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The kyber mines are better than Jabba's palace. The kyber mines are better than Jabba’s palace. The kyber mines are better than Jabba’s palace.
The thought played on repeat in his head, a broken-record phrase that Luke used to try and keep himself sane when the grueling, miserable work in the mines threatened to break him into pieces.
Anywhere was better than there.
But all the same… the mines were a new kind of hell.
Luke was uncertain of how long he’d been here. It was difficult to keep track of time, surrounded by darkness and cut off from the Suns - or sun, he supposed. He wasn’t on Tatooine anymore. He didn’t know where in the galaxy he was and as a slave, it wasn’t his right to know either.
The most he could guess was that it’d been months - maybe even a year, since he’d been sold.
He missed the Suns.
The warmth of them, the way they painted the Tatooine sky in the evening with the most beautiful colors as they began to set. He missed the wide expanse of the desert sands that stretched out in every direction - there had been no walls, no bars, no cages.
All of his childhood, Luke had thought Tatooine was a prison. A world too small and barren for him, when he had yearned for greater things.
He learned, far too late, that it had been freedom all along.
The most light that he'd been exposed to in this miserable place were the dim lanterns that created a soft glow in the hallways and caverns of the kyber mines. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness of it a long time ago but he ached inside for even a hint of true light.
The kyber mines are better than Jabba’s palace, Luke reminded himself dully. The kyber mines are better than Jabba’s palace.
Still, he hated this place.
His clothes - or what was left of them - were threadbare and covered in dirt and dried sweat and blood. He hadn’t had new or clean clothes in all the time he’d been here. It made him feel like trash and had done more than its fair share to degrade him.
The mines got surprisingly hot - he’d hadn’t expected the heat. He’d always thought underground places would be cold. But the labor he was forced to do was exhausting and there were dozens, if not hundreds of them who have been put to work here in the poorly-ventilated shafts.
And the act of mining itself wore out clothes faster than he’d expected it would. The Empire didn’t waste money on slaves that they fully intend to work to death. More than half of the others that lived out their lives here didn’t even have clothes anymore, just the rock dust and grime that clung to them all.
He was grateful he still had what he had and dreaded the day when they fell apart and were good for nothing.
It’s a stupid thought, Luke knew. There were more important things than clothes and he was just clinging to any form of normalcy that he could get. He didn’t have privacy or rights or anything that was his - the only thing that was his was his name. Even the clothes on his back were an illusion.
He shook his head and lets his thoughts drift away from freedom.
It was easier than it used to be.
It was the kyber crystals that stole most of his attention nowadays.
The strange humming rocks that the Empire was so desperate to find. Luke had no idea what the Empire wanted them for and he didn’t particularly care either. It was no business of his. Didn’t spare him the whip or put food on his plate or send water his way.
But he had a particular… affinity, he supposed, for kyber.
It had been that way since day one. He’d woken up in the mines and had immediately been assaulted with a disorienting noise that hummed loudly in the back of his mind. Sometimes it felt like static, scratchy and irritating, and other times it felt like a song that was being spoken in a language he didn’t understand but also did.
It had taken him almost a week to realize that the humming itself was the kyber crystals.
They felt brighter in his senses than anything he could see in the mines. They were distracting and there was nothing he could do to tune them out or make them stop their song.
Half of the time, he felt as though he was walking around in a daze. It was like he was drunk - he’d gotten drunk with Biggs once and it was hilarious and miserable all at the same time. Uncoordinated body, slow thoughts, unclear vision. They’d stumbled around in the desert, falling into the sand or against the rocks of the canyon over and over, laughing at each other and their wobbly surroundings until they puked their guts up and agreed never to drink again.
The crystals did something similar to him, except it wasn’t funny. He just could never think clearly and he never came off the high.
And it didn’t hide the fact that he’s hurt or the reality of his miserable existence.
His back stung and ached with a pain that he’d never quite gotten used to. The foremen and Masters who ran the operation in the mines enjoyed their whips and happily doled out punishment for any “slackers” in their lines. Luke was in trouble for being distracted so often that sometimes they hit him for no reason at all now.
The smell of sweat and piss and blood was strong in the air that he breathed, and perhaps it was a sign that he’s losing his mind, but Luke often thought that the misery of the other slaves lingered in the air too and that he could feel all their pain and suffering alongside his own.
Somehow, it was still better than Jabba's.
