Chapter 6
Her mood was still dark, though not quite so volatile as it had been, as Krennic's shuttle dropped out of hyperspace above Mustafar. That her meditations and attempts at sinking into some measure of a healing trance had been largely unsuccessful because of it certainly didn't help, leaving her frustrated and struggling to ignore the lingering pain from the abuse her body had endured on the platform on Eadu. Thankfully, though, the looming Darkness allowed her to virtually disregard her discomfort instead, allowing her to effectively trick her conscious mind not to feel it; if she couldn't manage to coax her body to heal, convincing herself she wasn't in pain at all was the next best thing…to some extent. Not that it was a perfect strategy.
At least her eyes felt like they beginning to return to their natural shade of blue-grey. That was something.
Her mood was still dark enough that she still didn't regret sending the pilots out to wait in the passenger compartment with Krennic and the remainder of his men shortly after jumping to hyperspace, knowing full well she didn't have the patience to endure their trembling and anxiety as they navigated the descent to Vader's Fortress. Instead she took the pilot's seat, the focus necessary to guide the shuttle to the planet's surface more than enough to monopolize her attention and give her lingering temper purpose.
Her dark mood sharpened her senses, heightening her reflexes and warning her when necessary as she piloted the ungainly shuttle through the unstable atmosphere. It made the journey marginally easier and somewhat quicker as a result, which she was grateful for. Not that she was about to grow complacent about piloting anything on the lava planet. The Force might have made it easier, but Athara was not entirely immune from the growing tension each threatening natural hazard or wave of interference fed.
Thankfully, they were soon in range of the Fortress's guidance systems. Once they had taken over guiding the shuttle to the landing pad, it left Athara free to let the anxiety she'd been pointedly ignoring in favour of concentrating on her task begin to bleed from her system with the added benefit of taking some of the anger lingering from Eadu with it.
It wasn't long after that that her slowly normalizing gaze picked out the imposing black edifice where it appeared like a stark absence of light, rather than a solid structure, standing tall above a single, vibrantly bright waterfall of lava. As the shuttle circled around to the landing pad, Athara could feel the knot of tension in her chest easing further, and she finally allowed herself to contemplate what awaited her inside.
For the entire journey to Mustafar, Athara had found herself fighting to regain control of herself following the chaos on the Eadu facility's landing platform. The shuttle had barely cleared the rainy planet's atmosphere before she was realizing she had allowed herself to display a dangerous lack of self-control. It was that realization and the resultant craving for a measure of solitude that had spurred her desire to evict the pilots from the cockpit more than almost anything else, even eclipsing her desire to be as far away from Krennic as she could manage.
Athara was strong with the Force. She'd known this since she was old enough to understand what her Master meant when he spoke of it. Even before that, she'd had a sense that there was something within herself that was, for lack of a better term, special.
She'd also known for nearly as long that her strength had to be kept a complete and utter secret. The Emperor did not suffer challengers and, as her Master had made certain she understood almost from the time he entered into her memory, if Palpatine knew how strong she was, he would consider her a threat. Vader had explained that, had the Emperor known of her when she was an infant, or even when she'd still been a small child, he may very well have taken her from Vader to train into an agent of his own. But the chance had been far greater that he would simply kill her rather than take the risk of her one day threatening him. The Dark Side, her Master had explained once, fostered jealousy, suspicion and ambition in its servants, and the Emperor was no exception. The only way to keep her safe was to hide her strength and hide the truth that she was genuinely Darth Vader's apprentice, and not just his nominal pupil or his pet as her Master allowed his Master to believe.
So Vader had shielded her potential until she had learned enough of the Force and developed her own abilities enough to shield it herself. And she had been doing so without fail and without faltering ever since. She and her Master had worked hard to ensure that the Emperor and his spies genuinely believed that her Force-abilities were for little more than show, that she had only enough command of the Force and the Dark Side to use them in the most basic and flashy of ways; useful for enforcing her position and reputation as Vader's Shadow only, but for little else.
