Here's my newest...

Since I haven't yet delivered the next chapter of "Here to learn"
(I'm working at it, though), I'm posting this little thingie to make
up to you. Please R&R. ~ Devi

Remark: This is a story about a significant point in the entwined
fate of Mara and Luke. However, it starts off with a bit of
Vader/Palpy interaction, which I considered necessary to set the
scene. If you don't want to read it, just scroll down to the first
line of asterisks - that's where our Mara enters.


Place in the timeline: Starting right after ESB, ending during RotJ.
Rating: NC-17


Disclaimer: G.L. owns Star Wars, I'm merely having fun with it. No
money is made out of this. (As if anyone would want to pay me for the
stuff I'm churning out!)


"The Assignment"

Darth Vader waited on his knees until Palpatine addressed him. No-one
would dare to speak to the Emperor unless first spoken to by him, not
even Lord Vader himself. Especially not Lord Vader. The Emperor was
the Master, he was the Apprentice; and a Sith Apprentice's lot was
absolute loyalty and submission. That was the price to pay for
admission to a life that was filled with the promise of power and
more power; a life built on the premise that the strong were always
right; and should enjoy their right, unbridled by the moral
restraints that bound those whom a true servant of the dark side
would only see as unworthy, weak creatures.

"Welcome back, Lord Vader", the Emperor said. Vader noted that he
hadn't said "you may rise" as he would usually do, so he remained on
his knees. Better not to provoke his Master in any way, especially
not in the light of what he knew the Emperor would ask him next. "Why
is it that you haven't brought the young Skywalker?" "Forgive me, my
Master. My son escaped." "Escaped?", the Emperor asked, his voice
still low as usual (a person in his position did not need to shout),
but bordering on an angry hiss, "How was that possible?" "This
traitor Calrissian. He and Princess Organa helped my son to flee.
Needless to say he will pay for it, my Master."

"So I take it that Leia Organa has escaped, too?" Now the Emperor was
*really* angry. The young Princess was someone he had wanted captured
for a long time. It was not only that she was one of the leaders of
the Rebellion. There was also something about her as a person which
enraged him.

Maybe it was her striking resemblance to Padm?aberrie Skywalker,
not only in her features, but in her brave spirit as well. Once the
Queen of his homeworld Naboo, Padm?ad been one of the many that
Palpatine had used to ascend to political power, then discarded when
no longer useful. She had not been easy to discard, however,
possessing a great measure of intelligence and courage, which she had
apparently passed on to her son Luke, who - despite his youth - was
already more trouble than he was worth, as far as the Emperor's
opinion was concerned.

Or maybe it was the fact that - judged by what he had sensed about
her - she could well be Force sensitive, though not aware of it. The
Emperor didn't want too many Force sensitives around; and definitely
none that weren't under his strict control.

"Yes, my Master. Please forgive me. It was due to a combination of
circumstances which I couldn't foresee...", Vader said. His tone was
controlled, but on the inside he was slightly fearful, just like the
Emperor liked to keep him. "That sounds like you want to say that it
was bad luck.", the Emperor hissed, "But there is no such thing as
luck. There's only the strong, and the weak. "Yes, Master." Vader
bowed his head, trying to look as humble as possible.

So Organa - and Skywalker - had escaped... *again*. No, the Emperor
didn't believe in luck; but his Apprentice's inability to capture the
two young Rebels, and to *keep* them captive, was far too persistent
to still seem natural. "Now tell me," Palpatine asked, his voice calm
but with a threatening edge to it, "is it that they escaped - or that
you *let* them escape?".

"I didn't "let" anyone, Master.", Vader replied, now definitely
feeling uneasy, "I *fought* with my son. Here's the proof." He
snapped open a small metal box that he had brought with him. Inside
of it, bedded on crushed ice, there was a human hand. "Your son's?",
the Emperor asked. "Yes.", Vader replied handing the box to his
Master. "And here's another thing that belonged to him." Vader handed
the object - a lightsaber - to the Emperor, who immediately
recognized it. "Ah, your old lightsaber. You finally got it back."

