Chapter Nine
He didn't do it consciously. Indeed, had he noticed at first that he was doing it, he probably would have tried to stop himself. But by the time he realized it, it was too engrained of a habit. At least twice a week, whenever the bombing of a city, or the pandering of politicians, or the machinations of his master, or the annoying problem of Purple Sky, or the crying of his kid began to overwhelm him, Vader slipped out of his palace and into the city, heading, sometimes without forethought, to the Imperial campus of the University of Coruscant.
"Job getting too much for you?" Eera would ask sympathetically as soon as Vader flopped into his spare chair.
Vader would just nod mutely. It was an unspoken rule between them that speaking about Vader's job was strictly off-limits.
"I see," Eera would say. And if he was busy, he would add, "Here, help me with this."
So sometimes Vader would just sit in silence, helping the Mriss organize his files—how Eera ever found anything, Vader didn't know; the creature was so messy. Or sometimes he'd be grading tests, or organizing his lesson, or fixing the virus on his computer. Occasionally they would head over to the university archives, where Vader would help the Mriss look for a specific article for his class.
If Eera wasn't busy, he and Vader would just talk—never about Kor, never about his job, usually not about anything personal—sometimes it would be about politics, sometimes it would be about the worlds they had traveled to, and sometimes it would be about completely mundane things, like the traffic on the E77 Speedway, which they both agreed was horrendous. Sometimes these conversations took place in the office, and sometimes they went out for a walk on the quad, the Mriss balancing precariously on Vader's shoulder. Wherever they went, whenever they ran into someone Eera knew—and this happened often—Eera would introduce Vader as, "My friend, Anakin."
The appellation sounded odd to Vader at first, but over time he got used to it, though he didn't agree it was an accurate term to describe their relationship. To Vader, Eera was a break from the complications of the rest of his life, someone who was easy to talk to and never pressed him for details he wasn't comfortable sharing, and who he knew was not secretly plotting his demise. And Vader respected him, strange as it was; he acknowledged that the Mriss's brain was formidable, though the creature itself was only slightly larger than Kor. And he didn't have that oily, unctuous feeling of the politicians and cowardly officers Vader spent most of his day around.
"In fact," said Vader one day, as they were strolling around a quad. "The only person I find mildly tolerable at work is my…assistant, Jix."
"Mildly tolerable?" Eera repeated in amusement. "That is a high compliment coming from you."
Vader made a noncommittal sound. "I would prefer it if he were not so insubordinate."
"Insubordinate?" Eera arched an eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that? I imagine someone who is truly insubordinate would not last long in the Imperial military."
"He often borders on insubordination," clarified Vader. "He has no decorum whatsoever."
Eera laughed. "From what I can tell of your personality, my friend, perhaps that is why you like him."
Vader glanced at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
Eera smiled, looking out at the quad. "Well," he said, "you despise cowards, and you have no respect for mindless followers. It sounds as if your friend Jix is neither of these. You respect that, even if it annoys you."
"Hmm," said Vader, considering the possibility and gazing out at the quad, where a group of Zabraks and Twi'leks were laughing together.
He must have had a very strange expression on his face, for Eera asked, with sudden interest, "Did you ever attend university?"
"No," said Vader flatly, dragging his eyes away from the students and back onto the path in front of him. "No. University was never a possible future for me." Not before his master found him, and definitely not after.
A sad expression crossed Eera's face. "I am truly sorry," he hooted sadly. "University is an enriching experience."
Vader tried to picture himself at nineteen, at home in the university archives, or studying in his dorm room, or playing on the quad, and couldn't. "I'm not," he said finally, "I don't think I'm suited for university life. I am far too impatient."
Eera snorted. "That can be said of most students. And yet they still like it here." Seeing the resolve in Vader's expression, though, he changed tracks a little. "Had you attended university, what would you have studied?"
That question was a little easier to answer. "Engineering," Vader answered immediately. "I'm good with anything mechanical. I was fixing droids before I could speak more than a few words."
"Indeed?" asked Eera in interest. "Have you ever built a droid?"
Oh had he. "I built my first droid by the time I was nine," said Vader, recalling the moment Threepio had first sprung to life. He had been so excited. "A protocol droid. About the same time I finished a podracer."
Eera looked stunned. "But that's incredible!" he exclaimed, staring up at Vader with wide eyes. "Our engineering students, for their final project, are required to build a droid. I have never even heard of a child building a droid, much less a podracer."
Vader shrugged. "Mechanics has always been a talent of mine." It had really helped out a lot, back then. That podracer had sold for a lot of money.
"How well did they work—the droid, the podracer?" Eera was teetering with excitement.
