Here it is, the fic that I wrote for the birthday challenge. Please
R&R ~Devi

_______________

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. I have written this solely for
fun, and not for money. The "blue-eyed son" line was taken from the
lyrics of a Bob Dylan song that I don't own either. No infringement
intended whatsoever. All characters appearing in this fic were
created by George Lucas and Timothy Zahn, to whom I hereby humbly bow.

"Sacrifice" (PG)

Mara Jade never forgot an order. Yes, there had been an unforeseen
delay (she was sure that this was all that it was, a delay) in
regards with her most recent assignment. But she had used the time
well by executing an older order from her Emperor: to kill Dequc of
the Black Nebula crime syndicate. Crime never pays; and Mara never
wasted her time. Having left Svivren only a few days ago, she was now
on her way to take care of her most recent assignment again. As far
as she was concerned, Luke Skywalker was already dead.

But right now, he was on the forest moon of Endor; or near it,
anyhow; for that was where all the Rebels had come. The Empire would
be able to deal with them, no doubt; but she would deal with
Skywalker personally. She had been given an order; and Mara Jade
never forgot an order.

Her ship swiftly approached the forest moon, which rested before the
backdrop of space like a green jewel lying on a cushion of black
velvet. The energy shield was opened for her with no questions asked,
since the encoded signal transmitted by Mara's ship entitled her to
automatic clearance to land on any Imperial installation, at any
time. There were some special privileges that came with being the
Emperor's Hand.

Mara landed her ship. She disembarked, using the Force to project the
notion that she wasn't there to the stormtroopers she encountered.
Though hers was an Imperial mission as well, it was by no means an
official one. Her missions were never official. Upon entering the
forest, Mara turned her head hither and thither, almost as if
sniffing the air, probing it for a sign of what she wanted to find.
It was with her Force sense, however, and not with her sense of smell
that she searched for her quarry. Then she found - felt - the sign
she had been looking for, and started to move in the respective
direction.

After she didn't count how many stealthy steps, she held her breath,
her hand moving to her blaster in a reflexive movement. She stopped
before firing though, as did the stormtroopers that were standing in
front of Luke Skywalker; for the young Rebel commander had put his
hands up in the air in an unmistakable gesture of surrender. //He's
surrendering to the Empire!?!// Mara did not know whether to laugh
about the absurdity of the scene she saw, or whether she should take
it as a personal insult. After all the time and effort that she had
spent, that *the whole Empire* had spent to hunt Luke Skywalker, he
was now surrendering on his own accord!

Well, that was it. The rest, Mara knew, would only be routine.
Skywalker would be interrogated, then killed, or maybe put into an
Imperial labor camp (which was but a slower form of killing); that
would be none of her concern. But still, her sense of duty dictated
for her to stick around until her job was completely done, whether by
her or someone else. So as the young Rebel was led away, she followed
the group unheard and unseen.

*******

Moving without announcing her presence even by a single sound or
ruffled leaf was nothing for Mara. Her presence in the Force was more
difficult to hide, and it was near impossible to hide it from someone
as powerful as Darth Vader. But as Skywalker was led before the Dark
Lord, they both were so absorbed in their encounter that neither of
them noticed that Mara was watching them from the shadows, listening.

"The Emperor has been expecting you." "I know, father." "So, you have
accepted the truth." "I have accepted the truth that you were once
Anakin Skywalker, my father."

Mara swallowed a cry of surprise and disbelief. His *father*??! Luke
Skywalker was Vader's *son*?!! How could he have a son at all?
Inconceivable, that any woman could have loved Darth Vader. Or had it
been rape? Had she been a whore? And how did Skywalker know? Since
when did he know? Why didn't *she* know?!!? She, the Emperor's Hand.
Why hadn't the Emperor told her? "Kill Luke Skywalker", that had been
all he had said.

Luke Skywalker, son of Anakin. Anakin Skywalker... when had she heard
that name before? A faint trace of long forgotten information
surfaced in her memory. A child prodigy podracing champion... a hero of
the Clone Wars, a...Jedi. Vader had been...? No, that wasn't possible.
Lord Vader *hated* the Jedi, he had killed them. And Anakin Skywalker
had died long ago; wasn't that what all the records said about him?
No, not died, *vanished*. At the same time when Darth Vader had first
appeared in the public eye... The Emperor had never told her, never
told...

