"I see," said the Emperor, his voice hissing from the faceless darkness within his holographic cowl. "Thank you, my dear Admiral, for bringing this to my attention."

Admiral Ozzel bowed even lower, hiding his pompous smirk. "My highest duty and pleasure is to serve you, your Highness. I was loathe to report this to you without the honored Lord Vader's knowledge, but I felt it was most necessary since it was contrary to your esteemed words of command."

The oily smile was obvious in the Emperor's tone. "Your duty and pleasure I'm sure, Admiral. As you have the Empire's best interests at heart."

"And nothing else, my Lord Emperor," Ozzel agreed, his voice just as smooth. "Have you any further instructions for the First Fleet, your Highness?"

"No, my dear Admiral," the Emperor replied. "Continue on with your search--I would still see the Rebel encampments wiped out. I will...deal with Lord Vader myself."

"Yes, my Lord Emperor."

"And make sure to thoroughly interrogate your captive," Palpatine went on, a toothy grin evident in his voice. "He was involved with the...incident, and should know a great deal about what the Rebels are up to. Learn what the purpose was for their interference with the transmitter beacon, and if it had anything to do with that unusual flagged message. Report this information to me as soon as you have it, Admiral."

Ozzel bowed low once again. "As you command, your Highness."

The Emperor gave a vague wave of blessing, before the hypercomm blinked out.

Pleased with himself, Ozzel rose and made to leave the officers' ready room. Their prisoner waited in the medical bay under guard, ripe for interrogation; the Rebel wasn't in good shape, missing a few pieces and badly burned, but the medical droids had patched him up with machinery and drugs. He would not live long, but that didn't matter--he only had to survive long enough to answer questions.

Captain Piett swung into step beside him as he exited the ready room door. "Admiral?"

"Captain." Ozzel barely paused. "The Emperor wishes us to continue our search. He will see to Lord Vader."

"Sir...I'm not sure that speaking to the Emperor was a wise decision," Piett suggested quietly, frowning. "It can't be right; Lord Vader left instructions that we were not to contact anyone until he returned."

Ozzel stopped in the middle of the corridor to glare at his subordinate. "And if Lord Vader directly disobeys the Emperor's orders to capture the transmitter beacon and hunt down the Rebels--what then? Are we simply to obey him to the detriment of the Empire?"

"'Detriment of the Empire?'" Piett asked incredulously. "Lord Vader? Sir, you must be joking. Lord Vader has been the Emperor's most staunch supporter from day one! He would not simply turn his back on the Empire. He must have good reason for the command decisions he made."

"So you'd prefer to obey Lord Vader over the Emperor?" Ozzel all but growled, leaning close. "You'd rather that overbearing, sadistic sorceror remain in control of this ship and this fleet? You'd rather die for some imagined failure than live under a reasonable command?"

"I--I--no, sir...but..." Nearly pressed against the wall, Piett gulped. "Admiral...what you're saying--that...that has to be treason, sir. Lord Vader is still in command of this ship, whether or not he's--"

Ozzel snorted, turning away. "One can only commit treason against the Empire. Lord Vader is not the Empire--Emperor Palpatine is. Think carefully, Captain. And carry out your duty."

Left behind in the stark, empty corridor, Piett stared after the Admiral in disbelief and dismay.

Unaware of the drama taking place aboard the Executor, Darth Vader stared with folded arms down at the pale-faced, slightly pudgy man behind the desk in front of him. "Tell me again," he rumbled, "without the misdirection and double-talk, why an entire Imperial garrison cannot provide me with one landspeeder."

"E-er, my Lord," the pasty man stammered, all but sinking into his chair in terror. "I-I'm terribly sorry--" And he was scared enough to mean it, too. "--b-but we've had some d-d-delays...there w-was an unauthorized splashdown landing n-not far from..."

Fed up, Vader made a short gesture, stopping the man's words with a sharp but precise squeeze on his neck. "Consider your answer very carefully, Major Chade. I have no patience left for this."

Chade gurgled, nodding frantically, gasping when Vader released him. Clutching his throat, the pudgy man stared up in wordless fear, his mouth working for an answer.

