This is either a trap or an opportunity. And either way, Vader risks death by being here. But he is not a man who has ever shied from danger. And, besides, his life is miserable enough these days that he's willing to take this chance.

The overture had come at a weak moment. He's sure the timing had not been an accident.

Sidious' old castoff manservant marches before him. The masked Sith has his sword lit and poised at the man's back. Old Milo will be the first to die if this is a ruse.

He follows the old man deeper into the ancient temple, ducking for the low clearance at the final doorway. The route up to this point has been circuitous, but the Sith committed it to memory. He may need to make a quick exit.

Their destination is a cavernous room that is empty but for a large stone table in the center. From an open skylight high above bright sunlight filters down from Naboo's surface. Even still, the room is draped in sepulchral gloom.

A man stands before the table, waiting with his back turned. The figure is tall, topping even himself. And he is cloaked and hooded in flowing black. The Sith hears the sound of heavy assisted breathing that is not his own.

"Who are you?" he demands without preamble. He's a man of action, not a man of words.

The stranger answers with a command. "Put away your weapon. I mean you no harm." The man's voice is low and gravelly with a cultured accent he cannot place.

Vader considers a moment. Then extinguishes his sword. But the saber hilt remains firmly grasped in his hand. He's a man who has been at war since his teenaged years, and he is vigilant by nature. And everything about this clandestine meeting smacks of danger. Terrible, life altering danger.

The Sith can feel the Shadow Force swirling around him, its frantic eddies and flows a prologue to the imminent change to come. Yes, what happens here today will matter. And whoever this cloaked man is, he matters too. Like his cruel Master, this stranger appears to be completely ordinary in the Force. But his gut tells him that is a lie.

For the first time, he is glad that he has come.

"Milo, leave us," the stranger commands.

The servant bows and begins to withdraw, but Vader ignites his saber to stop him in his tracks. The masked Sith is unwilling to lose the potential leverage of his hostage. He doesn't know if this old man's life has any value to trade, but it's all he has. "He stays."

The mysterious figure turns now to face him, but his features are hidden in the shadows of his hood. The man's tone is patiently chiding. "Do not murder poor Milo. He is your ally, not your enemy. And good help is hard to find. Even for the Sith."

Milo is a spy, that much is clear. Whether he is an ally remains to be seen. "He stays."

"Very well." The cloaked figure does not debate the point. Neither of them is here to talk about old Milo.

"Who are you?" Vader demands again impatiently.

The cloaked figure reaches to toss back his hood. "I am Darth Plagueis the Wise. Apprentice to Tenebrous and Master to Sidious."

Those claims may or may not be true. But what is true is that this man is horribly disfigured like himself. And wearing a respirator like himself. Standing facing one another, each draped in black, there are more similarities than differences.

He sees that the man's breathing apparatus is discrete, covering only his mouth. It must be optional then. A crutch, but not a necessity. The rest of his face is bare. The man has a gaping hole in his left cheek and a misshapen jaw, most of one ear is gone, and a glaring scar extends down the center of his forehead much like himself. As far as he can tell, the man is humanoid, but not human. With grayish white skin reminiscent of a Muun.

The masked Sith takes his time to look his full before responding curtly. "Liar. Plagueis is long dead."

And this provokes a sly chuckle. "Oh, he's not dead. Not yet." And, surprisingly, the man smiles. From behind the respirator, he can't see the man's mouth but he can see his cheeks lift and his eyes squint from the movement. "Not dead," he repeats. "Not ever."

"What do you want?" He gets right to the point. The longer he lingers here, the more dangerous it is. He's not here to play games.

"I wished to meet you. And I wished to thank you."

To thank him? That's not the typical reaction Vader gets. He smirks behind the mask.

Again, the mysterious man chides him. "You should cloak yourself in the Force, Lord Vader. You are far too easy for a Jedi to sense. I could feel you in the Force miles away."

He bristles at this condescension. Arrogance has long been his default response to criticism. "I have no need to hide. There are no Jedi."

The man grunts at his. Dark eyes look straight into his mask and seem to look straight through him. "You and I both know that there are still Jedi."

The stranger cocks his head now as he observes, "You do not know how to hide in the Force, do you?" The man with the ruined face so like his own shakes his head in disdain. "Sidious teaches you nothing. Hiding in the Force is the first lesson of being a Sith and he does not teach it. Sheev is such a disappointment . . . such a disappointment."

And again, Vader bristles. Not on his Master's behalf, but on his own. For as long as he can remember, whether Jedi or Sith, someone has found him to be lacking.

