Part I

Athara forced a deep breath into her lungs before reaching to the control that would drop the Falcon out of hyperspace. It was certainly an odd feeling co-piloting the old freighter, especially with Han sitting in the pilot's chair, eying her like he was afraid she was about to break something. But regardless of the unassailable faith she had in Han and Chewie's piloting abilities, she was the one who had the first-hand experience with the planet-side approach they were about to undertake.

Hence the deep breath.

It had been years since she last set foot on the planet that hid one of the few places she'd ever even remotely considered 'home.'

Mustafar.

Hence her place in Chewie's regular seat.

She'd even been tempted to suggest that Luke pilot with her, knowing his own piloting talent and his Force-sensitivity would give him an advantage just as it did her. But asking Han and Chewie to give up full control of their baby even if it was to her and Luke? The smuggler and his co-pilot were still sore from the damage left on the Falcon from lending it to Lando for the attack on the Second Death Star.

It had been hard enough to get Han to agree to leave her to navigate the treacherous atmosphere they were heading for. She'd had to play the experience card pretty hard for that. And that was with added help of Han's prior knowledge of rumours about how unpredictable and violent Mustafar's atmosphere was...Athara might have played those rumours up a bit when he mentioned he'd heard them to get him to agree.

As the whorl of hyperspace stilled to starlines and then back to realspace, Athara was steeling herself for what she knew lay before her on the lava planet. It hung like a glowing ember before them, exactly as she remembered it.

"That's Mustafar?" Luke's voice was soft and uneasy, interrupting Han's quick breakdown from the sensor readings. Tersely Athara nodded.

She'd explained to all of them what Mustafar was and why she needed to go there, insisting that her Jedi and her two friends knew exactly what they were getting into when they volunteered to go with her. Truthfully, she'd been trying to discourage them, ready to go on her own...especially since it was a visit unsanctioned by the Alliance leadership... She had no idea what was waiting at Vader's Fortress and was wary of dragging those she cared about in blind.

Just like she wasn't interested in letting the Alliance try to storm the Fortress either. She knew it'd be a futile mission. There was a reason it was known as Vader's 'Fortress.' But even after she'd warned the Alliance leadership of as much when she'd caught wind of the plans to secure her Master's private sanctuary, they'd effectively brushed her off. She'd considered persisting, insisting that they needed to reconsider their plans or at least bring her in on the mission, but she was still looked on with suspicion by many within the Alliance. It didn't matter that her allegiance had been made perfectly clear. She still wasn't trusted.

Well, if they didn't trust her, that was their loss. But Athara wasn't about to let them run off on a suicide mission to take a facility that honestly didn't have any real strategic value—they hadn't listened to her on that score, either... It was then that she'd made the decision to scout ahead on her own.

It was certainly a reckless decision, and probably rather foolish. It wasn't going to improve her standing with Alliance leadership, that was for sure.

But if anyone was going to be able to get into the Fortress, it was going to be her.

If she could manage it, she was fully intending to open the door.

Her only reservations came from Luke, Han and Chewie insisting on joining her. She wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to get into the Fortress in the first place. For all that the Fortress was Vader's, it had been designed on the Emperor's orders. She wasn't keen on risking their lives on the chance that Vader might not have completely removed her clearance codes and permissions.

Well, that and knowing that there'd be no hiding the true purpose of the Fortress if they somehow managed to infiltrate it.

The fact that Vader's Fortress was, in truth, little more than an elaborate Medical Facility? It would be a bombshell, especially to her friends. Especially to Luke. It nearly set her shaking with unease at the very thought of revealing one of her Master's closest held secrets.

Especially considering his reluctance to even tell her all those years before.

The cockpit was silent and tense as Athara eased the Falcon into the volatile atmosphere, every scrap of attention on the view outside the cockpit as the planet loomed closer. Thick, toxic clouds obscured the view and electromagnetic interference threatened to short out the Falcon's carefully, if haphazardly, calibrated systems.