Even her use of a lightsaber was little more than symbolic as far as Palpatine was concerned.
But in nearly losing control of her temper on Eadu like that? She'd nearly destroyed everything. She had threatened everything she and her Master had done to keep her safe, and that shook her in a way that the Dark Side of the Force could not soothe. The Dark Side was not made for such things.
Yet, even as panic threaded with chilling shards of despair threatened to grow unchecked through her at the thought of what her reckless actions had risked, a subtle feeling of calm comfort seemed to wrap around her consciousness much like a soft blanket would around her shoulders.
The familiar sensation brought with it a relief so profound that her eyes began to prickle again, though this time with moisture rather than rage.
She craved the reassurance and peace it provided enough that, no matter that Athara had no idea where it came from, she let the sensation do as it willed. She let it comfort her just as it had anytime she'd felt particularly frightened or anxious or alone for a long as she could remember. The feeling was precious and had always been there when she needed it most, so she never questioned it. She probably should have. After all, calm and comfort were not of the Dark Side and she was a Sith apprentice; passion led to strength, not calm. That was what she'd been taught. The Darkness always lingering in the back of her mind did question it, and urged her to reject it every time it appeared, coiling and flinching at the threat the calm feeling was to the Dark Side.
But oddly enough, she always embraced it, or rather, let it embrace her regardless of the reservations borne of the Dark Side; she trusted the feeling, and trust was hard to come by in her life. And just as she never felt the need to reject it overwhelm her need to embrace the feeling, she'd never felt the need to try and discern its source, mysterious and unknown as it was.
Mostly because she'd realized long ago that, on some level, she felt she knew already.
Not that she consciously knew, of course. She had no idea where the feeling came from or what it even was. It was only a subconscious sense that she knew, but one strong enough that she'd accepted the feeling and welcomed its help in her most vulnerable moments her entire life.
It was also why the feeling was one of the meagre handful of secrets she'd ever kept from her Master…
No matter her thoughts—questioning or accepting or otherwise—on the feeling, it was very welcome to help banish the sense of fear and failure Eadu had left like a bitter, lingering taste in her mouth. And by the time Krennic's shuttle groaned and shuddered as it touched down on the landing pad behind her Master's Fortress, Athara had banished those feelings from her mind, allowing her to renew her focus on what waited inside the imposing structure for her.
It also meant her lingering anger and impatience with the Director whose shuttle she was on was able to reemerge. As she slipped from the cockpit out to the passenger compartment of the shuttle, the sight of Krennic's pale but determined features left her with a grim sense of amusement that managed to cheer her up considerably. And it was with a small sense of satisfaction that she gleaned a sense of scared wariness as she strode by him without a glance, skimming through his surface thoughts with the Force as she passed.
At least he seemed to realize that he was potentially in a great deal of trouble with her Master.
It was enough for the time being.
She barely waited for the landing pad's protective energy field to reengage before she was hitting the control for the boarding ramp herself and descending from the shuttle with her cloak billowing out around her. A few clipped instructions was all it took to have Commander Adahn, who had been waiting patiently just inside the vestibule, nodding in understanding and striding back the way she'd come to direct Krennic and Krennic alone up to the gallery where her Master quite often preferred to meet with visitors to his forbidding retreat.
She, in the meantime, needed to inform her Master of what had transpired.
That she was not looking forward to.
But she knew it was something she had to do, which was the thought she allowed to drive her as she once again punched in her override code to her Master's private chambers.
It was only when she saw the Medical Unit was empty and the room even darker than it was usually kept, that she realized she may have made a mistake. A handful of security lights provided only a dim glow along the main traffic areas of the larger chamber, leaving the room with the imposing Medical Unit at its centre hidden in grim, heavy shadow. The large doors that led to the small antechamber that guarded the cavernous room where the specially-designed Bacta Chamber was housed were impassively shut.