"Yes, I know how much he fears your power. How he worries that one day you will eclipse him. I know that he keeps you away from his inner circle. That he keeps you on a short leash busy on endless, pointless missions. I know that he teaches you very little of the Dark Side of the Force. That you were stronger as a Jedi than you are now as a Sith." The man waves away one spindly fingered hand as if to indicate that he could go on and on with these complaints. "I know these things, you know these things. But do you know why?"

So now it's a guessing game? He'll play along. "Why?"

"Because Sheev Palpatine knows that you are my son."

What? Vader frowns and is silent at this bold claim.

"Yes, Anakin Skywalker, I am your father."

"That's not true," he scoffs, unimpressed and annoyed. "That's impossible." Whoever this poseur is, he's not even human. He couldn't possibly be his father.

"Anything is possible in the Force. You are not my biological child. I created you in the Force. I have devoted my life to the scientific study of the Force. After years of research, I have learned how to create life anew, how to extend life indefinitely, and how to resurrect it once lost. I am a Sith Master with the power of a god. And you, Lord Vader, are my son."

He says nothing to this proud speech.

"Yes . . . search your feelings. The Jedi Chosen One long foretold was created by a Sith. Fitting is it not? For you are to bring balance to the Force. But you will never achieve that with Sidious. He fears the Light, disdains it. Arrogantly thinks to eliminate it. Heed my words that is a fool's errand, Lord Vader. The Light and the Dark shall ever coexist. No matter how many Jedi you slaughter, you will never succeed in stamping out the Light. And you risk provoking the Force to strike back against you in the process."

The man shrugs. "Oh, I have no issue with the destruction of the Jedi Order. In fact, I thank you for it. And I thank you for destroying Dooku. Once you destroy Kenobi and Yoda, you will have achieved my revenge for me."

"Revenge for what?"

"For my wife and for my biological son who the Jedi irreparably harmed."

"Then, you're welcome," Vader says dryly.

The stranger nods at this and then resumes speaking. "Years ago, my wife saw you in the Force. She saw the birth of your twin children, the death of your wife, and the rise of your Jedi Rebel son. I know your history and your future, Lord Vader, and I can help you and your son achieve your destiny."

Twin children? A son? These are lies. Cruel lies that remind him of a future that he has lost and a love that he cannot let die. "My wife is dead. My children died with her." This topic is closed.

But the stranger does not take the hint. "Your wife died in childbirth but your children live. The Jedi have them. My wife saw it in a vision."

He does not want to speak about this. For of all the mistakes he has made through the years-and there are many-there is none Vader regrets more than harming his Padme. "You lie. Visions lie."

"That is the Jedi in you talking. Did the Order have you too long? Sidious and I discussed many times whether we should simply steal you away. Perhaps we made the wrong decision. Of course, even then Sidious was jealous of your power. And now he holds you back like the Jedi once held you back. Everyone fears your power, Lord Vader."

The stranger pauses to let this flattery sink in before making his offer. Of course, he thinks cynically to himself, there is an offer. He knows the ways of the Sith.

"With my help, you can be rid of Sidious forever."

"So I can be your apprentice instead?" he challenges. These words drip with sarcasm. Yes, he knew this was coming. And while deposing Sidious has its appeal, he won't exchange one lying manipulative master for another.

"My son, whether you will admit it or not, you need a teacher."

"I have a Master. I don't need another." He has long ago grown tired of having someone tell him what to do.

"Ah, but I can give you an apprentice. You have a son, Lord Vader. A boy strong in the Force and untrained. Left a fallow, rich field all these years. Ready to learn and to grow."

"Visions lie." He repeats the conventional wisdom of the Jedi. The Order was wrong about a great many things, but not that.

The stranger counters softly. "My wife was a powerful seer. Never once have I known her foresight to fail. I trust in her. I trust in the Force. She gave us all the clues we need to rescue him. To bring him home."

Vader pushes aside the temptation to believe in this fallacy. He has been a fool for beguiling lies like this before, and he will not be a fool again. Visions have only misled him in the past. So resolutely, he ignores them now.

But the momentary hesitation is noted. "You have had these visions too, then? Do you know of the boy who waits for you to claim him? Who knows only lies and is hungry for the truth? He is strong, Lord Vader. So ssstrong."

The stranger relishes his words. And he hears the craving for power behind it. Yes, this is another Sith who seeks to use him. And to use his son, if the boy even exists.

"No."