"That name no longer has any meaning for me.", Vader replied in a
tone of final certainty, intending to cut short the discussion; but
his son kept insisting in words that subtly, almost unnoticeably,
drove themselves deep into Mara's heart, making unknown strings
resound within that hidden cavity. "It is the name of your true self.
You've only forgotten. I know there is good in you. The Emperor
hasn't driven it from you fully. That is why you couldn't destroy me.
That's why you won't bring me to your Emperor now. "

Mara watched as the youth turned his back towards his father while
speaking. //He must be crazy, turning his back to Darth Vader! Who
would do such a thing?// Skywalker wore his calm like an armor that
remained impenetrable even as Vader ignited the young Jedi's green-
bladed lightsaber and passed it over his head. Was Lord Vader doing
it as a test? Was he contemplating whether he would be able to kill
his own son? Had the Emperor told him to kill him? To bring him alive?

Or maybe he was merely testing the saber itself; maybe he could
somehow read from it all that Skywalker had undertaken in the
meantime. //Where did you be, my blue-eyed son? Where did you be, my
darling young one?//

"Your skills are complete. Indeed, you are powerful, as the Emperor
has foreseen." Vader spoke out loud what Mara felt. //He is strong.
*Special.*// Luke Skywalker seemed fragile with his slim, almost
slight built that was emphasized by his plain, black clothes; and yet
there was a peculiar power in him that fascinated her even against
her will.

"You don't know the power of the Dark Side. I must obey my Master!"
Those words, spoken by Vader's deep, thundering voice, seemed like an
impenetrable fortress, like dark walls of duracrete behind which the
Sith Lord stood, never to be reached; but Mara, with her fine
intuition that had been sharpened during years as a secret agent,
could sense that this fearsome display of Darth Vader's unshakable,
ocean-deep commitment to darkness was like an opulent display of
wealth put up for what was maybe the last time by someone who was
already in the process of going bankrupt, and didn't want to admit
it.

"I will not turn...and you'll be forced to kill me." Skywalker spoke
calmly, but with firm determination. The implication of his words
seemed to hang in the air like a tangible, heavy thing. //Can you
bring yourself to kill your own son; the fruit of your love, if
you've ever known one?//

"If that is your destiny." Emotionless, merciless, like the sound of
a heavy door shutting.

"Search your feelings, father. You can't do this. I feel the conflict
within you. Let go of your hate!" Skywalker was pleading with fervent
urgency, pleading with... a son's love. Blue-eyed son, darling young
one, so willing a sacrifice for so dark a father.

"It is too late for me, son." Just for a moment, the dark walls
cracked apart; if only to reveal a man who was convinced that his
darkness was unchangeable, and - regretted it. Since when did Darth
Vader know regret?

"The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force. He is your
master now." The dark walls slammed shut again, silently crushing
Luke's heart in between.

"Then my father is truly dead." There was no contempt in those words,
just a still sadness that was like the black of a night sky when
there are no stars. As the two walked towards Vader's shuttle, Mara
hurried to reach her own ship. She knew she had to follow them to the
Death Star, or something bad would happen. Something really bad.

*******

The Death Star, like any bigger Imperial installation, had been
fitted with myriads of secret corridors, hidden elevators, and back
entrances; and Mara knew most of them. There were some special
privileges that came with being the Emperor's Hand, no doubt. So it
was no wonder that she reached the gallery of the Emperor's throne
room at the same time that Darth Vader walked in with his captive
son. Mara quickly chose a vantage point where she would be as little
visible as possible, but able to observe everything that went on
below her. What happened right now was between Vader, Skywalker and
the Emperor, and she knew it. But she would watch, and interfere if
necessary. She would be the Emperor's safety net, his reliable backup
system. Until then, she would remain silent.

Mara was not surprised in the slightest as the Emperor sent away the
Royal Guards that had been flanking the throne room's door and, by
means of an almost casual twitch with the Force, removed the manacles
from Luke Skywalker's wrists. It was just what she would have
expected from the Palpatine she knew. Showing his prisoner just how
much he could afford to relinquish control was a most effective,
though subtle, way of giving an impressive demonstration of his
power. And Palpatine liked it subtle, subtle and effective.

