>Музыка для хороших людей

от mystery_kepper:

Блюз - это когда хорошему человеку плохо.
Треш - это когда хорошему человеку хочется всех убить.
Просто металл - когда хорошему человеку хочется не убить, но крайне покалечить изрядное количество пипла.
Блэк и дэфф металл - это когда хорошему человеку хочется всех изнасиловать, убить, еще раз изнасиловать, а после выгрызть их еще теплое сердце.
Дум металл - это когда хорошему человеку хочется повести всех за собой к обрыву, а после покаяться.
Пауэр металл - это когда хорошему человеку необходима хорошая спортивная машина или спортбайк и пустая ночная трасса.
Глэм-рок - это когда хорошему человеку хочется просто повые***аться.
Рок-баллады - это когда у человека несчастная лубофф.
Готика - это когда хорошему человеку хочется убить себя.
Готик-рок - это когда хорошему человеку хочется убить себя, но лень или жалко.
Пинк Флойд - это когда хорошему человеку хочется убить себя апстену.
Тито и Тарантула - это когда хорошему человеку хочется залиццо текилой по самые гланды и танцевать стриптиз на столе с воображаемой змеей.
Всяка хрень типо Эры и Энигмы - это когда хорошему человеку хочется красиво потрахаться.
Мерилин Менсон - это когда хорошему человеку хочется жестоко пое***ться.
Попса - это когда хороший человек уже так нажралсо, что ему пох.
Русский рок - когда хорошему человеку было пох итак, но он все равно нажралсо.
Шансон - это когда хороший человек просто попал... не туда.
Панк - это когда хорошему человеку хочется достать с антресоли потертую косуху, навесить цепей и пойти на Арбат вспомнить молодость.
Хип-хоп - это когда хорошему человеку откровенно положить на все и сразу.
Регги - это когда хороший человек родился черным.
Грандж - это когда хорошему человеку хочется много норкотекоф.
Транс - это когда норкотеки у человека уже есть.
Моцарт - это когда хороший человек уже умер.
Ролевые барды (менестрели) - это когда хороший человек никак не может выбрать между всеми остальными направлениями.

The End is Only the Beginning
Written by: Shea M. Daily
Summary: In which Starscream finally makes good on his promise, and Megatron finally gets some.
Fandom: Transformers IDW AU (All Hail Megatron)
Pairing: Megatron/Starscream
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warnings: Semi-explicit sticky at the end.
A/N: In All Hail Megatron, Vol.1, there was a conversation between Megatron and Starscream in which Starscream said, "Your memory fails you, Megatron. I was there even before there was a 'beginning'. Before you." That quote had to come from somewhere, so I ended up with an older-than-dirt Starscream as a young Megatron's mentor. This fic is a sequel to A Different Beginning, and explores the consequences of such a thing.

I hope you enjoy!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Starscream stood silently, staring out into the void of space as he contemplated his next move. There was a hollow emptiness in his spark where Skywarp and Thundercracker were supposed to be. The two seekers that he had raised and adopted as his own kin, the seekers that had bonded with his blessing, the seekers that had kept him company for countless millennia…gone. All because one lost his temper and killed the other. And Megatron, his student, the only mech that had ever had the sheer nerve to even attempt to control him… well, his student was barely hanging onto the threshold between life and death.

He wanted to be angry, wanted to howl and shriek and rage and tear everything around him into tiny pieces. But he was too tired to do so.

He was always tired now.

Starscream was tired of fighting an endless war. He was tired of watching everything around him exist in a constant state of death and chaos. Most of all, he was tired of hiding just how worn out he was. He was old, older than any other living Cybertronian he knew of. He wanted to rest for once, wanted to drift in an endless haze of quiet.

But before he could, he had one last task to perform. He had a promise to keep, after all.

"My Lord?"

Starscream was too tired to get irritated. "I thought I gave orders not to be disturbed, Shrapnel."

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but there's news about Lord Megatron's condition." Shrapnel's voice was hesitant, as if afraid that the slightest thing could provoke Starscream's legendary temper.

He snorted. His temper and mood-swings had all but fled him vorns ago. Everything was hazy and had been so for too long now. Megatron alone was the one mech capable of making him remember what he had been, and even that was growing more and more indistinct as the years passed. He turned away from the window. "Take me to him," he said quietly.

Shrapnel nodded, and led Starscream through the corridors to the room Soundwave had secreted away Megatron. There were dozens of mechs, nameless mechs he had nonetheless led into battle after countless battle, lining the walls. All of them wore looks of worry, and at his passing, fear.

He paused before the door, and glanced over his shoulder. All it took was a single scowl and the slightest twitch of clawed servos, and each and every one of them scattered. All except Shrapnel. He turned his gaze in the mech's direction. "Leave me," he murmured.

Shrapnel bowed. "My lord," he replied, and left.

He took a moment to gather himself, and entered the room.

Megatron, the only pupil of his that had never truly disappointed him, was barely hanging on to life. Soundwave had hooked him up to every machine the mech could find to help support the Warlord's systems. Dented and full of holes, stained with dried energon and the grit of Earth, all Starscream could see was a broken mech.

Although he could honestly say that Megatron had meant nothing to him at the beginning, one could not spend millions of years teaching, fighting, and healing another without learning to feel something. Megatron was different, he'd known that from the very start. As a youngling so full of fear and confusion, Megatron had nonetheless looked him in the optics and spoke firmly, steadily, and without faltering.

No hesitation, no doubt.

This last battle…. Starscream had watched his student-turned-Lord flounder in his victory, and he had cared enough to try and warn him. He had left hints, and practically shouted what was coming to the mech, only to be ignored. He had known in his spark the battle would end in failure – Prime would come back, he always came back – and Starscream had been determined that Megatron would live.

Even if that meant that he would have to beat the mech within an inch of his life and claim his spot as Decepticon Leader.

And what happened?

Everything, exactly as he had foreseen. Prime returned, ready and finally unwilling to compromise any longer.

Megatron fought, and now here Megatron was, hanging onto life with a grim determination that Starscream had to admire.

He had never wanted this for his student; had done everything he could think of to prevent it. He had taunted and provoked until Megatron was the epitome of what a warrior was, and still, it wasn't enough. And now there was the guilt – had he been the one responsible for his charge's condition? Had his attempted coup weakened the fearsome warrior enough to cause this? Had he made Megatron so paranoid, so focused on him and his plotting that the mech couldn't see the world around him?

Never taking his gaze off Megatron, Starscream moved forward until he stood at the foot of the table Megatron lay on. "Leave us, Soundwave," he said quietly.

Soundwave made no move.

Starscream turned his tired but steady gaze onto Soundwave and simply stared. He made no move to shield his processor from the technopath – let the mech read his thoughts. He didn't care anymore.

Soundwave started sharply. A long moment passed where Starscream stared and Soundwave processed what he had learned from the seeker's thoughts. Eventually the mech nodded, stood, and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

Starscream reached out with one servo, delicately running his claws over Megatron's battered chassis. "You little fool," he murmured.

Megatron stood silently, contemplating the view of the carnage around him. All was fire and chaos, and he studied it carefully. This alien planet and the soft organics that occupied it was just one more of a long line of planets and races their war had destroyed. Were he any other mech, he would wonder if it was all worth it.

But he was not any other mech. He was Megatron, and he had long been prepared for what needed to be done. He stood there silently, and waited. He could hear the soft click-clack of turbines hitting the concrete. Starscream was coming, would need to be dealt with, and dealing with Starscream was always both a pleasure and a challenge.

And risky, couldn't forget risky.

"So this is what victory feels like," the seeker's voice broke the silence. Starscream casually walked towards him, looking around with a look of barely-hidden disgust written on his facial plating. "Scruffy."

He glanced over his shoulder, careful to keep an expression of tolerant exasperation on his face. "Starscream." He acknowledged before turning back to the view. "I would have expected you to be fighting alongside your brothers."

Starscream snorted, and stopped next to him. "My brothers are more than capable of looking after themselves." Megatron glanced at him just in time to catch the sly expression that crossed the seeker's face. "Besides, I had some business to take care of in their nation's capital."

"Excellent," he replied. Standing next to Starscream without any of their usual games between them brought back memories of a time long before the war, a time when he had been young and completely dependent on Starscream. How many times had he stood next to his mentor, watching whatever new lesson the seeker had arranged?

He sighed and turned away, grabbing his fusion cannon and disconnecting it from his arm. "So it finally comes to this, after so many centuries," he murmured.

Starscream was watching him, crimson optics narrowed; studying, contemplating, judging. "The triumph of the Decepticon Empire," the seeker stated.

He nodded, and reached up to grab one of the various flags fluttering alongside the ruined building. "A systematic, simultaneous, galaxy-wide assault brought about by one of their own." He smiled. "It's almost painfully delicious."

Starscream did not smile back. "Treachery is in the heart of all creatures," Starscream said, voice quiet and serious. "They were fools not to expect it."

You are a fool not to expect it.

Megatron paused only for a moment, then brought the flag to the barrel of his fusion cannon, using the material to clean the grime and dust off of it. "Indeed," he agreed. "And you, Starscream?" He turned his optics to his Second, who was watching him with a blank face and burning optics. "Are you proud? You were with me at the beginning after all."

Starscream's voice was cold. "Your memory fails you, Megatron. I was there even before there was a beginning." There was a pause, and then, "Before you."

Megatron nodded. "And here you stand, at my side." He almost smiled again, but restrained the urge. "A conqueror; a destroyer of worlds. The might of the Autobot Resistance brought low by your hand."

Starscream was silent.

"You are skilled, powerful, and ruthless. You are the mech I based the Decepticon Ideal off of; the living embodiment of it. But somehow lately you seem to constantly stay one step away from completely embracing it." He threw away the flag, and reattached his fusion cannon. Deliberately turning his back on his former mentor, he started to leave. "It is you who refuses to do so, Starscream, and that refusal has nothing to do with me."

Megatron came to slowly, processor fuzzy and optics not working. He was aware of a presence – a highly familiar presence – to his right, and the feeling of claws delicately running over his chassis.

"You little fool," the familiar voice of his mentor murmured.

Megatron internally frowned. The seeker sounded almost apathetic.

"Is this my fault, my only surviving pupil? Have I finally done what I never intended to do to you? Have I destroyed you utterly?" There was a moment of silence, and then the seeker continued, voice softer. "I tried so hard to keep you sharp and ready, and yet still, here you lie."

The claws running over his chassis stilled. He tried to make a sound, twitch his body, do anything to let Starscream know he was aware, but nothing was responding.

"I've lived so long, my student, so very, very long. I have watched as our race built empires and destroyed them in the name of glory and greed. I have fought in more wars than you could possibly imagine. I'm so dreadfully tired. You were right – I've forgotten what it means to be a warrior at spark. I can put in a good pretence, but all there is anymore is a fog I can't escape from."

The claws dug in sharply, and if he had been capable of it, Megatron would have howled at the wave of fresh agony that pierced his body.