The kyber whispered their songs to him even now and no amount of food, water, or sleep took the edge of that high off or turned off the voices.
It echoed in his blood - he could feel it, like some part of him that he hadn't known even existed.
It made him think of that one moment at the palace.
He had felt something then - something dark and wonderful and powerful sang in his veins for those few minutes when Luke had snapped and Jabba had started choking like the miserable, disgusting bastard that he was all on his own.
Except… it had actually been Luke.
Luke had choked him.
He’d almost killed him.
It didn’t make sense.
He didn’t know how he did it.
But it scared Jabba enough to sell him here and it scared Luke sometimes to think that maybe he could do it again.
It also scared him to think that maybe he wouldn't be able to at all.
Whatever it was... whatever that moment had been… he wanted it back sometimes.
He just didn’t know how to get it.
All he'd been was angry.
Angry at what was happening to him.
Angry for the other slaves.
Angry at himself.
Angry at the pain he'd been in.
Angry at how Jabba's cronies and guests had laughed and laughed and it was like something inside of him had snapped and a door to something big and grand had been opened and he’d almost been free—
And then someone had bashed him on the back of the head and that moment had ended as abruptly as it had begun.
Here though... Here, Luke just felt defeated.
He was far, far from home now. At Jabba’s, he’d at least still been on Tatooine. There was always that faint sliver of hope that he could escape and make his way across the Desert and find his aunt and uncle again.
But that hope was long gone.
He doesn’t know where he is now and he didn’t have a clue how to get out of the mines. Every slave brought in here came in completely unconscious so that they had no chance of knowing how to get out. He was chipped on the first day with a transmitter device that would kill him if he somehow managed to cross the invisible boundary of his allowed parameters, and top it off, he was kept chained, hand and foot, almost night and day.
No one got out of the kyber mines.
Luke was exhausted and hungry and these people didn't give a damn about keeping him "pretty" like Jabba had. They would beat him black and blue if they thought it would get another hour of work out of him and he would be discarded like trash on the day that he failed to deliver for them.
It had happened time and again to so many others. Even with as useful as he currently was with locating the kyber crystals, Luke had no delusions that it wouldn’t one day happen to him as well.
Maybe… maybe if he knew how to get that power back… but he didn’t.
It was too hard to focus on getting that feeling of power back when he felt drunk all the time. When he could barely keep up with the work enough to avoid whipping. And hope was a dangerous thing to have. It was better to feel nothing at all.
Hollow and drunk was better than Jabba's, after all.
It had to be.
Otherwise, Luke didn't know what he was holding on for at this point.
Not that he was allowed to die. Even if he was ready - even if he wanted to die, the Empire would keep him alive until they decided that they were through with him.
His body belonged to them and one of the foremen of the mine had a vested interest in him right now - mostly due to the fact that the whispering and humming he felt always seemed to lead Luke straight to the crystals the Empire was searching for.
No one else could hear the whispering except for him and Luke hated that fact because it made him a target for abuse, especially when it came time for the quotas to be met.
He almost always knew exactly where the crystals were.
Production rates had skyrocketed in the last few months because of him, though that fact did nothing to make his life any easier. It made it so much worse.
The only times he was wrong was when there were so many crystals that the whispering and humming was too loud and distracting and he couldn’t quite pinpoint where they should mine to get them out.
He would guess, desperately, hoping to get it right.
It made the other slaves frustrated whenever he was wrong - when they had to mine for hours, chipping away at rock and stone in the dreadful, suffocating heat, only for Luke to have picked the wrong spot and tell them the crystals were a few feet over in a different direction entirely.
It frustrated the Masters even more.
The foreman starved him for a day or two whenever he made that mistake.
He told Luke that it would improve his focus.
Like he was nothing but a dog getting distracted by a fruit squirrel.
He barely got to sleep or eat and the whispering of the crystals was a near-constant hum in his head, making it difficult to think or speak or even walk in a straight line, sometimes. The few moments when he wasn’t drunk, it felt like he was going insane, hearing them; and then the Masters had the audacity to be pissed off that he was distracted.
It was all bantha shit.
…he just wanted to go home.
At least today there was a brief reprieve. Luke doubted it would last very long but it might give him the chance to pinpoint another decent sized cluster of crystals before he and the others had to go back to work - which could earn them all a bigger portion at latemeal tonight, and less whippings for him.
There was some kind of inspection going on from a higher up Imperial officer.