"I'm looking forward to completing your training. In time you will
call me...Master." The last word was tasted by the Emperor's lips as if
it was the finest wine. Slowly it dawned on Mara that the ruler had
wanted to have Skywalker alive all along. Have him for whatever were
his purposes. But why had she been told to kill the young Jedi? Had
it been a test? A game? Had she been a pawn, a dupe?

Now it became understandable why the Emperor had made a show of
seeming generosity by undoing Skywalker's fetters. If the youth was
even a bit like his father, it would be difficult to break him; and
unwise as well, as his value as a servant would be so much greater if
his inner fire would only be tempered as much as necessary, rather
than extinguished. So the Emperor would prefer to *convince* him, to
let him come to his side in his own time. And convincing had always
been Palpatine's specialty...

*******

Mara watched, watched what almost seemed like a carefully
choreographed play unfolding, or rather like a game, a dejarik match.
Did the Emperor move all the pieces, or did he only think he did? And
was it dejarik that was played, or was it sabacc, where the value of
your hand could change at any time?

She looked towards where Luke Skywalker was standing in front of the
throne room window, watching the battle that was raging
outside. //They are losing, those Rebels. Well, what did they
expect?// For the first time, the thought was accompanied by less of
the feeling of triumph that Mara used to have at the occasions that
were considered moments of pride and glory for all loyal Imperials.
Perhaps it came from the look she saw in young Skywalker's eyes when
he turned around. She recognized that look - it was but a more
restrained variety of the look she had seen when he had been fighting
for his life in the Rancor pit. The fight he had to face now was
quieter, but no less hard; and watching him, Mara felt compassion,
that dangerous feeling, sneak up inside her in fine tendrils.

The young Jedi's eyes wandered to the Emperor; towards his
lightsaber, which the old ruler had put down beside him, within
Luke's easy reach. //Show him you trust, convince him.// Eyes the
color of cloudless sky, but a storm raging on the inside. And the
Emperor provoking, teasing.

A game of dejarik? Or a game of sabacc?

When it happened, it happened too fast for Mara to react, or even to
cry out; but not too fast for Darth Vader. Two sabers, red like fresh
blood and green like her eyes, crossing before the Emperor's laughing
face.

*******

From her vantage point, Mara watched the duel with keen attention.
She had seen Skywalker before, so his quick reflexes were nothing new
to her. Nevertheless, he impressed her; not only by his skillful
fighting, but even more so by the serious determination she could see
in him. //Impressed by a *Rebel*? Get a grip on yourself, girl.//,
she mentally scolded herself.

As small in body as Skywalker was, he was his father's equal in
physical strength; and his graceful prowess was amazing in someone so
young. As much as Vader was intend not to cut him any slack, he had a
hard time fighting against his son; perhaps the hardest he'd ever had
since the duel in which he had killed Mace Windu. Soon, Luke got the
upper hand and Vader was forced back, then knocked down the stairs.

The Emperor cackled: "Good. Use your aggressive feelings, boy! Let
the hate flow through you." The young Jedi looked at him, then at his
father; realizing that in the heat of fighting, he had almost let
himself slip across the thin terminator line that separated him from
the Dark Side. //Careful, I must be more careful.// He extinguished
his lightsaber and took a deep, relaxing breath, driving the hatred
out of his system. - "I will not fight you, father."

Vader came up the stairs. "You are unwise to lower your defenses." He
attacked Luke, forcing him to defend himself. Then, in a prodigious
leap, the young Jedi flipped through the air and onto the catwalk
overhead; up to the level where Mara was situated, but still much too
far removed from her to notice her presence. Vader looked up at him.

"Your thoughts betray you, father. I feel the good in you...the
conflict." So earnest, Luke was; filled with love and compassion for
the opponent who had just attacked him. //Who is he that he can love
even Darth Vader?//, Mara thought. She couldn't help but again be
impressed by the young man's - what was the word for what she had
seen so rarely in her Imperial environment? Honor? Nobility?
Goodness? It was not a sentiment the Emperor would appreciate, this
much she knew. How quickly is treachery born?