It took every scrap of control Athara had to keep herself focused. Relying wholly on the Light Side of the Force was still periodically a challenge for her, and she had never made this flight without the aide of the Dark Side, her anxiety and latent fear easy fuel to boost her senses. She nearly lost it at one crucial point, almost dangerously overcorrecting when a surging updraft buffeted with scorching force against the Falcon. Panic threatened to set in even as she managed to keep the Falcon firmly under control. It was only when Luke's consciousness brushed against her own, his reassuring calm soothing on her tattered nerves, that she was able to wrestle herself back under control.

It was a harrowing flight. Athara didn't allow herself to relax for an instant, not even when, following her instructions perfectly, Luke transmitted the clearance codes to the Fortress' security systems and received back a confirmation. It was...well, it was something. Athara wasn't quite sure if it was a positive sign or not.

Either way, the concealed turbolaser embankments didn't shoot them down and none of the dozen TIE fighters Athara knew were stationed not far from the Fortress were sent out after them.

She didn't say a word beyond the occasional murmur for Han to monitor a system or engage a sublight drive sub-system from the instant the Falcon breached the atmosphere, reserving all of her attention for navigating the deadly hazards that hid in Mustafar's volcanic sky. Even when Han and Chewie reacted with uneasy murmurs as the lava-riddled surface and razor-sharp black mountains emerged through the dark, ash-choked haze she said nothing.

Not even when the towering edifice of Vader's Fortress appeared through the gloom, standing guard on the edge of the cliff-face atop its beacon-like lava-fall. She didn't react to the soft exclamations at the ominous sight, barely taking in the structure beyond marking its position in relation to her destination.

She only began to relax when the Fortress' planet-side navigation assistance systems locked on to the Falcon, guiding them in. Much to Han's bewildered surprise, it was only then that the tension in her shoulders eased and her posture relaxed enough that she settled into the co-pilot's seat.

"This is normal?" Feeling the strain from her mental exertions, Athara nodded tiredly. The words were tumbling out of her mouth before she even realized she was saying them.

"The landing guidance systems function completely separate from the security protocols," she explained absently, not even noticing as Han's expression turned from uneasy to skeptical to intrigued. "It makes approaching the Fortress much easier and much safer. The primary landing pad is quite close to the river that flows beneath the Fortress and the interference it creates can sometimes short out a ship's landing assistance systems. Not to mention what the crosswinds or the updrafts that come up the cliff-face are capable of. It's virtually impossible to land without at least the assistance of the high-intensity guide beams. Bypassing it is not only inadvisable, but incredibly difficult, if not impossible. Even if the approaching ship was an enemy vessel, the system would still guide it in rather than risk it colliding with the Fortress should it lose control." With an absent gesture she was initiating the landing cycle. Han's nose wrinkled with a faint moue of indignation that she'd effectively usurped command, but his experience took over, insisting that he focus on bringing his ship down safely rather than asserting his natural claim.

As the Falcon slowed to begin its final descent onto the landing pad, Athara was tensing up again as her concentration intensified. "Careful on the port struts, Han. It's going to be a tight fit," she cautioned absently. Han's only response was a distracted grunt of acknowledgement, though he immediately made an adjustment to compensate thanks to her warning.

A relieved exhale burst out of Athara as the Falcon settled on the pad with a put-upon groan. Outside, the energy field that protected the platform from the intense heat and noxious vapours that layered the planet's surface above the lava floes flickered back to life. Behind her, Chewie let out a faint whuffing chuckle, laying an encouraging hand on her shoulder as he stood. Smiling in thanks, she let the Wookiee help pull her from the co-pilot's seat so he could settle back in himself; prepared in case they needed to make a quick getaway.

Han had already slipped from the cockpit out into the main crew area while Luke was waiting just past the cockpit bulkhead for her. Sensing her disquiet at what lay just beyond the boarding ramp, he slipped an arm around her, pulling her in close as he laid a light kiss against her temple. Mercifully, he didn't say a word as she embraced him back briefly before following Han, and for that Athara was grateful.