It happened occasionally but this particular officer, whoever the hell he was, had all the Masters in an absolutely tizzy.
Luke and several others on the crew he worked with had already gotten a few stripes this morning for no other reason than a guard was angry and frightened and needed an outlet to try and calm his nerves.
Luke had grown used to being property and the pain had done nothing except to make him feel more empty inside than he already did. .
His time in slavery had forced him to get used to a lot of things:
Not looking anyone in the eye.
Only saying, "Yes, Master." or "No, Master." and nothing else unless prompted to do so.
Taking abuse and saying thank you in the aftermath.
It taught him not to care.
About himself or others.
And he didn’t. He barely spoke to the other slaves now - he didn’t know their names and he didn’t want to know either.
When he cared, he got hurt.
Others would die or be sold and then he would be alone and the loss was a knife in the heart every single time.
Luke had decided a long time ago to avoid any pain that was within his power to control.
It was the only thing he could do and sometimes, feeling nothing at all was just enough for him to make it through the day.
And then again.
And again and again and again.
One day at a time.
A whip cracked against his back and Luke flinched, pulling out of his thoughts and hissing in pain.
"Stand up straight!" one of the foremen snapped at him. Luke couldn’t tell which one of them it was - there were usually three or four assigned to watch them during the day, but it wasn’t like he could just look at them whenever he wanted. Droids would have been preferable for the position, Luke knew, but he was under the impression that a former slave had somehow managed to reprogram one and it had killed an officer or two while he had attempted to escape.
They’d shot him and the droid had been destroyed, of course. Now there are sentient guards assigned to them to avoid a similar problem in the future.
Luke swallowed, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. "Yes, Master," he said hoarsely.
The pair of black polished shoes disappeared from his line of sight after a few seconds as the foreman continued on his way, snapping at others to “straighten the hell up” and that “he” would be here soon.
Once the foreman was a safe distance away, Luke allowed his thoughts to drift once again. The crystals felt particularly loud today and everything felt kind of hazy and strange, to the point where his vision was swooping and swaying, the shaft walls curving in on him and the chains on his wrists linking him to the others seeming to double. He wished that they would be quiet just for a few minutes. Just long enough for him to find out where they were, so he could dig them out and shut them up.
Instead, they hummed and sang even louder, almost physically pulling at him, as if trying to drown out everything but themselves.
Not helpful, Luke thought sourly.
The kyber didn’t reply.
A few minutes passed and the Imperials that had been left to guard them were frantically putting themselves together, fixing their uniforms, their officer caps, anything and everything - perfection was the standard today and they would accept no less.
A radio crackled.
"We are enroute now," someone reported.
Luke shivered, feeling as though he could actually feel their fear and unease. It chafed uncomfortably against his own apathy and he wondered anew about who this person coming to inspect the mines was, if he could get this kind of reaction from people.
"Positions, everyone."
Luke shifted slightly as it grew quiet, hoping he could disengage from the emotions that permeated the air until all of this was over and done with.
It felt so oppressive…even the air felt dark.
A strange sort of coldness came over him and Luke shivered once again as a new sound slowly reached his ears over the kyber song.
A deep, rhythmic breathing.
In... out... in... out….
Over and over and over.
It was almost as distracting as the crystals were.
Several sets of footsteps followed and Luke couldn’t help but peer up through his eyelashes to try and see who this person was. He spied several sets of officer boots, hints of their uniforms, then just straight black.
"Supreme Commander Lord Vader," the head foreman began, his voice falsely calm. “We are honored by your presence here.”
He began introducing some of the officers and each of them either saluted and offered a deferential bow.
The one that was breathing never said anything.
Luke didn't dare look up enough to try and see his face or expression .
But the lack of pompous speaking, as some others were wont to do whenever they arrived for an inspection, made him think that this person probably didn't care about any of this at all.
“As you can tell by our numbers and reports, we run a tight ship here and have been able to produce a record number of kyber crystals for Project Stardust—”
The stranger interrupted the foreman’s subtle attempt at bragging, his voice harsh and cold.
"You are still behind in your quotas."
"Y-yes, Lord Vader but we—"
"Have nothing but excuses for me. Rest assured, the Emperor will not be pleased and neither am I.”
“N—no, we—we have a solution!” Someone stepped forward and grabbed Luke, pushing him to the front and forcing everyone on the line to move with him or fall down amid the clanking of chains. “This one - he can always find the kyber. We’ve been working faster since we got him. Our numbers are much improved and we will continue to produce. We can exceed the set quota, even.”