"Sometimes I hate you, Megatron. You threw my entire life off-center, plunged our planet into a war unlike anything I've ever seen, a war without end, a war that continues still. You surpassed my every expectation, took everything I ever taught you and tossed it back in my face tenfold."

The claws retracted, and then gently caressed the fresh wounds, attempting so soothe them.

"I made you a promise so many years ago. And I have every intention on keeping it."

Megatron could feel the seeker move closer to him, could feel the thin lips so close to his audios, could feel the even, steady pulse of the seeker's energy field. It was strange, unnatural. All energy fields had movement to them, sudden flares and recessions that differed depending on mood and proximity to another mech or femme. Starscream's was perfectly still.

"So get better, Megatron."

Then the claws were gone, and Megatron could hear the seeker's turbines click-clacking away from him.

"I want to see your optics burning for me one last time."

And frag it all if that didn't sound ominous.

He stood silently again, watching the city burn. A different city, a different country, but just as easily destroyed, just as easily conquered.

"Where to now?"

Starscream's voice startled him – he hadn't even known the seeker was in this country, let alone this city, next to him. Megatron snarled. It seemed he had acquired a seeker-shaped shadow on this planet. At any other time, Starscream would be welcomed, but something about these continued private meetings had him unnerved.

"Again I find you alone!" He muttered. He turned his irate gaze to the seeker, who was leaning on one of the buildings with nonchalant ease. "Are you a commander or – "

"Did you enjoy the parade?" Starscream interrupted him, voice cold but amused.

"Parade?" Primus but Starscream had a talent for throwing him off track.

His second smiled. "A grand march of destruction through this city – all that show… your beautiful speeches. Megatron: World Conqueror. Warrior King…." The smile turned mocking. "…Poet."

The seeker shot him a look that Megatron was unable to interpret. "Where to now? We've won. You've succeeded in doing what I thought to be impossible …or what seemed to be. You've proven your point: we win, things change, and they loose." Starscream gestured vaguely with one clawed servo. "You're philosophy – "

Megatron suddenly had a very good idea where this was going, and he wasn't pleased. Not. At. All. "Again, Starscream?" he hissed.

"'The mighty should rule.'"

"You and I find ourselves here again?" It had been several vorns since the last time he had to literally beat the seeker into submission. He had thought that this sort of behavior was over and done with, that the seeker had finally acknowledged him as the dominant one.

"'The strong should conquer.'"

Megatron snarled. "ENOUGH!" he roared, turning to the seeker, bringing his fusion canon to aim directly at the seeker's spark.

Starscream didn't even flinch. His optics remained fixed on Megatron's face, ablaze with a quiet intensity. "We're victorious in our war. Years. Countless years of fighting …over." Starscream's optics narrowed. "We succeed, and for what? To kill humans? Destroy cities?" The seeker suddenly stepped away from the building into the full light of day, entire frame glittering sharply under the harsh light. "WHERE TO NOW?" he roared in return.

It was Starscream raising his voice that had Megatron pausing. His mentor was not one to raise his voice, not even when he was furious. In fact, the quieter the seeker became, the more dangerous and deadly his mood. Megatron had never heard the seeker shouting, let alone yelling, and he was left floundering, unable to process what this meant. But….

"Countless years," he repeated softly, staring at Starscream as if he'd never seen him before, and in some ways that was true. Under the harsh light of the desert sun, Starscream looked haggard, not at all like his usual self. "You're right. Countless years. Endless years. Struggle without end. Death. Destruction. Torment." He gestured around them, at the smoldering remains of the city around them. "At last we find ourselves in the embrace of victory, and now, after so many years, the time to savor is upon us."

"Savor." Megatron would have to be deaf to miss the disbelief in Starscream's voice.

"You are a warrior, Starscream. Don't you remember what you taught me?" He shrugged lightly. "Take your dues. Enjoy the moment."

The seeker sneered. "A reward, then? This is a reward?" He snorted and shook his head. "I am a fool. Because to me, this looks very much like a distraction." The seeker sighed. "You have only yourself to blame for this, Megatron." Starscream turned his gaze to the sky. "You built yourself an army – followers – fed them on doctrine –"

Megatron sighed. "Even in victory you are not content, mentor," he murmured.

Starscream sent him a sharp look. "How long before they turn, you fool?" The seeker gestured wildly, fury growing in his optics, as was a certain sly calculation. "When your army realizes this battle is going nowhere? Have you even considered this?"

Have you considered it might be me?

Megatron said nothing for a moment, allowing the silence to stretch between them. Eventually he broke the quiet, his voice soft. "Cybertron is gone," he said. "'This battle is going nowhere'? This battle is the future of our empire."

The seeker sighed and offlined his optics, leaning against the building again. He looked tired and irritated and highly disappointed.

Megatron hated the small part of him that wanted so badly to do whatever it took to make that look go away. "We have taken a city in their most powerful of nations, one of significant strategic placement. By holding their people to ransom, we guaranteed hesitation. Like the Autobots, they believe in the sanctity of life – "

Starscream did not on-line his optics. "Our cruisers could have annihilated them from space," he spat.

"Indeed," Megatron agreed. "But what of the enjoyment, the challenge? Fear. Terror." He allowed a smirk to grace his lips. "Or are you not the master of these things?"

Starscream didn't respond for several long moments, simply remained leaning against the building, vents whirring softly. Finally, Starscream moved, standing talk and proud. The seeker on-lined his optics, and gave Megatron a look full of dark promises. "You're stalling, Megatron," he purred. "We've beaten the only real threat we've ever faced. I can see what's coming. So can you." The seeker turned to leave. "Who will it be, my only surviving pupil? Scourge?" He snorted and walked away.

Me?

Megatron was left staring at the seeker's retreating back.

And quietly, echoing strangely in the ruins of the once-proud city of an alien race, the seeker's parting words floated back to him. "Who would have thought that the worst move you could have made would be to win?"

It took twelve years, but he eventually recovered fully.

Soundwave and occasionally Hook were the only ones he had seen for those twelve long years, and he wondered where his second was. He had only grown more and more alarmed and confused since the seeker's last visit as the years passed and both mechs refused to answer his questions.

But now he was in the best health he had been in for centuries, and he would no longer tolerate the silence on the issue.

"Where is he," Megatron growled, fully prepared to rip the answer piece by miserable piece out of Soundwave. The technopath was probably very aware of this, because he answered immediately.

"Starscream: Barricaded in his quarters."

Hook added quietly, "He will see no one but Shrapnel."

Megatron hefted his fusion canon, and reattached it. "I want Shrapnel in front of me now."

There was a moment of silence.

"Shrapnel: on his way."

Megatron nodded and waited. He did not have to wait long – the door to the room slammed open and Shrapnel practically dived into the room, landing on his knees in front of Megatron.

"Shrapnel."

Shrapnel looked up, his facial plating revealing an awkward combination of fear and hope.

"Where is my Second in Command? Where is Starscream?"

Shrapnel shuddered, and turned his head away. "Lord Megatron…he…. That is, Lord Starscream is…" the mech's voice trailed off.

Megatron counted slowly to ten, and then tried again. "I will ask one more time, and then I will start ripping various pieces off of your frame. Where. Is. Starscream?"

A deeper shudder ran through the mech's frame. "Lord, Starscream is …fading."

His optics narrowed. "And what does that mean?"

Megatron did not miss the look of thankful relief Shrapnel shot Hook when the closest thing they had to a medic was the one who answered him.

"Starscream is the oldest of all of us, Lord Megatron. A mech's processor can only go so long before it starts to glitch, and the spark can only go so long before it simply gives out. Most mechs never live to see 30 million years of age – Starscream is thrice that old, at least." Hook sighed. "He would have offlined many years ago, if it weren't for the mutation in his spark."

Megatron's processor froze as he considered the implications. "Mutation?"

"Starscream possesses an immortal spark, my Lord. He can't offline. So instead he fades – looses the ability to process emotions or life as it passes by him. With the death of his brothers, and the loss of their stabilizing presence in his spark, the process has sped dramatically."

Shrapnel took up the narration, flinching under Megatron's heavy gaze. "He told me several years ago that he had been hiding the process from you for a number of vorns. He has only held on this long because he says he has a promise to keep."

He nodded, thoughts whirling. Starscream, a constant in his life for years beyond mention would be as good as dead, and apparently had been on that path for quite some time. It would certainly explain a few things.

"Which room has he taken as his?" he asked absently.

"The old throne room, Lord Megatron. He has blocked off all entrances except the one leading to the northwest wing of the ship."

"You are dismissed, Shrapnel." Megatron eyed the mech as he scrambled to his feet and sought to flee the room as quickly as possible.

"Oh, and Shrapnel?"

Shrapnel paused. "Yes, Lord Megatron?"

"You are not to go anywhere near Starscream's 'room' for the next cycle. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Lord Megatron."

Megatron waited until Shrapnel was gone before leaving as well, ignoring both Hook and Soundwave. He'd deal with them later.

He headed directly for the old throne room, thoughts settling on one clear intention: if Starscream was going, he was damn well going to get what he had long desired from the seeker first.

"And so it begins," Megatron murmured as he watched Starscream walk towards him.

The seeker stopped barely four feet away from him, coldly staring him down. He stood proudly, wings arched high. "You've been stalling ever since we defeated the Autobots, my student. Building your gate made from stolen technology. You're lost. Directionless."

Megatron smiled. "'Stalling', Starscream? No, my dear second. I've been waiting for this. With the Autobots gone, with the opportunity there…" He grinned and shot down Bombshell, who just happened to be the Insecticon standing closest to Starscream, impressed despite himself when Starscream didn't even shift. "…I waited for you to make a choice."

Then he reached out and snagged yet another Insecticon, Scourge he believed, wasting no time in ripping the mech in half. He tossed the pieces aside carelessly. "I've been watching you all along. Using my spies to see who you'd choose. Who would take your side."

The seeker smiled, a cold, grim smile. "Not my side. The side of the very cause you've abandoned." The seeker gestured at the city around them, disgust coloring his every move. "There was a time, student, when you had me convinced that you would succeed where others failed. You preached to us all that we didn't have to accept the way things were; that we warriors were meant for more than the degradation and the sly politics. You gave us the hope needed to challenge the old order, to take arms against a corrupt council. To fight, to take what we wanted, what we needed, from a world that rewarded the weak and denied the strong." Starscream growled. "Then you led us into a war without end."

Megatron scowled. "I did what was required to win! I understood what it would take; I knew what kind of army that had to be created. You used to understand the mind and spark of a warrior. What happened, Starscream? What happened to the ruthless glitch that taught me everything I've become?" He gestured at the remaining Insecticon. "How many did you rally to your side, Starscream? How many joined you to make your rightful challenge before the troops? Three? Out of hundreds?" His tone was incredulous. "You appeal to logic, crafting smart arguments for intellects…not warriors." Megatron snorted. "I knew who would stand at your side. I knew all along. You've failed, Starscream. None of my warriors will join you."

Starscream's smile remained steady. His optics sparkled with dangerous mirth. "None?" He asked mockingly.

