"Why do I think I'm being imprisoned here?" Luke corrected. "Because I'm part of the Rebel Alliance--because...I'm a Jedi."
"I see," Nathan said levelly, pausing just slightly before issuing his next question, aware that Skywalker was becoming more irate, though he felt under no threat. "May I ask, are you...aware of your lineage--of who your father is?"
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"I'm aware, yes," Luke was unable to bring himself to say it out loud. "I'm also aware that the door you just came through is about a foot thick and has a staged release lock, the walls have some kind of cabled reinforcement running through them, the transparisteel in the windows is military-grade and there are at least four security lenses in this room. Does that seem normal to you?"
"No, but as I said, your judgment is thought to be...compromised at the moment. My point is, given your lineage, how likely do you really think it to be that you were a member of the Rebel Alliance?"
"My lineage, as you put it, is the only reason that I'm not in the cells right now with Solo, or more to the point, that we're not both dead already."
As he spoke, the door locks began to cycle open and Luke leaned in to add urgently, "That's it; we crossed the line--got too close to the truth. They're gonna take you outside and they're gonna tell you to say nothing now, Hallin. They're gonna tell you I'm wrong and they're right because that's the story they want circulated. To just stick to the script and keep your mouth shut. Do you really believe them?"
He knew, could sense the tingle in the back of the medic's fast mind; his doubt.
Hallin glanced to the doors then back to Skywalker. Seeing the uncertainty play across the medic's face, Luke felt a sudden pang of guilt at telling him so much, knowing that it would endanger him. He should have kept quiet--what did he care what the medic thought of him anyway? If it didn't matter then he shouldn't have argued the point, and even if it did.... then he shouldn't have spoken out anyway; it changed nothing, other than to put the medic in danger, which Luke was doing simply by speaking the truth to him.
That was the trouble here; if he didn't play along with Palpatine's little games then people got hurt--not him, but those around him. Those who had nothing to do with this; they just got pulled in as collateral by the opportunistic Sith. Very much like the slight, dark-eyed man who stood before him, face tense with uncertainty, either Luke played the game on Palpatine's terms or he accepted the consequences--and if the upshot had been to his own cost, then Luke would have taken the hit, but it never was. It was always a third party--the same game Palpatine had been playing since the first day Luke had arrived here, and why not; it worked so well for him...it was about to do so again.
Both men paused to look as six Red Guard stepped into the room on either side of the door, weapons ready, and Luke leaned in, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Just... agree--agree with them if you want to see tomorrow. But believe me when I tell you that they're lying. And trust me when I tell you that if they think for one moment that you do believe me, you won't see tomorrow anyway."
A tall, wide-shouldered, pristinely uniformed man stepped in between the watchful guards without quite entering the room, making a polite, expectant gesture. "Thank you, medic; this way, please."
Hallin frowned, glancing to the man, then turning back to Luke, unsure as to what was really going on. "Who are you?"
"This way, please," the man repeated, his tone civil and courteous but hard as durasteel, hinting that he wasn't used to being kept waiting.
The medic nodded obediently but as he walked toward the tall, scarlet-robed guards, his slight frame dwarfed by their looming bulk, he spared a single glance back to Luke...
Luke turned away as the door ground closed and the staged locks engaged, reaching out to fling the book he'd been reading off the table and across the room in frustration.
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Early evening gloom was sending dusky shadows creeping slowly across the cavernous room as Luke sat quietly awaiting Jade's return, attention split between appearing casually bored for the benefit of the guard standing by the door, and concentrating on a carefully hidden sliver of Force connection.
He was dressed impeccably in a darkest blue shirt and trousers, the elegant, fitted cut and feel of the bespoke clothing now very familiar, the refined fabrics quite customary, so that they no longer wore him but he wore them, confident and comfortable enough in this that he left cuffs and neck casually unfastened.
He was in the drawing room, the doors to the dining hall locked whilst the servants set the table for a dinner which neither diner ever touched. Servants; no droids here, Luke had noted. His mind went briefly to Artoo and Threepio, wondering whether they were still on the Falcon. Wondering if he would ever see them again.
He rose and walked to the tall, thick windows, free of any refractions despite their substantial bulk, gazing out over a city so close and yet so very distant; so much so as to be unreal to him now, Tatooine the vague memory of a half-remembered dream.
Reflected in the flawless transparisteel panes was the ghostly image of the huge, soulless room in which he stood, its high, arched ceiling and massive scale normal to him now, though the cramped, comfortable, intimate scale of all previous quarters on so many different ships and worlds remained achingly missed.
He was generally allowed access to the three heavily-fortified rooms in what he knew, from vague suggestions and hints dropped in a casual, conspiratorial manner by the medic Hallin, were the private chambers of a much larger suite, complete with servant's and aide's quarters, audience chambers, exercise halls, lounges, libraries, meeting rooms, offices and countless other pointless rooms which contrived to complete the massive, sprawling residence.
Whether the medic had believed Luke following their short, stolen discussion several days ago or whether he was simply humoring him in his frustration at being confined, Luke didn't know. He wouldn't put it past them to have told him to do that to keep Luke quiet, but Hallin seemed genuine in his desire to make this a little easier for Luke, though there were clearly limits.
Knowing the Emperor now, Luke also wouldn't put it past the manipulative Sith to purposely place someone close whom Luke felt he may be able to trust, offering the illusion of some kind of connection when it was in truth nothing of the sort, because whilst Hallin seemed willing now to offer tidbits of the world outside Luke's opulent prison, he also clearly believed that this was where Luke should be and where he would be staying.
Jade too seemed to be upholding this charade of a carefully created identity with a past history and ongoing future here, though she obviously knew at least part of the truth. Still, she resolutely referred to this as 'your apartments,' bringing him books from his library and food from his kitchens, carried by members of his staff, who bowed politely and never asked questions, which was probably why they were here. If he were appointed as someone's personal aide here, the first question past Luke's lips would be, 'Why is there a staged-release lock on that door capable of holding back an army?'.
But nobody did. They just brought him impeccably laundered clothes and ornately presented meal trays, and smiled blankly when he asked their name, glancing nervously at Jade if she was in the room, which she generally was--or if not her, someone else. Strange, how quickly he'd become used to that--it made no difference anyway; he was obviously being watched at all times by a pretty extensive surveillance system. He'd had various little trials of this when Jade left the room for a moment, walking casually out of sight of the door and watching her eye line when she returned. She always knew precisely where he was, turning immediately to him. So far he'd found just one blind-spot. It worked for two days, but when he tried it again a week later, it was no longer blind.