Luke’s breath froze in his lungs as darkness seized him like a spotlight, clenching him in its fist.
There was enough slack in the chain between him and the two slaves who stood on either side of him that they managed to still remain standing as Luke was forced down to his knees and into a low, submissive bow before Lord Vader.
His knees ached upon impact with the hard ground. Luke did his very best not to move - he hardly dared to breathe. The crystals were humming so loudly.
He used to fight this, Luke thought distantly.
There had been a time when being on his knees was the worst form of humiliation he could think of.
And here he was, submissive and cowing before someone he didn’t know and thinking that he would be pathetically grateful if he wasn’t kicked or whipped in the process.
Even thinking that made him feel small and empty.
Freeborn. Luke shrunk away from the thought. It wasn’t a title he deserved anymore. His family would be ashamed to see him now - and his father, especially.
There is a long moment of silence, with only that steady breathing to break it.
That strange coldness seemed to sink into his skin, like eyes that were probing his very soul and reading his thoughts. It… it felt like someone was reading his thoughts and Luke shuddered, hoping it wasn’t true.
He wished that he had the energy to be angry.
Angry like he'd been in Jabba's palace.
Where he'd choked the slug on his throne and scared the hell out of him. Scared him enough to sell him to the Empire in spite of his mechanical skills.
If he were braver, less broken... he might try to do it again here, to the man towering over him now.
It was a wishful, useless thought.
Luke wasn't that person anymore.
So all he did was wait.
"Look at me," the voice above him finally commanded.
Luke froze, hesitating because he wasn't supposed to do that. Slaves didn’t look up and he had long since learned his place.
He cried out when that damn whip struck him again and this time, the force of it broke skin. Luke felt his forearms shaking under him and it took everything he had to hold his submissive position and not move at all. He could feel the trickle of blood going down his scarred back, dirtying his filthy clothes even further, and braced himself for another strike—
Except…a strange gurgling sound sounded behind him and the whip didn’t crack the way he expected it to.
"Did I ask you to interfere?" Lord Vader demanded, taking a step forward. The other officers all fidgeted, their fear skyrocketing once again.
"N-ack-no!" the one who'd struck him gasped out.
Luke felt his spine tingle and despite all the many, many reasons why he shouldn’t… he lifted his head just enough to hesitantly glance over his shoulder. The man who’d whipped him was turning red as he was choked by an invisible hand.
“No, I did not,” Lord Vader agreed darkly.
The foreman’s head jerked to the side in one swift, brutal movement and his neck snapped. His body collapsed onto the floor.
Luke stared and stared, feeling dizzy. The crystals hummed loudly still but the haze that kept him feeling drunk was almost gone for the first time in weeks. His head and vision were clear, but what he saw still didn’t make sense.
Lord Vader - whoever he was - had killed the foreman. He hadn't even touched him.
It was the same thing Luke had almost done to Jabba and his heart pounded in his chest at the thought.
"Look at me, boy," Lord Vader commanded again.
It took a few seconds for Luke to be able to tear his eyes away and do as he was told and look up.
The man before him was tall.
Really tall. He towered over Luke, dark and foreboding and radiating a sense of danger and competency that no other Imperial that Luke had known had ever done. He wore all black and a cape, like someone important, of a high rank.
Whoever he was, this man outclassed everyone that was here.
And the Masters’ fear of Lord Vader made more sense now, if he was someone that could kill a man without even moving a muscle.
There was no face for him to look at - only a mask that glared down at him emotionlessly.
Luke felt like a bug under a microscope... but at the same time, his mind was racing.
"Who are you?" Lord Vader demanded.
Luke hesitated, uncertain of what to say.
He was property and the Empire didn't recognize slaves as being people.
"...my... my number is 07211978—"
"I don't want your number." Lord Vader interrupted impatiently. "I want your name."
"...oh." Luke shook his head. No one had ever asked for his name before. Only the other slaves, but they’d stopped asking when Luke made it clear that he had no interest in speaking or getting to know them. His name was his own and it was all that he had. It felt like a violation to tell someone now. "Luke, sir."
"Luke what?"
“Lars."
“Liar.”
Luke felt his heart stutter that Lord Vader could even know that, and he tensed in anticipation of pain. He would need to be punished for the lie - but it was a worse thought to have to give up his name.