"Please keep it, Master." No, Lord Vader did not want the saber back,
ever. It was too connected with memories of the fateful battle with
Obi-Wan that had made him into what he was. Obi-Wan, the once-beloved
teacher he had grown to hate; the man who had hidden his son from
him - how could anyone do that, deny a father his child? - and had,
by cunning deception, taught that son to hate him...

//He told me you killed him.// Luke's voice as he shouted those words
at him still reverberated in Vader's head; and the accompanying image
of his son, his face distorted by pain and fear and rage as the wind
tore at him, was as present in the Dark Lord's mind as if it had been
etched in with a laser.

//That was so much like him!// Darth Vader's rage against Obi-Wan
Kenobi, that had never abated even after the Jedi Master's death, but
rather grown for lack of a target to let it out on, welled up once
again; and just as always when he got angry, he felt his anger
filling him with strength and delight like a sweet intoxicant. //It
wasn't enough for him that he had taken Padm?rom me - got her to
turn against her own husband. No, he even had to take the only child
she had given me - *my* son, my heir - and forge him into a weapon to
be used against the Empire. And send him to kill me, yes, to kill me
with *my own* lightsaber that this man who had assumed the position
of my teacher, who had expected me to trust and follow him, had
picked up to keep it like a *trophy* while I was burned in the
lava!"//

//But what else could be expected of a Jedi?//, Vader thought. He was
satisfied, yes, satisfied that he had hunted and killed them all; and
even more satisfied that he had killed Kenobi last, so that he had to
watch all the other Jedi fall, one by one. All of them. Except for
Yoda - but he was old and would soon die the natural way, if he
wasn't dead already. *And Luke.*

Palpatine weighed the lightsaber in his hand for a moment, then
casually put it away. "No more failures. You'll bring young Skywalker
here, alive and unharmed. He won't be of any use to us if you bring
him in *pieces*." - he took the cut off hand from the box with two
fingers and held it up for emphasis - "Is that understood?" Vader
nodded. "Yes, Master." "You may leave, Lord Vader." The Dark Lord
bowed, deeply, and departed, leaving his Master alone with his
thoughts.

The Emperor still kept the little box with Luke Skywalker's hand on
his lap, silently regarding the artefact that was so strange, so
peculiar with its contrast between the beautiful shape of the slender
fingers; and the ghastliness of the dead skin, and the scorched flesh
with little drops of congealed blood at the end where Vader's blade
had severed it from the body. The hand looked fragile, almost
tiny. //Yet this was the hand that destroyed the Death Star.//

Suddenly, a thought went through the Emperor's brain like a flash of
lightning: With his hand already cut off, without a weapon, Luke
Skywalker should have been an easy kill. And yet he lived! The only
reason that could exist for that was that Vader had *allowed* him to
live. Allowed him to live even after he had refused to surrender to
the dark side. //And he said that he would join us or die...//

An ice-cold storm of anger arose inside the Emperor's dark heart.
Vader, his foremost servant whom he had exalted above all else, his
Apprentice whom he had taught the secrets of the Sith, *Vader
himself* had broken a promise that he had given to him! And if his
feelings for his son could make him betray his Master once, it could
happen again...

How foolish he had been not to think about this possibility! The
Emperor knew how strongly Anakin Skywalker, the man that Vader once
was, had loved Padm?midala. Wasn't it to be expected that his
feelings for Padm? son would also be strong?

Yet he had thought that Vader had just the good of the Empire in mind
when he had suggested that young Skywalker should be turned not
killed, when in fact he had wanted to preserve the life of his son
because he wanted *what*? To have an heir to the throne? The throne
on which he would want to sit...

There could only be two Sith, always two. One Master and one
Apprentice... The Emperor had taken young Anakin for his Apprentice,
always knowing that it was like raising a young Nek battle dog - you
had to teach it that you were the master while it was still little,
so that when it was fully grown, it would never realize that it was
stronger than you.

