"Then get every spare body onto the roof gardens. Get every light on--I want it lit up like a landing strip. Call Units Four, Five and Nine down from his quarters and get them out there. How many--"
-Mara-
She flinched, knowing this was coming...
-We'll find him, master-
She knew that the Emperor was rising, heading downwards toward her position. There would be hell to pay for this. He'd known, of course, that Skywalker was going to do this eventually; make some bid for freedom. But he'd predicted that it wouldn't be yet--had been so sure that it would be late tomorrow, when the pact which had held Skywalker this long expired--and Mara had set all her plans around this, additional reinforcements to be placed everywhere at the change of shift at dawn tomorrow, sure that her master couldn't be wrong.
Sure that Skywalker would hold to his word on the agreement.
But Skywalker was changing; becoming more volatile, less predictable. She knew that, had watched it happen--why hadn't she allowed for it?
Stupid, stupid, stupid...
A stray memory clicked--of Skywalker cursing himself the same way in the 'fresher as she'd studied his injured hand. Of him apologizing, for what she hadn't known...
This was all planned! His hand, the medic--everything! "Pull up the footage of the drawing room just before it happened!"
She watched it closely, squinting... "Again."
This wasn't a chance opportunity he'd seized. He'd walked forward too casually, eyes on his hand, not looking up.
She watched him move with that incredible burst of speed as he snatched the force pike, dropping both the guards almost simultaneously, then swapping the pike to his artificial hand to use the Force to throw the second pair of guards back...then he grabbed one by the scruff and dragged him casually forward to the tall, reinforced windows...
The windows! That had been a trial! Weeks ago, he'd thrown the Force at them, and she'd believed, as everybody had, that they'd held against him...but he'd not broken them on purpose! He'd wanted to see if they couldbe broken, but hadn't wanted to have them further reinforced, so he'd just tested them!
It was all just a test...a test for today. She shook her head, lips pursed in frustration. And then the rest fell into place...everything. He'd wanted to know the response too; what would happen when he did break them--timings, numbers. That was all part of his dry run.
"You son of a... what are you doing...?" She gazed at the footage as that sea of Red Guards flooded into the room... Come on, Luke--this was organized...what were you planning...
"Go back." She frowned, reaching forward to operate the controls herself. The image jumped back several seconds to the point when he glanced to the medic--what did he say? She frowned, leaning closer... "What's he saying now?"
Everyone in Ops squinted at the image. "He's counting," one of the men said slowly. "See? He's counting down..."
"He's counting the response time..." Mara said, then, in a flush of realization, "The door time! The length of time it takes for the lock on the door to cycle open."
"But he's almost out..." the Ops officer said, confused.
"Yes," The Emperor's guttural voice was hard and biting, and everyone spun about and bowed low, Mara included.
When she lifted her head, it was she whom Palpatine was glaring at.
"Why haven't you caught him yet?" To the point as ever.
"We're having some trouble locating his exact..."
"Replay the images," Palpatine spoke over her, disinterested in excuses.
The Ops officer rushed to comply, playing the image from the moment the prisoner walked up to the drawing room door, hand out.
"Where are the guards stationed now?" Palpatine asked quietly, squinting at the image.
Mara checked status screens. "Mostly in the lower levels. We've got as many units as possible out on the rooftop gardens, searching it by quarters. He's still outside, because we haven't had an entry alarm sound yet. I've had some of the tranquillizer sent down, and there are three units who carry it routinely who've..."
"Bring them in," Palpatine interrupted. "He's in the Towers."
Mara frowned. "Master?"
"He's in the Towers, dressed as a Royal Guard. Probably with those you so considerately sent running down to the Crossways, since that's where he needed to get to. Replay the image."
Mara turned back to the display, head fizzing with adrenaline as she took in the scene.
"There--slow the image," Palpatine said coolly.
It was at the point where the first flurry of guards came rushing in... Mara studied the display as the image edged forward incrementally.
"Stop," the Emperor ordered curtly, stepping forward to point at the frame, his long white fingers pale against the sea of scarlet in the image. "He's there."
In the midst of the chaos of red-garbed Royal Guard who streamed into the room, spreading out and onto the balcony, one guard was walking calmly the opposite way, back through the entrance door, pike in hand...
"The guard he dragged out onto the balcony," Mara said flatly. "He was counting down the time he had to dress."
The Emperor turned hard, yellow eyes on Mara. "Are the guards still out in the gardens?" he asked pointedly.
Mara rushed to comply, recalling troops and reassigning the blue-clad Palace Guard and grey-uniformed officers--every Royal Guard now had to have his identity checked.
.
.
Luke smoothed down the olive drab of the officer's uniform he wore, running his fingers quickly through the short, military crop he'd had just days before, eyes flicking coldly from the nervous Intel officer he'd just taken the uniform from, to the second officer now slumped in the corner; there was always someone who chanced their luck.
He turned back to the first man. "Okay, here's the deal. You do exactly as I tell you and you'll have a very interesting story to tell over dinner tomorrow night. Cross me, interfere, get in my way or disobey and I will put you in the morgue and go find someone who will do as I say. Are we very clear on that?" His voice was quiet and flat, but deadly serious.
The man nodded dumbly.
Confronted with that blast of fear which blared out through the Force, Luke tried to feel any shred of guilt at the man's terror, but in that moment it was far beyond him. All he saw was his plan--all he felt was cold, single-minded determination.
"Put those on." He kicked his own trousers, carefully chosen tonight, across to the man--also very carefully chosen.
A little taller than Luke with short dark hair, wearing Luke's dark trousers and military boots with the white shirt from his own uniform, he could easily be Han from a distance.
Luke had been eager to get rid of the Royal Guard's uniform as quickly as possible--it had been a method of getting him out of the room, nothing more. To keep wearing it when they would have him in security footage dragging the damn guard outside would have been suicide, but it had served its purpose.
He'd headed up four stories--not so far that a member of the Red Guard would have seemed out of place--then began frantically searching for his next change of clothes, on just the right officer. He needed someone with a reasonably prominent rank and therefore high security clearance--not too old, fast enough not to slow Luke down, though he didn't intend going that far...and the right look.
And he figured he had about three minutes to find him.
Then along came this guy, making Luke's night...though probably not his own, Luke reflected dryly, bundling the red overcloak into the hard cowl-helmet, the only pieces of the Red Guard's uniform he'd had time to drag on.
Glancing about, he turned his gaze up, at the lowered roof. He almost--almost--used the Force to lift the discarded clothes into the ceiling void. But he caught himself at the last minute--he could do a reasonable job of confusing Palpatine's concept of his exact position, but not if he used the Force directly.