“S—Skywalker, sir.” He admitted in a shameful whisper, wishing that he could claim Owen and Beru. They were the only family he’d ever known and he wished he could keep the Skywalker name free for a little longer, if only in his head and heart. “Luke Skywalker.”
A cold shock replaced the uncaring probing of his thoughts and Lord Vader took a step back from him, almost stumbling in his sudden haste.
A nearby Imperial stepped forward.
"Lord Vader? Are you alright?"
"Get out." Lord Vader choked out, keeping his mask trained on Luke.
"S-sir?"
"Get out NOW."
The chains linking Luke to the other slaves fell off his wrists—only his wrists. The others seemed only too eager to leave, and shuffled out after the fleeing Imperials.
Luke was left alone, feeling horribly confused and terribly, terribly small.
Why did his name matter? What had he said to get this kind of a reaction?
…what was going to happen to him now?
He looked down at the floor again. It felt safer then to keep looking up.
His wrists felt horribly bare without the chains that had kept him bound. They were scarred and sore and Luke resisted the urge to rub the ache in them away.
The crystals were humming loudly still, almost as if they wanted his attention and he wished for the first time that he still felt completely drunk.
The man in front of him was silent and the anticipation kept Luke tense. Minutes passed and Luke dared to think that Lord Vader didn’t know what to say, though he hardly seemed the type of person to be unsure of anything.
Finally, he stepped forward again and slowly squatted down so that he was more at Luke's level.
No Imperial had ever done that before, unless they intended to be cruel.
Luke resisted the urge to pull back and instead held perfectly still, staring at the ground and trying not to tremble.
He wasn’t successful. His hands were shaking fiercely and he tightened them into fists, pressing them against his thighs and willing them to stop.
"Where did you come from?"
The modulated voice seemed... softer now. Almost quiet.
With the others gone now, the emotions in the room were less oppressive and Lord Vader did not seem…angry.
Luke let his eyes flick upwards for a brief moment and then dropped them again. "...Tatooine, sir." he whispered.
For some reason… Luke got the sense that Lord Vader closed his eyes, as if the name of the planet hurt him somehow. It was quiet except for his modulated breathing for a few seconds.
"You said the name Lars. Why?"
Luke swallowed, knowing deep in his bones that he would be punished for the lie he’d told.
"My aunt and uncle... it's their name." he admitted in a small voice. “They - they raised me. Sir.”
"Your uncle - is his name Owen Lars?"
This time, Luke did look up, feeling stunned.
"Yes."
The man before him was staring at him strangely and his emotions felt oddly… muted. Luke thought he could even see the eyes hiding behind the mask and then looked down again, knowing that it was not his place to look anyone in the eye.
“I… I’m sorry I lied, sir.” Luke whispered. “I… I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I am not offended.” Lord Vader said immediately. “And I am not angry either.”
The assurance did nothing to set Luke at ease - Imperials didn’t need to be angry to hurt someone after all and Luke was nothing but property to them. He wasn’t worth the effort it took for someone of high standing to be offended by.
Lord Vader made no indication that he planned to hurt him though. He only stared at Luke - stared and stared as if he couldn’t believe what he was looking at.
Luke thought to maybe ask how this stranger knew Owen’s name but decided after a moment that it wasn’t really any of his business. Besides… if Lord Vader could read people’s thoughts the way Luke could sense emotions… then maybe that was how he knew.
“Come. Stand up.” Lord Vader finally said, extending a hand out and gripping Luke by the bicep to help pull him up to his feet.
His touch was… gentle. It didn’t hurt and there wouldn’t even be a bruise afterwards.
The man was strong though. If he wanted to hurt someone, it would be easy. And Luke’s body was thin and starved after months and months trapped in the mines. There was no fight in him.
Lord Vader turned Luke around gently so that he could see his back, guiding his movements, almost as though to make sure that he wouldn’t stumble. Luke flinched, stiffening as his gloved hand peeled back his torn clothes to get a better look at the damage that had been done to him.
He allowed it, if only because his body barely belonged to him anymore.
Instead, Luke looked resolutely at the wall, letting the kyber song consume him.
"Can you hear the crystals?" Luke asked softly, once a few seconds had gone by. He hated being stared at like this - like men were trying to determine what his value was or how much work they could get out of him before he collapsed and died.
He imagined that he was a sight to see. He was filthy and blood was still oozing out of his wounds and there were layers and layers of scars that marked his life as a slave.
