Chapter 2

Though Athara had never felt she had reason to fear her Master, that didn't mean she wasn't occasionally anxious to be in his presence. She wasn't a fool. And bearing the news she had? Anxious was putting it mildly.

The intelligence Waelon had presented her wasn't potentially critical, it was potentially explosive. The Death Star was the biggest kept secret in the Empire. If word of it got out before the Emperor was ready? Even as ineffectual as it had become, the Senate would not stand for it. That the ranks from the lowest soldier up to Vader, Athara and even Grand Moff Tarkin—at least so far as those who knew of the project, of course—were utterly divided over the project further complicated the whole situation. Tarkin was almost painfully eager in his support of the project, salivating at the prospective opportunity to command the new Imperial Battlestation with its devastating Superweapon. Meanwhile Vader was almost apathetic toward the Death Star. Athara suspected the Battlestation didn't sit well with the Sith Lord, its potential unsettling to him. It was something that Athara was inclined to agree with. But until recently, she'd honestly paid the project little mind.

The Death Star had been under construction since before she was born, and it was only in the last several years, arguably the last several months, that the weapon it was intended to boast actually seemed viable.

Now that it was on the verge of being fully operational? The only feeling Athara could rightly own to was dread. Everything else was muddled and uncertain, save for the overarching and unmistakable feeling of dread thinking of the Battlestation evoked.

And that dread had nothing to do with the fact that there was a very real threat of the secrecy surrounding the Battlestation and its Superweapon being blown wide open.

No matter her opinion or her Master's on the issue, the potential leak was still a huge problem for the Empire. Which meant, by extension, it was a huge problem for Athara and her Master. It was enough that Athara was willing to risk entering her Master's chambers when she knew he was preparing for one of the many medical treatments he regularly underwent to keep his damaged body even marginally functional.

For almost her entire life, Athara had been privy to many of her Master's secrets and confidences. That she herself could be considered one of those secrets made that inevitable on some level. She was closer to him than anyone alive, seeing a side to him that no one else ever had. But one secret he had never allowed her to witness was the true extent of the damage to his body. She had never seen him without his iconic mask and had only once before seen evidence, no matter how fleeting, of just how mechanized his body was; when she was a child, she had seen one of his cybernetic arms being replaced after it had been irreparably damaged on a mission. It had seemed as simple a process to her Master as changing her tunic was to Athara. It had been utterly baffling to her at the time that he could be so inured to the process.

But as she had grown, she had learned more about what was required to keep him alive. From questions that he had eventually, and sometimes reluctantly, answered to less than approved research on her part into his sealed medical records, she had eventually come to realize that the only reason he was still alive was thanks for the most part to his suit, the Dark Side and sheer force of will.

But even knowing what she did about the state of his body, Vader had still refused to let her see that side of him; the vulnerable, physically ravaged side. It was one of the primary reasons for his visits to Mustafar and why he valued the privacy of the forbidding planet enough to tolerate his Fortress' location there; the bulk of the specialized medical facilities he required for the periodic treatments necessary to keep his body viable enough for the suit to sustain were located in his Fortress on the lava planet. So she knew as she punched her override code into the entrance keypad for his chambers that she was risking his wrath. It was a risk she was willing to take, or rather, it was something that she was required to do out of necessity.

As she strode into the chamber, nose wrinkling slightly at the lifeless, sterile tang in the air from the heavy-duty ventilation and air-scrubbing system, she wasn't entirely sure what to expect. It took a great deal of effort to keep her sigh of relief to herself as she approached her Master's Primary Medical Unit—he had a similar black-domed hyperbaric chamber both on the Devastator and on Coruscant—catching sight of her still robed and masked mentor. A flash of angry disappointment and a flicker of unease reached her through the Force as her Master looked up from where one of his army of medical droids was beginning the process of removing his right cybernetic arm—the underlying structures and mechanisms already bared in preparation for removal—even as a second droid was beginning to gather and activate the equipment that would perform the functions of his suit during the procedure. Off to the side, a series of doors whirred shut, each sealing with a faint hiss, but not before Athara caught a glimpse of the large, cocoon-like Bacta Chamber that dominated the immense, cavernous abyss that resided at the heart of the obsidian Fortress; she'd never once seen the inside of the Bacta Chamber.

But the flash of anger faded almost immediately as her Master sensed her disquiet, knowing before she even said a word that she hadn't entered his chambers without good reason. Lowering her head slightly in deferential greeting, she stepped forward to hand him the Datapad containing the dossier Waelon had put together about the happenings on Jedha, both of the defecting pilot and the total and abrupt destruction of the city.

As he read, the Dark Lord stood slowly, menace and aggravation beginning to bleed from beneath his metal shields. With a step back and to the side, Athara moved out of his way as he waved off the droids with his exposed cybernetic hand and descended from the platform his Medical Unit sat upon.

"Do we know anything else?" When he finally spoke, looking up at her from behind his unreadable mask, his voice seemed to echo in the quiet of the room, the ambient noise seeming to fade at the intent focus of the Sith Lord and his apprentice. Lowering her hood, knowing that, despite being able to read her like a book through the Force, her Master still preferred to see her face when they were alone, Athara shook her head.

