"My Lord, are you certain we cannot convince you to stay longer?"

Vader bit his lip against a curse at the sound of Agent Kallus' voice. He was seriously tempted to duck down a few side passages to hide his destination, as obvious as it probably was already. He'd left most of the officers on the overbridge stunned by his abrupt arrival and even more abrupt declaration that his ship was being prepared as he spoke, and that it was his intention to leave the station immediately – too stunned, he'd hoped, for anyone to think to follow him.

It was probably his own fault that Kallus had been the one to catch up to him. Vader had a long stride to match his height, and he didn't walk slowly, even without the suit to add to his natural strength. Kallus had spent nearly three weeks scurrying at Vader's exoskeleton-enhanced heels. He'd surely built up his endurance by now.

Forcing calmness, Vader said, "I'm not the one you must convince, Agent Kallus, and convincing the Emperor of anything once his mind is made up is an exercise in futility. He has decided my presence is needed to quash unrest on Garel, and his will is law."

"Of course, of course," Kallus backtracked, and Vader narrowly kept a snort quiet enough for his vocoder to dismiss it as nothing more than an especially loud breath. Usually his tact of throwing people off their guard with whip-sharp avowals of the Emperor's power when they began to question it didn't work on Kallus. Maybe the other man was more rattled than he was letting on.

Or more elated that Vader was leaving, and hurrying after his departing guest now to put himself above suspicion.

Political muscles Vader had felt growing tougher and stronger in the last few months tensed, searching for clues in Kallus' manner. There was nothing there he could see, and questing probes with the Force came back blank as soon as they hit Kallus' mental defenses, but perhaps if he asked a few careful questions...

No. Vader had to remain resolute. Any sign of being more than the Emperor's attack dog, tunnel vision-blinded to anything but the task before him, and he risked tipping the rebel operative aboard the station off to his scheme. Vader had no proof, of course, but Kallus could very well be that operative.

"Seeing me to my ship is an unnecessary formality, Agent Kallus. We must all serve the Emperor in our own ways. Yours is to see to the task of unmasking the infiltrator aboard this station while I'm not here to do it personally."

"I first welcomed you here, my Lord," Kallus shot back smoothly. "It's only fitting that I see you off."

"Really? I suppose that's well and good, but I am certain I will return to my assignment here if the enemy agent is not caught in two weeks' time," Vader said, deciding to gamble that Kallus would pass the word along as well as take the veiled threat to heart himself. "The rebels on Garel have proven stubborn, but they're nowhere near tenacious enough to withstand me for long."

"Indeed..." It could've been a trick of the low, greenish light, but if it wasn't Vader's imagination, Kallus was looking a little paler than usual. Whether it was from anger or fear, that, Vader couldn't tell. "In that case, I will redouble my efforts."

With a wave of his hand, Vader punched in the commands to open the blast doors separating the hallway from the hangar bay beyond. As he spoke, the thick sheets of metal slid quietly apart. "See that you do."

"Then I– is that one of our TIE fighters?"

Vader grimaced, but in the end, this deception would go more smoothly if he had someone to explain himself to. It was well within the rights of someone of his rank to commandeer a ship from of the Death Star's sizeable complement of sleek new Imperial TIE fighters, but it would seem peculiar if he said nothing about his intentions before leaving with it.

And he had to maintain the illusion that everything was as it should be.

"I've appropriated it for my mission. My shuttle is adequately shielded for battle, but poorly armed," Vader said, gesturing vaguely to the ship in the center of the hangar and the fighter attached to its topside via an umbilical, the tips of its two wings neatly framing the shuttle's gun turret. "I have reason to suspect my arrival will be met with some resistance in orbit. I refuse to be stranded and defenseless in the middle of an active combat situation should the shuttle's shields fail."

"Then I admire your preparedness, and wish you luck."

"There is no such thing as luck," Vader said automatically, though even after all these years he still wasn't sure he believed it. "Only the power of the Force."

"Then may the Force be with you, Lord Vader."

Vader offered Kallus a quick nod and increased his speed a fraction. Kallus didn't match it, and before long, he'd had left the other man behind completely and scaled the ramp into the ship.

"Prepare for takeoff," he barked toward the cockpit, and heard the answering hum of engines and repulsorlifts purring to life beneath him. As the ramp collapsed back into the ship and the blast shields slid closed at his back, Vader made a beeline for the crew ladder leading up to the hatch and the TIE fighter joined to it.