"Yes, I can hear the crystals," Lord Vader confirmed after a few more seconds had gone by. Luke thought he felt… sad. He peeled more of Luke’s ruined shirt back and was probably staring at the brand that had been burned into his shoulder when he’d first arrived.
It was the Imperial Cog and Luke thought that it demonstrated better than anything how thoroughly he was owned by someone else.
When Lord Vader’s fingers hesitantly brushed against it moments later, Luke knew for sure that it was what had stolen his attention.
"Why do they whisper?" Luke dared to ask. "Or how?"
Lord Vader dropped his hand and gently turned Luke to face him once again.
“The Force. It is strong with them. And with you.”
Luke dropped his eyes. He didn’t know what the Force was and Lord Vader had said the name with such… confidence. As if it was something that everyone knew about.
Luke didn’t know how it could be strong with him when he had no idea what it even was.
He dared not contradict him though.
"I... I always feel drunk. They make it hard to think." Luke admitted instead. He wasn't sure why he was talking so much. Or why it felt easy to do so. He’d spoken more in the last few minutes than he had in weeks. But then again, he felt less drunk than he had in weeks, too. “They’re always so loud.”
Maybe he was just desperate for a sense of normality and this person was being… almost kind to him.
Maybe… maybe it was because he and this person might be the same somehow, if they both had the ability to hear the whispering songs of the kyber crystals.
The darkness shifted and slowly… the kyber song grew muted, as if held distant by a force field. Their sudden silence startled him and he swayed, disoriented by the complete lack of whispering.
It was the first time his head and mind had been quiet since he’d been brought here.
Only Lord Vader’s hand around his bicep kept him upright.
“And now?” Lord Vader asked.
Luke only shook his head. “It’s… it’s quiet.” he whispered in amazement. He dared look up again and search out those eyes behind the red lenses of Lord Vader’s mask. The lighting made them look gold.
"Good."
“How did you do that?”
There was… a sense… an impression that came to Luke’s mind, whispering that Lord Vader was smiling sadly.
“I will show you sometime.”
Luke blinked.
“Are you… staying here?” he asked, confused.
“No. You will be coming with me.”
Oh.
That… that was not what he was expecting. Not that Luke enjoyed the mines. He hated them, even if they were better than being in Jabba’s palace. But while his experiences in being… traded or sold between Masters was limited… it was never easy to be taken someplace new if only because he had no say in where he went.
It reminded him of his own lack of control over his life.
And there was always the risk of the next place being worse than this.
Luke dropped his eyes again, trying to find some solace in his own apathy. Fear ate at his insides and he dreaded to think of what new rules he would be expected to know in a different place and what pain he would suffer until he got them right.
As long as he didn’t care… it didn’t hurt. It didn’t matter that he was property, it didn’t matter that he had no control or no say in anything. It just didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter.
He swallowed thickly. “Where are you taking me?”
"Away from here," was the vague answer. Lord Vader suddenly felt… distracted, as though he were thinking exceptionally hard and fast about something.
Luke nodded, knowing better than to have expected anything more than that.
There was nothing he could do to resist and it wasn’t his right to know anything. That had certainly been beaten into him.
Lord Vader hesitated, his thoughts coming to an abrupt halt. It was almost as if he’d heard Luke’s thoughts.
"I will tell you more once we have left,” he suddenly promised. “There are ears everywhere. And this... is a conversation we should have in private."
Luke didn’t understand that at all - no one had ever given a damn about telling him anything. It wasn’t important and he had no idea why Lord Vader of all people should think that it was or put the effort in to reassure him of anything.
He didn’t dare dream to think that it was something that would continue and so he said nothing.
“Come with me.”
Lord Vader kept his hand around his bicep, leading him out of the cavern and out past the guards and foremen. He kept his pace reasonable, not moving any faster than Luke himself could force himself to walk. The wounds on his back stung and pulled at his muscles and he was unused to not having to compensate for the weight of the chains, for not being bound hand or foot to anyone else.
Luke had no idea where the other slaves had been sent off to but only the officers and foremen stood waiting once Lord Vader emerged.
“Lord Vader,” one of them said hesitantly. Luke kept his eyes down and couldn’t see his expression. “Shall… shall we continue with the inspection, my Lord?”
“Not at this present time,” Lord Vader said sharply. “I have other matters of urgent business which I must attend to. I will send someone else in my place. You may resume your usual business.”
