He could, of course, easily disable the lenses by using the Force to pull wires or crush circuitry, but there seemed little point, as yet; they'd only be fixed within hours, and once he'd done it they would know he was capable. No, that was a one-time surprise to be kept in reserve for a more crucial moment.
.
He and Jade had started to play Sabacc on and off for a few weeks now, both presumably playing for the same covert reason. Jade was good, but she clearly didn't get much practice, whereas up until recently, stuck on Hoth, Luke had played a couple of hours every other day. Not much else to do there.
At first he'd staggered the wins and losses with her, then as a test he'd tried hard to beat her three solid days running, which had resulted in her refusing to play for several days, so he'd sat playing single draw or reading for long stretches until she'd been unable to resist the pull, desperate to beat him again. And he'd let her--just to see what she'd do.
Of course it didn't always go to plan. The cards didn't take sides and she seemed reasonably capable of blocking him when he tried to read her, but he learned about her either way; learned how to burrow subtly past those blocks, with the cards confirming when he did.
And she learnt about him--because she was watching him too, he saw that. Always looking for any tells, any reliable signs to help read him, clearly figuring that they'd come in useful sooner or later. She was nothing if not thorough, his jailor.
Which was what he liked about her.
He followed her distant sense in the Force now as she made her way down through the levels of the West Tower. Nine levels--always the same. Here, in what was obviously a very well-known location, she was a creature of routine--her first real weakness. Aside from her incredibly abrasive manner of course, but that wasn't so much a weakness as a...phenomenon. Still, he found it easy to single her out in the jostling crowd of minds here, her vague attenuation with the Force discernable even at a distance, now that he was so familiar with her. And he was familiar with her, seven weeks into his enforced imprisonment.
Seven weeks in, five weeks to go. The agreement was for twelve weeks of compliance.
Three weeks in, he'd begun plotting Han's escape.
And Mara was his key, though she didn't know it. He spent long hours each day quietly tracing her steps and her characteristic presence up and down corridors and floors, whenever she left his prison. Her sense of concentration in certain areas, of command or scrutiny in others. Of deference when she was near the Emperor. Creating a mental map of the building about him--of exactly where he needed to go. Pulling that information together into a plan.
Then hiding it behind defensive shields of his own in preparation.
Because every evening, the Emperor came. Every evening the same discussions, the same denials, grinding him down, provoking and challenging and inciting, disputing every answer, testing every limit.
And every evening Luke felt his patience fray a little further, his frustration twist a little tighter. Felt his anger burn closer to boiling as he tried to remain detached in the face of spiraling provocations.
Tonight would be no different...
.
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Palpatine settled in the chair and studied his Jedi, who sat mildly opposite him, layer upon layer of defensive walls up in preparation for tonight's assault. He'd learned how to do this very quickly; how to lock Palpatine out of certain parts of his mind, how to hide in the shadows or the plain light of day...but then necessity was a great teacher.
And Palpatine didn't need any great knowledge to know what his Jedi would be plotting; it was inevitable that he would make an escape attempt. In fact, Palpatine would be disappointed if he didn't. But the boy was learning. He wouldn't simply make some blind, unprepared dash for freedom. He knew he would probably only get one shot at this, so he would likely be making careful plans. Especially since the life of his friend was at stake.
In his position, Palpatine would have made his bid already despite the agreement, and left the Corellian to rot, but he knew the boy wouldn't do that. He would slow himself down and risk predictability because he simply couldn't desert him. Because he still held true to the values which Palpatine hadn't quite managed to strip from him yet, though the strain was beginning to show as he struggled against ingrained restrictions which only hampered him here, and he knew it.
All this strength--all this intensity of spirit, all this resolve--wasted on some pious, stunted aspect of the Force which made one beg for all that one received and even then allowed only a fraction of what one was capable of controlling. How his Jedi would thank him, once he understood that.
As Mara left, the boy glanced again at the momentarily open door, at the perceived freedom beyond.
"You are mistaken if you believe it is me who holds you captive," Palpatine opened.
"Then unlock the door," Skywalker said simply, turning to the Sith.
Palpatine smiled at that. "Where would you go, Jedi?"
"Away from here."
"Running back to your precious Jedi Master?"
His chin lifted at that, but the boy said nothing. He seldom rose to the bait these days--he was learning when to argue and when to let the provocation go. Palpatine smiled; valuable lessons for his future position.
"He would not take you, Jedi. He would not take you back. You are tainted now--that thread is cut."
Still the boy said nothing, so Palpatine continued, delivering the blow he had waited weeks for the evidence to land--there were no lies here. "To your little Princess, perhaps? That tie is cut too, Jedi. She will not take you either."
The boy's eyes sharpened, the slightest of frowns lining his brow, though he held silent.
"I told you once she would plot your destruction--did you not believe me? She has run back to her Rebellion with tales of parentage and pedigree, my spies tell me. Did you truly think you could return to that life?"
"And how did she know?" he challenged, his voice tight.
The Emperor loosed a broad smile showing dark, spoiled teeth. "Don't judge me too harshly, Jedi. I am giving you a gift--I clarify for you just how limited the friendship of those around you really was. They held you back, held you down. Because they were afraid of you they forced you to act like them, to hide your power as if you were ashamed of it; to limit and confine it. But when they needed your abilities, they expected your complete co-operation, didn't they? They bound you and caged you with supposed responsibilities and projected expectations. They demanded blind loyalty, yet this is what they give you in return. This is what your friendship means to her--she has betrayed you, Jedi, not I. She alone knew the information--the choice of whether to protect or abandon you was hers alone. It's she who has ensured that no one will come for you, that no one will give you safe harbor now. She has left you to rot when you gave up your own freedom to buy hers."
The boy had turned away to stare into the fire as Palpatine spoke, the play of flickering shadows over his face highlighting his hardening features with the tightening of his jaw.
Palpatine waited a long time in silence, giving his Jedi time to digest this betrayal; branded a pariah among those it would have so willingly given its life to protect--how that must burn. Yet he held to his temper, silent and still, eyes not moving from the flames.
"There are no answers there, child," he said at last, though the boy remained unresponsive. "Did you truly think they would help you, the son of their enemy? They judge you by your father's actions. You are as guilty as he, in their eyes--just as you were in the eyes of the Jedi."