"There is no conflict," Vader retorted, but what Mara sensed in him
through the Force belied his words. //Heck, this could get
interesting...//

"You couldn't bring yourself to kill me before, and I don't believe
you'll destroy me now." Again, Luke was speaking with all his
strength of heart behind it; reaching out to find whatever was left
of his father's humanness. But Darth Vader showed no mercy - "You
underestimate the power of the dark side. If you will not fight, then
you will meet your destiny." He threw his crimson saber, which cut
through the supports that were holding the catwalk, then returned to
his hand in a graceful arc. The sound of the catwalk crashing down
obscured Mara's shriek as Luke tumbled to the ground in a shower of
sparks and rolled under the platform on which the Emperor's throne
was standing. There, in the dark, he remained. Vader walked towards
him.

"You cannot hide forever, Luke." Now it was Vader who was teasing,
provoking; being the well-taught student of his Master. Probing for a
weak spot in his son, like poking in his soul with a knife: "Give
yourself to the Dark Side. It is the only way you can save your
friends. Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are
strong. Especially for..." - Mara felt a poignant spark of anguish
from Luke - "Sister! So... you have a twin sister..." For a passing
moment, Mara saw a snippet of memory appear before her mind's eye in
a flickering image - a beautiful, delicate brunette, laid in chains
by Jabba... Then Vader twisted the knife: "If you will not turn to the
Dark Side, then perhaps she will." "NEVER!" Luke leaped forward with
lit saber like a bright flame blazing; a living fire of anger fed by
the ready fuel of despair; more like a primal force of nature than a
man. Vader was driven back step by step by his son's onslaught. Then
the ugly sound of a lightsaber severing a limb; and Darth Vader lay
on his back, his right arm a smoking stump, Luke's saber at his
throat.

The Emperor cackled with unabashed delight: "Good! Your hate has made
you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father's place
at my side!"

Luke stood towering over the Dark Lord; quivering with inner turmoil
as he looked at the smoking stump where Vader's mechanical hand had
been, then at his own black-gloved mechanical hand. In an instant,
Mara understood that it had been Vader who had cut off Luke's real
hand back then. //And now he will have his revenge.//

Then Luke Skywalker did something unexpected. Moving back a step, he
flung his extinguished lightsaber to the floor, where it landed with
a hollow *clonk!*. "Never! I'll never turn to the Dark Side. You've
failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me." Luke
was breathing heavily. //He has just spoken his own death sentence,
and he knows it.//, Mara thought. The Emperor had never tolerated any
opposition. And yet, even knowing what they would cost him, the young
Jedi had spoken those words with firmness and dignity.

The Emperor's glee turned to disdain, then to uncontrollable
anger. "So be it, Jedi." He pronounced the last word as if it
meant "ugly vermin". Then he got up and walked down the stairs to
where Luke was standing. The young Jedi looked at him almost as if in
a trance of fear, the way a small animal would look at a snake. The
Emperor raised his hands like claws. A blue electric glow appeared on
his fingertips. Mara swallowed. She knew what would follow.

*******

A bright flood of lightning was shooting from the Emperor's spider-
like fingers. He laughed with sadistic delight, laughed at young Luke
Skywalker who was crumbling under his onslaught. Meanwhile, Vader
struggled to his feet, quietly walked towards where the Emperor was,
and stood behind him. It seemed a most innocuous thing to do - why
should a faithful servant not want to be at his Master's side? - but
Mara felt a notion of hidden danger that made her close her hand
around the hilt of her lightsaber.

The Emperor was mocking his victim, his face an ugly mask of sadistic
anger that was free even from the slightest pretense of self-
restraint, shamelessly gloating over Skywalker's pain. The young Jedi
was writhing on the floor in agony, curling up in a fetal position,
awash in the terrible lightning. His face was so distorted from the
anguish he felt that he hardly seemed human. With great difficulty,
in almost unintelligible syllables, he groaned: "Father!...Help me!"

//He's crying to *Vader* for help?// The fact that Luke had addressed
what so eerily resembled a child's cry for his daddy to the Dark
Lord, that, in his blessed innocence, he expected even now that Vader
would help him, that there was such a thing as a heart within his
father's dark shell, shook Mara to the bone. Maybe it was because of
this that when Darth Vader had reached the conclusion of his own
inner struggle, her cry of warning remained stuck in her throat,
never to be uttered. Vader grabbed the Emperor from behind, lifting
him off the ground like a child lifting an oversized doll. Even with
him having only one arm, his grip was like a vise of durasteel that
no-one could have escaped by means of mere physical strength. The
Emperor, however, had other means at his disposal. Shrieking with
anger, he released a barrage of Force lightning, a hundred times the
dose that he had hurled at Luke, that flowed all over and through
Vader's body, damaging the electronics on which he depended to
sustain his life, flooding his body with pain, incinerating his
bones. But Darth Vader - no, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight - still
didn't loosen his grip. With what seemed like more than human
strength, he walked towards the reactor shaft in the center of the
throne room. //He's gonna throw him in there! Not even the Emperor
would survive this!//