Yes, Palpatine has taken pleasure in his Apprentice's strength, but
that pleasure had always been tinged with fear, the giddy fear of
someone who doubts whether what he has taken into his possession
won't grow over his head. For he knew how unique Vader was. The child
of prophecy, born without a human father and invested with peerless
Force potential. He had been proud about having claimed this miracle
for himself; having made Anakin Skywalker, this living wonder, the
most prized possession of the Jedi Order, into his obedient servant.
But never had he been left by the thought that by doing so, he could
have invited the very man who would overthrow him to his side.

So maybe now was the time. Darth Vader had always seemed content with
his position as Apprentice, as second in command; but maybe that had
only been because he had waited for someone who could fill the
position of *his* Apprentice. And who could have fitted that position
better than Vader's own son? His son and Padm? son. If he had his
father's Force strength and her spirit...

Yes, young Skywalker was strong - anyone who could fight with Darth
Vader and not be slashed to ribbons within the first few seconds had
to be. Wouldn't it be natural for his father to want him for his
Apprentice? Which, of course, would mean that Vader would become the
Master. *And there could only be two Sith...*

Casting a wistful glance across his empty throne room, Emperor
Palpatine made a decision.

*****

It was around dusk when Mara Jade received the telepathic call of her
master. As always, she responded quickly. Pulling over a coat, she
left the simple chamber that had been assigned to her in a remote
corner of the Imperial Palace's basement, and walked towards the
Emperor's room. Not his throne room, but a smaller, private chamber.

The two Royal Guards that watched the door let her in with a silent
nod of their helmet-encased heads; and she approached her master.
Kneeling at his feet, she touched her forehead to the floor in
reverence, then asked: "How may I serve you, my Emperor?". Palpatine
gestured towards the young woman. "You may rise." Mara got up on her
feet, but kept her eyes on the floor.
The Emperor handed a piece of fabric to her. A small piece of fabric,
which, at closer inspection, turned out to be a dancing girl's
costume. "Put it on.", he commanded her. Mara knew that when the
Emperor uttered a command, it normally meant "right now", but still
she hesitated for a moment. "What's the matter?", Palpatine
impatiently asked, "Are you ashamed before your Emperor?" "No,
Master.", Mara answered in a small voice, then quickly slipped out of
her coat, then her other clothes, leaving only her knickers on. She
pulled over the dancing costume, then realized that it was so small
that her knickers showed underneath; so she peeled herself out of the
costume to remove that last piece of clothing, revealing a small bush
of red-gold pubic hair. Then she slipped into the costume again. The
touch of the fabric on her delicate nipples which had become hard in
the room's cold air (the Emperor liked cold, just as he liked
darkness) hurt a little.

She stood straight before her Emperor, though with downcast eyes,
waiting for further instructions. Emperor Palpatine let his eyes
slide over his "Hand's" graceful frame. In the front, the costume was
a small array of dark green fabric embroidered with golden sequins,
which covered Mara's private parts and just the necessary amount of
her youthful breasts, leaving an excellent view of everything else.
In the back, it was held only by strings, revealing the round of
Mara's firm, perfectly shaped buttocks, as well as the cleft in the
middle of her back which spoke of her strength. Her legs were also
bare. Those legs were long for someone her height; slim, but
muscular; the legs of a runner; a graceful, wild animal; the legs of
a hunter.

"Put that on, also." The Emperor tossed her some gold bangles, which
Mara slipped over her firm and muscular, but gracefully slim arms;
and a gold chain with tiny bells dangling from it, which she clipped
around her hips. "Good. Now let me see..." Using the Force, the Emperor
opened Mara's braid, releasing her hair to fall over her shoulders in
a cascade of red-gold fire. "Very good." The Emperor beheld her for a
moment, then said: "Now I want to see you dance.". "What kind of
dance, Master?" "A sensual dance."