"Lord Vader," said a new voice, from the doorway. "There's no need to intimidate Major Chade, sir. He's under orders, and knows nothing."

Scowling behind his mask, Vader turned to regard the much leaner, fit-looking officer entering the room. "Imperial Special Ops," he sneered, irritated that they had the temerity to oppose him. "I suppose you're here to see about the impostor."

"Those were my orders, my Lord. I'm Commander Telm, officer in charge of this operation, sir." The Special Ops agent's eyes remained almost as masked as Vader's own, though his emotions betrayed his tension. He knew what he was getting into. "And according to the Emperor's orders, sir, I must ask you to cease your activities on this planet--"

Vader snarled. "You dare--!"

"--at least until we've inspected the site. When our orders are carried out, my Lord, you may peruse the area as you please."

"I will not sit here while your thugs meddle in things you cannot comprehend!" the Sith Lord thundered. "Get out of my way!"

Telm paled visibly, but did not budge. "I have my orders from the Emperor himself, Lord Vader! You are not to approach the target site until we've cleared it--"

"Cleared it?" Vader growled, his voice gone soft and dangerous. "You mean, after you've wiped out everything that might mean anything."

Caught, Telm's mouth worked and his hand clutched at his firearm. "Sir, it's too late--my men are encircling the site. Just--"

Inexplicably, Vader saw red--and acted before he realized what he was doing; a clenched fist saw Commander Telm hoisted clean off his feet by an invisible noose. "You dare set foot in that house--!" he roared, before catching himself. For an instant, he floundered--then, focusing, he set hard eyes on the gasping, choking commander hanging in midair before him. He had no time to waste, now.

Telm's death was quite brief--which, in comparison to the long line of choking deaths by Lord Vader, was a mercy. There was only a wet, sickening crunch, and a limp corpse fell to the floor. Ignoring the hyperventilating Major Chade, the Sith Lord stalked out the office door, heading for the speeder bays.

The one ensign who tried to stop him as he strode down the hall also met with a quick end, crushed like ripe fruit against a wall. After that, everyone stayed out of his way.

Luke was a bit bemused by all the attention, but once the Gungans declared him welcome, they were more than happy to help him on his way. His guide--the old Gungan, named Jar Jar Binks, who had mistaken him for his father--saw to getting some transportation to his intended destination. Apparently, Binks knew where the address was, and they were in fact not far at all from the place. While the ride was being arragned, Luke set about getting a few of his things out of the charred X-wing--necessitating several helping hands and a few crowbars--so that he could change into something a little less conspicuous than an Alliance uniform.

Luckily, he had some extra clothes, rations, and a short-range emergency comm in his stow compartments; all things considered, he'd come out alright--and the natives were friendly. One of them offered the use of his hut for Luke to change into what civilian clothing he'd brought--a slightly scruffy old outfit reminiscient of his Tatooine garb, but in tans and browns rather than white. He might look like a pauper, but at least he wouldn't be pegged on sight as a Rebel pilot, if this planet was as infested with Imperials as he was informed.

The transportation that was acquired turned out to be a hovering sled pulled by a bipedal, scaly creature--a kaadu, Binks pointed out. The sled itself was little more than a wooden box with a metal frame and a repulsorlift engine tacked on; it had no thrusters and no controls, necessitating the use of the kaadu. Luke helped his guide lift Artoo into the back of the sled, then hopped up next to the Gungan in the front.

"Are you sure it's not very far?" Luke asked as Binks sent the kaadu into a trot, then a surprisingly fast run.

"Not far," Jar Jar nodded to him with a grin. "Wesa livin' here tanks ta dem hissen whatta ownen' dese parts. Dem badEmpires, dey no likin' Gungans much. Wesa tink prolly wesa only Gungans left, since dat Palpy say kill 'em all of ussen. Dissa secret place."

Luke's brows went up. "Someone helped you hide here?"