Old habits are hard to kill; and for the Emperor's Hand, loyalty to
her Emperor was less of a habit than it was an ingrained reflex.
Vader felt a sudden jolt of pain, different from the other, as his
one remaining arm was cut off by the purple blade of a lightsaber
that had been thrown from the gallery. The Emperor, in whose body the
blade had cut as well, and Vader both fell to the ground with a thud.

Palpatine got back on his feet quite quickly. Mara hurried down
towards him. "Are you all right, my Emperor?" Her voice was wavering
with a hint of fear since she wasn't sure whether the Emperor would
want to punish her for the injury she had unintentionally inflicted
upon him. However, her master instantly relieved her from this fear.
He didn't say "well done" - he rarely used those words, what to speak
of saying "thank you", but his face expressed that he was pleased
with Mara's action.

"Yes, my Hand, it is just a scratch." Luke (who was still so weak
from the Emperor's attack that he could not move, but merely lift his
head to watch) stared in disbelief as the Emperor pressed a hand on
his wound, then lifted it to reveal that the wound had closed. How
could he do such a feat? But then, the Emperor was no ordinary human
being, he was a *Sith*, a dark nightmare become flesh.

Then he saw how Palpatine picked up Mara's saber from the floor with
the Force (he would never bend down, of course) and looked down upon
Vader, who was lying at his former Master's feet, injured beyond
belief. Palpatine's look was almost clinical, cold, dissecting, as he
was estimating the condition of the man who had been Dark Lord of the
Sith. Then the look on his face instantly turned into an expression
of utter disgust as he realized, felt, just how much his servant had
changed. He raised Mara's saber. The purple blade seemed like a
hissing snake in his hand. An ugly sneer... "Seems like you have
outlived your usefulness... *Anakin*." Then he stabbed through armor,
flesh, heart.

*******

Luke Skywalker crawled towards his father's dead body. At the first
instant, he had been too shocked even for tears; now they were
flowing from his eyes in streams, lending a strange, almost ethereal
glow to his pale face by reflecting the throne room's bluish lights.
Upon reaching the body, he first touched it almost shyly, letting his
fingers slide over the chest that had been pierced so cruelly, then
over the black mask which had been built to sustain the life that had
now ended. So shiny, the black plasteel was; but hard, hard and cold,
as cold as the Dark Side itself; it was not a thing that could give
comfort to a grieving son. Blue-eyed son, little lost young one; now
truly an orphan.

Almost unable to control his trembling fingers, Luke undid the
fastenings of the helmet and mask, then removed them, like cracking
open the shell of a strange, giant insect. No-one, perhaps - who
knows? - not even the Emperor, dared to breathe as Luke beheld his
father's face for the first and only time. //*That* had been Darth
Vader?//, Mara thought. Despite the grayish white of the skin,
despite the ugly scar tissue, even despite the glassy, dead eyes that
were still wide open, Anakin's face still showed that it had once
been beautiful; and, in an inexplicable way, it again was. //Such
blue eyes... Force, the boy's got his eyes...//

With a gentle stroke of his natural hand, Luke Skywalker closed his
father's eyes. How soft that skin felt under his touch!, soft like a
baby's from never being exposed to the sun. No longer able to
restrain himself, Luke collapsed upon the armor-clad chest, trembling
and sobbing; pouring out a grief that was to great for words, to
great even for coherent thoughts.

Mara stood at a respectful distance, silently hoping that Palpatine
would do the same; but the Emperor was not inclined to show such
consideration. Rudely grabbing young Skywalker, he pulled him up to a
standing position. Then for a moment, he held Luke at arm's length in
a tight grip, staring into his eyes, feasting himself on the young
Jedi's anguish. In what had been Mara Jade's unswerving loyalty
towards the Emperor, there arose a crack, never to be repaired
again. //Heck, if he had any decency he would at least allow him to
mourn!// Let him have a few more minutes with his father; dead dad
for a blue-eyed son, for a lost and shattered young one.