She had never once set foot in the abyss-like cavern, only ever catching glimpses in the past of the pod-like chamber inside that held the specifically designed medical equipment that helped keep her Master alive. Steeling herself, Athara turned for the door, deciding in that split-second that the news she bore was worth risking her Master's wrath.
Only to have the hunched and cloaked figure of her Master's attendant Vaneé appear virtually out of nowhere to stand in her way. Irritation prickled through her, the feeling strong enough in that moment that her skin seemed to itch with it.
"Step aside, Vaneé," she ordered, her voice low. Though she felt unease rippling through the old man, she sensed little in the way of fear. The man was her Master's attendant at the Emperor's behest—a doctor or some such thing in a past life, and had supposedly had a hand in the creation of her Master's suit and its life-preserving capabilities—who haunted the medical chambers of her Master's Fortress. He was one of the few people her Master allowed in his presence when he was undergoing one or another of his many medical procedures. The old man, his face impassive and nearly vacant in a way that always managed to unnerve Athara, merely bowed, his hands clasped loosely before him.
"I'm sorry, My Lady, but Lord Vader is in the middle of an important rejuvenation cycle. He has given orders not to be disturbed." Athara's nose wrinkled. Of course that was his response. Normally she would relent and allow that an order from her Master would supersede one of her own. But there was nothing normal about the circumstances that had her facing off against the unsettling cloaked attendant. She took a step closer, her temper rising to drown out the anxious way the knowledge of what had happened on Eadu tugged at her mind.
"He would wish to be disturbed for this," she said as calmly as she could, unable to keep the sense of urgency from her voice but still surprising herself at how collected she managed to sound. "Director Krennic is here as my Master has commanded, along with pressing, even critical intelligence about the Death Star. I suggest that either you let me pass or that you inform him immediately." Though he didn't meet her glare, hidden though it was beneath her cowl, she did see a ripple of recognition cross his papery, creased features even as his eyes flicked to her shadowed face. An involuntary sigh of relief nearly escaped her as she realized meaning behind that recognition; her Master left the attendant instruction should she return bearing just that news.
"If you'll wait here, My Lady," he intoned, his voice nearly sounding distracted. With another bow he turned, leaving her standing nearly in the middle of the chamber.
As the doors between Athara and her Master hissed open to allow Vaneé passage into the cavern that held the Bacta Chamber, Athara's eyes widened inadvertently with an unconscious jolt of anticipation. Without conscious thought, she was stepping forward first one step, then another until she had crossed the short gantry spanning the cavern, stopping just short of following into the vestibule. Tucking herself instinctively into the nearly impenetrable shadow just shy of the antechamber's entry, her position gave her a clear view into the chamber that held her Master as the last barrier hissed open.
She barely even realized what she was doing, unable to look away despite the uneasy feeling deep in her gut telling her she should.
Instead she took in the steam drifting lazily from the tubes and mechanisms affixed to the ceiling. She noticed the pair of crimson-robed Imperial Guards standing vigil in service to her temporarily vulnerable Master. The faint hum that filled the air from the medical equipment as the doors opened drifted toward her just as the cloying odour of Bacta mixing with an indefinable bittersweet scent did, cutting through the dry, faintly sulfurous scent of the abyss that sheltered the Bacta Chamber.
And along with it came creeping tendrils of Darkness, something deep inside her cringing back in revulsion as even she felt just how intoxicatingly strong the presence of Dark Side was in that room, how it called to her.
But then her eyes latched onto the glowing Bacta tube where she could sense her Master was ensconced. It was as Vaneé knelt before the tube, silhouetted against the bright wash of light hiding her Master's form that the weight of what she was seeing began to sink in.
Athara froze, unable to make so much as a startled gasp, barely able to so much as think. Unable to look away.