"Uh-huh! Dem nice folks, dey givin' mesa peoples a place to be livin'." Binks chattered on cheerfully, despite the sadness of his tale. "'Specially for my. Mesa da Gungan Wepesennatib in Senate muy wayback, so dat Palpy bery bery not likin' my. Mesa not votin' for 'im, so mesa almost not makin' offa Corassant alive!" At last, the Gungan frowned. "Some grateful. Wasa mesa speechin' da Senate whatsa made him boss! Peh. Hesa tricken' my to doin' it anyhows."

Rather awed at the depth of history to this seemingly simple creature, Luke found himself absorbed despite the pigdin language and rambling narrative. Jar Jar Binks was far more than just some local refugee; he'd had a hand in the shift of the Empire itself. "So, uh, Mister Binks?" he chanced, hoping not to sound rude. "How did you know my father?"

"Oi, boyo, yousa be callin' mesa Jar Jar, okieday?" the Gungan corrected him good-naturedly. "Mesa knowen' Ani since bery long time ago. Firs' time mesa seein' him, hesa itty bitty kiddo, workin' dis shop on Tatooney."

"Tatooine?" Luke guessed.

"Dat's what my said. Dat Ani--hesa workin' da shop, an' racin' inna maxi big podwaces. Hesa itty bitty kiddo back den, but hesa bombad pilot! Hesa win dat race lika nuttin' quicker! Ooy muy, hesa savin' alla wesa backbums winnin' dat race..."

Jar Jar Binks prattled on as the kaadu ran, happily regaling his passenger with his rambling tales, babbling about everything and nothing, from quirky little anecdotes about Senatorial proceedings to the few brief, fond memories of Anakin Skywalker--the wise little boy and the powerful young Jedi learner.

Luke listened raptly despite himself, absorbed in the retelling of a world he could only dream about--a world without opression, fear, and persecution; a world of puzzling politics and baffling beaurocracy and brave heroes who somehow prevailed against impossible odds. It was very different from the world he knew--both the simple life of a Tatooine farmboy and the secretive, on-the-run existence of a Rebel. The Alliance had no heroes; they had been fighting an uphill battle for nearly twenty years, losing ground with every step.

The defeat of the Death Star was the first major, meaningful victory the Rebel Alliance had ever seen.

The kaadu's speed was impressive, and the beast seemed tireless. Jar Jar guided the little company through the thick, marshy forest on some invisible path; the Gungan apparently knew exactly where he was going--no matter how much talking he was doing--but Luke still saw no signs of civilization. Occasionally an interesting bit of flora or fauna was pointed out, amidst the constant storytelling, but Binks kept the kaadu at a ground-eating pace.

Until, at last, they broke from the woods at the top of a hill, and Jar Jar at last reined the kaadu to a halt.

"See? Dere it is!" the Gungan reported happily, pointing out toward the lakeshore beyond the emerald green prairie ahead. "Yousa seein' dat muy purdy house dere? Dat's it!"

Shading his eyes against the afternoon sun, Luke peered along the distant shore, spotting the ivy-crawled, sprawling, old-style stone architecture of a large, beautiful house overlooking the lake. "That's the one," he breathed, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. If he's alive...he'll be there, his mind sang in overbearing excitement. That's where the message said to go--that's where my father is waiting!

"Wesa hurry on down dere, Lukie," Jar Jar chuckled, picking up on the youth's excitement. "Noworries, boyo--itta not runnen away on us."

With a slap of the reins, the kaadu was in motion again--with Luke sitting up over the front of the sled, every beat of his heart pulling him onward, heady with anticipation.

As it turned out, the grand old lakehouse was still and quiet. They left the kaadu and sled parked in the shady drive, with Artoo cheeping grumpily in the back of it; Jar Jar and Luke went on ahead to the front door, up the spacious stairs.

"No lookin' like deysa home," the Gungan commented, after Luke had knocked ineffectively at the door a couple times. "Dey folks notta here alla time dough--deysa livin' inna billage off dattaways." A vague wave indicated a southward direction.

"But...someone has to be here," Luke mumbled half to himself, crushed with disappointment that his father was not waiting here with open arms. "Someone sent me a message."

"Message?" Jar Jar blinked. "Whosa senden yousa message?"

"It said it was from Anakin Skywalker..."