The Emperor let go of Luke, but kept staring at him with a terrible,
yellow-eyed gaze. Those eyes seemed to burn onto Luke like the
relentless suns of his homeworld. He could feel that glance penetrate
him, turning his bones to water, crushing him until he was nothing
more than dust. "Do you understand now, young Skywalker, that you
have no chance to stand against me?"

Luke had no tears anymore. He just kept gazing into nowhere with
faraway eyes, a sight that shook Mara even more deeply than his
previous weeping. It was as if his spirit had already fled him; fled
far away to the stars.

And it was there, among the stars outside the transparisteel window,
that Luke saw it: The faint, almost invisible shimmer that had marked
the position of the deflector shield was gone; and there were many
ships, A-Wings and Y-Wings and X-Wings, pouring in past the point
where the shield had been. //They are getting through! Oh, thank the
Force, they are getting through!// Luke instantly locked his joyful
excitement deep inside his heart, lest it should betray him, betray
the Alliance; for he had realized at the same moment that the Emperor
had not yet noticed what he had just seen. Now if only he could
distract the Emperor long enough, get him to stay around, stay around
until the Death Star was destroyed... In an instant, Luke Skywalker
knew what would have to be his sacrifice, his last.

When Luke fell on his knees before the Emperor, Mara first thought
that he was collapsing, fainting from exhaustion and the sheer impact
of Palpatine's piercing glance. But then the youth lifted up his eyes
to look at the Emperor, a look of almost child-like pleading: "I
understand...Master." The last word sounded a bit rough, as if it had
been sticking in Luke's throat.

"How did you call me?" "Master. - Will you still have me?"

Palpatine contemplated Luke's face for a silent moment, perhaps
trying to estimate whether he could trust him, perhaps just to enjoy
making him wait for the reply. Big blue eyes looking up at him, the
pleading of an innocent child. Sweet blue-eyed son, darling young
one. A fresh farm boy's face, attractive even while still swollen
from all the crying, a charming dimple in the chin, ruffled, brownish-
blonde hair - at that moment, Mara understood why Palpatine had
wanted Luke Skywalker, the way that darkness has always secretly
longed for the light it hates, and yet has to destroy it. No wonder
he couldn't resist the bait...

The Emperor laughed, an ugly sound when coming from his mouth, even
when - as in this case - it was meant to be friendly. A short order -
"Jade, bring me Vader's cape!" //Not even *Lord* Vader anymore...//,
Mara thought, but she obeyed and handed the piece of cloth to her
master. In an unmistakable gesture, the Emperor draped the black cape
over Luke's still-kneeling frame, then he took Luke's hands into
his. "Rise, Lord Skywalker, and take your place at my side!" "As you
wish, Master."

//How easy those words already come over his lips!//, Mara thought.
As she saw Luke standing there, wrapped in the flowing black cape
that made him look so frighteningly like his father, she felt
something inside her breaking. Handsome farm boy he still was, and
yet he seemed defiled, like a fresh white flower sullied with dark,
slimy mud.

Luke looked over to her. In her eyes, he could see what she was
seeing; and it send a shock through him that was made even worse by
his knowing that there was no way for him to make her understand that
this was just a game he had to play. For it was a game of sabacc now,
and the stakes were far to high for him to reveal his hand. It was
his very own sacrifice, and he would have to play it all the way
through to the end.

*******

The Emperor was sitting on his throne again like a fat, self-
satisfied spider would sit in the center of its web. Luke was
standing close to him with one hand on the throne's armrest and the
Emperor's ugly, claw-like hand resting possessively on top of it.
Mara didn't have the men's attention for the moment; but neither had
she been dismissed by her master, so she stayed around, standing at a
distance. She could not hear what exactly they were talking (the
Emperor liked to speak in a low voice, as he believed that a man in
his position did not need to shout), but the almost shameless
submissiveness with which Luke Skywalker looked at the Emperor was
enough to make her sick.