"Do not dare lie to me, son. I see through you. You have suspected this boy. Yes . . . I see it in your mind." The stranger shifts postures back to persuasion now. "I will train you both. Then together, you and the boy can destroy Sidious."

"You would use me to achieve your own revenge."

"It is our revenge. And your opportunity. I taught Sheev Palpatine everything he knows. But I did not teach him everything I know." The cloaked man with the ruined face steps forward. Then closer still. Now he can see the full extent of the damage and it is considerable. "Sidious was a satisfactory apprentice. But I knew that you would one day come along to replace him. And so I saved all my best secrets for you, my son."

"You speak treason."

The man chuckles at this. "No, I speak as a Sith. And it is a time honored tradition for an apprentice to supplant his master. Consider the matter, Lord Vader. With my help, you could rule the galaxy with your son at your side. A dynasty of Skywalker Sith princes. Grandfather, father and son. All allied and unstoppable in the Force."

It's a heady thought, but quickly he brushes it aside. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because we are family." Again, Vader glimpses the suggestion of a slow smile behind the respirator. "And because you will never get a better offer. Consider it well. Milo will know how to contact me." The stranger turns to leave.

And he's curious, despite his better judgment. "Wait. The other twin. Is it a girl?"

The man does not turn back around. "Yes."

"She is strong in the Force?" he wants to know. Does she look like Padme, he wonders.

And now the man half turns back to him as he responds. "Not as strong as the boy. And women do not make good Sith. Dooku tried and failed with one. Women may be the far more emotional sex, but rarely do they have the temperament and fortitude to be Sith. Women are so easily manipulated." Again, Vader sees that hint of a smile behind the respirator. "It's part of what makes them so delightful, don't you think?"

"But your wife with the visions-she was Sith? On the Dark Side?" He's curious.

"Oh, no. Lady Plagueis was Jedi. She was Light through and through."

A Jedi and a Sith? That makes no sense. More lies, he's sure. But he challenges anyway, "How?"

"Because Dark and Light coexist. And so the mate for an old Dark Sith like myself was a young innocent Jedi. We balanced one another." He warms to his theme now. "We each play a role. I am the patriarch destined to rule and to teach. You are the valiant son who shall stand at my side and reclaim your boy stolen by the Jedi. And my wife," he falls silent a moment. Then resumes. "My Shan was the one to see it all long ago. She will be the one to bring our family together. For that is what women do. They create families and they hold them together."

The man raises dark eyes that once again stare deeply into his mask. "I too lost a beloved wife, Lord Vader. I might have given yours back to you, had you come to me. Sidious does not know the secrets of resurrecting the dead through the Force. Did he promise to bring her back? If he did, he lied."

This is a bitter topic. As far as he is concerned, Sith resurrections are a complete fraud. "Why didn't you bring back your own dead wife?" he demands.

"One day, I shall, Lord Vader. One day, I shall. Consider my offer well, son. And take care." The man sounds almost kindly now. "Sidious will kill you if he learns that we have met."

With that parting advice, the stranger heads for the door, moving slowly with labored effort. Surely, there must be other grave wounds concealed beneath the man's cloak, Vader thinks watching him go. He can't help but wonder. Pain is something he understands.

And then the fatherless slave boy turned Jedi turned Sith is left alone to brood. After a few moments, he reluctantly shakes off the self-indulgence. He has work to do back at the Death Star. Hopefully, that stubborn Rebel princess will have succumbed to the mind probe by now. He wants to know what happened to the plans.

And if he can find the location of the Rebel base perhaps he can crush them with one swift stroke and be done with the Alliance. And then there will be no more endless, pointless missions for his Master. He might finally be done with war and get a chance to build something. To be something more than the deadly thug that Maul was. More than the transitional figure that Tyranus was.

Darth Vader has waited a long time for the chance to make things the way he wants them to be.

"Milo," he calls to the silent servant standing behind him.

"Yes, my lord." The slight human steps up quickly and bows low in acknowledgement.

"Why did he wait so long." He's been Sith for almost twenty years. Why now?

"That is a question for Lord Plagueis, my lord." The old retainer respectfully punts his answer while he keeps his eyes low.

But the masked Sith will not be put off. For now he suspects very strongly that this man knows far more than he is letting on. "Answer me, Milo."

His castlekeeper nods and takes a breath. "I believe that Lord Plagueis was waiting for his Skywalker grandson to grow. And—"

"And what?"

"And Lord Plagueis worried that you might reject him, my lord."