The ship rumbled to life, engines and awakening hyperdrive vibrating up into his body through the rungs beneath his fingers and boots. Moments later, Vader felt a slight shudder as the shuttle passed through the ray shield protecting the hangar from the vacuum of space. But the subtle flip in his stomach of the artificial gravity kicking in never came, and when he shifted, his cape stayed suspended in the air instead of sinking back to the floor.

Good – Ensign Kinta was following his instructions to the letter.

Imperial passenger shuttles of this size were meant to use their top hatch – the only way in and out of the ship save the ramp – and umbilical to connect to a mother ship, not support craft of their own. In order to link with a TIE, which was accessible by a canopy atop the cockpit, the two ships were necessarily positioned so the pilot's seat was upside down. Had the shuttle been generating its own gravity, Vader wouldn't be able to board it and access the controls – not gracefully, anyway.

Quick as a Loth-cat, Vader twisted his body on the ladder and shimmied up – which had now become down – into the TIE and closed the canopy. As he strapped himself in, he ran one last check that the extra oxygen tanks and rations he'd stowed on the fighter's underside were secure.

All magnetic seals were functioning within normal parameters. With a faint smile, Vader powered everything save the patch he'd rigged from the shuttle's comm system to the TIE's, and waited.

As expected, the comm crackled to life only minutes later. The overbridge's scanners were tracking the shuttle's departure, and as such, the command staff were quick to notice the deviation from routine. "Shuttle A-576402, this is the overbridge. Come in, please," came an unfamiliar female voice. "Scanners are showing that your artificial gravity is offline. What is your situation?"

"We read you, overbridge," Ensign Kinta replied. "There seems to be some kind of problem with the power couplings between the artificial gravity generator and the aft engine; I can't activate the one without the other overheating."

"Our technicians are ready to mobilize to fix the problem."

"Lord Vader is aware of the situation, and would prefer a little discomfort while travelling to a significant delay to repair it. I'll give it one more shot by his leave, but if there's no change, we'll be on our way."

"Understood. Overbridge out."

The comm channel closed. Heartbeats later, Kinta opened another one with the TIE fighter directly. "Lord Vader, we are ready to flare the engines in thirty seconds – twenty-five."

"Very good. Vader out."

Vader counted down the seconds in his mind – twenty, fifteen, seven, three, two, one – before a burst of heat so intense even his suit struggled to compensate for it flooded in through the closed canopy. Vader shut his eyes and bore it. Venting exhaust from the engines through the emergency valves was the only means he'd come up with short of tampering with the station's several thousand scanners that would briefly disguise the absence of a second life form aboard.

And confuse the scanners enough to miss the fact that the shuttle was no longer carrying Vader's commandeered TIE fighter before it made the jump into hyperspace.

The heat began to fade. Half a second later, the umbilical retreated, leaving the TIE fighter to coast along with the ship on inertia. Beneath him, the shuttle made a minute course correction, zipping around and away from the TIE before splitting into half an afterimage as it stretched off into hyperspace. Then, with a wink of light, it was gone.

As he pulled a remote off his belt, Vader muttered, "Now, to get off this ride." Then, he flipped up the protective cap and pressed the button.

Vader was thrown forward against his harness hard enough to leave bruises, but he'd calculated the angle of the caps on his spare oxygen tanks – the pair he'd had Ensign Kinta requisition from the Death Star's reserves – precisely. Steadily the ship slowed to a halt without deviating from its current vector – and, more importantly, without throwing the ship into an uncontrolled gyration.

Once the oppositional force had slowed the forward motion of the TIE to a scant few klicks an hour, Vader jettisoned the near-empty tanks and attached his latest mechanical endeavor to his back: a device that was half emergency oxygen supply, half jetpack. He'd managed to complete it with only four nights' work – and what he suspected bordered on an unsafe amount of caf. And it was his ticket to someplace he could wait quietly and watch the next two weeks unfold, under both Imperial and Rebel radar.

With a deep breath, Vader made the switch from the remaining oxygen in the cockpit to his pack and popped the canopy. Even the very slight change in force was enough to start the ship spinning, but not quickly enough to make Vader lose his last meal. Another breath flooded his lungs with oxygen, and he began pulling himself from one handhold to the next until he was being towed along by the craft's wing.

A group of dormant construction modules and scrap metal floated nearby, awaiting pickup from one of the few junk dealers cleared to operate near the station's polar region – junk dealers who wouldn't arrive for another month. Perfect, Vader thought. Then, squaring his shoulders, he fired the jetpack and began to push.

