Premise:
Master and Padawan were locked in mortal battle-it seemed as though neither could survive.
"You can't win, Anakin. I have the upper ground."
Preparing for a mighty leap, the newly-born Sith started to think perhaps his opponent was right. He looked up to recheck the dimensions when he saw her. Padme; his love. The one he was doing all this for. What was she doing here? Her face was pallid, her eyes dazed. She was walking slightly staggered, as though she were drunk with Alderaan Ale. But that couldn't be. She was pregnant with their son. He let his guard down as the vision flashed through his mind. He shook his head, trying to regain focus. All of this had taken place in a matter of milliseconds, but it was enough for Obi-Wan to make a move. He used a Force-push to shove the equipment Anakin was standing on. It propelled further into the lava flow. He than began to override the system. The equipment was easy to manipulate-deftly his fingers flashed over the keyboard, reconfiguring the entire grid.
Vader fell to his knees at the sudden momentum away from the mainland. He jumped up, gathered the Dark Side about himself, and moved back to shore. In anticipation for what he was sure would be the death blow, he tossed his saber back and forth between his hands.
Looking up, Kenobi saw his lost Padawan engaging in an all too familiar battle game. He always did this in training sessions, seconds before he defeated an opponent. Yoda had time and again warned against it,
"Mindful of his subconscious tendencies, a Jedi must be, else his enemy take vantage from them."
Obi-Wan felt real fear now. He might actually die.
Chapter I
Anakin paced around the room. He sensed, or thought he felt, Padme in the Force. That was impossible-he'd never had an incorrect vision. He'd seen her die a thousand times in his nightmares. Always, it was in childbirth. For awhile, he'd felt a familiar aura, but at the same time it was one he didn't recognize. His master had told him perhaps it was his son, reaching out with an infant's grasp the power of the Force. Listening to the reason in the Emperor's knowledge, Anakin began a search. Like Pharaoh, he ordered baby boys on many of the major planets not killed, but scanned for midichlorians. Those found wanting were tagged, as would become customary in the Empire. The babes with Jedi potential, however, were slaughtered. The Emperor had at first argued against this, seeing it as a waste of potential, but then his clever apprentice had reminded him,
"There will still be the females to carry on the genes to the next generation."
"Ah, yes, my apprentice. How right you are, it is the in the 'x' chromosome that the midichlorians make themselves carried."
He had then ordered all the clones to dispose of all the male infants. But than what was this he felt? Darth Vader had felt the sense intensify, but he hid this from his master. The idea of his son surviving reminded the Sith of his vulnerability. However, it was feeling the presence of his love that sent him into a tumult. How angry he still was with his former master and her! He'd tried telling himself that his suspicions were irrelevant-she loved him, and him alone. But that had been before he had turned, to save her!
"Arrr!"
He yelled his frustration. Many of the men working on the new Death Star turned to stare, but they knew better than to continue doing so. One particular sergeant was unnerved at how suddenly the Sith lord gave a wry grin. His yellow eyes glinted, metallically. Shaking his head, Vader said aloud for whomever to hear,
"Isn't it ironic?"
No one dared respond, but he carried on in the farce conversation anyway,
"I gave up everything for her, and than she runs to that bearded old fool."
Regaining his composure, Vader turned in a sweeping arc, back to his quarters. His black cape flowing out behind, he created all too much fear in the crew. The sergeant would be sure to note the detrimental effects this had on morale.
Vader sensed this adversity and shook his head in disappointment. Everyone heard his heavy boots clank back to the command deck,
"SERGEANT VYKES!"
The disconsolate man stood and faced his superior, not desiring to delay the inevitable. Every man worked harder than ever, in vain hopes of distracting themselves from the soon-to-come encounter. The Sith again gave that grin, squinting his eyes, he said,
"Don't forget to include THIS into your report!"
As he said "this", Vader had begun the Force choke on the helpless sergeant. Calmly, the hooded villain raised his mechanical arm, letting the moment etch itself into the man's memory.
"Now, now, now, my apprentice. However are these men to get on with the space station if you continue to terrorize them?"
The ominous presence of the Emperor had sent a chill up the spine of every man present. Several swallowed dryly in fear.
"I'm sorry, my master. Just thought I'd teach this one a lesson."
With this, Vykes was released. He fell to the ground with a resounding 'thud' on the ground. As he crouched on the ground, feeling his throat for bruises, yet finding none, the Emperor addressed him in his mind,
"You are hereby relieved of this space station, sergeant. You are to find post in my offices on Coruscant. Your shrewdness is required there."
The man was forced onto his feet as the Emperor lifted his hands, like a puppeteer with a marionette. Vykes rushed from the room, tripping half way down the hall.
Vader glared at him as he exited, snorted to himself.
"What is it that my master desires? Surely more than to spare the lives of replaceable peons."
"Don't forget that, my apprentice. Peons are replaceable."
He glared at Vader, letting the full weight of his statement sink in. Of course he didn't mean it. He just said it to embarrass the younger Sith. Others would hear this, and whisper. This would cause Vader to doubt himself. The doubt would breed hatred…hatred lead further into the dark side.
"Good," the Emperor thought to himself, "He's been growing too confident."
Outloud, he said, "You've been hiding something from me, my apprentice. You sense Padme Amidala. Why didn't you share this with me?"
"I was debating whether it was truly her. I knew that you have a greater grasp of the Force. If such a foe remained, certainly you would have sensed it first. I didn't want to distract you with such...trivial matters."
"Vader, I am going to let you in on a secret. You may have noticed this yourself, but you are more able to sense those people close to you than I. Besides, I have been expending my energies searching for Yoda. I am relying on you to find Master Kenobi and the pathetic little Senator from Naboo."
"I am sorry, my master. It won't happen again. I thank you for informing me of my uses to you. Do you want me to send out probes to search for her?"
"No, no. I believe that you will be far better at finding this particular fugitive. Make haste and bring her back alive, if at all possible. Use your own discretion, and do not attempt to contact me unless it is absolutely necessary. Otherwise, she may have sensors up looking for a feed to me. This is one of the few warning systems the Rebel Scum have perfected. Our other form of communication is to be disrupted for now. You will need to focus on bending her mind to your will. Understood?"
"Yes my master. Will that be all?"
"One more thing, Vader, I hope it isn't necessary to remind you to maintain your loyalties to me",
This last part he said in that mournful voice he had perfected over the years in the Senate,
"Don't let that little minx distract you."
"Never, my master."
With a swoosh of black fabric, the apprentice left the room. He stalked down the corridor until he reached a lift. He punched in the authorization code for the flight deck. Once there, he raced to his craft and jumped in. Before lifting off, he felt his saber at his side. He had taken off into the black of space before any of the clones could ask if he required escort.