"They worked well." Vader was surprised at the question. He added, a bit smugly, "All of my creations work well." He paused for a moment, thinking, "I am still using the protocol droid," he admitted. "I sold the pod. But it was a winning pod." He didn't tell him, who, exactly, was piloting it when it won.
Eera was obviously fascinated. "You are a protégé!" he exclaimed. "A mechanical genius! That's amazing!"
Vader was surprised at the little bird's interest. He had never considered his mechanical talent to be anything extraordinary.
"You would have made a great engineer," said Eera a little wistfully. "One of the best, probably. Every company would want to hire you."
Not, thought Vader, if they knew who I truly was.
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
It had taken two weeks of close observation, but the spy had determined that the child lived in the room and never left it. For one, Vader disappeared into it like clockwork twice a day for a predetermined amount of time, and he always left in a sour mood. Two, the spy had carefully observed the delivery droids, and he noticed that the ingredients for formula and several unmarked boxes he suspected carried diapers were taken into the room daily.
It had taken another three weeks for the spy to determine the security measures around the room. They were quite extensive, though not as impenetrable as those of Vader's private suite: these had been erected hastily. The child could be collected, theoretically, if there were not more security measures inside. There were two crucial elements to the plan, though: it could only be done if a security technician was on their side, and if that annoying personal assassin wasn't in the palace.
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
"What did you do with his mother?" Vader asked Jix one day, after he had summoned him to his living room.
It was a totally off-topic question, and Jix was momentarily taken aback by it. He had spent the past two hours detailing his mission to Drall, and after all of that Vader asked him this? Anger flared, briefly, but was replaced by a sense of confusion that Vader was even interested.
"I left her alone, on Naboo," he said, staring at Vader strangely. "She thought she miscarried." He was pretty sure he had told Vader this.
Vader was staring out the window at the Coruscanti cityscape, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Why?" he added.
"You dare question me?" asked Vader. It was a curious tone; he didn't sound angry.
"Yes," said Jix bluntly. "Why?"
He could see the edges of Vader's mouth curve into a slight smile before the whole miraculous event ended. "It's of no consequence," said Vader at last. "I was merely curious."
Jix didn't believe that for a moment. "Really?"
"Really," Vader confirmed.
"Do you spend a lot—"
"I don't wish to discuss it," Vader interrupted. "I have another assignment for you to begin."
"But—"
"We will not be talking about it." Vader's tone hardened. "I have another assignment for you, which I must detail, as you must begin immediately. It concerns Purple Sky."
Subdued, Jix inclined his head and sighed heavily. "Yes, Lord V."
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
On some days, it seemed like everyone Vader knew was trying to make him like Kor. Jix would leave not-so-subtle hints: "How is the baby doing? You taking care of him? I heard from Artoo he looks just like you. That's good." The professor was a bit more subtle. He generally opted to start talking about his children and all the joy they gave him; in fact, he did this so subtly that Vader never knew whether he was intentionally trying to make Vader think of Kor, or if Vader was so warped by parenthood by now that he simply thought of Kor anyway.
Artoo and Threepio, however, weren't subtle at all. Shortly after Kor had turned three months old, Threepio had taken to praising everything the child did. "Your son is truly extraordinary, Master Vader," he said to him earnestly one day, "He has the mental development and physical strength of a six month old, not a three month old. He is truly unique."
Artoo added, with an impertinent beep, "Despite the fact that you neglect him."
Vader's hand clenched at his side. "I don't neglect him," he argued with Threepio. "He has everything he needs, and he occupies at least three hours of my day every day I'm home. That's more time than I give anyone, even Eera." He stared down at his son, who was rolling from his stomach onto his back. "And I don't even enjoy the time I spend with him," he muttered.
Upon seeing Vader, the baby smiled, then grabbed his foot and stuck it in his mouth. "Stupid little thing," Vader added, reaching down and plucking the toe out.
Kor gave Vader a very confused and distressed look. A tiny little whimper escaped his mouth. Vader bit back a groan. It seemed like everything he did made the child cry!
"Here," he said somewhat desperately, reaching into the box full of toys Threepio had brought. He pulled out a large, soft ball that flashed different colors. With a touch of the Force he levitated it and had it fly loops around Kor.
The distraction worked. Kor's dismayed expression changed to one of wonderment, and he craned his neck trying to follow the ball's progress. He reached out his chubby little hand to try and snatch it, but it was too far out of reach. Vader slowed down the ball a little, coaxing him to try again. An expression that could only be described as stubborn crossed the babe's face, and with monumental effort he lifted himself into a sitting position, wobbling precariously. He made one heroic grab, caught it, and promptly fell backward onto his back.
