Binary Skies

Chapter 23: Fever Dreams

He was a perfect, raging storm of emotions, resonating his agony and suffering across the galaxy in a vocal scream.  He didn't tremble—no, the anger and the pain made his hands steady, made him sharper, stronger...

...but so cold...

Luke felt as if he was falling far into nothing before he hit the ground hard, a gasp escaping him as the wind was knocked out of him.

"You are playing with powers you cannot hope to understand."

Luke scrambled to his feet when he recognized the mechanical, booming voice, heart pounding in his chest and head.  He staggered back, shaking his head.

"No, no, you're not really here—this is just a dream!"

"I assure you, child, I am very much real," Vader growled, grasping Luke's arm in a painfully tight grip.  Luke yanked away from him, breathing heavily as he backed into the wall, running his hands through his hair.

"Get out of my head!" Luke shouted, doubling over in desperation.

"No; I'm going to have my way first.  I've waited long enough for you to sleep, boy, and you've only given me a better grasp on your mind with your weakened state—something you did to yourself, I'll remind you," Vader growled.  Luke grit his teeth and stood tall at Vader's words, defiance snapping in his eyes.

"You won't have your way with me; I'll never turn to the dark side, never!" Luke cried out.

Vader clenched a fist in retaliation and Luke stiffened, feeling as if Vader was tugging on his heart, his very soul, about to rip one of the two out.  A strange choking noise escaped Luke's lips as Vader spoke.

"I heard your scream, the one you projected across the galaxy for even the Emperor and myself to hear; it told us interesting things.  There's already darkness growing inside of you, a hold I have on you; you're straying, Skywalker.  You will be mine; you already are," Vader hissed through his respirator, and Luke shuddered as Vader's cold grip tightened painfully.  Luke seized up, and suddenly he wasn't in Vader's grasp; he was somewhere else entirely and...he didn't feel like himself either...

Suddenly, Luke found himself standing in the Imperial Throne Room, a lightsaber humming within his hand.  He was in control of his body, and yet...he wasn't.  He could feel everything, and he felt as if he was the one making every movement and decision...

...but yet, he wasn't.

The Emperor lay at his feet, simply a black robe with a hole from a lightsaber in it.  Somehow, Luke knew he had been the one to strike the Emperor down—and he had done so willingly.  He turned, and he saw Vader standing behind him.  Luke's very blood seemed to scream at him to take Vader's life as well, but instead he walked forward, deactivated his lightsaber—wait, why was his lightsaber red?

Luke felt like he was going to be sick as he knelt before Vader, though he felt power pulsing through his veins.  He could do anything he wanted, the Force was his to control.  He finally had power, the power to...to...

"Pathetic."

Luke was blindsided as he was suddenly tossed into a wall, in control of his body again.  Still, he was horrified to discover that he still felt that rush of power--of the dark side--within him.  Vader stalked towards him, having been the one to throw Luke into the wall, growling low in his throat.

"Yes, you would be powerful enough to protect your...friends...but they would not matter.  Why waste such power on them?  Their lives are meaningless, even now; they hold you back.  Even now, when you could be learning of the Force, you do nothing.  And you wonder why you fail."