He'd gone straight to the bridge and set a course on impulse for the Peerless, the Dominant and the Zephyr to fly a wide loop which would take them along the Hydian Way to Arkania and then into open space along the edge of The Colonies, taking in every planet and system which intercepted it; past the Perlemian Trade Route, the Corellian Run, crossing the opposite side of the Hydian Way at Nubia, then past the Corellian Trade Spine and finally Shapani, joining the Rimma Trade Route to travel back into the Core Systems. It was a huge tour of duty which even if uninterrupted, which was very unlikely, would take weeks- even months- to complete.
It wasn't until the intended route had been transmitted back to Coruscant and returned with the Emperor's approval, along with a short, cryptic message from his Master to the fact that his 'Wolf' may pace where it pleased, that Luke had withdrawn to his ready-room to overlay the course onto star-charts in the holo-display there and seen just exactly what he'd done. All that had been in his head in the moment that he'd made the choice of schedule was to get away from Coruscant; now that a line was drawn along his arbitrary route, he sat back on his chair and stared for a long time, aware of what he'd done.
The route he'd named almost perfectly described the outermost extent of his fleet's jurisdiction.
The Emperor's precious 'Wolf', like a caged animal, was pacing up and down just inside its bars.
So now he stood quietly, gazing out into the void, head tilted, staring at nothing. The duty shift had come and gone and he'd remained at his desk in his ready-room, reading dispatches, refining the projected tour of duty after holding conferences with Chiefs of Staff, assigning and reassigning missions to divisions and units to disperse and manage projected dissent hotspots, organising fleet ops and manoeuvres for those not involved; attending to the minutia of Fleet logistics.
Finally, when he could work no more, eyes blurred and mind numb, he'd returned here to his quarters and stood in silence in the darkened room, gazing into the maelstrom, contemplating...
Mara was making her way here, knowing that he had returned. He knew that absolutely; could sense her unique signature in the Force as she employed her ability, no matter how subconsciously, to ensure that she remained undetected.
Leaving him to consider - what should he do when she arrived?
The sensible thing would so clearly be to turn her away.
He could so easily provide the perfect excuse; he had been away from the Peerless for weeks and therefore couldn't guarantee that all surveillance measures so carefully hidden by Palpatine's agents in his absence had been removed yet. She'd know of course that it would be a lie - that he would have removed or destroyed them within minutes of his arrival here - but it would be a difficult case to argue since she had no proof and anyway, the message would be clear.
So he could stop this now; just let it dwindle to nothing and have them return to the way they were... that would be the sensible thing.
He'd achieved everything he needed from this particular game- everything he intended. Hadn't he claimed to himself that he'd wanted a secret, a method to control her; well now he had one. She'd lost her impartiality, allowed herself to become involved- and then she'd withheld the fact. Lied about it to the Emperor- to his face.
He had his control. Because if she ever found out something he needed to keep from his Master then all he need do was threaten to reveal this. Yes he'd be damning himself as well, but in a situation where he was in the line of fire either way, she would surely realise that he may well have nothing to lose - and she may well have everything.
And like every game, it was as much the bluff you made as the cards you held.
Which was why the right thing to do now would be to walk away- to underline that it had all been just that; a game. That he wouldn't hesitate to play this card if she forced him.
If he didn't back off now he was weakening that position.
So why was he wavering?
He understood now what his father had tried to warn, the vulnerabilities inherent in allowing another this close. Had this been what had brought his father down- had this been his weakness?
Because Luke knew it would be his- if he opened the door.
If he allowed this consideration to cut across his objectives.
But something in him craved this; this closeness. Even though he knew it was a vulnerability and he swore he'd never again hold one before his Master, and even though he knew it was a risk because Mara 's loyalties would always lie with the Emperor and even though, and even though, and even though....
A thousand and one reasons not to, and only one reason to open that door...
He heard the gentle drum of her fingers on the heavy shipboard door and held still for one moment longer-
Stop this now. Don't have this vulnerability
Don't take this chance
Don't be your father
Luke shook his head, remembering Vader's words again, spoken with such conviction; "We are solitary creatures by necessity..."
"I am not you." He whispered into the darkness...
And with one final, tense sigh to expel his doubts, he stepped forward and opened the door...
She entered the dark room in a rush of motion, senses a flurry of excitement and anticipation.
"I thought you weren't going to let me in." she whispered jokingly, arms about him, breath to his neck- as if not a moment had gone by since they were last here. Had that been a conscious decision on her part?
Luke closed his eyes, wishing already that he hadn't, feeling the softness of her glowing red hair against his skin. For an instant he allowed himself to fall back into the depth of emotions which radiated from her, a momentary indulgence, undeniable, overwhelming, intensely impetuous and wildly irresponsible-
But the truth was far more complex, and whether she chose to admit it or not, she had to know that on some level.
Because he did. He knew the dangers. He knew how this could so easily end. Knew the knife-edge he lived on.
Knew absolutely that she would betray him someday.
She couldn't be trusted. She couldn't be trusted. But then neither could he- didn't she know that?
If he cared for her at all he should walk away. If she cared for him she should have already done the same...
She took his face in her hands and stood on tip-toe, reaching up to kiss him as her fingers slid back into his hair, breath to his lips-
And all of his doubts and his reservations, his father's warning and his own piercing, perfect knowledge of the future, melted away like shadows in darkness...
.
.
.
Madine sat nervously upright as the Chiefs of Staff settled about the large circular table in the War Room onboard the Rebel Flagship Home-One, glancing back at the huge canvas which hung from the far wall, a massive, brooding rendition of a military struggle fought in the dark of night. 'Night Battle' it was called, by Inego.
It was the original piece; a priceless work of art. For some reason, the smuggler Solo had it in his possession and had given it over to be re-hung here- 'on loan', he'd gone to great lengths to clarify. How he had come by it he'd neglected to say - but then since he was a smuggler Madine hadn't bothered to push too hard; sometimes the obvious answer was the right one.
Solo took a long look at the canvas as he passed it, smiling at some private memory as he settled down beside Leia Organa, who had fallen surprisingly easily into the complexities of the position as Chief of Staff following Mon's loss. She glanced at him now, brown eyes wary. There was no amity between them but they had a good working relationship and she'd impressed him with her leadership and her grace under fire.