Vader tensed, expecting him to cry again—didn't he always cry?—but instead a mischievous smiled crossed the boy's face, and he started giggling, as if to say, Can you believe I just did that and got away with it?
Vader stared for a moment, stunned, then a small, genuinely-amused laugh escaped him before he was able to catch himself. It was just so similar to the things he used to do as the child. That expression had crossed his face many a time in front of his mother.
"I supposed you are a little clever," he acknowledged, grabbing one of Kor's feet and tickling it until the child was shrieking with laughter. "But just a little."
In the corner, Threepio and Artoo watched in stunned silence.
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
Vader was in such a foul mood that evening that after finishing his necessary workload he fled the palace in a hurry and was halfway to the University of Coruscant when he realized that Eera wouldn't be holding class now. He pulled over to the side of the speedway, debating with himself, before finally punching in the number to the professor's comlink. He had never actually used the number before, so he was not greatly surprised when Eera picked it up sounding a little confused.
"Hello? Who is this? Can I help you?" In the background, Vader could hear the sound of water running and dishes clanking in a sink.
"Eera," said Vader. "This is Anakin." He paused, hesitant, "Is this a bad time?"
"No!" Eera sounded delighted. "No, I am actually quite free this evening and was getting rather bored. My wife, you see, has gone out with friends."
"Oh," said Vader. "Well, then…" He didn't know how to phrase it.
"Perhaps we should meet up," Eera suggested brightly. "I would invite you over, but I'm not quite sure you could fit through our front door. I know a good place in CocoTown, if you can make it. It's called Dexter's Diner."
"I can find it," said Vader, closing the link and pulling back into the traffic lane.
He found it in a few minutes, then flew off a ways to find a safe place to park his speeder before walking back toward it.
Once inside, he glanced around somewhat curiously. The place reminded him a little bit of the cantinas he had eaten at with Kitster back on Tatooine—small, dingy, but extremely popular with the locals and with clientele of all races. He couldn't sense the professor's Force signature yet, so he weaved his way to a secluded back table and sat, peering out the window. No one paid him much attention, for which he was exceedingly grateful. Today had been a long day.
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
The call went into the palace at approximately 2200. Jix tapped into it, along with several hundred others working on the issue of Purple Sky. Within seconds a miniature hologram appeared before Jix, one of a tall humanoid garbed in garish purple robes and a grotesque purple mask. Whoever Purple Sky was, Jix thought grumpily, he needed a new wardrobe designer.
"My Emperor," said the figure oily, bowing to the point Jix assumed the Emperor sat in the original transmission. "I come before you today with yet another…humble request."
The Emperor's reply was blocked, but Jix could only imagine how scathing it was.
To his credit, the humanoid didn't flinch. "Should my request be denied," he continued pointedly, "I might be forced to release to the rebellion the schematics of the project currently under the direction of Moff Tarkin." Jix stiffened immediately. He was referring to the Death Star plans! How had he managed to get those? Even Vader didn't have them!
Jix couldn't even imagine what the Emperor was saying, but whatever it was made Purple Sky sound cruelly amused when he said, "In exchange for not releasing these plans, I humbly request that the Child Protection Law 1.23, Mankind Protection Law 8.24, subsection 5, and Trafficking Law 89 be revoked."
Jix's jaw dropped. Those were the slavery laws! The man wanted to institute slavery again? Was he insane? When Vader found out about this, he was going to be livid. Because there was no way the Emperor would allow the Death Star plans to be released. He'd rather institute slavery again.
In desperation, Jix turned to the computer he had set up next to him. "Have you finished input?"
The computer's lights blinked erratically for a moment. "Yes, Master Jixton," it said at last. "Enough data has been gathered to begin processing. Running algorithm now. Estimated time to completion: two hours."
In a second, Jix's desperation turned to elation.
"I've got you," he hissed fiercely to the now-muted form of Purple Sky. Jix surged from his chair and grabbed his coat as he ran from the room. It was time to find Vader.
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
Vader felt the professor's presence emerge in his mind, and a minute later the door chimed. He glanced up, but he couldn't see the little bird from that far back. A second later, though, the Mriss popped into view, carrying with him a large box and weaving his way in and around the tables.
"I figured you would want a secluded table," he piped, upon seeing Vader, "So I figured I'd start the search there."
"You know me so well," said Vader dryly.
"Only your personality, my friend," said Eera, hopping into the seat across from Vader, setting up the box, and promptly sitting on it so his head could see over the top of the table.
"So," he said, upon seeing the tense way in which Vader was holding himself, "What is wrong? I hardly ever see you at night."