The Emperor pushed a small button on the arm rest of his chair and
music started to play from the loudspeakers that where set into the
rooms walls. Enticing, fluid music. As Mara started to dance, her
movements were unusually stiff at first, inhibited by her inner
uneasiness as she wondered about why the Emperor had demanded this
performance. The few Imperials that even knew Mara's face thought her
to be a dancing girl and a courtesan; but in reality, the Emperor had
never demanded such "favors" of her. She knew that, even with his
body being as old and decrepit as it was, Palpatine hadn't fully lost
interest in the pleasures of the flesh; but he also has enough
concubines to chose from. Mara's usefulness to him lay in a different
department. Though he didn't show it, he treasured her for this
usefulness; and having been trained as his "Hand" from when she was a
little girl, Mara Jade was maybe the closest thing to a daughter that
the Emperor would ever have.

But maybe now this relationship would change. Mara had always known
in the back of her mind that this could happen one day; and that when
it would happen, she would do as she had always done: fulfill the
Emperor's will, and she would survive it as she had always survived,
one day at a time. For she was the Emperor's Hand. Just as
Palpatine's physical hands obeyed his will without effort, without
him even having to think about it, so did she. That was her
existence, the only existence she knew.

And as the music became more insistent, Mara's movements became more
fluid, more secure. After all, she had always liked to dance - it was
something that, at the best moments, she could lose herself in and be
nothing but a swirling, sweating body delighting in it's own youthful
grace. She needed those few precious moments of forgetfulness.

With her own sharp attentiveness, Mara also noticed quickly that the
Emperor's glance, though firmly resting on her, was not actually
leering; it showed an interest that seemed to be directed more
towards the artistic quality of the dance than to the dancer. Thus
reassured, Mara let go and completely gave herself over to the music.
Her hips swayed fluidly, making the gold bells tinkle; while her arms
resembled graceful snakes moving through the air; and her bare feet
with the rosy, budlike toes weaved intricate patterns on the floor.

Then as the music's pace gradually speeded up, Mara's movements
became wilder, bolder. She tossed her legs higher and higher into the
air, until her feet would extend over her head. In a mock tease, she
turned her back to the Emperor, wriggling her butt in a movement
that, for all its suggestiveness, was stunningly graceful rather than
obscene. Then she bend over backwards until her fiery red mane
brushed the floor. Still in that position, she placed her hand onto
the floor and leapt up into a handstand, then spread her legs to the
sides. With a salto jump, she came back on her feet; swirling and
shaking, the golden bells on her hips ringing in wild crescendo.

Mara ended her dance by gracefully falling onto her knees at the
Emperor's feet. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her chest and
forehead. "Very good.", the Emperor said, "Now you may ask yourself
why I asked you for this little performance." Indeed, Mara had
wondered about that. She listened attentively. "I wanted to be sure
of your dancing skills because you will need them for your next
assignment. I want you to pay a visit to Jabba the Hutt. Jabba is
fond of attractive dancers - especially Twi'lek and humans - so
posing as a dancing girl is the easiest way for you to get yourself a
place in his palace from which you can make all necessary
observations."

"So I am supposed to keep an eye on Jabba's criminal activities, my
Emperor?" "You may do that while you're there. But it is not the
purpose of your assignment. The real purpose is very simple: Be there
when the man that this belonged to comes along. Then kill the rest of
him." With this words, the Emperor took Luke Skywalker's hand from
the metal box and handed it to Mara. She took it with just a tiny,
almost invisible shudder - severed limbs were not a thing that the
Emperor's Hand hadn't seen before - and held it in her own hand.

Mara could see that, judged by the hand's appearance, its previous
owner had been a handsome young human male. She could also make out
that he had been a strong personality, probably Force sensitive - the
person's powerful presence lingered on the hand even now - but that
was about all she could sense. Everything else was obscured by an all-
overwhelming sensation of pain that stemmed from the moment in which
the hand had been severed from the body it had belonged to.

