Chapter Three

Jix popped into Vader's private palace rooms shortly before midnight. The man himself was still awake, working his way through some incredibly dull report no doubt, when Jix strode in and dumped the uterine tank on the table before him with a loud clang.

Vader looked up and arched an eyebrow. "What is that?"

Jix smirked. This was going to be good. "Your kid."

Vader sat frozen for an extremely long time, stunned, with an expression on his face that indicated he didn't quite believe what he was hearing. At last he said, in a dangerously low voice, "What?"

Jix lounged against the wall. "Seeeee…." he explained slowly, "I wasn't quite sure what you meant by 'take care of it' and I didn't really want to take the chance of misinterpreting it. So I cleaned up the mess on Naboo—the woman thinks she miscarried her lover's child—and brought the kid here, to you." He pushed the tank across the table to Vader. The man seemed unable to take his eyes off of it. "So, here you go, meet your son."

Vader seemed stunned. "What did you do?"

He inched a little closer to the tank, as if unable to stop himself.

"I froze the kid," said Jix, congratulating himself on the expression on Vader's face. If only he could take a holoimage of this moment. "I put the mom under—don't worry, she has no idea what happened—and extracted the embryo, put it in this artificial uterine, and froze it. The kid is still alive in there—just in stasis. All you have to do is press this little button on the side"—he showed Vader a small green button—"and the stasis will be lifted. In approximately eight months, you'll have a baby."

"And why," asked Vader, for the first time showing an expression other than shock: distaste, "would I ever want to do that?" He inched away from the tank, as if to unconsciously prove his point.

Jix shrugged. "I dunno. I never understand your mind. But he's yours to deal with, if you want him."

"I don't," said Vader emphatically.

"Well, that's up to you. But me, I'd put a little more thought into it before throwing the kid away. I mean, who knows—in twenty years when you're old, alone, and miserable, you may want a child." He paused. "Well, you're alone and miserable now, so who knows. Maybe you could…"

Vader glowered at him, and Jix decided it was time to make his escape.

-Scene Break-

Vader stared at the tank, unable to believe that Jix had brought it to him. He had no idea what was going through the man's mind. He was pretty sure "Take care of it" had one very clear meaning, at least coming from Vader.

Vader continued staring at the tank, a little fascinated despite himself. He had known it was possible to grow babies to term in artificial tanks—the clones had to come from somewhere, didn't they?—but he had never thought the tank would be so small, and, well, portable. I mean, a baby could grow to term inside of that? Were babies really that small?

Vader shook himself. He couldn't let himself get distracted. He didn't want a baby. In fact, he disliked children in general. Why Jix had brought the kid back to him alive was beyond him. All he needed to do was crush the tank and throw it away, and this incident would be behind him. He extended his hand and gathered the Dark Side, intending to crush the little tank like a drinking can.

A murmur in the Force stopped him. Vader tilted to his head, extending his Force awareness. It was very small, this murmur, and slightly familiar feeling. Where had he felt it before? And where was it coming from? Vader stretched out his Force-sense, searching for the source, checking every corner of his palace to no avail. Frowning, he retracted his awareness, and in doing so, casually swept the room. He froze, stunned, when he realized the murmur was coming from the tank.

But it's just an embryo, he mentally protested, only a couple hundred cells big! How can it have a Force presence?

The answer came immediately. The Force, Vader reminded himself, is in every living thing, and as of right now, the embryo is very much alive.

But no matter. He had snubbed out Force-lives both smaller and greater than this before. He extended his hand again, intending to crush the presence once and for all, but the thing's familiarity made him pause once more. Where had he felt a Force presence like that before? It certainly wasn't from him; he had no knowledge of what his own presence felt like. And he hadn't paid attention to the mother's Force presence; she had just been a casual lay…with unfortunate results. He racked his brain, and all the sudden it hit him like a lightning bolt that the embryo's Force presence vaguely resembled his mother's.

Immediately he tried to squash the thought—it was too dangerous—but it was too late: it had already lodged itself firmly in his brain. His hand shook as he tried to summon the Force. He tried to crush the baby—he tried—and failed. Rage filled him. That cursed weakness had returned!

He swore all manner of profanities as he lowered his hand. He couldn't direct the Dark Side at something the Force told him was so similar to his mother. He could use other methods to kill the embryo, but as soon as that thought crossed his mind the part of his brain most in tune with the Force protested strongly. He swore again.

At last he picked up the tank, strode into his bedroom, through his closet, and into the walk-in safe hidden behind his built-ins. He rarely went into the safe; it housed all the relics of his past life; this baby was one too. He dumped the tank on the ground next to the powered-down protocol droid, C-3PO, and strode out of the room, locking it behind him. He didn't look back.

-Scene Break-

A year later, Vader had almost managed to forget that he kept his son in a box in his closet. Indeed, for the first several months, he barely thought of the boy at all, so busy was he stamping out the rebellion, hunting down rogue Jedi, or searching for clues to the identification of Purple Sky. Jix, when he saw Vader, never asked about the child, though in the first couple weeks after the incident, Vader thought he saw the question in the man's eyes.