As Vaneé spoke, his voice faint from the distance as he informed her Master of her return and Krennic's arrival, a shape surrounded by dark, spidering tubes loomed forward within the tank, the pale form murky and indistinct for all its familiarity as something—mostly—human. With a muffled clank and a gurgling, sloshing rumble, the Bacta tank began to open and retract.
As the seal broke, something inside her snapped and finally forced Athara's eyes away. Again, without conscious thought, she turned and strode back across the gantry, though to the main door of her Master's chambers and back out into the corridor, her heart abruptly hammering so violently in her chest she feared it would shatter her ribs.
And she very nearly didn't stop as the doors shut with a dull clunk behind her. Her thoughts suddenly chaotic, it took far more willpower than it should have to keep herself from moving farther than the handful of strides she had taken away from the darkened quarters behind her. But even as Athara fought back the panic threatening in the back of her mind at what she'd nearly seen, she couldn't stop moving, the anxiety borne from what little she had seen growing and pulsing in her chest in time with her pacing steps and thrumming heart as she loitered in front of her Master's chambers.
Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, it seemed the looming shape in the Bacta chamber was already haunting her.
And she hadn't even lingered long enough to actually see him.
It was a long time before the door she was pacing before opened. She was so on edge she started as the door's locking mechanism disengaged with a low whirr, her entire body tensing at the sound. It was enough to snap her out of her spiralling agitation at what she'd come so close to seeing.
Cursing her reaction and her lack of attention, she realized just how out of control she'd allowed her mind to get. Mortified, she desperately fought to push the thoughts of the glowing tank with its indistinct occupant away from where it lingered in her mind's eye, to clear the simultaneously acrid and sickly odour of the chamber as it clung to her throat and banish the sound of that releasing seal on the Bacta tank from where it seemed to echo in her ears. She was anxious to, if not forget them—she knew that would be impossible—at least hide them away so her Master wouldn't sense what she'd seen. She was so focused on doing so that she nearly started again as the sense of comfort and calm seemed to wrap itself around the memory as though shielding her from it. Her knees nearly went weak with relief when it did.
Though it felt like it took an age, the entire process lasted barely the span of a heartbeat—not even long enough for the door to open completely.
Steeling herself as a dull clunk signaled the opening doors locking into place, Athara turned and entered her Master's chamber, her head held high as she passed Vaneé on his way out. Her Master would not know she'd seen him at his most vulnerable, not if she could help it. Her Master would not sense that seeing him thus had unnerved her, frightened her even, more than any fit of rage or fury she'd ever seen in him. She would keep that knowledge from him because, deep down, she somehow knew it would hurt him.
Instead she distracted herself with the reminder of her reason for seeking out her Master and of the Director who waited many, many floors above in the main gallery, waiting for Vader and his judgment.
As she approached, carefully restraining her traitorous gaze from flicking to the doors that led to the Bacta chamber, Vader's mask turned to face her, the familiar visage of plasteel and metal once again safely hiding his true features. Similarly, his torso was once again clad in the familiar tunic and dark armour even as a medical droid finished affixing and adjusting the panel on his chest that contained the primary function controls for his suit. His legs also, were mostly back to normal, his pants and boot in place on his right leg as another droid finished up its work on the left before tucking the fabric of his pants into the polished boot. His arms were much as they had been before Athara had left for Eadu, though this time both were bare down to the cybernetic structures; the right was only then being attached, the droid just beginning to reconnect it as she reached the base of her Master's Medical Unit. With one final push, she locked away the tumultuous feelings generated by the glimpse of the Bacta chamber she wasn't supposed to see, coming to a stop before her Master just as he looked up to her, his consciousness reaching out to brush against hers, gauging her.
"So, my apprentice; what news is there from Eadu? How did Director Krennic handle his security breach?" Her angry frustration at the Director was renewed by the mere mention of him, the rain-soaked events that played out on the landing platform of the facility he founded racing through her memory.
And she told her Master everything that had happened.
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