There was a strong tremor and an echoing thud: the sound of a large mech advancing. Megatron glanced over his shoulder, optics widening unintentionally as he caught sight of Devastator. This was …not good.

Megatron scowled, and readied himself for one hell of a fight.

"All hail Megatron," the seeker softly intoned.

Megatron entered the old throne-room quietly. He glanced around, noting the dust that lingered on practically everything. He spotted Starscream immediately – in such a drab and dirty room, Starscream stood out like a sharply carved jewel; all gleaming colors and glittering edges. His second stood rock still in front of the window, watching the cold vastness of deep space passing them by.

"Starscream," he said quietly. His voice echoed piercingly in the silence.

The seeker didn't move, but Megatron could see his reflection's gaze shift. "You live." It was a statement, nothing more, nothing less; his voice even and lacking in any feeling whatsoever.

"Yes," Megatron agreed easily. His memory files of those last few moments between him and Prime were fuzzy at best, but he remembered enough. He had Starscream to thank for his life. "Do you regret it?"

Starscream's reflection smirked at him, but the optics remained the shade of dull-rust. "Should I? What was it you said? 'Leadership had to be taken, not offered up on a silver platter.'"

Megatron snorted. "As if you care about leadership," he said. "We both know now why you keep fighting me for the title, don't we?"

Starscream was tellingly silent.

"I hear you are fading, Starscream, that soon you will be as good as dead."

"Yes," the seeker murmured. Dulled optics watched him. "But I have one last move to make; one last dance to finish. I made you a promise many, many years ago. A promise that I intend to keep." The seeker paused. "I know what you want from me, Megatron. I've always known. You never could keep your energy field from going haywire in my presence." The seeker turned around, and looked at him directly. "I know what you want, but I will not give it to you." He flexed his claws. "You want it, Megatron? Then you'll have to take it."

Megatron growled, low and deep. "You know how this will end, Starscream."

"Do I?" The seeker shifted his balance slightly, preparing to launch. "Perhaps you will succeed, perhaps not. But know this my student – I will not make this easy for you."

Megatron never had a chance to respond – Starscream launched forward, faster then he'd ever seen the seeker move before. Claws raked down the front of his frame, and the wave of fresh agony that followed had him cursing Starscream to the pits and back even as he worked on evading the next series of strikes.

There were many times in his life that Megatron thanked Primus for the strength in his frame – he was capable of taking more hits than most of his army combined – and this was one of them. Starscream was built for speed and agility, and with his claws, close combat was something he was well-equipped for. If all Megatron had had to worry about was Starscream's claws, however, the fight would have been over long before it began. No, he also had to look out for the seeker's kicks. The legs were the strongest point on a seeker's body; they were heavily reinforced and had more weight behind them than half of the rest of a seeker's body. A truly desperate seeker, grounded and unable to launch into the air, was a dangerous foe even when they didn't have battle experience.

Starscream was battle-tested. More to the point, Starscream was older than dirt and knew a hell of a lot more dirty tricks than Megatron did. It was only after they'd long passed the point where Megatron would usually have already pinned the seeker to the ground that he realized something.

All these years, all those fights…. Starscream truly had submitted to him. The seeker had done so in the same exact way that he'd done it when he'd been under the seeker's tutelage – by pushing when he could, submitting when he had to, and taking the beatings dished out with the grim knowledge that he had earned them. The only difference between how they submitted was that while Megatron had been willing once upon a time to repress his own dominant nature, Starscream hadn't, and never had.

Hence the plotting, the back-stabbing, and the subsequent beat-downs.

The realization should have stunned him; should have made him pause and leave an opening that Starscream would have exploited. It should have, but it didn't.

It only made him fight harder.

Pain.

That's all there was.

All he was aware of.

His entire frame ached with it.

But…no, there was something else.

Noises.

Speech?

He tried to focus, tried to get back up. Nothing was responding.

Nothing…

There was something moving towards him.

Someone…

…enemy…?

Yes, enemy.

"DON'T YOU DARE!"

That voice… Starscream?

…clawed servos gently lifting him…

…pain…

"Starscream? What are you doing?"

"Fulfilling my role as a seeker: I'm protecting the leader of the Decepticon Empire. None of you filthy Autobots are going to touch him!"

"Starscream, this isn't like you! Why save him?"

"He's mine."

Starscream, what…?

And then …nothing.

It took far longer than it ought to have, but he eventually had Starscream pinned beneath him. They were both battered and dented, leaking energon from a variety of wounds – Megatron bearing the vast majority of them.

At some point in the battle, Starscream's optics had lost their dull sheen and had begun glowing with life and vigor again. And now, trapped beneath him, the seeker's energy field was finally starting to react.

He didn't waste time. With a low growl he reached between them, practically ripping off Starscream's interfacing panel and his own. Starscream hissed at him, claws digging sharply into his shoulders. He lined his spike up with the seeker's port and thrust. Starscream's optics widened, his head fell back, and he wailed even as his legs wrapped firmly around Megatron's thrusting hips. The seeker cried out indistinctly, but Megatron had no trouble reading either his body or his energy field: faster, harder, more.

Megatron was only too happy to oblige.

He became lost in the feeling of it all: the bliss of that overly-tight port clenching around him; Starscream's claws digging at his seems and wires as he howled and screamed and begged; their energy field's mingling; the electric currents that pulsed between the two of their rapidly over-heating systems.

Just before his overload hit him, he felt Starscream pry his spark-chamber open, and then the world exploded in a violent haze of pleasure.

***EPILOGUE***

Megatron ran a servo over the recharging seeker's cockpit, wondering. He could feel his coding rewriting itself, centering everything he was around Starscream, and knew that the seeker's own coding was rewriting itself as well. For him. The bond was new, still fragile, but was growing in strength alarmingly quick.

He had never intended this. He had only intended on taking what he had always wanted before everything that was Starscream managed to fade completely. He had not anticipated Starscream's own desperation to live, to feel. He wondered how this was going to change things, for Megatron knew that nothing could remain the same.

Starscream stirred. "Stop thinking and recharge, Megatron," he murmured, still half in recharge himself. "You think loud enough to wake the dead."

Megatron stilled his hand, and stared at his mentor, his second in command, and now his bonded mate. "What happens now?" he asked. This was all new to him. The feeling of Starscream surging through his circuits and his spark was …odd. And strangely comforting.

A slight smirk crossed Starscream's lips. "Anything you want, Megatron. Our army is still vast, still ruthless glitches – if you want to continue this war, do so. And again, our army is vast – if you want to recall them all and build a new Cybertron, do so." The seeker shifted slightly, and then stilled again. "But there will be time enough for you to decide later. Rest."

Megatron stared for a moment longer, before settling down. Just as he was about to finally enter recharge, he heard Starscream whisper quietly:

"I told you I'd have your spark in one form or another."

I've never written a giant alien robot sex scene before, so I hope it turned out alright. I didn't want it to be too graphic, but I also didn't want to get too general either. Not sure if I succeeded on that point.

All four italicized scenes are taken directly from All Hail Megatron Vol. 1. As All Hail Megatron is a graphic novel/comic, all the scenes had to be written out, including thoughts and facial expressions and all that jazz. For the most part, I kept Megatron's actions and expressions almost identicle - I saw no reason to play around with what worked - but I totally changed Screamer's side of the deal. After all, young and cocky isn't exacly the way my AU!Screamer acts. Lolz.

As for the dialogue, the first scene's dialogue is taken directly. I changed the context a bit, and added a few things, but it's still almost word-for-word accurate. The second scene is in the same boat, but I changed the dialogue quite a bit. Still pretty accurate, but most of Megatron's speech got cut - he's awfully wordy in this series, and most of what got cut were details that weren't actually vital to the story. Third scene's dialogue was changed quite a bit - parts got cut out, a lot got changed. The biggest change? At the end of that scene in the actual story it is Devastator who says "All hail Megatron" before he proceeds to try and put the beat-down on Megatron.

The fourth scene is actually almost completely mine - except for the dialogue - only one of Starscream's lines is mine.

As far as this AU!verse I've created goes, I've got two more stories planned - one is set somewhere between A Different Beginning and this fic. It deals with Blurr, and will be called Ricochet if you want to keep an eye out. The other is set before A Different Beginning and deals with Skywarp, Thundercracker, and Skyfire. Not sure what that one will be called, but I'm leaning towards either Ignition or Say Your Prayers. Any thoughts?

Anyway, I hope you all liked this! Thanks for reading. ^^

Here's my story about how I came to write "Vader's Child" and got involved in V/L fandom (before it existed). VC is about 11 years old. It was published in 1996 in a zine titled "Dark Fantasies #5".

Having been born with a pervish outlook (in elementary school I would scribble stories about my fave male couple of the moment—though what they actually did was vague to me), I'd seen slashy undertones in the V/L exchanges in the movies and had my private fantasies about them, but I couldn't find anyone else interested…to say the least. The reactions I received at cons when I hinted about such a pairing was shock, horror, and even a few lectures about propriety. There was no widespread internet usage like there is today, so I had to rely on in-person conversations and discreet snail-mails. Eventually I found someone who sent to me, after swearing me to absolute secrecy as to whom I got it from (since this was such a scandalous pairing), a 3-page copy of a kinky story that involved Luke as Vader's prisoner. He was chained and hung from a ceiling—nude, of course—and Vader would come in each day and 'interrogate' him. The interrogation involved Vader touching him and, after a day, stroking his penis. Luke was terribly confused. He had no idea what was happening to him. One line is still stuck in my mind, and it went something like this: "When he'd had feelings like this before, he'd hop in his x-wing and zip around the galaxy until the feelings went away". That still makes me laugh.

After a couple days of Vader stroking Luke almost to the point of orgasm, then leaving him confused and frustrated, Luke begged Vader to stay. Vader went behind him, fucked him and stroked him, then cut him down. Luke slid down Vader's legs and puddled at his feet, embracing his boots. The end. I have no idea who wrote it, and unfortunately I don't have it anymore, but that was my first exposure to written V/L. And the last one for a very, very long time.

In the meanwhile, I'd been searching for SW zines. In pre-internet days, if you didn't already know that such things as fandom and zines existed, you'd never know to go looking for them. I sent letters to different people I remembered from past fandoms and eventually found a couple links to SW zines. But they were all genzines. After talking (in snail-mail—that took FOREVER!) to many people, I found ZP Florian, who was editing a groundbreaking zine that would be the first 'adult' SW zine (The Rest of the Garbage). ZP was determined to do the zine but a little worried, since Lucas had come down on a zine that had a Han/Leia sex scene (he gave them a 'cease-and-desist', so they pulled the offending pages from the zine and mailed them separately to people who asked for them). I wrote ZP and asked what sort of story she'd be interested in. She didn't know me at all, and she said that she'd be glad to read what I sent but couldn't promise to use it—then proceeded to give me a list of kinky-nesses that she found acceptable (which was pretty much everything). So I incorporated a lot of them into "Defeat", and also included a tiny V/L moment. Happily, she accepted it and was fine with V/L, but the publication did nothing to bring any V/L fans out of hiding.