The smuggler was leaning against the Dejarik table, ready and waiting as the two Jedi caught up. Around him, his handful of commandos were shuffling impatiently, ready to get on with the volunteer-only mission.

"So what's the plan?" Athara shot the smuggler an assessing glance as she swept up her cloak from where she'd draped it over the engineering console seat. She had to force herself to ignore the Dark flutter in the back of her mind as she swung the cloak around her shoulders, very nearly drawing the wide cowl over her face as she'd used to.

"I go see if any of my security codes are still active. If they aren't, I see if I can bypass the security protocols. If I can't," she nodded toward the squat green droid who had trundled up beside Luke, "N3 will give it a try." Han frowned, his arms crossing in a way that clearly demonstrated he was unimpressed.

"That doesn't seem like much of a plan. What do we do when we get inside? What if we run across some less-than-friendly Imperials once we get in there?" Athara shot him a skeptical, questioning look of her own.

"Coming from the man who quite often shoots first, asks questions later?" At his scowl she grinned before shrugging. A couple of the commandos snickered. "I don't know. I very much doubt that, between the three of us—two of us with lightsabers and one the former apprentice of the Master of the Fortress—and your men, we'll have any real trouble with whoever happens to be left. It's never been a heavily garrisoned facility. For all that it's an actual Fortress, it's not a base," she grumbled bitterly, reminded of why she was here in the first place. After a moment she continued, tone once again matter-of-fact as she ran down the bare bones of the plan as she saw it. Not that there was much to the plan beyond the bones, anyway...

"Once we're inside, we head to the Command Centre, reset the security protocols and send the Alliance an invite. Show them exactly why all the time and effort they've been putting into planning the assault on this place was completely unnecessary." Han and Luke both eyed her scowl warily. Athara sighed, rubbing her temple as she tried to let go of her lingering frustration and unease about their unauthorized mission. For a moment she fought the impulse, but she finally elaborated with a groan of uncertainty.

"The Alliance is convinced there is some sort of strategic value to this place," she ground out in a rush, her voice barely more than a murmur. "There isn't. Not really. The Devastator—and later the Executor—were Vader's 'bases'. Not here. For all that it was a supposed 'sanctuary,' he hated it here." A few murmurs were exchanged among Han's commandos before the smuggler had them quieting again with a look. She hesitated, the truth of the Fortress' purpose teetering on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn't manage to say it. There were too many years of unwaveringly protecting her Master's secrets holding her back. Instead she turned on her heel, stalking from the crew cabin to the boarding ramp.

By the time Luke and Han caught up to her, she was reaching for the entrance's control panel, ready to attempt entering her security codes. But as her companions reached her side, she hesitated. It was only when N3 warbled with concern behind the three of them that a breathless, cynical laugh huffed past her lips.

"You know," she said absently, as though only to herself, "The last time I passed through these doors—the last time I was here—I had just brought Director Krennic before my Master. Not long after that I left for Jedha...to report back to Vader whether or not Krennic was exaggerating about the Death Star's capabilities...that was so long ago, now..." She trailed off, unable to help how sad she sounded. It had been a long time ago. N3 responded with a sad moan even as Luke laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Thankfully, the touch snapped her from her melancholic thoughts and, taking a deep breath to shed the feeling, she began punching in the first of the codes she had decided would be most likely to work.

There was no hiding her shock when the locking mechanisms disengaged and the doors opened with a tired hiss at the first one. Next to her, Han's eyebrows shot to his hairline while Luke glanced to Athara with an uneasy frown.

That should not have happened.

What made it even more unsettling was the complete lack of reaction on the part of the Force. No foreboding that something was wrong. No sense of all's well. It was surprisingly silent.

Ahead of them the dim lighting of the corridor was flickering to life, barely illuminating the stark hallway. But that was as it should be.

Save it was empty.