Crisp, brittle snow that had fallen in warmer weather only to freeze into tiny ice pellets with an especially frigid night crunched beneath Lux's boots as he scaled the ramp to the landing pad. A wide grin split his face, and he narrowly resisted taking off at a run through it like a delighted child just to hear more of that sound.

The hospitality of the Queen and Prince Consort of Alderaan was excellent, and Lux had wanted for nothing during his stay at the Royal Palace, but over the last week he and the other guests had spent a truly criminal amount of time indoors. Perhaps people accustomed to cold winters were less inclined to appreciate them.

Gods above, he'd missed travelling – seeing new sights, meeting people from all walks of life. How much time had passed since he'd last left Onderon? Two and a half years, at least. He was still surprised his father had let him go at all, even if the planetary blockade was slowly lifting, and the lockdown on the spaceport with it.

Lux's smile soured at that. When one needed something from an opponent, it was sensible to make a few concessions to give the impression of an equivalent exchange, to lull the opponent into a false sense of security about their own power.

As the ramp flattened out, Lux set his suitcase down and turned to await his host, who was keeping a few respectful steps behind Lux's honor guard. Lux was one of the last to leave this gathering, and as such, Prince Consort and Imperial Senator Bail Organa had been able to make time to see him off personally.

Lux waved a hand, and the six Noreino troops walked on through the double line of Alderaan consular security guards with their thumbnail helmets low on their faces and scatter guns snapped tight to their chests. Dakharen was already aboard the shuttle up ahead. With none of his father's agents left to give him trouble, Lux intended to milk these last moments of freedom for all they were worth.

"Enjoying the snow, Lord Bonteri?" Bail asked, the motion of his lips halfway masked by a puff of vapor.

Lux didn't bother to hide his smile. "Immensely, Prince Consort. It's only ever cold enough on Onderon for things to freeze over in the Arrowhead Mountains or far into the polar regions, and all our major urban settlements are near the equator. This is... a welcome change of pace."

"In that case, I'm very happy to hear it. But please, call me Bail. Your mother and I couldn't agree on many things, but I considered her a friend and ally in what mattered most. I hope to consider her son the same."

Lux fidgeted with the embroidered grey cuff of his parka. "Then I must also insist you call me Lux," he managed, scraping up a smile.

Bail saw right through it. His expression softened in empathy beneath his beard. "You're so young, to have known such grief."

"Others have been through worse. I was lucky enough to get my father back."

"But not before you'd felt the pain of losing him."

Lux had no reply for that. Instead, he turned toward the spectacular golden-orange glow – Alynna's color – hazing the horizon to the west and shut his eyes, letting the last rays of the setting sun warm his cheeks and the chilled tip of his nose. He took another precious lungful of that sharp, clean air, and perked up a little. This made every breath in Kyzeron feel like inhaling an aerosolized sleeping tonic.

He didn't want to go back. If only he could comm Alynna and tell her to board a ship to meet him, to go someplace they'd be safe and free of his father's schemes...

Lux squared his shoulders. Getting her away wasn't possible yet, but it would be soon, if he could steal Alynna's documents and get the full payment of her alleged debt to the Crown notarized before his father found out. He already had a few ideas for how to pull it off.

"Forgive me," Bail said finally. "This is a rather morose way to end your trip."

"There's nothing to forgive. I only wish I could stay here longer. It's been years since I last left Onderon."

"We'd be glad to extend the invitation, but I expect you have responsibilities waiting for you back home. As I understand it, an Onderonian Heir-Designate shares many duties with the head of their Great House."

Lux felt himself starting to slouch, and straightened his spine. "Yes. Duties..."

He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, and looked up to see that same painfully empathetic look in Bail's deep brown eyes. "Are you not happy there?"

"You'll think me indolent if I say no to that question."

"I will not."

Lux wet his lips to warm them and instantly regretted it when a sudden gust cooled the bit of moisture on his skin to near freezing. "Kyzeron is the cutting edge of Onderonian innovation. A little fishing town built into a city of that size in less than three years? Between the predators and cost of building materials on my planet when so many of our resources are refined offworld, that's unheard of. But..."

"But?"

"Yes, it's a remarkable achievement, but Kyzeron has no culture, no morality. It's become the most wretched hive of slavers and gamblers for a dozen parsecs. Debauchery trumps honor any given day of the week, and the king can do nothing to hold people accountable with the Empire breathing down his neck." Lux scoffed. "Oh, and I'm forgetting those blasted amendments to the rights and freedoms of offworlders that allow people with expired visas to be made into literal slaves."