Sometime later I was at MediaWest Con, standing at Joanne McCoy's table, flipping through copies of her zine, Dark Fantasies, looking for SW stories. There were none, but she said she'd love to have some. I suggested V/L and she agreed, with a little trepidation and a lot of interest. So I wrote "Vader's Child" to fit Dark Fantasies guidelines, which were a bit on the S/M side. It even had a couple of illos—one of Luke sitting naked at Vader's feet.

Keep in mind there was still no internet, which meant very little feedback. About three people snail-mailed Joanne with feedback on the story—they liked it, but were shocked at their own interest and expressed no desire to read any more V/L. *sigh* Once I posted it online, I received occasional emails, mostly dismayed, but several from readers who were interested in the pairing. I tried to encourage people to write V/L, but for a long time I was the only pervert in town. Eventually I moved on to Kung Fu: The Legend Continues fandom and expressed my V/L fantasies there. KFTLC hasn't been on for several years, so some of you may not be familiar with it. It involved a father and son who were deliberately separated, each thought the other had been killed, and they met again as adults. They were very emotional, touchy-feely, dependent, possessive, with conflicting beliefs— a lot of resemblance to V/L. Of course, I received some bashing for slashing that father/son pair, but for whatever reason, people found it much more acceptable than V/L and many people starting writing it.

At the request of a friend, I wrote a couple Han/Luke stories for her zine, but my heart wasn't in it. We collaborated a bit, but she wanted to write H/L and I wanted V/L, so that collaboration didn't last for long. I gave up on the idea of writing V/L. There was no audience… until the last couple years when V/L fans start appearing and I began finding the occasional V/L story on the web. You can imagine how happy I was (and am)! I love reading stories, though I still haven't been inspired to write another. However, a Certain Person and I are collaborating on a story, which makes me happy, happy, happy! It's wonderful not to feel alone with my fave perversion.

And now there are lists and LJ's about V/L. For me, it's like every holiday rolled into one. But being greed and hungry, I need more stories to read. I think I've read everything that's on the web, but there must be more stories out there, hiding on people's computers, ready to be shared. Anyone??

I'd be interested to hear how others on this list came to enjoy V/L, if there were any special moments in the films that caught your prurient eye, etc. And if you're writing!

Elizabeth

By the time Han had squeezed through the limited cockpit of his Interceptor and wriggled free, the kid was already out, down from the gantry and striding towards Indo, who had been waiting in the hangar.

"Don'teverinterfere with or countermand my order again!" As he yelled, Luke threw his helmet across the hangar floor, fuming.

Indo was, as ever, unmoved. "You expect me to leave you in a combat situation with insufficient back up?"

"I expect you to do as I order. I don't need your protection-I don't need anybody's protection!"

Indo glanced once to the helmet as it skittered across the floor. "Don't throw your equipment around like a child in a tantrum."

"What the hell were you doing countermanding my order? I said no back up."

"I am, I believe, still responsible for your safety until otherwise instructed by the Emperor. I considered one wingman insufficient. Captain Roth agreed."

The kid had reached Indo now, still livid. "I had my reasons, and it's immaterial anyway. I said no back up. I could have taken them all out myself at any time, and you know it."

"And the corvette?"

"I was out of the corvette's range! If you knew combat vessel statistics, you would have known that, but you don't."

"That's hardly the point."

"That's exactly the point! I gave an order in a combat situation-a situation you weren't directly involved in and had no detailed knowledge of-and you overrode it without the authority to do so. I'm not a child any more."

Indo tilted his head just slightly. "Then stop acting like one. If you had an intention…"

"Of course I had an intention!"

"Then you should have informed me. If you don't tell people what…."

"No." The kid shook his head. "Immaterial. I still outrank you."

"I hold a direct mandate from the Emperor himself."

"And I don't?"

Indo glanced about. "This isn't the place."

Luke reined himself back slightly, voice dropping though he was still fuming. "I was in the air, directly involved, with specialist knowledge. You had no idea what was going on, yet you still overrode me. You constantly push me to make that assessment, take the initiative…and when I do, you undermine me."

"You lost the fighter. You could easily have lost your…"

"I didn't lose it, I tagged it."

Han had the rare treat of seeing Indo momentarily stumped. "…What?"

"I tagged it. I knew they'd come for it-it was dead in space, you think it hadn't already sent off an SOS?"

"You tagged it?"

"Obviously they'd send back-up. They can't afford to lose ships or pilots like that. But we'd already been trawling the edge of the asteroid field, so the pilot knew we were here. We had to react…but as routine! As a Destroyer and its crew going through the motions. What do you think a wing of gunboats would have looked like, trooping out of the bay?"

Indo glanced briefly to Han, who remained silent, though this was news to him too.

"When exactly did you tag it?"

"When the pilot was watching Solo. I took a Seinar 560 homing beacon and stuck it on my own hull before takeoff, then used the Force to transfer it to his. I slid it into the multicap grill plates of the foil block-no one'll find it unless they disassemble the drive, and a 560 doesn't operate unless it's in an oxygen-free atmosphere-deep space. It won't transmit when it's in their bay, so they won't be looking for it. I want to know where that X-wing came from…which is probably where it's returning to right now."

"If you had told me of your intent…"

"I made the decision on the way to the bay. I didn't want to do it over ship's comms once we were out there, and much as you don't like it, it's not my job to tell you everything I intend. I'm not answerable to you…only to Palpatine." Luke lifted his hand, finger outstretched. "I had the situation under control. Don't undermine or countermand my orders again."

He didn't wait for a reply, turning about to walk from the bay without pause.

.

Han held Indo's gaze for a second before he turned to leave at the kid's side. As he did so, Luke's helmet, still where it had landed halfway across the bay, lifted and launched smoothly towards the kid's outstretched hand. They were out of the bay before Han murmured, "Did you know those other fighters were gonna arrive when they did?"

"Hell, no. I thought we'd be long gone by then," the kid replied without turning round.

"Thought so," Han nodded, not even slightly surprised.







By the time Han and the kid had changed and made it up to the bridge, the Immortal was back at the original point where they'd seen the isolated power spike. Interestingly, none of the officers or pit crew seemed too impressed by the fact that a sixteen-year-old kid had just flown a TIE Interceptor in combat and escaped unharmed…but then, Han remembered Gorn mentioning once that the Immortal was their 'usual ride.' Clearly, though no one knew quite what he was, they all knew what he wasn't-your average sixteen-year-old.

Now, Luke was standing before the run of triangular viewports again, staring at the tumbling drift of asteroids as the Immortal waited to see if they'd get another power signature.

They'd been here for over two hours, waiting, and stoic as Captain Roth undoubtedly was, he was looking to get moving again.

"It could have been a ghost," he said confidently from Luke's side, as he stared into the asteroid field. "Or a sensor aberration, from seismic activity within one of the higher metal content asteroids…"

Luke turned slightly to the Captain. "So what you're saying is, you don't know."

Roth straightened slightly. "I'm saying that given the brief nature of the pulse and the fact that it hasn't repeated, it's unlikely to have been by design."

Han watched the kid continue to stare out of the window at the Drift without acknowledging Roth, eyes scanning. Eventually getting the signal the kid was all but blaring, Roth moved off, jaw tensed.

Han too turned to stare, aware that they'd reached an impasse. Though they were at the same position that they'd gotten the brief signal that morning, the view had completely changed as the natural drift of the asteroids had turned and tumbled them about, bringing some forward and removing others completely.

Indo stepped closer to Luke, his voice quiet enough that even Han barely heard it. "Luke, you need to move this situation forward."

"I'm thinking."

Han half-turned to throw a dry look the Viscount's way; apparently Luke's explosion an hour earlier hadn't done anything to dampen Indo's willingness to nag the kid. How the hell was he supposed to move forward when he had nothing to go on? They were still waiting for the first burst from the tracker which Luke had planted on the Rebel fighter. Wherever it was, it would have to come out of lightspeed, and the fighter would have to be back in space-or at least a bay open to space and therefore oxygen-free-before its transmitter triggered, and it wasn't, yet. Until it did, they were playing a waiting game, 'cos the fact was, you couldn't make things happen out of thin air. There was no real way to…

The kid turned to Captain Roth. "Contact theImperialPalace on Coruscant. Have them send a message to Project Nine, requesting an immediate response. They need Project Nine to repeat any message sent in the last week; a sustained signal back to Coruscant for one minute."

Han frowned, knowing now that Project Nine was the code name for the Maw Installation. He looked quickly to Luke, realizing that the kid was still trying to tie all that had happened, back to the dead spy on Coruscant; the Maw Installation ran its comms to Coruscant through Sinto Base, and Luke was looking for a common link.

Han stepped in, keeping his voice low as the Captain moved away to give the order. "You think something's out there?"

Luke glanced to him briefly, then back out into the slow tumble of the Drift. "Why else would an X-wing be this far out in the middle of nowhere?"

"Maybe this was just where his drive system gave out." He didn't say the obvious; that if they'd taken the pilot in, instead of tagging him, they might have known by now.

Luke shook his head. "He was here for a reason. Whatever it was, he'd already done it, because he couldn't believe his own bad luck at his engines having failed, and then our arrival… And the three Spearheads-they came out of hyperspace hot, weapons armed. They knew we were there."

"The X-wing had been fully powered down when we arrived," Han said. Fully powered down, with its engines so cold that they hadn't shown up on scans. Which meant that it had been without power for a while. And if it had sent any kind of comm off, the Immortal would have picked it up immediately anyway, long before it picked the actual X-wing up on even long-range scans. "There's somebody else-there's someone else out there who sent the message as soon as we came out of lightspeed!"

At that moment, the comm officer spoke out. "Sir, I have the signal again! Four point five clicks from its previous position."





It turned out to be a shielded listening base in one of the deeper craters of the asteroid they'd originally identified, when the first small power surge had briefly flared. With the sustained burst communiqué from Maw Installation keeping it active for a full minute as the base systems automatically responded to the incoming signal, they didn't have any problems locking its position down. It was small-in fact it was tiny, no more than a double-story airtight prefab half-buried below ground, and a receiving dish, all painted a broken camo black to melt them into the surrounding shadows.

Luke had already pushed to have two TIE bombers do a fly-over whilst the assault shuttle loaded up with stormtroopers, requesting that the bombers destroy any transports they saw but leave the prefab intact. He was heading off the bridge, intending to go down onboard one of the assault shuttles, when the pit comm officer spoke up. "Sir, you have a communiqué from Coruscant."

He turned, surprised. "Source?"

"I have a code only-nine-six-two."

Luke nodded, setting back instantly to the rear of the bridge. "Patch the communiqué through to Comm One, I'll take it there." He glanced once to Captain Roth. "And tell your men I want prisoners-I can't interrogate a corpse."

Han watched Indo set off the bridge a step behind the kid…then followed, rushing to keep up.

Comm One was the largest holo on the Destroyer, generally used to project starcharts for inter-ship tactical analysis, so Han was familiar with the size of the dark-walled chamber-a good three stories in height and roughly circular. It had no chairs-if you were a pilot on a briefing, you were expected to stand. After some of the more long-winded briefings Han had attended on an assortment of tours of duty, he suspected it had been to stop you from falling asleep.