The year had been both busy and boring. A shakedown of the Corporate Alliance in the beginning of the year had sparked rebellion across a number of worlds, but those were so ruthlessly crushed in the first few months that little activity occurred in the latter months, so frightened were other worlds of the same fate.

The only interesting things that had occurred since then had had to do with Purple Sky. That impertinent humanoid had made contact several times, demanding certain laws be passed or certain maneuvers be done, else some damaging information be leaked to either the Rebellion or the public. The Emperor didn't want to admit it, but he had conceded to the blackmailer's demands on a few occasions; the information the humanoid threatened to release was simply too damaging to be allowed. Palpatine had since put even more agents on the case of finding the spy, and had even contacted Vader about it. If you can, his master had told him, devote some of your resources to finding this malignance. So Vader had set up a group dedicated to finding the creature, but little more. His specialty was war, not investigation. Purple Sky had not yet become his problem. So despite the interesting news in that arena, in the field, things remained boring.

Indeed, thought Vader, as he watched from the Exactor's bridge as several Star Destroyers engaged in a practice maneuver, he was starting to get restless. All these practice drills were making him even more short-tempered than usual. He clenched his fingers at his side as the starship Avenger executed an especially pathetic move. He made a mental note to strangle the captain of that ship after the drill.

Seeing the way the Dark Lord's hands were clenched at his sides, it was with a certain amount of trepidation that his aide approached him.

"What is it?" Vader asked, annoyance tingeing his voice. He hated how all his officers were so spineless.

"Lord Vader, sir," said the man, a bit of a tremble in his voice, "We have reports of suspected Jedi activity on Kashyyyk."

At last, thought Vader, whirling around and heading toward the lift, something not mind-numbing! "Tell the captain to set course for Kashyyyk immediately."

"B-but, my lord," stuttered the aide nervously, "What about the drill?"

Vader glanced over his shoulder just in time to see three Star Destroyers barely avoid crashing into each other. He felt his mood dip. "If we stay here," he growled, "You will be required to send over the captains of those ships."

The man gulped. "I will tell the captain to set our course immediately, sir."

-Scene Break-

That Kashyyyk looked like a pristine jewel from space was one of the great ironies of the Galaxy. This planet, that looked so beautiful and fragile from above, hosted one of the most inhospitable environments Vader had ever encountered. All manner of dangerous fauna and flora flourished here, including, of course, the Wookiees, who were some of the fiercest warriors Vader had ever seen, despite their barbarity.

It was no great surprise, he thought, that surviving Jedi would flee to Kashyyyk. He should have thought of it earlier. There were few other places where a Jedi could so easily hide their Force presence, so great was the life this planet produced.

"Pilot down to the outskirts of Kachirho," Vader ordered, as his shuttle left the hangar bay of the Exactor. "And don't expect a warm welcome," he added.

The shuttle descended into the foggy Kashyyyk atmosphere, flying over the deep blue waters of the archipelago and landing on a wooden platform built into the wall of a tree. Five stormtroopers ran out to meet it.

"Where are the Jedi?" Vader asked immediately, upon striding down the ramp. "And how many of them are there?"

"Two, we think, sir," said the stormtrooper breathlessly, jogging to keep up with Vader's long strides. "They're holed up in an abandoned house on the other side of the city. We think they know we're watching them, but for whatever reason they're not leaving, nor have they tried to fight."

Vader frowned a bit at that. It was unusual behavior for a Jedi. He and a few stormtroopers boarded a large transport speeder, and it zoomed off toward the site.

"Have you identified them?"

"We didn't get a good look at them, sir—not enough to make definitive identifications, although one of the troopers says the man resembles Kento Marek, who was briefly famous for leaving the Jedi Order prior to Order 66."

"Hmm," said Vader thoughtfully, as the speeder set down and he got off. "Interesting."

And even more interesting—he could feel the Jedi's presences. There were two of them all right, but there was something strange about them, as if they were resonating somehow. Vader tilted his head to the side, reaching out into the Force, trying to determine what was going on. The two Jedi were hiding—or, more accurately shielding—something. Yes, Vader thought, as he slipped through their shields. They were concealing a rather strong third presence. A Jedi youngling. No matter. He would take care of them all.

"Have stormtroopers surround the building on all sides and be ready to take down any escaping aircraft," Vader ordered. "Also ensure that there are no underground tunnels through which they can escape. I will go in alone. Wait for my signal to move in."

"Yes, sir!"

-Scene Break-

It was Kento Marek, Vader ascertained, the minute the man took a swing at him. He ducked it, of course, and the duel began in earnest. The Jedi was a decent dueler, but, apparently, a bit rusty. He swung a little too wildly and seemed unable to focus the Force effectively.

It was puzzling to Vader, who had heard of Kento Marek's skill with a lighstaber, that the man seemed so…distracted…on most important duel of his life. As Vader easily blocked a sloppy blow, he glanced at the man's face, which was pinched in concentration. The Force tingled at him, not a warning, but a signal: something was off about this situation.

Vader stretched out his senses for the other Jedi and the youngling; they were both in the back of the building. Vader caught worry and anxiety resonating along the more mature bond.