"Only what is on there," she assured him, gesturing absently to the datapad in his hand. "We have no further word on the whereabouts of the pilot beyond rumour that he was still on Jedha. While it is possible that he perished in the destruction of the Holy City, I think it would be unwise to assume as much. At the very least, we cannot be sure that the leak was contained to the city. It may very well have spread beyond Jedha. More than that, it would seem the initial security breach originated on Eadu." She could feel her Master's irritation and frustration seething in the face of the intelligence he held in his hand.

"What has Director Krennic done to deal with this situation?" He asked softly, the question seeming almost rhetorical. But Athara could feel her own frustration deepening at the mention of the man overseeing the Death Star.

She had never liked Krennic. He was far too irrational and volatile, his ambition outstripping his admittedly prodigious talent when it came to certain aspects of the task he had been given. But he was not the military leader he envisioned himself to be nor was he the political mind he assumed he was. He was a builder. He was also a manipulator, and Athara had never been fond of manipulators. Especially ones with Krennic's less than subtle approaches.

"Unclear," she said in response, "but it seems he has requested an audience with you, Master." Vader turned to her again, his frustration seeming to heighten as annoyance mingled with his irritation. She imagined that, could she see his face, his brow would be furrowed thoughtfully even as he scowled at the news. She had nearly growled herself when Lieutenant Adahn had informed her of that particular development when she had been waiting for Commander Waelon to gather the intelligence on Jedha for her to bring before Lord Vader. She couldn't help the trace of a grin as she continued. "It's a gesture that hints at desperation to me." Amusement flickered through her Master's growing temper.

"The only reason Krennic requests audiences is to ask for favour," her Master tacitly agreed after a moment, his voice laced with disdain. She nodded absently, unable to help but posit about Krennic's motivations.

"Either he's intending to ask for our help in plugging up his leaks, which I must admit I doubt given his pride, or he's hoping for your support on some matter relating to the Death Star. The timing is far too coincidental for it to be about anything else." A noncommittal sound escaped from Vader's respirator.

"He's hoping for my support against Governor Tarkin, I would not doubt." Athara let out a sigh of understanding as soon as the words left her Master's mouth. That would not be surprising in the slightest, come to think of it. For all that her Master claimed he had little interest or inclination for politics, he was not blind nor was he oblivious to the ambitions or the political intrigues of the Imperial military and political elite.

Grand Moff Tarkin had been waiting eagerly, if not entirely patiently, to take control of the Death Star the instant the Battlestation was operational, deftly playing the political game to paint himself and himself alone in the best light when it came to the Death Star's development and construction. And even though she didn't know Krennic all that well for all that she knew of him, she suspected that the Director bristled under the weight of that knowledge. Now that the alleged test of the weapon did indeed appear to have been successful, it was only a matter of time before Tarkin took over. It was even possible that he already had. Now that her Master had reminded her of that fact, Athara was certain that was what was behind Krennic's request; either he hoped to prevent Tarkin from wresting control of the Death Star from him…or he was hoping to regain control of the Battlestation after losing it to the slippery Grand Moff.

…Not that supplicating himself before her Master was likely to get him anywhere. Regardless of how little her Master liked Tarkin, he was not about to set himself up against the Grand Moff, especially not for Director Krennic, whom the Dark Lord potentially liked even less. Even if Krennic were to petition Palpatine directly, Athara had to admit she'd be very surprised indeed if the Emperor were to even consider giving the borderline incompetent Director control over the project his favourite Grand Moff had been championing nearly from the beginning.

With an absent gesture Vader held out the Datapad for her to take, which she did automatically, before ascending back up into his Medical Unit to continue preparing for his procedure. After lowering himself back into the throne-like chair, he gestured sharply for the waiting droids to continue their work. Glancing back up to her Master after a reflexive glance down at the Datapad in her hand, Athara stepped forward again, stopping just short of climbing the shallow steps up to the Medical Unit.

"How do you wish to proceed," she finally prompted when he showed no immediate sign of either providing her with orders or dismissing her. At first he didn't even seem to react, though she could sense his attention had shifted back to her even as he remained deep in thought. After a long moment he turned back to her, his gaze carrying weight even though it was tempered by the expressionless nature of the mask hiding his features.

"Go to Eadu," he finally said, seeming to relax back into his seat even though Athara could still pick up on the tension in his shoulders. "Find the source of the leak and deal with it. If Krennic has any sense whatsoever, he will also be en route to the facility. You will inform him that his request to meet with me has been granted and you will ensure that he comes before me as soon as you are finished on Eadu." It took some effort to keep her dismay at Krennic's request being accommodated to herself—something the flicker of silent rebuke through the Force from her Master told her she hadn't quite succeeded in—but she nevertheless nodded her understanding.

"Yes, Master."

And with a sharp turn, she was descending from the edge of the Medical Unit and exiting her Master's private chambers.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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