"Ani? From Ani?" Immediately, Binks lit up again. "Ani's here?"

Luke offered him a half-hopeful, half-worried smile. "I hope so."

With Artoo rocking around in the back of the hover sled, the kaadu was spooking, so Jar Jar trotted down the steps to calm the animal. Pensive, Luke headed toward the side of the house, trying to find a window low enough to peer through. There were no security systems around--no cameras, no autoresponse at the door, not even a droid caretaker. The place was all but rustic; beautiful, but an ideal spot to seriously get away from it all.

Hoisting himself on tiptoe, cursing as always his lack of height, Luke managed to get his nose over a windowsill and peek inside. It was dark, and most of the windowshades were closed, but he could make out what looked like a laundry area. It seemed grayish and dusty, as if it hadn't been used in a while.

As he scuffed his way dejectedly back toward the front, he realized that there were voices coming from the driveway. Alerted, he picked up his pace, his countenance brightening once more at the thought of success.

"...an' ooy muy, has my gotta suprisie for yousa!" he heard Jar Jar saying excitedly. "Hesa justa droppin' outta da sky on ussen!"

"I haven't seen you this happy in years, Jar Jar dear," said a woman with a mellow, amused voice.

"Mesa not been dis happy in years! Jus' yousa wait--yousa see!" the Gungan laughed in reply--then raised his voice. "Lukie! Oi, Lukie, commen back here--oh." Jar Jar grinned at the youth as he came around the corner of the house. "Mesa found 'em!"

Luke approached steadily but cautiously; beside the Gungan were two women--one an elderly lady with still-stately features, the other middle-aged with a friendly, somehow familiar face and worry lines around her eyes. A landspeeder was parked in the drive across from the kaadu sled, indicating that the two women had only just arrived. Freed from the sled, Artoo honked welcomingly.

Both women watched Luke as he came near--but the elder was staring at him fixedly, her eyes growing wider the closer he got. Suddenly nervous under the scrutiny, he stopped at a respectful distance and waited for an introduction; his Gungan companion was grinning fit to burst.

"Well, hello there," said the younger of the two. "I'm Sola Naberrie, and this is my mother, Jobal. And you must be the one Jar Jar is so excited about."

Her voice as warm and friendly, making him smile. "I guess," he replied, with a half-shrug; the older woman's stare was making him a little antsy. "I'm sorry to show up unexpectedly...I didn't really have a chance to call ahead. I'm Luke Skywalker--um, Anakin Skywalker was my father. I don't know if you might have known him or if he's...here..."

The elder woman, Jobal, suddenly gasped aloud, her hand flying to cover her mouth. She nearly collapsed where she stood, the quick action of her daughter saving her balance--but Sola was almost as shocked as her mother, and both of them stared at him as if they'd never seen something so impossible.

Luke offered a hand to the elder woman, hoping he hadn't inadvertently said something wrong. "Are you alright? I'm sorry--I didn't mean to..."

Jobal's eyes were brimming with tears, and she reached out to him with trembling hands, worn fingers brushing his cheeks, cupping his face. Luke was startled, but he didn't draw back; something in her eyes bespoke both disbelief and welcome. "Oh...oh dear boy...it can't be...!" she whispered, her voice breaking. "You're...my Padme's baby...?"

His eyes huge in his face, Luke couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to--his throat was frozen by shock and his heart was trying to pound its way free of his rib cage. Beside him, Sola was suddenly clutching his arm as if he would disappear, while Jar Jar continued to grin. "See? Mesa tellen yousa be surprised!"

Jobal at last began to smile through her tears. "Thank you, Jar Jar--oh, thank you!"

"We thought you were dead," Sola stated quietly, meeting Luke's confused and stunned gaze. "When my sister died, the reports said her child died with her."

"Your...sister...?" Gulping, Luke stared at her. "You're...my...?"

Sola blinked at him. "You didn't know? Didn't anyone ever tell you your mother's family is here on Naboo?"

"No..." Suddenly ashamed, Luke studied his boots. "I didn't even know...her name."