"Worse things have happened on other worlds," Bail said mildly. "Onderon, at least, can still be fixed, with the right people putting pressure on the establishment."

"I remember when the nobility and the bourgeoisie thought only of bettering themselves to prove their worthiness of all that had been given to them. They gave back to the common people and the rest of the galaxy; they didn't take advantage of the vulnerable for their own gain." Searching for an outlet before he started pacing the length of the landing pad, Lux took off the hat he'd donned to protect himself from the cold and ran a hand through his hair. "I do what I can, but I... Bail, I'm just one man. Most days I feel like I'm fighting it alone."

"You aren't. There are millions of others like you," Bail said, and the force behind it was unexpected. "Some may be closer than you think. In fact... well, in the interest of secrecy I hesitate to tell you this, but a contact of mine recently began an operation in Kyzeron – Ahsoka Tano is her name. I have a feeling your objections with Kyzeron's management line up with a great many of hers."

"Ahsoka Tano..." Lux frowned. Something about that name sounded awfully familiar – like he'd caught it in a conversation nearly out of earshot, or overheard it from the next room while he was half-asleep.

"Do you know her?" Bail pressed, dark eyes alight.

Lux's eyes widened. "I... no. I've heard the name somewhere before, I think, but I've never met her that I can recall." He took a step back, realizing at last what Bail's game was. "When you said we would be glad to let me stay longer, who exactly was the 'we' in question?"

"I mean only to say that you have a place with us if ever you want a change of pace – a change of morality," Bail added meaningfully. "Here on Alderaan, you might connect with more people who feel the same way you do."

Lux fought off a rising urge to flee and stepped closer, lowering his voice for the benefit of the guards standing only a short distance away. "Yes, I might. But I know what you're asking of me, and I won't do it. I make Imperial secrets available to whoever needs them – Rebellion or third party – but as much as I hate what my home is coming to, there's nothing else I can do about it without putting my family at risk. My father, my stepmother, my half-siblings, the baby not yet born, all of them will feel the consequences of my actions if I fight back – the same way I felt those of my mother when she went against Dooku during the Clone Wars."

"Nothing is gained without risk, Lux."

"If the risks aren't acceptable, I'd rather not gain anything at all," Lux shot back. "I learned that kind of caution the hard way. And another thing: how am I to know what the end result will be? I hate the Empire, but I don't want to bring back a bloated Republic that can't be bothered to lift a finger to help those in need unless they know they can get something in return."

Already Lux was seeing the signs of what was to come. Bail was entreating Lux to join him instead of offering the kind of help Lux needed. Bail was playing nice, but he wanted to remove Lux from the equation on Onderon to bolster his own plans – not to extend his own forces even further to help rectify the situation.

"Whether or not the regime that rises from the ashes of the Empire is slow and self-centered will depend on the next generation of free thinkers – young people like you who are still discovering their power." Bail spread his arms in a pacifying gesture. "I won't argue you on this if your mind is made up; I'm grateful for the aid you provide us with as it stands. But if ever you wish for an ally in Kyzeron, I'd be happy to give you Ms. Tano's comm code – through the proper channels, of course."

The proper channels being an Imperial frequency encrypted with their own personal code, and a mutual agreement to refer to each other by their codenames – Origin and Guardian – alone. Lux had his suspicions about what kind of role Bail held in the Rebellion, but it wasn't his place to get involved. He had to pick his battles, and his first duties would always be to his people and his family.

And, now, to Alynna. Even at a time like this, the simple act of thinking of her, of what they were becoming to each other, filled him with warmth.

Bail's wrist comm began to beep, and when he shrugged aside a fold of his cloak and turned away to check the caller ID, Lux caught a glimpse of a strange holographic symbol floating above the device – something like a hooked letter vev.

"I apologize for leaving so abruptly, but I really must take this call," Bail said. "It's a close associate of mine who's sure to have news about a situation that's been costing us both a lot of sleep."

Lux flashed an understanding smile and bowed deeply. "Then I thank you once again for your hospitality. I hope we can speak again in person before long."

"I hope so, too." Bail took Lux by the shoulders before he could turn away. "And politics aside, however much or little you want to give, you will always have a place here with us. Anyone from your family would."

A place here with us. Emotion welled up in Lux's chest unexpectedly, and he nodded stiffly. "Thank you. That... thank you."

Dakharen came halfway down the ramp of the shuttle, raising an expectant eyebrow at Lux. Apparently his last few seconds of freedom had just trickled away. With a last respectful dip of his head, Lux headed back to the shuttle.