Today only Indo and the kid were ahead of him as he entered, the holoprojector already active but not transmitting, and the raised circular transmission platform glowed in a fine band about its edge, indicating that it was active. Luke paused at the small console to the edge of the room to input a code-probably a cipher-then stepped calmly forward.

He should have known; should have realized who it was when the kid stepped onto the transmitter and dropped to one knee, head down. Still, when the Emperor's face appeared a second later, taking the entire height of the projection area so that it loomed over Luke, Han still took an involuntary step back.

"Tell me the details," the Emperor intoned, as if this were the remainder of a half-finished conversation.

Luke straightened without hesitation. "Master, we tracked the lead back to the Cron Drift, in the Outer Rim. There's a Rebel base hidden at the edge of the asteroid field-just a few people. Troops are going in now."

"The Rebel fighter?"

Han turned to glare at Indo, sure the Viscount must have contacted the Emperor whilst he and Luke were returning to the ship, since Luke had sent no transmissions since. As it was, the kid nodded casually, as if this too were part of an ongoing conversation. A stray memory fired, of the kid saying that one of the other Emperor's Hands had the ability to contact the Emperor over extended distances using the Force-of Luke's admission another time that the Emperor had taught him too to 'hear' voices, and to tune into his Master's mental sense in order to block them out. Could the kid do that over extended distances, as he'd said the other Hand had been taught to do?

"I allowed the fighter to escape, Master. We're waiting to pick up a signal from the homing beacon."

"And your connection between the Rebel base and Sinto?"

"The Cron Drift base must have been set up to infiltrate and monitor the communications line between the Maw Installation and Coruscant. We had the Maw send a test transmission, and it came into the Rebel base in the Cron Drift almost simultaneously with Coruscant. Once they had this base running, they would have needed the ciphers to decode what they had, so they had to recruit someone inside Sinto Base to get the codes out. We can confirm this when we download the Rebel base's logs."

"How long was the base running; have they passed on information already?"

"I'll be able to tell you more precisely when we get the Rebel prisoners from the base onboard the Immortal, Master."

Palpatine's chin twitched in annoyance. On this scale, those ochre eyes passed on every nuance of their caustic displeasure. "Interrogate them. I want all the information by morning. When you're done, if they're still alive…kill them."

Han glanced to Indo, who stood to the edge of the room beside him, but the Viscount remained still and silent, expression inscrutable as ever. Before him, the kid dropped his head in a standing bow. "Yes, Master."







The small, bare interrogation cell on the third level of the detention center was painted drab gray, with one standard chair, in front of which was a small table, and another, larger upright chair to the center of the room, fitted with restraints. Han had stepped in beside the kid before he even realized what it was, watching Luke take a datapad from an officer outside without comment, head down as he scanned it whilst the door before him lifted.

They always made the doors on Imperial cells low, so that you had to stoop to get inside the cells. Psychology, they said. As it was, the kid didn't need to bother, so slight was he.

The Rebel, one of two taken alive, was already there when they entered, stripped of his clothes and wearing a gray jumpsuit that no one had bothered to fasten, the restraints set into the arms and legs of the interrogation chair already locked, holding him still.

Luke looked up only once from the datapad, and that was to dismiss the two stormtroopers who stood to either side of the door. He sat in the chair opposite the Rebel as Han hovered to the back of the room, deeply uneasy. Unlike the kid, he couldn't help but glance to the bound prisoner, frowning and looking down as the man's eyes lifted to him, a bruise already darkening where someone had landed a blow to one side of his head.

Luke remained silent for a long time, reading, as the man pulled subtly at the restraints on his wrists, deeply wary, and probably uncertain just what exactly a kid was doing here. Han's thoughts went uneasily back to the previous time the kid had faced a prisoner, on Sinto Base, and in the extended silence he could feel his stomach wind slowly tighter. Finally the kid looked up, his tone brusque and businesslike but not unpleasant.

"Okay, from what we can see, you broke into the S-T commsat chain near Gand and installed your own stolen and altered Imperial satellite, set up to transmit to your station in the Drift. I just need to verify how long you've been set up, how much data you've passed on, and what it was."

The man remained silent. Man-he wasn't much older than Luke, maybe twenty at the most. When had wars become this; kids, dragged into an adult world too soon, veterans before their teens were out. Han wasn't quite thirty and he felt old, watching this meeting of seasoned enemies.

Luke straightened to place the datapad down, taking unnecessary time to allign its outer edge to the edge of the table. "You understand-you didn't manage to erase your station's system. It'll take us a day or so to put the information you just tried to blank back together, but we will. Every piece. So all we're really talking is a time scale of a few days. Either you tell me now, after which I put you back in your cell and report to my superiors, and we both get a good night's sleep tonight, or this gets the kind of messy that involves blood and bone…not mine."

Luke gave him a good long time to answer, but the Rebel remained silent, holding his eye without flinching. Eventually he leaned forward to scroll down the datapad. "Your friend has Commander Isman next door. You have me, which is…unfortunate. It's unfortunate because I've worked with Commander Isman before, and I know for a fact that he'll keep your friend alive at the very least through the night. Knowing that I have Commander Isman and your friend to fall back on, I may not be nearly as conscientious."

Silence… Luke looked up to the man, who flexed his jaw, lips narrowing. The kid sat back and sighed, giving another long pause before he spoke.

"See, the fact is, I don't particularly like Commander Isman, so I have no intention of letting him come out of his interrogation session with more information than I get out of you. Call it conceit, call it competitive spirit, call it professional pride…call it plain bad luck on your part. Call it a foregone conclusion. But we are gonna win." Luke glanced down to the datapad, then looked up again, amused. "Keev Kline…really?"

"Kutabare."

Han didn't know the language, but an insult sounded like an insult no matter where in the galaxy it came from. Luke let the silence hang a heartbeat, and Han felt his own throat constricting as the tension upped a notch. Remaining seated, the kid tipped his head, coolly dismissive.

"Now why would you do that-why would you throw insults, in a situation in which you know they won't be tolerated? Why do that, when you know there'll be reprisals? Didn't they teach you how to withstand interrogation, Keev? That you never antagonize the man who has the power of life and a very painful death over you."

"Kutabare, o baka ze."

Luke placed the memopad carefully back on the edge of the table before glancing down to rub at his eyes for a second, as if weary… He looked up sharply-

The restraint chair that the man was strapped to jerked violently back the length of the room to hit the far wall heavily as the Rebel doubled over forwards, his body folding as if the blow had hit him with enough power to send both himself and the chair reeling. The chair's impact dragged him momentarily upright to whiplash back so that his head hit the wall behind him with a heavy thud, before he doubled back over, struggling to drag in rasping breaths against the shock of the invisible blow.

Luke remained still, waiting without emotion as the man gasped, trying futilely to lift his hand to his face where his nose had started to bleed…and the kid just watched. Han's heart was pounding, his own breath coming short, body locked to the spot as the kid waited until the hunched Rebel lifted his head.

Kid smiled just slightly. "Want to say that again?"

The man remained silent, his labored breathing spraying the blood which flowed unchecked from his nose out in a fine spray before him to speckle across the knees of the pale gray prison-issue jumpsuit he wore.

Luke rose…and the restraint chair dragged quickly forward with an ear-rending screech over the polished floor to stop directly in front of him at the very moment that he bent down, arms extended with perfect timing to rest on the shocked prisoner's bound wrists as the chair jerked to a halt. "Namen ja neyo, Keev-kakko tsukenna-yo. Because I know what you're saying…in fact, I even know what you're thinking-which is why I know you speak Basic. But then, to me, thinking something and saying it are the same thing anyway, and whilst you've learned the great good sense to keep your mouth shut, you can't close your mind-not to me."

The chair rocked unsteadily on the spot and the man stiffened and let out a broken, breathless yelp as he braced-against what pain, Han didn't know. His chest locked for long seconds, eyes wide, every muscle taut…before his head finally dropped loose in release as he fell to heavy, broken gasps. Luke remained just inches from his face, completely unmoved, waiting until he seemed to have enough awareness of his surroundings to try to lift his head again.

"Remember that I told you it was unfortunate that you had me, Keev? What I meant was, it's unfortunate that you have a Sith. An actual Sith. Someone who can, and will, make your last hours in this galaxy the most gruelling, agonizing experience of your life. Myself, I couldn't care less either way, but you might want to change that. And you can, very easily." His icy voice became calm with coaxing reason. "All you have to do is tell me how long the listening post has been there and what you've passed on. That's it. Nothing about your Rebellion, nothing about its locations or its numbers-just that. That buys your life, Keev. Because believe me, if you don't tell me, then the man in the other interrogation cell will, to buy his own life. And that makes you not only surplus to requirement, but the awkward one. The irritating one. The one I'm gonna vent all my frustrations on-probably once I've brought your friend in here, just to make sure he understands how bad it can get. All for the sake of a day…one day. We'll have the information in one day anyway. You're not helping anyone by keeping hold of it, Keev. You're certainly not helping yourself."

"No…" The man's voice was a wounded gasp, but he pulled it up from the depths of his spirit and Han knew he meant it-that this was the start.

Hands still on the chair arms, Luke leaned back slightly, head tilting to try to catch his eye, though he wouldn't lift his gaze. "No? Wrong, wrong answer, Keev. Kind of answer that hurts…"

The man braced…and Han pushed abruptly off from the wall of the cell. "Just take it-take the information from his mind! You can do that, can't you? Just do it. Make him think about it and just take it out! Stop tormenting him!"

It was only when Luke had straightened to stare, shocked at the outburst, that Han realized just how loud he'd shouted. He stared at the kid, wide eyed, the only sound in the room the heavy, cracked gasps of the Rebel.

He wanted to say it again; to tell the kid to stop, to actually look at what he was doing on someone else's order-a kid, who shouldn't even know places like this existed, let alone excel in them. But he knew all that; Luke already knew all that-had known the moment Han had thought it-and that was what was worst of all.

He turned and pushed clumsily at the door release, stumbling to step underneath that damn door, unable to get away fast enough. From this-from the kid.







The door to his quarters slid open, though Han remembered locking it, so he knew without turning who was there, casting a long shadow across the darkened room. He took a draft from his drink in silence and without turning, but the kid neither entered nor left him alone, waiting at the threshold. Eventually Han shook his head, not angry, just...telling the truth. Kid would know it anyway…and if he could make sense of what Han felt right now, then he was doing better than Han himself. "Just…go away, huh? I don't want to…I don't want you here right now."

"I had my orders," Luke said quietly.

He couldn't turn-couldn't even look at the kid. "That's not a reason-not enough."

"An order from Palpatine is," Luke murmured quietly.

Han could only shake his head, knowing he couldn't get through to the kid and wondering, in that moment, if he ever would. If it was even worth trying.

The kid moved slightly in the doorway, and Han watched his shadow shift as he lifted his hand to his mouth, chewing compulsively at his thumbnail. Han looked out into the Drift again, draining the glass he held. "Is he dead?"

