A medical droid's sensors beeped as it scanned the sith lord for vital readings. The very latest in high technology. The emperor had said. Only the best for my friend. Darth Vader spared the clunking creation with a disdainful eye. A model that had been used before the Clone Wars, outdated by several years. The emperor could have easily afforded much better. It was an insult to his intelligence to say this was the "latest model". An intentional insult.
Vader's thoughts wander as he was slowly lowered into a bacta tank, the foggy liquid swirling his murky thoughts. If he had cared about living, about his own comfort and value, he would have ordered better medical treatment. But he had ceased to care about his own well-being the day her being slipped from this galaxy's grip.
But here he was, soaking in bacta that would knit his flesh back together just enough to keep him alive and in pain. There was another senate meeting today, dull and boring as they all were, and the emperor was insisting that he attend,. There had been faint rumors about a force sensitive on Lothal, and at any other time Vader would have made an excuse to be on the hunt again for his favorite prey. But a dim tugging at what was left of his heart kept him on Corosant. A very dim, barely there, pitiful sort of tugging. But it was enough.
It had been exactly thirty seven standard days since he had first laid eyes on the young senator from Alderaan. Chained to his post by the throne, he had watched her out of the corner of his eye, her snarky manner, prideful bearing, fury in the face of injustice. It was as if the barren skies Tatooine were giving forth rain. Her every spark of defiance kept a fire in him alive, and he burned with pride and admiration, his burns unable to keep him from blazing a grim grin.
She was a defiant slave girl, rattling and pulling at her chains, giving the master haughty looks in the face of her beatings, then beating him at his own games.
It gave him hope in his own bondage of shame and hate and bitter misery. That even if he was weak, there was someone out there who was strong. Young, foolish, so much like he had been. But stronger, better than he had been, someone who stood up to Palpatine the way he had not. Leia. The strong one. Leia, my strength.
" Your basic vital functions are improving greatly." Beeped the droid. "There is no medical explanation for this…"
Vader's thoughts froze in their tracks. Sith Lords were not weak. Sith Lords did not need inspiration. Sith Lords relied on hate and anguish for power, not the hope provided by a fiery young idealist with dark brown hair and snapping caramel eyes.
"Your suit is ready." Beeped the droid, as his moveable coffin closed around him. "You are functional. You must go to the senate and wait at.."
"Yes, yes," interrupted Lord Vader, sweeping out of the chamber grandly. "I am well aware of the arrangements. Inform the emperor…" The Sith lord paused at the door, torn between slaking his hate with the blood of a possible force-sensitive on Lothal, or going to the Senate to feel his chains loosen for a short hour. Deliberating for a moment, he turned sharply to the droid.
"Will Princess Leia Organa be speaking at the senate today?"
"She is scheduled for a forty five minute speech on Alderaan's neutral position in Galactic affairs and a debate with Moff Tarkin about the spice mines on Kessel, sir."
Vader's mind was made up. "Tell the Emperor I will be there."
"And you are dismissed. I am ordering a new medical droid, as well as high tech bacta patches for my facial muscles."
"The Emperor does not deem it necessary…"
"Trust me." Vader stretched his cheeks, sore from smiling. "I need them."
The chains rattled.
This is ongoing. Sorry for the wait!
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