They were now further into the Habitation Towers than Leia had ever been, traveling through restricted levels where security checks were more and more frequent. Despite her unease, she hadn't failed to note that permission for her entry to the Towers had been given by a Level Two security clearance; that meant a high-ranking member of the Emperor's personal entourage. As they continued to walk, she was running through the list in her head--it was barely more than a dozen--and beginning to doubt very much that she was really being taken to see Luke at all, judging from the luxurious surroundings.
They finally stopped outside the grand double-doors of a huge private apartment high in the... West tower, she thought, trying to maintain her sense of direction.
It was lavish and impressively sumptuous, the magnificent marble-lined hallway within practically big enough to fly Han's precious Falcon down without a scratch. Incredibly well-appointed, notably placed...she held her breath, uncertain who would command such a privileged position within the Emperor's retinue.
A slim, lithe redhead set smoothly forward from what looked like a staff wing placed just within the apartment's main doors. She was a striking beauty, flame red hair and porcelain skin with a delicate bloom to her cheeks and full, ruby red lips set off by brilliant emerald green eyes...but there was a coldness to her, a sense of guarded detachment so common to so many here, her icy gaze taking Leia in and summing her up in a glance.
Leia gave the same look back, neither impressed by what they saw.
"And this is?" the redhead prompted, turning to Leia's guard.
"Leia Organa--the Commander asked to see her," the older officer replied smartly. Though the woman wore no uniform, she was obviously very much in charge here.
"When?" the redhead asked, frowning.
"An hour ago."
"Then you're late," the redhead admonished, turning about on her heel to set off down that long, tall central corridor. Leia was ushered forward by a none-too-gentle push from behind.
The wide hallway opened up to a circular crossroad within the apartment, whose high ceiling was set with a huge glass-domed atrium, different cuts and facets within it forming a complex pattern which reflected and refracted light down onto the matching geometric tiles of the pale marble floor beneath. This opened up to another three long corridors, each stretching so far as to make Leia realize that the apartment must cover half of one entire floor of the Tower; a privileged residence, indeed. She was marched quickly past room after room which led off from either side, their open doors revealing cavernous spaces whose long banks of high windows allowed sharp daylight to stream in from the bright morning beyond.
Past grand reception rooms and dark-walled studies, a vast, barrel-ceilinged library whose old-fashioned hard-copy books lined floor-to-ceiling shelves alongside a more contemporary storage system which took an entire wall in its span, pale blue light ridging the edges of hundreds of data cards, art and historic artifacts casually placed about the surfaces of mirror-polished tables.
Conference rooms, social rooms, a substantial, imposing formal dining room to her right with darkly patinated bird's-eye iroko wood paneling the walls and wide slabs of polished burr-elm on the floor, interset with inky darrick banding.
And then into an enfilade of private rooms beyond the public face of the apartment. The first was also wood-paneled, the dark, carved walls of Macassar ebony reaching well above head-height, where scagliola-polished plaster of deepest damson-red continued up to the towering vaulted ceiling, reflected in an inlaid marble floor of glossy black, veined with smoky cream and bound by sweeping, fluid lines of copper inlay.
Incredible, luxuriant wealth, displayed with no real desire to impress in these personal spaces, but simply because this was what the inhabitant was accustomed to. Casual affluence, comfortable and effortless, hinting at the privileged life lived within; a polished, tooled-silver autoreader and several memory chips were left casually to one end of a grand table in the private dining hall, the first heavy, carved chair pushed back as if its inhabitant had been there moments earlier.
Then she was through into a lofty, arched-ceilinged withdrawing room, immense in scale. One wall was a bank of heavily-reinforced windows, beyond which a deep stone-balustraded balcony enjoyed an uninterrupted view of the Palace roof gardens far below, and the distant city beyond. This room too had a tall, all-glass bookcase with hard-copy books inside, all the furniture here scaled up to match the imposing proportions of the room, whose walls were hung with a sumptuously embossed, dark taupe vinesilk. Dense, heavy fur rugs were scattered artfully across the marble floor and a fire was set in the massive hearth against the chill of the spring morning.
And on, into the next room. The officers stopped respectfully as she continued forward with the slim woman into a bedroom, split onto two levels, the lower one where she stood now close to another long, curving bank of tall windows boasting those breathtaking views beyond. To the back of the huge room the higher level was thickly carpeted, whilst nearer to her, the floor was a dark chocolate-and-sand polished fossil-stone which extended into an open corridor at the far side, the walls within a fine mosaic of rich browns and inky black terrazzo. The furniture here was aesthetic and timeless and unmistakably masculine; sizable, heavy, burred wood pieces on sturdy polished copper feet, all suited, all faultless, casually scattered with trinkets and memento's from various planets; clearly a very private, personal room.
Deeply uncertain, Leia glanced to the huge bed which rested in the center of the raised area, whose white linen sheets were perfectly arranged about its occupant. The surrounding technology of angular metal medical equipment arrayed about the bed's head seemed at odds with the comfortable, organic nature of the room. Unwilling to go any further, she craned her neck slightly...and then realized who it was, her feet setting forward of their own volition, her voice broken in recognition. "L - Luke?"
She was by his side in an instant, hand reaching out to rest lightly on his shoulder, hoping to wake him, knowing deep down that it was a futile gesture. She gently brushed his fringe from his eyes, as his eyelids fluttered just slightly in response.
"What have you done to him?" Leia glanced up accusingly.
"Spare me the indignant outrage," the redhead countered, unmoved. "You'd change your tune soon enough if you knew..."
As if realizing she had spoken out of turn, the woman searched for a rationalization of her words, adding a faltering explanation, "that...we were...taking care of him. He came out of his second surgery last night--his third, apparently, since Bespin..."
As Leia stared, uncertain what the woman had sought to conceal, a slight, dark-haired medic walked into the room carrying a tech reader and frowning at the redhead as he pointed to the doors behind him. "What's going on, where are all the...who are you talking to?" He glanced to the bed and noticed Leia, then started forward, hands out. "No, no. I'm sorry, no visitors--not yet."
Leia needed long seconds to place him as the medic who had first rushed forward when Luke had collapsed onboard the Millennium Falcon, after...after Vader.
He was halfway towards her, clearly familiar with this whole strange scenario, when the redhead spoke out. "The Commander authorized it," she said, her words stopping the medic in his tracks as his confused eyes turned from her to Luke.
"The Commander? When?"
"About an hour ago, apparently. Said he wanted to see her. I have no idea why," she added dryly. "I'm not entirely sure he knew what he was doing--or who he passed the command on to."
"No, he hasn't speak to anyone," the medic countered, turning back to Luke. "He hasn't woken yet."