There should have been someone be it in welcome or defence. There was always a custodian or officer left in charge of the facility when her Master was absent—commonly it had been left in Commander Corli's capable hands when Athara had still been Vader's Shadow—along with one of her Master's top Stormtroopers squads.

This was very unusual.

Exchanging cautioning glances with the smuggler and the Jedi, Athara's lightsaber found its way into her hand just as Luke's did. On her other side, Han's blaster similarly found its way into his ready grip. Behind them the commandos shifted, the muted sounds of them readying blasters and switching into mission-mode seeming painfully loud in the empty corridor.

It wasn't until they approached the Command Centre that they finally encountered the Fortress' occupants.

"Commander Ifan," Athara greeted warily, eying the familiar officer as he came to a halt before her and her companions. Behind him a handful of Stormtroopers came to a halt themselves, not a single one holding their blaster at the ready. With a smart, succinct gesture, Ifan nodded his acknowledgement.

"My Lady," the older man greeted. There was a faint trace of a smile around his eyes. Though not as old as Corli—probably why Ifan was seemingly in charge now—the silver-haired officer had been a part of the Fortress' permanent contingent since Athara was quite young. And like most of the officers who had been around the Fortress for any length of time when she was a child, Ifan had a bit of a soft spot for her; more so than Corli, at least. Corli had been a rare exception—he'd been the Emperor's man without question; a rarity in Vader's sanctuary, to be sure. Suspicion began to niggle in the back of Athara's mind at the thought and, for the first time since disembarking from the Falcon, the Force hummed around her. It was neither in reassurance or warning, but it was comforting nonetheless.

"I know you're isolated here, but surely you've heard I'm not 'My Lady' anymore?" Athara's voice was as carefully neutral as her features, though her eyes narrowed slightly of their own accord. Behind her Han shifted in anticipation, as did one of two of his commandos; not that she could blame them. This certainly was an...unusual situation.

Ifan's eyes flicked to Han and the Rebel commandos, the corner of his lip tugging even as he reinforced his own careful expression.

"So we've heard," he said dryly before resuming his brisk officer's manner, "but orders are orders, Ma'am." Athara frowned, brow furrowing as an inkling of what he was about to say sprang to mind...no... He wasn't...

"My Lady. We surrender. Command of the Fortress is yours," he said briskly, his words ringing with official weight. Regardless of the warning her intuition had provided, there was no hiding the surprise that widened Athara's eyes and left her mouth all but hanging open despite her best efforts. Behind her, Han and Luke's surprise was tangible and the commandos shifted uncomfortably with confusion. But none of them had anything on the bewilderment cascading in riotous waves though Athara.

"Orders?" she clarified softly. Again Ifan nodded. Mind whirling almost painfully, Athara inclined her own head as long-ingrained instinct took over. She absently hooked her lightsaber back on her belt.

"Very well, Commander." She surprised even herself at how steady and authoritative she sounded; she'd half-expected a hoarse squeak. With a sweeping gesture that felt uncomfortably familiar, she was striding forward past Ifan and through the gauntlet of troopers standing at attention.

She took some reassurance in that it was Luke that fell into step next to her rather than Ifan. Han followed close behind, falling into step with the Imperial Commander. It was something they both found a bit surreal, if Athara could trust her senses just then. Well, it was surreal to her too.

As soon as they reached the Command Centre Athara was nodding Han and N3 forward. Even as she glanced back to Ifan, the older commander was quickly instructing his communications officer to provide whatever assistance the Rebellion General required. With a silent gesture of thanks, she turned back to Han, briefly startled that he was looking to her for confirmation before regaining herself and passing on an equally silent prompt to go ahead. When she glanced to Luke, there was a faint smirk on his face as he mouthed, 'it's your op.' She could only scowl, earning a soft chuckle from her Farmboy. She was just turning back to survey the familiar Command Centre when his soft, questioning tone drew her attention.