“Y-yes, of course, my Lord.” Someone fidgeted uncomfortably. “Shall we… we can return that one to the line up, if you so wish.”
“That will be unnecessary.” Lord Vader said swiftly, in a way that promised no room for argument. “I will be taking this one with me.”
“But - but, we need him,” The head foreman stuttered out. “Our… our quotas, sir -”
“Will not be expected to lapse in the absence of one slave.” Lord Vader interrupted him, his voice waspish. “I expect to not have to return here and remind you of the Emperor’s expectations or the consequences for failing to rise up to his standard of performance.”
The foreman stepped back, his emotions stuttering with fear. “No, Sir.” he choked out. “We will not disappoint his Majesty.”
“Excellent.” Lord Vader said swiftly. “Now, come with me, Ferrin. I want all the files and paperwork that you have on 07211978.”
Luke stepped forward again as Lord Vader began to walk again, speaking to the man in charge about things Luke didn’t particularly care about. He dared to look up for a brief moment and saw that his—old—foreman was staring at him as he and Lord Vader walked by. His emotions felt dark and angry and Luke shied away from him.
Lord Vader must have sensed or heard something too because he paused suddenly and turned to glare at Luke’s old foreman, almost as if he were challenging him. Paling, the foreman quickly averted his eyes and dropped into a respectful half-bow.
From there, they only stopped at the shift commander’s office. Luke was told to sit and wait outside with two stormtroopers, while Lord Vader shut the door to speak to him in private.
He felt terribly exhausted and it was a relief to sit, even if just for a little bit.
There must not have been too much paperwork on Luke because the meeting itself didn’t take longer than fifteen minutes or so. Not that there would be much - who needed paperwork for slaves, when they were just going to be worked to death?
Lord Vader stepped outside with a datapad and what Luke recognized as the detonator to his transmitter chip.
He looked away quickly. Even the thought of his transmitter made him sick to his stomach and it was worse to see someone literally holding his life in their hand.
A few minutes later, they were stepping into an elevator and then out on to a landing pad, where numerous ships sat waiting. Only one of them was on, the engine rumbling slightly.
It was dark outside and the air was cool and fresh against his skin.
The sky was clear too and… the stars were out. Luke couldn’t help but look up, dazed and awed by the sight of them.
It was something that he hadn’t expected to ever see again and he almost felt like crying.
It was quiet - the near constant humming of the kyber crystals was gone after so many months and he was relieved and grateful… but at the same time, it felt strange. The silence was as foreign to him as the absence of chains and the uncertainty of what was going to happen next was eating at him.
Lord Vader allowed him to hesitate, letting him stare up at the stars for a minute or so before quietly urging him forward again.
It was the most consideration he’d been given since he’d been taken as the water tax payment. He didn’t have the words to express his own gratitude for the simple gesture.
Lord Vader helped him into a black Imperial shuttle and by the time Luke was sat down in a seat, the absence of the drunken feeling caused by the kyber crystals made him feel strangely exhausted. He hadn’t even been forced to work today - or tonight, apparently, since the world was dark outside - but his body felt as though it were going to give out on him at any second.
He wouldn’t be able to work even if someone told him to.
The stripes on his back stung like all the seven levels of hell and his head was pounding as crash webbing was secured around him and he was buckled in. He heard the shuffling of several sets of feet and the opening and closing of a few cupboards.
His eyes felt too heavy to keep open, though he hadn’t been given permission to rest or sleep yet. It was that thought that alone which had him them open once again. Luke shivered, watching Lord Vader with wary eyes as he approached him with a needle and plunger. A spot on his arm was quickly swabbed clean and the needle was inserted with only a slight pinch.
“Just painkillers,” Lord Vader said after a moment. One of the stormtroopers who accompanied Lord Vader reappeared with a blanket and it was quickly spread over him. “You can rest, Luke. No one will hurt you here.”
“I don’t understand,” Luke mumbled, even as something… warm and gentle came over him. It felt nice, not unlike the whispering kyber crystals but not the same either. Instead of songs, it just whispered safe and rest and something else that sounded like freedom.
“I know.” Lord Vader said gently. “Sleep for now and I will take care of everything else.”
A hand brushed his long, filthy hair out of his face and then Lord Vader was standing up and striding away. He spoke into a comm, asking someone to prepare medical for a patient.
Luke fell asleep not very long after, confused and uncertain of what was going on but with the whispering assurance that it was going to be different when he woke up again.