Then Luke's glance fell on Mara; and what he saw in her was not only
horror at the sight of his dark persona, the kind of horror that
Darth Vader would so easily evoke in people; but also a deep, yes, a
*personal* feeling of - disappointment. And trying to understand just
why she was so deeply disappointed by the seeming change in him, he
suddenly saw how much Mara had already changed, how much of the hard,
dark shell of the merciless Emperor's Hand had already cracked open
and fallen away; how that person was now struggling to find a new
understanding of what was right and wrong; and he suddenly understood
that she deserved the chance for a new life in the light she had just
made her first step into, the chance that his father had been so
cruelly denied by the Emperor. And at the same moment, he knew he
could not let her die; could not allow for her to perish in the Death
Star's destruction.

He thought feverishly about how to warn her, how to tell her that she
had to leave the Death Star *now* before it was too late; but he soon
realized that he wouldn't have a chance to talk with her alone soon
enough. And he couldn't just speak his warning while Palpatine was
around; as the best, perhaps the *only* chance to bring about the
Emperor's destruction on which so much depended was to let him remain
unwarned. What was he to do?

His thoughts tormented him like a hot coal in his throat that he
could neither spit out nor swallow as he struggled with the hardest
decision of his life. On one side, there was his duty to the
Alliance - //Many Bothans died to bring us this information.// - his
duty as a Jedi, the good of the galaxy; all that he had lived and
fought for. On the other side, there was just one young woman who
deserved her chance; who underneath it all was just a fragile,
innocent girl. - No, this was *his* sacrifice; he had no right to
drag her into it!

Luke's decision was made. Without further ado - for there are
situations in which there is no need for pleasantries - he simply
looked at Mara and said: "You need to get outta here, the whole place
is gonna be blown up!" The Emperor looked at him, slightly put off by
the fact that Skywalker had addressed Mara instead of his supposed
Master. But he could tell that he had spoken the truth.

The Emperor rose from his seat, taking Mara's lightsaber, which he
had been holding all the while, with him. "If that's the case... Jade,
you come with me. - You too, Skywalker. You will fly my shuttle. I've
heard you're a good pilot." On the inside, Mara was outraged as it
registered with her that the Emperor didn't even think of warning
anyone else; even though it was nothing far from usual for Palpatine.
If the crew of the Death Star wasn't able to defend it as ordered, it
didn't deserve to survive its destruction; that was the Emperor's
logic, which Mara knew well and had never questioned. But so much had
changed in her from there. Nevertheless, she still followed the
Emperor, acting on the most deep-rooted of all human instincts, the
will to survive; and Luke did the same after having hastily picked up
his lightsaber from the ground.

*******

As they entered the shuttle hangar, it lay empty - no one had
expected the Emperor to use his shuttle so soon. When they were about
to walk up the Imperial shuttle's ramp, Luke took a deep breath that
seemed like a silent prayer. Then Mara saw only a blur, as what
happened was to quick for the naked eye. When she could see something
distinct again, it was her purple saber in the Emperor's hands,
raised in a parry against its green counterpart. "Get in and get
outta here!", Luke shouted to her. Mara raced up the ramp.

The Emperor was old, but within him was the power of the Dark Side;
and Luke didn't know how he was able to stand against him as they
fought. But then, he didn't think about that. If he had been
thinking, he would not have been able to do what he did. But the way
it was, he just *felt*. He could feel the Force flowing through him
like shimmering white light, giving him strength and guidance far
beyond what he had known before. It was almost as if in dying, Anakin
had given his own strength to his son, to forever be a part of him.

Standing in the door of the shuttle, Mara watched the battle, her
eyes widened with anxiety, watched the two sabers, green and purple,
flashing through the semi-darkness of the shuttle hangar. The duel
between Luke and his father, as fierce as it had been, had also been
beautiful to behold in an awe-inspiring way, like a fight between two
Krayt dragons. The duel that Mara witnessed now was even more
terrible and awesome, like two stars colliding and going supernova at
the same time. While the Emperor seemed like the embodiment of an
ancient, all-consuming fire of hatred; Luke seemed like a pure flame
of calm determination burning bright.

Watching the Emperor fight, Mara could see, by her keen observation,
that the Emperor's wound which had so miraculously closed before her
eyes seemed to hurt again. //Of course it does!//, she thought with
the brightness of a sudden revelation. //The Dark Side can deceive,
it can never heal!// Maybe that would be Luke's chance, that pain
weakening the Emperor, slowing him down maybe just the necessary
degree...