"May I ask who this man is?", Mara asked. The Emperor replied: "His
name is Skywalker." "You mean Luke Skywalker of the Rebel
Alliance?" "Yes. Do you want to see some recent holographs of
him?" "Yes, my Master. Please show me." The Emperor pushed another
button, activating a hidden projector. Mara looked at the images of
young Skywalker - the best that Imperial intelligence had
collected. //He's handsome. And he looks - gentle. Hard to imagine
that someone like that has killed so many.//

Mara hadn't spoken it aloud, but the Emperor had heard her thoughts
as clearly as always. "Jade! Do I have to repeat the rules? *No
intimate contact with a target* unless absolutely necessary. And in
this case, it shouldn't be. He comes, you kill him. That's all." "Of
course, my Master." "Don't underestimate him, my Hand. He is - on the
way to becoming a *Jedi*. So be careful, and don't forget to bring
your lightsaber." "Yes, my Emperor." Mara was puzzled. A *Jedi
Knight*? But weren't they extinct? And if there was indeed a Jedi
left, why didn't the Emperor send Darth Vader, his foremost Jedi
hunter, to deal with him?

"Make sure that no-one knows about your assignment. *Not even Lord
Vader*.", the Emperor said. "Yes, Master. Of course." So that was the
answer. This assignment was something that the Emperor didn't trust
Darth Vader with. Mara still didn't fully understand why, but that
didn't matter. She never questioned her Emperor. If he considered
dealing with this Jedi Rebel to be a task so important that he wanted
to entrust it only to his "Hand", then that was the way it was; and
she would take care of that task. Simple.

"Now leave, my Hand, and don't fail me." Mara again touched her
forehead to the floor and, after quickly pulling over her coat and
picking up the rest of her clothes, slid outside; silently, as she
always moved. The Emperor smiled. How good to have a servant as
devoted as Mara Jade. She was bit too lively for his taste, perhaps,
as her dance had shown; but even that didn't matter in someone so
loyal. It had been a good idea - perhaps his best - to take her so
young. A pity he couldn't take on Anakin Skywalker when he was that
young; but no Sith Lord had ever been trained before he had reached
adulthood. That was the tradition. Maybe - the Emperor's thoughts
strayed - maybe that was the real reason why Luke Skywalker had lived
undetected for so long, even though he was raised on his father's
home planet. Raised by Vader's step brother, no less! Maybe Vader had
*known* of his son's existence all along, and had only waited, waited
for him to become old enough to be trained as a Sith. If so, Vader
had been a traitor for years. The Emperor's yellow eyes sparkled with
anger in the semi-darkness of his room. Well, be that as it may, he
was taking care of the situation now.

He wouldn't withdraw the order he had given to Lord Vader, nor would
he tell Mara about it. It always paid to have a contingency plan. If
fate would have it that Vader would catch the young Skywalker
*first*, alive, then he, the Master, would take care of turning him
to the dark side himself, and he wouldn't fail.

Maybe he could even use Vader's young son to *replace* Darth Vader.
Yes, what a good idea! Vader's loyalty was not what it used to be;
and neither was his physical strength, due to his injuries and due to
the dark side consuming him from the inside out, the same way it did
with the Emperor himself. Luke Skywalker, however, was strong in body
*and* in spirit; but being so young and inexperienced, he would be
malleable also, much easier to control than his father. With the
right training, he could be just what the Emperor wished for -
someone immensely strong in the dark side, but utterly submissive to
his Master.

And if it would be Mara who succeeded, that would be all right also.
Vader wouldn't have any more children - his injuries prevented that.
With his only hope for founding a dynasty of his own crushed, and
with a bit of "persuasion" from his Master, he would be perfectly
loyal again. The Emperor felt content. Everything would happen as he
had planned, just as it always was.

*****

Bib Fortuna watched as the charming "Arica" danced in unison with
Oola. The two female's movements matched nicely; but even though she
didn't wear a chain like her counterpart, "Arica" was always just a
fraction slower than Oola, her movements just a tiny bit less lithe
and effortless, and she always tossed her legs an inch or two less
high. Leaning over to Jabba, the majordomo commented: "She's quite
good - for a human. But there's no way she could keep up with a
Twi'lek."

