropad. "Wait," he said, pausing the display. "Who's that?"
He glanced to see who had so captured the boy's attention, and saw a young woman, dark haired and almond-eyed, with a regal bearing. Ah yes, the other thing he had been continually at sixteen besides hungry. He leaned his head towards Anakin. "She is a distraction."
Anakin shot him a hard look. "But seriously, I've never seen her at the Senate before."
On the other hand, the young woman was faintly familiar to him. Vaguely he recalled meeting her at some Imperial function. Anakin resumed the display and a bearded man now appeared beside the girl, his head bent down to reach her much shorter stature. Now he remembered her. "That is Senator Organa's daughter."
------
Even though he knew it was senseless to shout into a holoprojector, Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin was unable to stop his voice from rising. "I don't care what it looks like. Will it work?"
The flickering blue figure on his desk faded away for a moment, and then Bevil Lemilisk reappeared. "At the very least, more work has to be done to brace the superlaser."
Good. A solution. "Put all efforts into that, then. Forget everything else."
Lemilisk's image shook its head. "But the structure could be breached if the external shielding is not in place."
"I have a fleet of Star Destroyers to protect it," Tarkin said. "Nothing will get past them."
"I don't know," Lemilisk said, a pained expression on his face. "I'm not sure how well it will stand up to the stresses of hyperspace if it's incomplete."
"You're not understanding me," Tarkin said. His blood pressure surged as he thought of Vader. "I will not have that posturing simpleton sitting on the throne."