"Oh, you poor thing!" Jobal all but sobbed, embracing him. "But you're here now--you're here now..."

"Easy, Mother," Sola said gently, patting Jobal's arm as the older woman drew back. "Give him some space--he looks like he's about to fall right over."

"I'm sorry..." Shaking her head, Jobal wiped ineffectively at her eyes. "I'm usually never this emotional! I just can't believe Padme's boy is alive...thank you, Jar Jar."

"Isa no problemo," the Gungan replied, beaming. "Mesa so happy too--mesa muy surprise jus' like yousa!"

Steadying her mother with a hand on her elbow, Sola smiled. "I think we all need to go inside and sit down. There's so much to talk about! The house is pretty empty, but I'm sure there's some tea in a cupboard somewhere. We don't live here, but we do come up about once a month or so and check on the place."

Still somewhat in shock, Luke nodded dumbly, following the pair to the stairs. Behind him, Jar Jar and Artoo brought up the rear, the Gungan still smiling as though it was somebody's birthday.

The inside of the house was dusty and unlived-in, but expansive; despite the disuse, it showed evidence of having been a grand, warm place in its heyday. Jobal seated herself in the parlor room, on a velvet couch near a dark fireplace, while Sola bustled onward, probably to the kitchen. Luke sat hesitantly in an armchair across from the elder woman, as Jar Jar plunked himself down on the hearthrug. Artoo rolled toward a computer console in the far wall.

"Luke..." Jobal spoke softly, instantly garnering the youth's attention. "Where have you been all this time? If you didn't...pass with your mother, what happened to you?"

Nervous, Luke shrugged. "Honestly...I don't really know anything about what happened back then. I've just...lived on Tatooine all my life, with my aunt and uncle--my father's stepbrother and his wife. I don't know how I ended up there..."

"Someone must've brought you there," Jobal stated, a prim frown gracing her features. "Whoever it was, they deceived us as well--everyone was told that both Padme and her child died. If we had known you were alive, we would certainly have petitioned to adopt you. From what my Padme told me, Tatooine is...not the most safe or comfortable place to live."

"I dunno," Luke mumbled, shrugging again. "It wasn't bad. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru raised me like I was theirs...they were always kind, and they loved me..." Thoughts of home brought with them memories of his guardians' cruel deaths, and the Empire that had murdered them.

"I'm sure they did, dear," Jobal answered him with a kind smile. "You seem to have turned out very well. I'm sure they're very good people--I'd love to meet them someday."

Luke swallowed hard. "They died. The Empire...killed them."

"Oi no..." Jar Jar mumbled.

Jobal covered her mouth briefly. "Oh, I'm so sorry! You poor boy...you've been through a lot, haven't you?"

He shrugged again--he seemed to be doing a lot of shrugging; he was largely uncertain of what to say. What did one say to long-lost grandmothers? He'd never had a grandmother before; he wasn't sure.

"We're in luck! I found the tea, and the power's still on!" Sola Naberrie swept back into the room with a tray and teapot, setting her burden on the low table and setting out the cups. "Mother's got a point, though--I do wish we'd known about you, Luke." She glanced up at him as she poured the tea. "We didn't know anything about my sister's marriage, or her child, until shortly before she died. She called us in an awful hurry one evening--she was on a ship headed into danger, and we tried to convince her not to go. But she wouldn't listen; she told us she'd secretly married that young Jedi of hers, and she was pregnant--and something had happened to Anakin, so she was going to try to help him...and then..."

"And it was barely a few days later we were told she was dead," Jobal finished, as her daughter's voice broke. "We were hardly even able to see her body, they buried her so quickly. And poor Anakin was gone as well--killed in the purges, as far as we know..."

"But Lukie sayen hesa gotta message from Ani," Jar Jar interjected, giving the Gungan equivalent of a curiously raised eyebrow. "Dat why hesa comin' here."

"Yeah," Luke agreed, brightening. "He might still be alive. I got a message from him that said to come here--this is where the message came from, too--"

"But that's impossible," Sola informed him, confused. "As far as I know, no one's come up here. A few Imperial flunkies used to use it as a vacation house, but since it's so remote it lost popularity--no one's stayed here for years. And it's always locked up..."