The shadow twitched slightly, lifting its head. "Yes."

"Did you do it?"

"…Yes. If you want someone dead, it should be by your own hand."

"Palpatine tell you that?"

"No." There was no defense in his quiet voice, only a restrained statement of the facts. "I worked it out myself when I was eleven years old, doing…doing this on Palpatine's command."

It was a second or two before realization percolated into Han's brooding thoughts just what the kid was admitting to-that having been in that situation too often himself, he wouldn't ever take the easy route and just transfer that burden of guilt elsewhere. Not that Palpatine would have had any, but Luke…Luke clearly must, which was why he couldn't pass that order on. And guilt meant that somewhere in there, no matter how battered down or torn between absolute loyalties and private misgivings…was a conscience.

He turned, but the kid had already stepped back, letting the door close to douse the room in darkness again. Bringing his hand up, Han dragged it across his temple and back through his hair, a mighty headache making him clench his jaw. In that moment, he felt like he deserved it.











There turned out to be a lot of information waiting when Han reached the bridge the following morning, in time for his duty shift. Indo was already with the kid, of course, speaking quietly. Outside, as Han had seen from many viewports now, the maelstrom of lightspeed rolled in twisting chaos, casting bright shafts of light across the bridge and crew pits. Luke didn't turn as Han came to a halt behind him, but kept his attention on the tech station to the outer side of the crew pits, calling up a few screens of information and studying them with exaggerated interest as he spoke to Indo.

"The Rebel listening station was receiving transmissions from a reprogrammed satellite that turns out to have been from a batch stolen a few weeks back over Orron III. The freighter Pheonix, which held the stolen commsats, and the Lambda shuttle Wilsey ,a known Rebel vessel, were reportedly spotted by the SD Intrepid docking alongside a Rebel Cruiser named Maximus,two weeks ago. The Maximus has been spotted on two occasions flying in formation with an MC80 Mon Cal Cruiser."

"Do we have an ID on the Mon Cal Cruiser?"

"No, but it was an MC80 Star Cruiser. How many can the Rebellion have? It has to be the Independence."

"Do you have confirmation on that?"

Luke looked down. "No."

"You can't work on suppositions, Luke."

The kid looked up coolly. "There are ninety-four MC Eighty Star Cruisers in existence-I checked. I can account for ninety of them through regular channels. Of the last four, one is listed as believed used by Black Sun, and one was listed as having been destroyed in the Boralic Nebula two years ago; there was sufficient debris, mechanical and organic, for official channels to be willing to list it as destroyed, all hands lost. That leaves two. Names are irrelevant, but one is almost twenty years old, so there are minor differences in design as technology's changed. Whilst they're both listed as MC80's, one of the unaccountable crusiers is an A class and the other a D. Mon Cal Cruisers are all organic in build; no two are the same-but I looked very closely at the specs last night. Whilst it's possible that the Alliance have two, of the several sightings we've had of Rebel MC Cruisers, it's always been an 80D, in every report or image I found. Sufficient circumstantial evidence?"

Indo didn't reply, but instead stepped closer to study the huge Mon Cal Cruiser, its organic, irregular lines clumsy to human, if not Mon Cal, eyes. "What else do you know-any other possible links to the Pheonix?"

Always pushing, Han knew. And the kid seemed more willing to let him today, probably still sore at Han for last night, and falling back on old routines.

"Well, theIndependencehasn't had many direct engagements, but it was probably…." He paused, correcting himself. "Statistically, Intel believe that there's a high likelihood that the unidentified Mon Cal Cruiser which was in a skirmish over Turkana, where it faced down Imperial Destroyers using T-65 X-wings, was the Independence…so it may not be a coincidence that our damaged Rebel fighter at the Cron Drift was an X-wing. The Independence was also involved in the Brigia fiasco, when Operation Strike Fear was beginning to lose the initiative." Luke glanced subtly about himself, lowering his voice though there was no one close. "If this pans out, and the X-wing is from the Independence, then we may well have placed a tracker on the Rebellion's new headquarters frigate, because something as big as an MC80 Cruiser isn't going to be used for small-time haulage. That's the ship they're going to show up in to impress and to drum up support. If they're doing that, then they're likely to be carrying their ringleaders onboard…which means that if the X-wing tracker keeps transmitting, this could be an opportunity well beyond closing down an information leak."

"Have you informed the Emperor?"

"Not yet. I want to see if the X-wing returns to the Independence first."

"How long until we have co-ordinates?"

"We got a brief signal from the tracker in the early hours, which means that the X-wing's hyperspace jump onboard the freighter was well under a day's travel. They presumably transferred the X-wing to its unit's home ship, which is when we got the signal, then it accelerrated to lightspeed soon after. Timewise, that puts them inside the Hydian Borderlands corewards, or Hutt Space, rimwards. We're triangulating now, but making a general jump towards the Halla sector, in Hutt Space."

"Because?" Indo prompted.

"Hutt Space borders on the Tion Hegemony. The Rebels were forced out of that sector by Operation Strike Fear, but they may well have maintained ongoing operations in Hutt Space. I checked the last three months of local system logs, and the Rebels have been all over that area, with repeated attacks on supply convoys, prison vessels, munitions destroyed…communications satellites stolen. I'm surprised there hasn't been a task force assigned already. I cross-referenced the dates that we know the communication satellites were stolen, against the Death Star information which went from the Maw to Coruscant between then and the Sinto spy being caught, and if that's their only source, then they don't have enough intel to go on yet, so they're fishing. They obviously know something's happening out here, they just don't know where exactly, and our removal of their listening post makes it impossible for them to find out any more that way. They have enough information to know that the Death Star's deployment is imminent, but they need more, and they know it. Past information came from Hutt Space…so that's where they'll try first." The kid paused, then shrugged and said it anyway, giving a brief sideways glance to Han without meeting his eyes. "Just a hunch."

As he turned, Han noted the dark circles under Luke's eyes and the paleness of his skin. It hit him now that Indo was looking to be brought up to speed just as much as Han was, whilst the kid had obviously spent a good while on this already. The signal from the tracker had come through in the early hours of the morning, he'd said, and it sounded pretty much like he'd gone to start research immediately. Probably hadn't slept yet, Han realised. And he didn't seem particularly inclined to slow down yet, as he glanced back to the tech panel behind him.

"We'll exit hyperspace from the rough jump in minutes. If we're lucky and this is where they were heading, then the X-wing may be in realspace too, and we'll get another transmission. If not, we're statistically well-placed for when it next transmits."

Indo nodded, mollified, and glanced back to the screen to point at the image of a Rebel freighter. "And the Wilsey?"

"Nothing, really-or rather, a lot of small engagements. The involvement of theWilsey with the Pheonix ,and therefore the stolen communication satellites, confirmed rough dates before which any information leaks were highly unlikely, though."

"Which you can verify from the cleaned up and reconstructed Rebel logs, right?" Han asked, speaking up at last.

"There were no remaining logs," the kid said simply, still without turning to Han. "The system shred and core dump that the Rebels made before the stormtroopers got in was successful-we have nothing to reconstruct."

Han stared at the kid, aware of what he'd told the Rebel prisoner last night. Of the ease with which he'd lied, completely fooling Han, who knew him well, never mind the Rebel.

"We do have a name on the Rebel X-wing pilot though," Luke continued casually, turning back to key new images onto the tech screen. "I ran the voice print from our little chat through known resources, and identified him with around ninety percent accuracy as one Biggs Darklighter, an ex-Imperial pilot trained at the Prefsbelt Four Naval Academy, and coming from some dirtball planet in the back of beyond-Tatooine, in the Arkanis sector. Apparently he mutinied from the Rand Ecliptic, taking not only one D. Klivian-the Rand's executive officer-with him, but also the Rand Ecliptic itself."

"Gets around, huh?" Han murmured, studying the official Imperial ID headshot of Darklighter.

"Let's hope he does so onboard the Independence," Luke said.

He nearly turned that time, Han noted. Another few minutes and…

The Immortal dropped out of lightspeed in a lurch of constrained power, internal gravity popping Han's ears and shifting his weight before it caught up. Immediately the pit crew came to life, running through standard procedures as the first buzz of information came in.

"All stop," Captain Roth said from the front of the bridge as a matter of course. "Ops?"

"All systems online, Sir. Controls returned to the bridge. Reversion puts us on target, five thousand cubits from the Halla sector."

Han listened as the ship settled back into sublight routines, knowing that the individual ops stations needed to check in and confirm status before anyone could scan for the homing beacon's signal. Beside him the kid returned to the tech board, keying the console there to scan for the beacon's frequency, too impatient to wait.

"Sir," the comm officer lifted his head towards Captain Roth. "We have incoming updates and…"

"Got it!" Luke exclaimed under his breath, grinning. "Close by-very close. We can triangulate easily from this distance."

Indo leaned in, keeping his own voice low. "How long?"

"Seconds…it's narrowing the signal now."

A run of co-ordinates came up on the screen as Han moved closer, drawn in. "Well?"

Luke pulled up a navigation chart of Hutt Space and pasted the co-ordinates, watching as the system ticked…

Straightening, he looked up with pride-and it was Han that he turned to first, not Indo. "Danuta," he said triumphantly. "They're over Danuta."

In the crew pit, the comms officer stood up, voice tight. "Sir, we have an incoming alert from Danuta, in the Colovas system. The Imperial garrison there is under attack!"

