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Head propped up with his flesh hand, Luke tapped his stylus on the datapad, keeping himself awake with the tak tak tak sound. Or trying to. His eyes were burning.
He squeezed them shut then reopened them one at a time, blinking to make his eyes focus on the screen he’d been staring at for hours. It was the rotation schedule of the Red Guard, the men and women who were allowed closest to Palpatine. If they could sneak Luke in there, or better yet Luke and as many Rebels as they could manage—personally he wanted Lando and Leia’s cool heads with him—during one of Vader’s “private” meetings with the man, then they might be able to bring down the Emperor once and for all.
They might be able to bring down the Empire.
Vader was still arguing to put Luke on the throne, but Luke had managed to talk him down to at least a “we’ll discuss what comes after after.”
High Command had finally agreed to work with Vader after a terse holocall in which Luke had first had to convince them that he hadn’t been mind-controlled by Vader during their three days in the wilderness after a…mutual ship crash, and now they’d lent Luke to the Executor for a standard week to get further information for the proposed coup.
Which meant he needed to be able to read this datapad, no matter what hour it was.
Luke blinked harshly again and absently reached for his cup of caf. His fingers tipped it over on contact; disappointingly empty. He sighed and reached instead for the bottle of water his father had set down rather pointedly some time ago, snapping it open and taking a gulp.
The datapad was swimming in his vision. Luke’s eyes drifted shut and he snapped them back open.
Guard rotations are every three days or cycles, depending on where the Emperor is located. While they do not ordinarily show their faces, outgoing Guards check the identities of incoming Guards to ensure continued securi…
Luke was shaken awake by the sensation of his head falling. He straightened up and squinted at the datapad again.
In addition, all on-duty Guards do not go off-duty at once; only one-third rotate at a ti…
He jerked awake again.
“How is the reading going, young one?”
His father’s voice sent cold water down Luke’s back and adrenaline shooting through his veins. His eyes went wide and he put his prosthetic palm on his chest.
“Hells, Father, I didn’t realize you were behind me,” he said, setting down the uncooperative datapad. Luke turned around in his chair to face him.
“Hm.” Amusement colored their bond. “I suppose I have the capability of being quiet on occasion.” Vader’s breathing was the only sound in the room for a moment, rasping and mechanical.
“Do you need to get your respirator repaired, Father?” Luke asked, changing the subject. “It doesn’t sound like it’s working smoothly.”
“Later. So? What are your thoughts on infiltrating the guard?”
Luke glanced at the datapad then turned back to his father. “Well, we’ll need to pick people we look really similar to. They have to show their faces for verification. And several are Force-sensitive; we’ll have to figure out a work-around for that, find a way to fool them.”
Vader held a hand out to his side and pulled a chair over with the Force, scraping it along the floor. Luke winced until the sound was over and his father sat down. They talked for what felt like hours, about ways to get around the Force-sensitive guards—Luke quickly shot down the idea of wearing Force binders, they made his skin crawl and made it hard to think quickly, Vader shot down the idea of Luke simply attempting to shield several minds at once on the grounds that Luke was not that skilled yet and wouldn’t be for another decade—and how they would actually do the deed itself: kill the Emperor. And yet even the talk of Palpatine shooting lightning out of his fingertips—apparently something the Sith could do—couldn’t keep Luke fully awake. His eyes kept drifting closed, begging for relief from the headache that had sunk into his skull, and his father’s words were half gibberish, like Luke had forgotten his second language. He didn’t want to ask his father to switch to Huttese; didn’t want to poke that particular rancor.
Vader changed languages at some point without Luke asking, but it still didn’t make any sense. Had he forgotten his first language, too? Regardless, the rumbling of his father’s voice through the vocoder was soothing, in a way.
And by the time he realized that the Force had gone soft and calm around him, he didn’t even mind.
Luke was dimly aware of listing sideways, in danger of falling out of his chair, then of being picked up and carried. He stopped trying to open his eyes and just snuggled into his father’s warm hold. Soon, he was set on a soft surface—bed, his tired, drifting mind supplied—then he sank deeper into the comfort of the Force around him and fell completely asleep.
The last thing he was aware of was a voice whispered in his mind. Rest, my son. The galaxy can wait until the morning.
Luke sent a mindless burst of tired affection, and knew no more.