"So he left instruction to turn the Fortress over to you." Luke looked deep in thought even as he steadily met her eye. "Did you have any idea he would do such a thing?" She nearly wrinkled her nose at his uncanny ability to pinpoint her thoughts right at that moment; he never used to be able to do that. Exhaling slowly, using the action to help calm her racing thoughts and jumbling emotions, Athara shook her head.

"He was willing to overlook catching me with the Alliance on Hoth when I—on Bespin," she answered in the same low tone, hesitating slightly at memory of her poor decisions on the gaseous planet. "He'd made a point of keeping my running until that point quiet and—judging by the behaviour toward me by some of his officers in Cloud City, he'd laid groundwork to explain away my disappearance in case I came back. Then?" She hesitated again before pitching her voice lower still. "Before I defected outright? I might have expected it. But once I threw in with the Alliance? I don't understand this, Luke."

"He obviously still trusted you." She let loose a neutral sound that neither agreed nor disagreed. Not far away, Ifan noticed the sound, choosing that moment to approach.

"That would've been beside the point, I think," she hedged as the Imperial came to a stop next to the two Force-users.

"I imagine more Rebels will soon be on their way?" Athara restrained herself from rolling her eyes at the Commander's less than enthusiastic tone. She did have a certain image to maintain, after all, no matter that she'd been slowly allowing herself more freedom in her expressions the last few years than she had ever allowed herself as Obscura.

"Indeed," she confirmed distractedly, her mind immediately turning to the inherent potential, even inevitable complications when more Alliance forces arrived. "How many more of you are there besides those in this room and the troopers outside?"

"Another squad of troopers. Perhaps another dozen officers and support staff. The regular complement of droids." Athara nodded absently at his report. That was pretty standard for when her Master wasn't in residence...and even when he was.

"Gather everyone left in the Fortress to the Garrison common quarters. I don't know how trigger-happy the Alliance forces are likely to be in this place, so keep your men on stand down until they get here. I'd like excuses to start a firefight kept to a minimum," she finished dryly. He nodded in understanding, shifting as though ready to excuse himself. But Athara had another question that had him pausing.

"Is Vaneé still here?" Ifan glanced to her at her low query, fixing her with an assessing look before responding.

"He is."

"Confine him to his chambers. Use two of our Commandos." Ifan watched her with barely concealed curiosity as she called over to two of the Rebels and repeated the order she'd just given the Imperial Commander.

"My Lady?" Athara fixed him with an assessing, intent look of her own. Ifan seemed to catch on quickly enough, but she clarified anyway.

"Vaneé may have been my Master's...attendant, but his loyalty belonged solely to the Emperor...plus," she added wryly, "he was never my biggest fan." Ifan smirked. Just as the old man's allegiances were well known, that had been no secret, that was for sure. But before Ifan could properly respond, their attention was drawn across the way.

"Yeah, General. Just walked right up to the front door and let herself in...well, she did tell you all as much. And it's not really a base..." Over by the comm, Han was—with a surprising, albeit quickly fading degree of patience—explaining where they were and what they were doing. "I don't know why you all were so interested...there's not even a full garrison! There are a couple of officers and Stormtroopers and they surrendered without even a dirty look." Athara finally did roll her eyes as Han's snark finally made an appearance. Beside her Luke groaned. Ifan looked faintly affronted, his back stiffening as his lips pursed.

"We were under orders to relinquish command peacefully should the Lady Obscura return," he muttered defensively under his breath, "had we so desired we could've easily—" he caught himself with an embarrassed expression as the words slipped out, his pale cheeks pinking slightly. Athara tried and failed to hold back an amused grin.

"We were expecting a little more in the way of resistance," she pointed out wryly, "a little more of a challenge considering that it's no secret I'm a Rebel now." He ceded her that point with a nod. She eyed him curiously before continuing. "Especially since I was anticipating Corli to still be in charge." Ifan was intelligent and quick as well as supremely tactful. One had to be to survive in a command position in Vader's personal sanctuary. He knew what she was asking.