As she overheard this remark, Mara secretly smiled to herself for a
split second. She could have easily kept up even with someone as
talented as Oola, but she deliberately refrained from displaying the
full extend of her skills. She hadn't come to impress as a dancer;
but to observe until it was time to strike; and a good observer
didn't make herself seen. Too much attention for her person was the
last thing she wanted.

Nevertheless, she had to display a good amount of talent to make
Jabba want to keep her around - the Hutt crime lord was more than
over-fed with any kind of sleazy pleasure imaginable. It was a
delicate balance that she had to maintain; but for her, it was but a
minor challenge.

Days passed. Mara stayed around, Mara danced, Mara watched. She
wondered just when her target would come along; but the Emperor had
said that he would come to exactly this place, and she had never
doubted the Emperor. So she waited. Patience was the hallmark of a
good assassin; and her second hallmark was not to drop her keen
alertness during all that patient waiting; during all those days
that, despite the colorful loudness of Jabba's palace, were almost
dull in the ever-sameness of the cheap pleasures that the Hutt and
his entourage consumed.

Though not nominally a slave, "Arica" wasn't treated much better than
one, as were all employees of Jabba. The Hutt kept them in line with
threats, and kept them pleased with drugs. Mara sneakily avoided
ingesting the drugs she was given, and when she couldn't avoid it,
she used the Force to negate the effects. She stayed alert. She
watched. She listened.

She heard the talks about the untimely demise of Prince Xixor,
destroyed by Darth Vader just when had closely hunted the young
Skywalker. Wild rumors were flung around - didn't it look like Vader
had *protected* the young Rebel? Had they formed a secret
alliance? //If that was the truth//, Mara thought, //it would explain
why the Emperor doesn't trust Lord Vader in regards with Skywalker.//
But even though the idea of Vader being a traitor wasn't that
unthinkable to her, she doubted it. //Probably, he just wanted
Xixor's death even more than Skywalker's.// After all, the Falleen
had been Vader's most hated rival for a long time. The only thing
that mattered to Mara, however, was that Prince Xixor had failed at
killing the man that was her assigned target. It seemed like she
would have to do the job herself.

And she looked forward to doing the job; succeeding where even Darth
Vader, traitor or not, had failed repeatedly. As much as she tried to
keep a cool head (for a cool head was the thing an assassin needed
most), inside she felt a giddy excitement about this chance to prove
her worth to the Emperor by outdoing his cherished right-hand man.

For although she never admitted it even to herself, Darth Vader was
the person she wanted to outdo the most. What she felt for Vader was
not admiration and respect, even though she externally displayed
these feelings towards him like every good Imperial. Neither was it
the fear that he instilled in so many. No, the feeling she connected
with the Dark Lord was a nagging pain in her heart; the despair and
helpless anger of seeing someone have what she ever longed for, and
could never have.

Why? Why *he*? Why was *he* allowed to be so closely, so uniquely
connected to the Emperor? For Mara, the Emperor's will was the be-all
and end-all of her existence. The Emperor was her *life*, and she had
never had a life apart from that; never a life of her own. Vader, she
knew, had once known a life without the Emperor. And yet it was he,
he who was maybe even a traitor; not her who existed only as a living
extension of the Emperor, as his *Hand*; who was called "my friend"
by her Lord and Master. And even more - "my Apprentice".

Mara didn't know much about the Sith - theirs was a secret discipline
after all - but she knew that her Emperor was a Sith Master, and that
a Sith Master would only take only one Apprentice. This honor had
been bestowed on Darth Vader; and for as long as Vader lived,
Palpatine would never have another Apprentice. It would always be
Vader, and Vader alone, who would enjoy this unique bond with the
Emperor; this relationship of shared hatred that, perhaps, ran even
deeper than love ever could. Only to him would the Emperor teach the
deepest secrets of the dark side that were at the heart of his power.

Mara remembered how once, she had secretly taken an ornate clasp that
was a Sith Lord's amulet and badge of rank from among Vader's
belongings. Standing in front of a mirror, she had draped one of her
cloaks around her shoulders and fastened it with the clasp. Feeling
the dark side energy that exuded from the amulet, half frightened and
half excited, she had wondered what it would be like if *she* was a
Sith. *Darth* Mara.