Здравствуй, Господи. Как у Тебя дела? Как живешь? Как здоровье? Женя, 2 кл.
Когда кончатся издевания надо мной в классе? Тоня, 4 кл.
Если Ты устроишь конец света, кто ж на тебя будет молиться? Петя, 4 кл.
Люди так страдают на Земле, неужели в Твоем аду еще хуже? Радик, 4 кл.
А другие страны Ты обслуживаешь? Толик, 3 кл.
Я Тебя, конечно, люблю, но маму и папу больше. Это ничего? Зоя, 3 кл.
Забери меня к себе в Россию. Павлик, 2 кл.
Можно мне не умирать, а? Юля, 1 кл.
А вот свечи в церкви продают, - это Твой бизнес? Толик, 2 кл.
Я прочитал, что Христос еврей, но он же Твой сын, так что - Ты тоже еврей? Ася, 2 кл.
Господи, Ты хоть мой новый адрес знаешь? Ляля, 1 кл.
Скажи, Господи, как я веду себя в обществе? Алеша, 1 кл.
Почему весной, когда вечером Ты включаешь на небе звезды и дуешь на Землю теплый ветер и вокруг тихо-тихо, мне иногда хочется плакать? Наташа, 2 кл.
Как это: на все воля божья?! И на лето, и на мамину болезнь, и на войну? Марат, 2 кл.
Прощай, Господи, я уезжаю в Израиль. Мне ужасно грустно расставаться с ребятами, с нашей Галиной Михайловной, с Тобой. Я бы пригласил Тебя в гости, но ведь там говорят на иврите. Изя, 4 кл.
А сколько Тебе лет-то, Господи? Валя, 2 кл.
Ты бы хотел быть нашим? Сема, 3 кл.
Тебе нравится, что творится на Земле? Андрей, 4 кл.
У католиков один Бог, у масульман - другой, у иудеев - третий, у лютерян - четвертый, у православных - пятый. Да сколько же вас там? Игорь, 4 кл.
Ладно, Христос страдал ради людей, а ради чего страдают люди? Гриша, 4 кл.
А когда на Земле стреляют, Ты что, не слышишь, Господи? Валера, 2 кл.
Христос Твой сын. А Тебя он любит как папу? Рита, 3 кл.
Почему люди вначале влюбляются, а потом тихо плачут? Андрей, 4 кл.
Господи, а где сейчас Христос, чем он занимается? Стелла, 2 кл.
У Тебя есть ум или Ты весь состоишь из души? Женя, 3 кл.
А ведь первыми начали рожать мужчины - вспомни ребро Адама и Еву. Чем Тебе не понравилось это и ты взвалил такой труд на женщин? Зоя, 4 кл.
Ты пишешь в Библии, что вначале было слово. Какое? Руслан, 1 кл.
Ты не знаешь, помирятся ли мои родители? Катя, 2 кл.
Тебе хорошо там? Артем, 1 кл.
Почему нищие просят милостыню около церкви? Чтоб Ты отмечал, кто дает? Ира, 2 кл.
Боженька, а душу Ты мне вложил мою или чью-то? Стасик, 2 кл.
Значит, если я правильно понял эволюцию, Ты создал Адама и Еву, а дальнейше человек произошел от обезьяны? Сергей, 3 кл.
А к другим планетам у Тебя нет раздражения? Андрей, 2 кл.
Зачем человека растили годами, а потом бац - и он уже мертв? Вася, 2 кл.
Как Ты на небе живешь? Все ли у Тебя есть? Может, что надо? Зина, 3 кл.
А я есть на самом деле? Люба, 3 кл.
Чего Ты боишься показаться людям? Нема, 4 кл.
Почему уже во втором классе многие мальчишки такие женолюбцы? Надя, 2 кл.
Вот этот мир кончится и начнется другой? Гарик, 3 кл.
Почему Ты такой - сначала плохой, а на другой день - замечательный? Оля, 2 кл.
Ты что, воздуха невидимее? Рита, 2 кл.
Как Ты думаешь, будет у нас нормальный мир или нет? Света, 3 кл.
Ты можешь мне дать удачу и надувную лодку? Арвид, 3 кл.
А как Ты появился на свет? Алеша, 1 кл.
Как это, до того, когда еще ничего не было? Но что-то же было? Настя, 1 кл.
Скажи по секрету, любит меня кто-нибудь? Анзор, 3 кл.
А как Ты отличаешь женскую душу от мужской? По писькам? Вова, 3 кл.
Правда ли, что в Греции были настоящие мифы? Владик, 3 кл.
Ты можешь сделать, чтоб у людей не было несчастных случаев? Лада, 2 кл.
Что Тебе сделал мой папа, что ему так не везет? Вита, 3 кл.
Ты добрый, но зачем надо, чтоб люди умоляли Тебя: сделай то, пошли это. Наташа, 4 кл.
А как Ты стал всемогущим? Ира, 1 кл.
Ну, а теперь Ты бы создал во второй раз человека? Олег, 3 кл.
Я без вредных привычек. Что мне светит? Роберт, 4 кл.
Господи, давай дружить? Федя, 1 кл.
На Земле столько бед и страданий, чтоб людям не жалко было умирать? Игорь, 4 кл.
Какие бы Ты поставил мне оценки за жизнь? Аркадий, 2 кл.
Ах, Господи, ну почему я так устроена? Алла, 3 кл.
Как мне жить, чтоб все на свете были счастливы? Лиза, 2 кл.
А что если люди Тебя не любят, а боятся? Руслан, 2 кл.
Зачем Ты создал этот мир, Ты что, не понял, что будет такая заморочка? Марина, 4 кл.
Для чего нужна жизнь, а если она нужна, зачем люди умирают? Костя, 2 кл.
Почему у нас дома такая собачья жизнь, что ни одна кошка не приживается? Андрей, 4 кл.
Пойду ли я когда-нибудь по тучам и облакам? Лена, 2 кл.
Что было бы на Земле, если бы Адам и Ева не нарушили Твой приказ о яблоках? Валентин, 4 кл.
Хотелось бы знать заранее, что у Тебя намечено: еще одно наводнение или Земля сгорит огненным пламенем? Кирилл, 4 кл.
В разных книгах Тебя описывают по-разному. Где бы достать Твою фотокарточку. Хоть допотопную? Рая, 3 кл.
Я родился, глянул, а мир уже такой злой, жестокий. Андрей, 4 кл.
Может, Вам там печально? Софа, 1 кл.
Тебе там нравится мой дедушка? Элла, 2 кл.
Почему я так плохо учусь? Может, из-за учителей? Гена, 3 кл.
Зачем Ты сделал человека главным на Земле? Олег, 4 кл.
А если все люди попадут в рай, места там всем хватит? Андрей, 3 кл.
Ты не знаешь, когда я стану большой, я буду хорошей девочкой или нет? Катя, 3 кл.
Правда, что до Тебя люди были обезьянами? Сергей, 4 кл.
Ты когда-нибудь смеешься? Плачешь? Ольга, 3 кл.
А атеисты у тебя что-нибудь просят? Ояр, 3 кл.
А мы не игрушки Твои? Саша, 2 кл.
Так кто же создал человека: труд или Ты? Рафик, 3 кл.
Почему Ты людям все прощаешь, а учителя - нет? Костя, 2 кл.
За что мы стареем? Илья, 3 кл.
Если я попаду в ад, Ты меня там увидишь и будешь смотреть, как надо мной издеваются? Глеб, 3 кл.
Насколько хорошо я закончу свою жизнь? Никита, 2 кл.
Там у Тебя красиво или нет? Сережа, 2 кл.
Ты счастливый? Эвелина, 1 кл.
Вот когда меня еще не было, Ты знал, что я буду? Леня, 4 кл.
А нельзя не рождаться? Света, 2 кл.
Что нужно сделать с животным, чтоб они попали в рай вместе с нами? Эгон, 3 кл.
Если у меня что-то болит, это значит, Ты на меня сердишься? Гога, 4 кл.
А не было с Тобой так: кто-то Тебе симпатичен, но он не смотрит в Твою сторону? Оля, 3 кл.
Сколько раз я буду ошибаться в любви? Три раза уже есть. Юра, 2 кл.
Слава Тебе жить не мешает? Вася, 3 кл.
За что я родилась некрасивой? Катя, 4 кл.
Не скучно Тебе быть всегда правильным? Армен, 2 кл.
Почему Ты сотворил мир таким, что когда мама порвет колготки, она плачет? Вита, 2 кл.
Когда меня не будет, я себя буду видеть? Толик, 2 кл.
Я сильно позорю Тебя? Вова, 4 кл.
Можно, я буду Тебе иногда сниться? Валера, 3 кл.
На прошлой неделе к нам в класс пришел новенький. Он такой... такой... Так что до прошлой недели все мои дни жизни не засчитывай. Оксана, 3 кл.
Дорогой Бог, прошу Тебя, сделай так, чтоб, начиная от бабушки и кончая слонами, все были счастливы, сыты и обуты. Тоня, 2 кл.
Боженька, пусть я буду жить столько, сколько хочет мама. Вера, 1 кл.
Дай здоровья, счастья маме, бабушке, дяде Феде, дяде Саше, дяде Боре и другим моим папам. Никита, 2 кл.
Господи, я Тебе благодарна за все, что Ты мне раньше делал. Но помоги мне сейчас. Моего папу посадили ни за что в тюрьму, и теперь он уже сидит 8 месяцев. Я жду его все время. Я тебя очень прошу, помоги мне. Это самая большая просьба. Потом я беспокоить Тебя никогда не буду. Даже если случится умирать. Ира, 4 кл.
Я бы попросила ума моим родителям, а то они меня совсем не понимают. Надя, 3 кл.
Помоги мне, дорогой, в грусти и печали. Евгений, 3 кл.
Я долго думала, что попросить у Тебя. Может, собаку? Потом решила, зачем Тебя беспокоить по пустякам. Надо попросить что-то очень важное. Так вот, хочу, чтоб мама приходила с работы всегда веселая и добрая. Катя, 4кл.
Пожалуйста, сделай жизнь проще. Павел, 4 кл.
Уважаемый Всевышний, сделай так, чтоб руки и ноги были вечно чистыми. Боря, 2 кл.
Покажи мне тихонечко хоть одного ангела. Рая, 2 кл.
Сделай так, чтоб во второй жизни я родилась во Франции мальчиком. Кира, 4 кл.
Пусть меня полюбит та, кто мне нравится, а я за это на ней надолго женюсь. Вася, 2 кл.
Прости всех кто не крещеный, заодно и меня. Филипп, 3 кл.
Господи, я хочу умереть не больно. Таня, 4 кл.
Чтобы я хотел попросить у Тебя? Да Ты сам все знаешь. Алик, 4 кл.
Устрой мне жизнь долгую и смешную. Ольга, 2 кл.
Хочу на Землю которою сотворил Ты, а не люди. Андрей, 4 кл.
Когда я умру, не хочу ни в рай, ни в ад. Хочу к Тебе. Вера, 3 кл.
Испари мои грехи. Толик, 3 кл.
Давай встретимся до смерти. Юра, 2 кл.
Сделай, чтоб мама и папа помирились. Боженька, помоги, я курить брошу. Юра, 3 кл.
Не для себя прошу, для человечества. Сделай, пожалуйста, так, чтобы все на свете жили хоть на 11 лет больше, чем полагается. Артур, 2 кл.
Сделай, чтоб люди умирали мирно и счастливо. Юля, 2 кл.
Пусть мои папа и дедушка станут ангелами- они будут меня оберегать. Женя, 1 кл.
Покажи, пожалуйста, меня всему миру. Алла, 2 кл.
Я бы хотел стать волшебником. Слабо? Андрей, 1 кл.
Хотел бы попасть к Тебе домой в гости. На недельку. Алена, 1 кл.
Сделай так, чтоб семья Андроновых никогда не умирала. Яша Андронов, 2 кл.