The Emperor carried within him all the millennia-old power of the
Sith; but his body was just as vulnerable as any human's.
Nevertheless, Mara knew that even with his body being old and
wounded, the Emperor's Dark Side-given strength was still to great
for Luke to defeat him. All he could do was hold him up for a short
time, distract him. Maybe, if it was the will of the Force, distract
him long enough for someone else to kill him... Mara's hand went to her
blaster; but then she remained frozen, half-hidden in the shuttle's
door.

The battle kept raging back and forth. Mara could see that as bright
as the light was that seemed to shine in Luke, his strength was
dwindling slowly but steadily. His body had been hurt a great deal by
the Emperor's Force lightning, and only for some time had he been
able to shut out the resulting pain. Now he was growing weak, and
weaker. Mara knew that he couldn't last much longer.

Behind her ocean-green eyes, a quiet battle ensued between the new
Mara that knew compassion, knew *light*, and the loyal Emperor's Hand
she had been for so many years. Which side was right? - When Luke
stumbled and lost his balance, she knew the answer. In an irony of
fate, Mara drew on the sniper training she had received under
Palpatine to make her blaster bolt hit him right in the back. When he
staggered, Luke lunged upwards with his saber and made a good, clean
stab through his heart. Knowing that running would not be fast
enough, Mara *jumped* onto Luke; and with her clutching him tightly,
they both tumbled to the ground and rolled aside, putting a safe
distance between themselves and the Emperor, who was flailing in his
death throes. Then, with a blinding flash of eerie blue light, he
vanished in a explosion of Dark Side energy that his dying body could
no longer contain. As the shock wave rocked the hangar, Mara threw
herself over Luke, sheltering his body with her own in an instinctive
act of protectiveness.

Luke must have lost consciousness then, if only for a moment; for the
next thing he could remember was waking up on the hangar's metal
floor, with a gasping Mara, whose eyes were rolling in their sockets
as she struggled to remain conscious herself, still stretched out
above him. Her beautiful face so close to his that it took up most of
his field of vision, the softness of her breasts against his chest -
it would have been a pleasant situation if not for the circumstances.

Then Mara struggled to her feet and, grabbing his forearm with her
hand, helped Luke to get up. As soon as Luke again had enough breath
to speak, he asked in a tone that comprised scolding, gratitude, and
the anxiety of compassion, and even a hint of something underneath
the compassion - was it love?: "Why did you do this? Why didn't you
just fly away?"

Mara let her gaze fall into his - "You didn't want me to die, I
didn't want you to die."

Was it her words that moved him so, or her glance; or was it just his
gratitude? Luke pulled Mara close, his lips brushing hers in what was
just a hint of a kiss; then he simply held her like you would a dear
friend. When he loosened his embrace, he and Mara regarded each other
for a moment, silently; then Mara took him by the hand and pulled him
up the shuttle's ramp. "C'mon, we still have time!"

They rushed into the shuttle. Luke slipped into the pilot's seat,
Mara into the copilot's. Being acquainted with the shuttle's
controls, she quickly worked the switch of the signal unit that was
used to get the hangar's door to slide open. When it opened like a
gaping mouth, it gave them a view into space that was filled with the
chaos of battle; with laser fire and the debris of ships ripped apart
flying around all over the place. Mara looked at Luke and swallowed
once, hard - "Can you get us outta here?" He put his hand on
hers. "For you, I can." - Then the hangar was shaken by a series of
small explosions. Outside, Luke saw the familiar shape of the
Millenium Falcon, speeding away from the Death Star, like a beautiful
though no less terrible angel of death fleeing on swift wings from
the inferno she had brought. He knew what that meant; and upon seeing
the look on his face, Mara knew it, too. As Luke leaned over and
hugged her close as if he could thus protect her, she put up no
resistance.

One shimmering tear rolled down Luke's pale face, just one single
tear that had to express everything at once: a farewell to the sister
he would never see again, compassion for the young woman in his arms,
the relief he felt knowing that Lando had gotten away, and so many
things more.

But he did not cry for himself. He had completed the sacrifice, he
had finished his task. There was no more regret, except for one...

And he had to say it before the end. Say it in a broken whisper into
the ear of Mara, who was now holding him tight as well: "I'm sorry I
couldn't save you."

"You already have."

For a passing moment, the exploding Death Star blossomed before the
blackness of space like a giant, fiery flower.