She remembered - only vaguely, for she had pushed it back deep into
her subconscious - how she had felt deep inside that no, she didn't
want that kind of darkness. But that closeness, that precious
closeness to her Emperor, oh how much did she want that! She had
never come further with her thoughts, for at that moment, Lord Vader
had walked in unexpectedly and had immediately seen what she was
doing. He had Force-choked her until she had lost consciousness; and
then he had reported the incident to the Emperor, who had given her
additional punishment; and then had told her that he would see to it
that Vader would leave her alone, as long as she would leave Vader -
and his things - alone.

Mara had understood the lesson. Vader served the Emperor in one
position, she served him in another; and she was expected to be
content with the position she had. And content she was, being a good
servant. But that feeling, that nagging feeling inside her heart
never vanished. So how pleasing to get a chance to one-up it on
Vader, to prove that she was *better* than him! And if Skywalker was
indeed Vader's secret ally, she could even do him some damage he
wouldn't quickly forget.

Mara hadn't counted the days that she had thus passed in alert
anticipation when she was shaken into even greater, more urgent
alertness by a short holomessage: "Greetings, Exalted One..." //He's
coming! Asking for an audience with Jabba, ha! How can he be so
stupid to *announce* his coming? But he's not stupid. I can see it.
He looks so confident; so calm and composed. A Jedi, the Emperor
said. Stay calm, Mara. He's your target, that's all he is. You do
away with him. You go home.//

She didn't have to wait long for the arrival of her target. Mara held
her breath as the young Jedi strode in confidently. //He's handsome
indeed. Just as I'd expected from the holos. Better even. What the
heck. He's my target. No intimate contact with a target. Far too
sassy. Not what you'd expect of a Jedi. But there's some depth to him
also. Some special strength. Such blue eyes! Don't even think about
it. He's my target. I'll kill him, I'll go home.//

As Luke fell through the trap door into the Rancor pit, Mara could
barely suppress a cry of triumph. //There, I won't have to do the job
myself after all!// Together with the others, she strained to get a
good view of what happened next. The sight of Luke fighting for his
life should have instilled nothing but satisfaction in her. Instead,
she felt a variety of conflicting feelings arise. Satisfaction at her
target's imminent death, yes; but also a tinge of admiration for the
young Jedi who wouldn't give up; and even a tiny spark of compassion
as she saw the fear in Luke's beautiful eyes. //Such big blue eyes! -
Who cares now? He's my target, and he'll be dead in a second.//

But Luke didn't die. Within the wave of dissatisfaction arose inside
Mara, there was still that little ripple of admiration, even stronger
than before. //He's smart, and quick. Not as easy a job as I thought.
I'll have to stick around, make sure that next time he really dies.//

She couldn't do it. With the nasty pleasure that the immoral and
powerful derive from denying something to their subordinates on a
whim, Jabba refused to allow "Arica" to come along to the Great Pit
of Carkoon, where Skywalker's execution was supposed to take place.

*****
Some time later...

It came all of a sudden. Through the bond that connected her to the
Emperor, Mara received a blurry vision of her Emperor and Skywalker
and Vader, and streams of blue lightning. Then the vision was blown
out of her mind by a terrible death cry. Mara didn't know what had
happened; but she knew instantly, with terrible, shattering
certainty, that it was her Emperor who had died; and that he had died
because Skywalker lived, **because she had failed.**

Shaking her like a tornado, Mara felt a tremendous surge of agony
coming through the Force, pain of death and pain of betrayal, and
anger more terrible than she had ever felt. Clenching her hands into
fists, Mara turned her face towards the sky and screamed, screamed
like she had never screamed before. And between all the rage and
terror, she heard her master's last command ring through her head
like a giant bell: "YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER!".

As Mara collapsed on the ground, her face covered with streams of
tears, she whispered between her sobs: "I will, my Emperor. I promise
I will."

THE END (...of this fic, but fortunately not the last word in regards
with Mara's and Luke's relationship...)