"I have the truth of who you really are. It was not I who lied or betrayed. Believe me, it is as much Kenobi's fault that you are here now as your father's...and there are deeper reasons, greater truths." Palpatine leaned back, tone self-righteous but indulgent. "Ask any question and I will answer honestly."
Seconds passed, in which neither broke the gaze of the other, eye to eye, reading intent... Finally the boy half-smiled, warily shaking his head.
"I don't believe you," he held, refusing to be drawn in.
"Why would I need to lie? I assure you, the truth is far more damning than any pretence I could conjure. The past whispers of the future. Your destiny runs with the blood in your veins."
"I don't believe you," the youth repeated, his tone so clipped, so sure.
But only in voice; in intent rather than belief, Palpatine recognized. Though he hid it well, that had cut deep. He filed it away with other flaws, to be exploited at leisure.
"You are unwise. Unwise to question my word, and more so to try to bait me. Do you know what I am capable of?"
"I believe you capable of anything in pursuit of your goals," the boy said, clearly using his belief to validate his mistrust.
"Yes...I am." Palpatine let the threat hang for long seconds. "But I will never lie to you." He said it firmly, underlining this enticement before taking the conversation back to what had so clearly disturbed the boy moments before; the inference of preordained destiny; that his father's fate would be his own. "As I do not lie now, when I say that there can be only one outcome to this."
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Luke felt the pressure of Palpatine's words, spoken with such knowing certainty. So much so that it took him several seconds to gather his wits around the mass of rising insecurities which froze all thought. This was his weakness, and he knew it; the knowledge Vader had forced upon him had left him paralyzed with doubts. He pushed himself past them, an exercise in discipline. Master Yoda would have been proud of him. "Really? Because I see three."
The Emperor smiled, shaking his head indulgently like a teacher explaining the way of the universe to a confused child. "You will kneel before me."
"Or I will not yield, and you'll kill me." Luke raised his eyebrows slightly, offering his third alternative. "Or you'll drop your guard, and I'll kill you."
Palpatine laughed out loud at this, genuinely amused. "I think not."
"And that's why I shall."
"No, my friend. I am a hard man to kill."
Luke nodded somberly. "I'll remember that."
"I hope you have a very long memory."
"For that, I do."
The Emperor grinned, amused; the smile of a bantha cautioned by a flea. "Hardly fitting words for a typical Jedi Knight. But then you are hardly typical...did Kenobi tell you what, as well as who you really are, Jedi? Or did he omit that information, too?"
Luke paused, freshly confused. Struggling to ignore pressing fatigue, he willed himself to concentrate though his body was slumping now, his head beginning to drop in exhaustion from even this short exertion, intense as it was. He remembered Vader's words to him onboard the Star Destroyer...of his heritage, his bloodline.
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Palpatine watched as the barest frown lined the boy's features for an instant before that neutral mask fell again. But his curiosity was evident in the Force, a morbid fascination, both desiring to know and reluctant to hear.
A perfect beginning.
"But you are tired, my friend. You should rest. We will speak again tomorrow." Palpatine smiled indulgently, knowing what it would mean to the boy to leave this conversation here, how it would eat into his thoughts. For himself, Palpatine already had all that he required out of this meeting; to leave it here could only be to his advantage.
Knowledge was power, and power always held a price. If his Jedi wanted more information, then he would have to sit at this table again. And he would come back--willingly. Only Palpatine and Vader held the truth, and judging from the boy's reactions tonight, Palpatine knew now that he would never go to Vader. In fact, he was counting on it.
Here, at his table, was his only possibility of ever laying to rest a hidden, haunted past.
How could he not take it?
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To be continued...
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Chapter 6
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CHAPTER SIX
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The substantial double-doors cycled through their release, grinding open on hidden sliders.
That's one very heavy door, Luke thought dryly as he turned from the chair by the thick bulk of the reinforced window.
He'd been left alone to his thoughts all day. Only not quite alone; two Red Guard had stayed in the room, standing to either side of the door throughout the day, visited occasionally by the hard-eyed redhead. At first, he'd been uncomfortable beneath their constant, silent scrutiny, but had eventually rationalized that they didn't seem inclined to interact or interfere at all. Finally, he'd decided to simply ignore them, and wandered round the massive, split-level bedroom, walking down the wide, intricately mosaic-tiled corridor which led to a dressing room and a 'fresher suite, both windowless. Hung neatly in the dressing room to one side of the corridor were five complete sets of clothing, all of which were in dark hues of midnight blue, somber slate gray and black. All of which, disturbingly, looked like they'd fit him perfectly.
He'd left, not wishing to think about it for the moment.
Back into the cavernous bedroom, the rooms beyond still locked to him, the guards at the door. He'd studied the tall transparisteel sheets in the windows carefully. Up close, they were threaded through with two interwoven layers of fine filament, tough enough as to be visible to the naked eye; you didn't see that even in military vessels.
He'd wandered again round the substantial room, hands dragging casually against the walls, wondering how thick they were. He'd stood as close as his wary guards would allow him to the huge carved wooden doors, knowing they wouldn't be wood, remembering their thickness from the night before and pondering how the locks worked.
He'd wondered whether anyone would feed him.
He'd sat cross-legged on the floor before the window, meditating, trying to locate the others through the Force. Finding Leia had brought an unexpected smile to his face and he'd almost, almost, reached out to her, to try to make contact as he had done at Bespin. But fear of discovery had held him back; that they would realize that he could contact her, even if she couldn't reply, and so move her further away.
But he'd followed that trail...down...a long way down. Many, many levels below him and off to one side. Still, he'd found her, and so presumably the others. He made his first mental map of his surroundings; his position in relation to her, a vague idea of distance...
Then he'd broken the contact, already worrying that his transgression would be discovered. He'd concentrated on trying to raise mental barriers, pushing out the grating buzz which pressed against his thoughts, forced by necessity to begin to develop this skill beyond what Yoda had taught him.
He'd gazed out again at the monolithic Towers and the distant city beyond, forehead resting against the inches-thick transparisteel. A million lives being lived, ordinary, normal lives...he craved that now with easily as much ardor as he'd once craved the excitement of adventure far from Tatooine.
He'd watched a fiery sunset, the huge moon stained red by the dying embers of the day.
He'd wondered again if someone would feed him; realized just how unlikely that was, since he'd refused to eat at Palpatine's table last night. His jaw tightened at that, knowing that this was now a little war of wills. A stupid war of wills with only one realistic outcome.
He'd had the sense to sit last night rather than enter into that battle. What logic had deserted him when he'd refused to eat? Stupid; stupid thing to do. All the more so because he knew--he knew--that if he went back to that table, he'd still refuse to eat. Stupid, stubborn, ornery...