"He could be staying here in secret," Luke suggested hopefully. "It's not like he'd want to broadcast his presence--the Empire is pretty sour about Jedi."

From his corner at the computer panel, Artoo whistled loudly, interjecting a string of beeps that no one could make any sense of. When the organic beings in the room merely stared at him, the astromech rotated his dome and honked firmly at them.

"What is it, Artoo?" Curious, Luke got up and headed to the droid's side, peering at the computer monitor. The droid displayed a brief translation--he'd found the source of the previous message here at this comm unit. The sender had stood in this very room.

And there was another message stored here as well.

"Another message from my father?" Luke demanded excitedly, grabbing the attention of every being in the room. "Bring it up, Artoo! What's it say?"

Artoo beeped, complying. After a moment, the simple text message scrolled up on the screen, coded from the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.

"'Welcome,'" Luke read aloud, for the benefit of all. "'If you have come, there is still hope. Listen well: A door that is hidden must be unlocked. Your life is the key. Don't lose it. Love still exists.'" Blinking in puzzlement, Luke stood up straight again. "Then there's some more coordinates--looks like another planet and an address. That's all there is. What's all that supposed to mean?"

"It sounds like a riddle to me," Sola offered thoughtfully. "Maybe Anakin's trying to tell us something without being obvious about it--you know, to keep the Empire from figuring it out."

Luke shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's got me stumped."

"It seems clear that whoever sent the message doesn't want you harmed," Jobal suggested. "Since your life is something that must not be lost. That's certain."

"You think he's moved on already?" Sola asked. "That would explain the additional coordinates."

"Yeah--maybe he's waiting there!" Luke realized, excited once more. "He left a message here in a more safe place, so I could follow him! Now all I have to do is find a way off this planet..."

Jobal smiled sadly. "It seems a shame for you to go so soon, dear...but we'll help you in any way we can."

"Mesa helpin' too," Jar Jar offered.

"My husband might be able to get you transport," Sola added. "It'll be tight, but I'm sure we can do it."

"Thanks...I don't want to be any trouble, but..." Luke smiled earnestly, glad to have met all of them. "I'm very grateful. This means a lot to me. If there's any chance I can find him..."

"I very much doubt that, young one."

The deep, harsh voice filled the room like the thunder of a waterfall, shocking them all to their feet--Luke most of all, since he'd gotten no danger warning whatsoever despite the identity of the intruder. Jobal Naberrie nearly fell at the sight of the interloper, leaning heavily into her daughter's embrace for support. Jar Jar yelped and scrambled back until he hit the wall, babbling in petrified terror; Artoo squawked loudly in alarm.

But Luke was stepping forward, already drawing his blaster, a snarl on his face as he fixed his glare on the huge dark figure that stood in the doorway. "You!" he shouted, taking aim. "You killed Ben--you killed them all--!"

Before he could pull the trigger, the blaster was ripped from his hand and flung across the room by a gesture from the black-robed man in the door. Not pausing for a moment, Luke went for his backup weapon--the lightsaber his father had left him. But he hadn't even gotten it securely in his grip before a second blast of invisible, intangible power knocked him off his feet and sent his saber spinning across the floor.

"You are no Jedi, boy," rumbled Darth Vader evenly, having not even moved from his place in the doorway. "You have a long way to go before you can dream of challenging me."

Luke scrambled back to his feet, enraged but helpless, stepping forward to shield his aunt and grandmother with his own body. The evil Sith Lord who killed Ben, who killed his father, who killed his friends, who killed his family on Tatooine, who represented all the cruelty and opression of the Empire--that very man stood before him now, and he was powerless to do anything. It was like his nightmares, and worse; the weakness and uselessness he felt infuriated him even more.

"I've found you at last, little Rebel," the dark lord growled, staring at him fixedly through that frightening, skull-like black mask. No one moved--no one even breathed; there was no sound but the hissing of Vader's respirator.

That was until the small, round concussion grenade crashed in through the curtained window and rolled to a stop at their feet, beeping ominously.