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Sacrifice

by Devi

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Rating: PG

Author’s note/summary: This one was written in response to a challenge on the Mara_and_Luke yahoogroup: “What if Mara had been in the Throne Room scene in ROTJ?”

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.

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Mara Jade never forgot an order. Yes, there had been an unforeseen delay (she was sure that this was all 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.

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