В одной книжке я прочитал стихотворение, что Ты послал вороне кусочек сыра. Не можешь мне послать тоже? Он мне тоже очень нравится. Вова, 2 кл.
Верни моих родителей в детство, я бы с мамой дружил, а отчима отметелил. Гоша, 4 кл.
Я бы хотела, чтоб мой день рождения был не раз в году, а пять. Не из-за подарков. Просто больше раз я бы видела папу. Нина, 2 кл.
Хочу тихой спокойной старости. Юра, 1 кл.
Сделай так, чтоб исчезли мои канапушки. Галя, 3 кл.
Когда моя собака уйдет с Земли, возьми ее себе. Ты будешь иметь настоящего друга. Писать и какать выводи ее в семь часов, ест она все, не кричи на нее, она может цапнуть. Жора, 2 кл.
Господи, подай ради Христа хоть чего-нибудь. Антон, 1 кл.
Пришли на Землю своего сына. Мы его не распнем. Павлик, 3 кл.
Я очень хочу, чтобы дети из приютов нашли себе новых, уютных родителей. Даша, 4 кл.
Я очень хочу, чтоб к нам папа вернулся. И чтобы он не кричал и не ругался. А если будет кричать, то онеми его. С немым даже еще лучше. Рустам, 4 кл.
Чтобы мне всегда было 16 лет. Лева, 2 кл.
Сделайте, пожалуйста, чтоб люди не умирали и не было бы комаров. Алик, 3 кл.
Найди, пожалуйста, Волка - Анатолия Папанова, Винни-Пуха - Евгения Леонова и Кота Леопольда - Андрея Миронова и скажи им, что мы их любим. Ося, 4 кл.
Сделай так чтоб человеку при рождении выдавали запасные детали: ноги, руки, письки и другие жизненно важные органы. Юра, 3 кл.
Хочу, чтоб Ты жил на Земле. Антон, 3 кл.
Не давай Верке Рогозиной то, что она попросит. Оля, 3 кл.
Давай договоримся, Господи, я верю в Тебя, Ты - в меня. Ляля, 2 кл.
Меня все время натаскивают на Твой светлый облик, смотри, не разочаруй. Андрон, 4 кл.
Помоги мне обуздать тягу к Наталье Николаевне. Ведь она старая. Ваган, 2 кл.
Если Ты найдешь мою варежку, прошу вернуть. Только честно. Аня, 3 кл.
Усынови меня, а когда Ты будешь стареньким, я подам Тебе стакан воды. Олег, 2 кл.
Следи за мной внимательнее, чтоб я чего-нибудь не вытворил. Алик, 1 кл.
Я бы попросил у Вас какое-нибудь животное, только чтоб домашнее. Если Вам тяжело, я не против и мягкой игрушки. Всегда Ваш. Сема, 3 кл.
Мой папа работает моряком, пусть волны будут добрыми к нему. Катя, 3 кл.
Ведь Ты же есть в каждом человеке, так что, пожалуйста, расскажи ей, как она мне нравится. Сам я стесняюсь. Коля, 3 кл.
Два года назад Дед Мороз подарил велосипед, но я из него вырос, мне нужен побольше. Ты же богаче Деда Мороза. Роберт, 3 кл.
Спасай людей не от грехов, а от одиночества. Сергей, 3 кл.
Я написал стихи. Они стыдные. Я их никому не показывал, но Тебе, Боженька, я покажу. Вот они. «Взрослые плачут слезами. /Взрослые плачут глазами. /Маленькие плачут сердцем, /Маленькие плачут жизнью. /Но если взрослый плачет, как маленький, /
Значит, он и правда плачет». Марик, 4 кл.
Я с ней два года ходил в садик, целых полгода учился в первом классе, и вот однажды она мне заявила: "Мы с тобой два разные человека". Ты представляешь, я хуже, чем умер. Акадий, 2 кл.
Я еще никогда не ел кекс. Может, годы не подошли? Валентин, 2 кл.
Знаешь, был на кладбище, и меня потряс один памятник. Черный большой камень, на нем высечено одно слово: «Мама». И все. Ваня, 4 кл.
Я никогда не смогу забыть папины глаза, как он смотрел, когда мама, схватив меня за руку, уходила от него навсегда. Андрей, 4 кл.
Слушай, а кем я был в другой жизни, может зря Ты меня перевел в человеки? Сеня, 3 кл.
Вот говорят: "Все там будем!" Это что - опять всем вместе? Рустам, 2 кл.
Рожают, рожают, умирают, умирают. Черт ти что! Коля, 1 кл.
Скажу Тебе по секрету, Ты только никому. Меня целовал Женька, и у нас теперь будут дети. Спасибо, на всякий случай. Зоя, 1 кл.
А знаешь, с тех пор как я узнала Тебя, я никогда не списываю. Инна, 2 кл.
Я очень люблю яблоки. Это у меня зов предков? Нина, 3 кл.
С Тобой я бы пошел в разведку. Гарик, 1 кл.
Говорят, Господи, что Ты - любовь. Извини меня, но любовь - Ира. Алик, 2 кл.
Ну, объясни, что тут смешного: просто я ей сказал: «Ты моя морщинка» Коля, 3 кл.
Я у родителей поздний ребенок, да и они у меня не дети. Юра, 3 кл.
На том родительском собрании учительница говорила про меня так много хорошего, будто я умер. Олаф, 3 кл.
Ну вот, смотри, мы учимся, учимся, а зачем нам так страдать, если мы все равно умрем и знания наши пропадут. Федя, 4 кл.
Была в деревне и увидела небольшую церковь. Беленькая, чистенькая. За ней березы, речка, а вдали большой зеленый лес. Это Твоя дача? Наташа, 4 кл.
Когда мы увидимся, я Тебе все-все расскажу о Машке. Коля, 3 кл.
Господи, вот Ты придумал деньги, а у нас дома их нет. Шурик, 3 кл.
А Ты хитрый, вначале позволяешь человеку согрешить, затем он покается, и Ты его прощаешь. Получается, Ты всегда добрый. Ловко. Толик, 4 кл.
Ты знаешь, от нас ушла мама и нам теперь с папой так хочется женской ласки. Веня, 2 кл.
Зачем Ты так часто пьешь с моим папой? Он всегда, когда поднимает рюмку вскрикивает: "Ну, с богом!". Саша, 3 кл.
Тебе не кажется, что зря на Земле нет церквей для собак. Ведь любовь к собаке не бывает без-ответной. Роберт, 4 кл.
Ну что, Светку все-таки перевели в другую школу! Теперь Ты доволен?! А я 17 раз молился Тебе... Свечку в церкви поставил, зубы на ночь чистил. А Тебе было все пофиг. Кукуй теперь там без меня! Серега, класс сам знаешь какой.
Знаешь, хоть мне кажется, что души у меня нет, но иногда она все-таки побаливает. Роман, 2 кл.
Жизнь нам дают родители, а отнимаешь ее Ты. Эрна, 2 кл.
Я себя чувствую, но плохо. Марк, 1 кл.
Ты создал человека, Господи, а он создал Тебя. И еще неизвестно, у кого это получилось лучше. Борис, 4 кл.
Я так устал от жизни. Учишься, учишься, учишься. Как дурак! Сеня, 3 кл.
Вчера узнал про Тебя классную примету: если вы богаты - это от Бога, если бедны - это к Богу. Зорик, 4 кл.
Если бы Ты первым сделал женщину, Тебе бы не пришлось возиться с ребрами. Вова, 4 кл.
Ты как полиция, Господи. Призываешь всех к порядку, когда трудно, обращаются к Тебе, а можешь так же, как они, ни за что забрать. Стасик и Нормунд, 4 кл.
Почитаешь, Господи, на кладбище надписи на памятниках, и задумаешься - а где же похоронены плохие люди? Олег, 4 кл.
Когда же придет во второй раз Иисус Христос? Надо же чтоб люди подготовились, а то бу-дет, как в первый его приход. Алина, 4 кл.
Не требуй, чтоб на Тебя все молились. Это нескромно. Валя, 4 кл.
Хорошо Тебе, Господи - с живым Высоцким общаешься. Рудик, 4 кл.
Ты знаешь, я выучил зиму, дождь, ведь в раю или в аду этого не будет. Леша, 4 кл.
Прости меня за все грехи, знаю, я наделал их много, но я не знал, что Ты есть. Шурик, 2 кл.
Ну, а когда мы спим, почему нам засчитывают жизнь? Неправельно же это. Во сне мы даже не кушаем. Женя, 4 кл.
Я плохой, но пусть бросит в меня камень, кто хороший. Только, чур, Ты сам не швыряйся! Вячеслав, 3 кл.
Развод - это похороны семьи. Оля, 4 кл.
Я Тебя уважаю за веру в человека. Игорь, 3 кл.
Скажу по секрету: когда я вижу одинокую женщину, мне бывает за Тебя стыдно. Армен, 4 кл.
Я горжусь, что у меня есть Ты. Катя, 2 кл.
Зачем Ты допускаешь разводы - это не по-божески. Галя, 3 кл.
Пишу тебе из интерната. Это такое место, куда ссылают детей за плохое поведение родителей. Ария, 4 кл.
Я еще маленькая, учусь в третьем классе, грехов пока нет, но собираются. Ева, 3 кл.
А я ведь Тебе тоже многое прощаю. Натан, 4 кл.
Ты послал меня в жизнь, которой сам недоволен. Ярик, 4 кл.
Господи, я знаю, что надо подставить другую щеку. Ну и что? Подставил, Олег мне еще раз врезал. И вот, я теперь в классе трус. Спасибо. Эдик, 3 кл.
Как избавиться от греха? Помолиться, и все? Ну, Ты даешь! Сергей, 3 кл.
Всего Тебе в жизни наилучшего. Степа, 1 кл.
Боженька, приглашаю Тебя на мой день рождения, который состоится 4 августа в 14 часов. Бу-ду ждать. Если нет денег, приходи без подарка. Миша, 2 кл.
А я ведь каждую секундочку умираю. Паша, 1 кл.
Чем больше живешь, тем загробнее. Радик, 1 кл.
Цветы у Тебя получились лучше, чем человек. Галя, 4 кл.
Кролик проснулся, а его уже нет. Ося, 3 кл.
Как жаль, что все проходит. Сергей, 3 кл.
Не бойся, Господи, я с Тобой! Андрей, 1 кл.
Сможешь ли Ты простить мне мои грехи? Если нет, то я тогда буду грешить дальше, но уже со спокойной душой. Эрнст, 4 кл.
Господи, в те разы когда я не молюсь, не сердись - я весь в любви. Яша, 4 кл.
Эх, мне бы Твои возможности! Олег, 2 кл.
Милый Боженька, до скорой встречи. Яша, 2 кл.
…Признайся честно, Боже, это Ты подстроил? Леша, 4 кл.
Вчера в школе объявили, что Ты есть. Здравствуй. Леня, 3 кл.
Милый Боженька, забери меня обратно, здесь так скучно. Вася, 2 кл.
Отпусти, пожалуйста, на Новый год ко мне бабушку. Рая, 2 кл.
Ты обещал защищать слабых, обиженных, что-то я это не чувствую. Рома, 3 кл.
Господи, не умирай, пожалуйста, а то на Земле начнется такое... Ася, 2 кл.
Ах, если бы Ты знал меня раньше! В садике. Сейчас я немного сдала. Света, 2 кл.
Я пишу Тебе, а ответа все нет. Ленив Ты. Ларик, 2 кл.
…Все. Дальше, Господи, Тебе неинтересно. Артур, 4 кл

Откопала на одном из старых дисков комикс "Боромирчик" авторства Катарины Хмель, она же знаменитая Кассиопея. И как я могла о таком забыть...