Kento swung wildly at Vader, and Vader snapped his attention back to the duel, parrying back forcefully and swinging his lightsaber so quickly that it looked like a blur. In one swift move he cut of the man's hands and thrust him against the wall, where he fell limply.

An explosion shook the building, and Vader stumbled. "Commander!" he shouted into his comlink, concern shooting through him. Explosions were not a part of the plan. "What is going on out there?"

A series of explosions followed, as well as screams and howls of pain, and the Commander shouted back, "Some rogue Wookiees are attacking, sir! Commencing defense!"

Rockets and flares whizzed through the air, and the entire front of the building, where Vader had been standing only a minute ago, blew apart; he noted the irony that none of the debris had touched Kento Marek's body.

His Force-sense flared a warning, and, growling in frustration, Vader whirled around and ran into the back of the building. He heard glass breaking ahead, and he burst through a back door just in time to see a woman clutching a toddler trying to escape. Upon seeing Vader, she cried out in shock and dumped the child on the ground, igniting her lightsaber and baring her teeth in defiance, as all around her glass shattered, wood splintered, and the entire place started going to bits.

Vader grinned savagely. Perhaps now he would have a challenge. The two regarded each other in silence for a moment, and then the woman launched herself at him, hurling down her saber in what would have been a deadly blow had Vader not parried it.

So the dance began, the two twirling and jumping around each other, each attack vicious and strong and quick, each strike like that of a snake, one right after the other. It continued for a long while, as the sounds of battle raged around them, until at last the woman made a mistake, and Vader shoved his lightsaber straight through her chest.

She gasped, her eyes flying open in shock, before her body slid off his lightsaber and crumpled onto the floor.

"A good fight," Vader murmured, turning his attention to the last of the trio. The toddler was a boy, he noted, and he regarded Vader with wide, startlingly green eyes. His resemblance to the woman was striking. A Jedi with a child, he mused, How quaint. Vader knelt down next to him. "Don't worry, child. You'll be with your mother again soon—"

Two arms wrapped around Vader's neck, two arms that ended in stubs, and pulled. Vader gasped, choking, his neck straining as the man behind him tried to get enough leverage to snap it. Vader reached out his hand to summon his lightsaber, black spots dotting his vision, and the wall behind him exploded into pieces.

The explosion forced Marek off his back, and Vader whipped around, shoving his lightsaber into the man's chest—a death blow, but one that would kill him slowly. He glanced up at the surrounding battle, and, to his confusion, noticed a break in his lines.

He glared down at Marek, fury roaring through him. Stupid Jedi! It was rather disappointing. "You could have gotten away!" he hissed, twisting the lightsaber so that the man cried out in pain. "Yet you came after me, on a suicide mission! Why?" He hated it when his prey suddenly acted stupid; it was demeaning to the kill. He twisted the lightsaber again, and Marek's face scrunched up in pain.

"S-some things," Marek rasped, convulsing, "Are worth dying for." His gaze wondered to the boy, who was curled up with his back to him on the floor. An expression of pain crossed his features. "You haven't lived," he rasped, "until you have had a ch-child." He shuddered in pain, "W-without the child, l-life m-means nothing." His gaze wondered to where his son lay so still, and the light faded from his eyes.

Vader sat back, regarding him, his thoughts in turmoil. He slowly turned his gaze to the toddler, but the boy was gone as well. The blow from the wall exploding had thrust him against the far wall and broken his neck. It would have been a quick death. Painless.

-Scene Break-

Vader fled the building, leaving the bodies lying on the floor. He ducked under the laserfire, dodged the tree branches flying past. He raced towards his command; the stomtroopers were pushing back the Wookiees, bursting into houses and chasing them out. He saw everything in great detail, as if the Force was slowing down time for him. There, racing out of a burning house, shielding her cubs with her own body, was a Wookiee mother. There, above, a blue and gray bird was desperately trying to shield its nest from the laserfire, covering its little chicks with its feathers. There, below, an Ilma rodent mother tucked its child up against the tree and crouched over it protectively.

Vader glanced over his shoulder and was afforded one more glimpse of the body of Kento Marek, lying next to his son, before the building burst into flames. What is it about children, Vader wondered, that made parents feel so strongly towards them?

He puzzled over this as his ship left Kashyyyk and as it traveled through hyperspace and as he descended down the entrance ramp of his ship into the hangar bay of his palace. From the cameras on his private balcony, he saw a mother laughing with her child, a man strapping his son into his speeder, and a daughter running to her father. He lay in bed that night, and he dreamed of his own mother. He recalled a memory he had never recalled before. His mother, smiling at him before tucking him in. "You are my light, Ani. The reason for my whole existence."

At midnight he woke from a restless and troubled sleep with Kento Marek's voice ringing in his ears: "You haven't lived until you have had a child."

He stumbled out of bed and into his bathroom. He shoved open his closet door and forced his way into his safe. He stood swaying over the uterine tank, confused and curious and hundred other things he didn't understand but seemed to be very important on so little sleep. He extended his arm, retracted it. No, he shouldn't do that. That was a bad idea. Then another image of his mother, smiling at him as she tucked him into bed, appeared before his mind's eye.

He pressed the green button.