Lux's father could make all the concessions he wanted to get Lux to drop his guard. Kyzeron was populated by the dregs of Onderonian society, but for someone with Lux's resources and mettle, it would always present opportunities. He refused to be pessimistic – especially now that he had someone he loved to go home to.

The next phase of Vader's scheme has been put into effect, to somewhat bizarre results. How much does he actually know about the coming Rebel assault on the Geonosis system? Who will the hammer fall on if he decides to get involved? For his part, Lux is walking a knife's edge between duty to his family and duty to those who are suffering under the Empire on Onderon and across the rest of the galaxy. Is this the last word he'll give on his stance with joining the Rebellion more concretely? Will Ahsoka's allegiance be able to change his mind – if he ever finds out? Only time will tell...

Hey kids, how y'all doing?

This chapter has been through MANY rounds of editing because it's been so long since I first wrote it, so I apologize if it feels stuffy or slow. It's very much connections between the previous non-interlude chapter and the next one, which will be a bit more significant. We're getting to the end of the second arc of three of the book, and it's gonna get WILD.

Still, even if reviewing this chapter tonight to double-check for spelling errors was tedious, I very much enjoyed rereading some things in context. For instance, "Perhaps people accustomed to cold winters were less inclined to appreciate them." 

*laughs in meta Canadian*

But hey, if it gave me an excuse to dress Lux up in his Carlac jacket and hat, even I as a person who has to deal with freezing temperatures six months of the year, I'll take it.

Also hilariously meta is the fact that this chapter is the first I'm posting after the lifting of certain COVID-19 restrictions on travel out of my country, and the increasing possibility I'll be able to go visit a friend in the States this August. I guess at the time I wrote this some of Lux's wanderlust bled out into the piece, but it felt especially poignant now that I'm really discussing going to see her.

Lux's POV this chapter was also another opportunity to set him up as a character parallel to Ahsoka. They both have an immense ability to think creatively, but they've both been stuck in one situation for so long they struggle sometimes to divert from it. Lux is expecting help to be blindly offered to Onderon instead of reaching a compromise, because he's been in survival mode for so long and had his trust beaten down time and time again. He's making assumptions instead of hearing people out – something he also did with Noronessa – which may cost him.

I also have tried the two week update thing, and decided I... do not like it. At all. I have less motivation to write than I did, which isn't good, so I'm gonna shrink the wait time down to a week and a half between chapter. If I update on a Wednesday, the next chapter will be up two Sundays later, and the chapter after that will come two Wednesdays later – you catch my drift? Anyway, I'll see how it goes and report back!

Next chapter we get back to Ahsoka and her network on Onderon, as well as Rex where he's been headquartered with the larger Rebellion, and listen in on a few comm calls between the two of them. Talk to you guys then!

Curled up in Lux's – hers? theirs collectively? – bed with a pair of datapads she'd scraped off Noreino House's garbage heap and repaired with tools on loan from the Amavikkas, Ahsoka was so relentlessly focused on analyzing the floor plan of a new system of Dashonderon mining tunnels she nearly missed the ring of her transmitter until it was too late. Lunging across the bed, she snapped it up in one hand and jabbed the icon to answer the call with the other.

The caller ID made her grin, but she didn't stray from their protocol: the standard codename identification followed by a few questions with answers the other would be sure to know. "This is Fulcrum. What's my favorite food?"

"This is Crowned Helm. Small rodents, but they give you indigestion. You feel compelled to warn people of that when they try to surprise you, so most of the time you settle for sweets as a safer close second. Any kind'll do; you're not particular. When was the last time you saw me drunk?"

"Two weeks before the Battle of Felucia. We drank the last few bottles of Blinker's batch of jet juice to celebrate getting the refugees from Ord Mantell to safety. I remember because..." Ahsoka frowned. How to tell him? "Just under two months ago I dreamed of Felucia, of running up to the landing zone, and after Anakin commed me I remembered asking myself if he'd had anything to drink lately."

Rex's tone shifted from laid-back to soothing in a heartbeat. "Flashback?"

"Must've been."

"Have you had many since then, Commander?"

"No, actually – and I'm hugely grateful for that. Grateful to someone, come to think of it. I've got an... an ally here who's been a huge help in keeping me centered," Ahsoka said, struggling to keep her tone neutral. "You'd like him."

"Well, you'll have to tell me all about him on our next call, I'm sorry to say." She could practically hear Rex's grimace through the transmitter, that familiar press and twist of lip only he could pull off. "I've only got a few minutes to talk, this time."