"Commander Corli disappointed Lord Vader and was...relieved of command," he explained delicately. But Athara could easily read between the lines, and that only piqued her curiosity. Corli had been the Fortress' Commander for a long time, after all, and that was no small feat in Vader's service.

"And what did he do to earn so...permanent a demotion?" Next to her she sensed the instant Luke picked up on their meaning, easily recognizing his sudden unease. Ifan paused, considering how best to explain before deciding to be frank; he'd been around her and her Master long enough to know candidness was easily the best policy with them both.

"He voiced his disagreement about Lord Vader's order to reset all of the security codes to the Fortress—with the exception of your older clearance codes," he explained sedately. Athara spun to pin him with a demanding look. Ifan merely nodded. Well...frankness could be a double–edged sword... "Lord Vader was sure you'd come back, My Lady. And," he hesitated before continuing, "and I don't think he cared on what side by the time he made that order."

"When?"

"I beg your pardon, My Lady?"

"When," Athara repeated, clarifying. "How long ago did he give that order?" Ifan frowned as he thought back.

"About maintaining your older access codes? Nearly a standard year ago, I believe. About surrendering command of the Fortress to you regardless of your allegiance?" Athara started at that additional detail, something the Commander politely ignored. "Shortly before he left to inspect the progress on the Second Death Star." Athara sighed heavily, her hand rising to massage her temple as her thoughts and emotions ran riot. Did that mean he'd had some sort of...feeling...premonition, even, that the Empire would fall? Dare she even think it, a hope that it would?

Did he suspect he was going to die on the Second Death Star?

"If I may speak freely?" Athara was jolted from her thoughts at Ifan's gentle but cautious tone. With a nod she gestured for him to continue, not quite trusting her voice just then. "Lord Vader was loyal to the Emperor to the end, but..." he hesitated before continuing, his voice strengthening as he fixed her with a look of conviction "...but I personally believe that forsaking you was a line that he wouldn't cross even if his life depended on it." She shot Ifan a sharp look, unsettled by the knowing look in his shrewd eyes.

"Don't forget, My Lady," he said, seeming to know what she was thinking, "I've been stationed here a long time. I remember when he first brought you here, little more than a tyke, before you started wearing that hood of yours; feisty, guileless little thing you were even then; tough too. Those of us here saw a side of him—and a side of you—that no one else in the Galaxy could claim to know. A...reward for our loyalty, you could say. You could even say he...that Lord Vader had to trust us implicitly to assign us here in the first place." She frowned, the expression defensive more than anything. It was only when she felt Luke's steadying hand brush against the small of her back that she realized she was shaking.

With a faint nod the Commander silently excused himself, but not before relaying one final comment.

"You are still cleared to enter his chambers, My Lady." With that he turned to see to her standing orders, his tone crisp and concise as he set his subordinates scurrying. Leaving Athara standing next to Luke, feeling very unsettled indeed. She'd expected returning to this place would be difficult on an emotional level.

She hadn't quite expected it to be this difficult.

It was bad enough that even Luke's hand slipping into her own helped very little.

Force, she hated feeling so vulnerable... Athara knew her grip on Luke's hand had to be painfully tight, but she couldn't seem to let go. Her feelings were too frazzled, too chaotic, too...grieved...it was only then that she was forced to confront the fact that she hadn't truly let herself grieve yet...

The Command Centre suddenly felt too crowded. She needed to leave...

She needed...

She knew where she needed to go.

"Han, you're in charge," she called distractedly even as she turned on her heel. Without waiting for a response, she was whisking from the Command Centre, barely hearing Han's confused, "Err, yeah, sure Athara." With a gesture she had the door sliding open. Had she not been so distracted, she would've grinned at how surprised the Rebels had been as compared to the Imperials; Vader's men were long used to seeing her Force-abilities in action like that.

But her tumultuous thoughts were already far away from the Command Centre before she even passed through the door.

With a billow of fabric she was gone.    

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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