Vader shifted in his seat. "Nothing is wrong," he said, puzzling over it for a moment. "I am simply…angry."
"You are often angry," Eera observed. "Anger, though, most often has a cause in humans—at least in males, anyway. But sometimes it is difficult for us to determine what causes it. What were you doing, before you got angry?"
"Work," said Vader, thinking back on it. He had been planning the invasion of the planet Ghali. "But that went well," he added.
"Then what were you doing before that?" Eera questioned.
Vader's mind flicked to early that evening, and he felt his mood plummet. "I was with my son," he said shortly.
"Ah," said Eera slowly, his eyes flicking over Vader's face. "Therein, I think, lies the origin of your anger. You are quite angry about something that happened with your son earlier today. Did he misbehave?"
Vader thought back on the encounter. "No," he said, "he was well-behaved. Though he did put his foot in his mouth once."
Eera arched an eyebrow. "Your son put his foot in his mouth?" he repeated somewhat incredulously. "He's only three months old, is he not?"
Vader nodded shortly.
Eera shook his head in amazement. "That is a physical, developmental milestone normally only reached when the child is around five or six months," he said. He smiled up at Vader. "It seems as though your son has inherited a lot from you."
"So says Threepio," Vader muttered under his breath.
Eera heard it. "Who?" he asked in interest.
Vader sighed heavily. "Threepio," he said. "He's the protocol droid that takes care of my son during the day."
"A protocol droid?" asked Eera curiously. "That is an unusual choice for taking care of a child. I did not know they were equipped to do that."
"This one is specially modified," explained Vader, ordering a cup of tea off the holomenu that popped up.
Eera placed his order as well, then paused as if a thought had just crossed his mind. "By any chance, is Threepio the same droid you built when you were young?"
Vader gaped at him. How could he have possibly guessed that?
Upon seeing Vader's expression, a delighted smile crossed Eera's face. "He is?" he exclaimed, flapping the wings on his back excitedly. "Well, isn't that something else!"
Vader couldn't believe how good the little creature was. How could someone become that good at human psychology? How had he managed to guess that? More importantly, could he have possibly guessed anything else? He looked at Eera a little warily. He felt uncomfortable knowing that the professor could possibly know things about him he didn't want him to know.
His unease must have shown—or the professor must have guessed it—for a worried expression crossed his face. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I didn't mean to intrude on your private life—it's just, I find that fact somewhat fascinating from a psychological viewpoint."
"And how is it fascinating?" asked Vader warily.
"It suggests," said Eera, "that you associate your son with your past."
Vader's lips tightened. "I don't like to think about my past."
Eera looked at him gravely. "Exactly."
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
At first Jix didn't really believe the coordinates coming from Vader's comlink. CoCo Town? Really? What was Vader doing there?
But he didn't reflect on it too much as he raced his speeder down to that level. It was much too important to find Vader and whoever that b****** Purple Sky was. Slavery couldn't be legalized. It simply couldn't be. Vader would go nuts.
Rain poured in torrents down from the angry thunderclouds above, making it difficult for Jix to see and forcing him to swerve erratically in and out of the speedways. He reminded himself that if he died out here, no one would be able to tell Vader and stop that sleemo. He tried to be a little more careful.
He skidded to a stop at the edge of CoCo Town and leapt out of the speeder. Down the way, the electric lights of Dex's Diner fizzled in the rain.
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
At first Vader didn't believe the presence he felt in the back of his mind. He had specifically ordered Jix to analyze the Purple Sky demands for a pattern. He should be in his palace. Why was he in CoCo Town? What was he doing down here?
It wasn't until the door to Dex's Diner swung open and the man himself skidded inside, sopping wet, that Vader realized he had come looking for him.
"Jix," he hissed under his breath, glaring at the intruder.
Eera looked up from his drink curiously. "Did you say 'Jix?'"
Vader's hands clenched on the edge of the table, anger boiling inside of him. He was going to kill that man!
Upon sweeping the room and seeing Vader, Jix's eyes widened in shock. He hesitated a second, suddenly uncertain, then strode over, a determined expression on his face.
"Jix," Vader hissed, glaring at him warningly, but Jix swept forward and kneeled beside the booth.
"Lord V," he said, immediately and quickly.
Across from him, Eera mouthed, in blatant shock, Lord V?
Before Vader could choke him, Jix hurried on, "It's Purple Sky. We have enough information to proceed."
Vader was still for an agonizingly long time, debating about whether or not to kill Jix. At last he decided he couldn't afford to do it now. "Fine," he snapped, shoving himself to his feet and glowering down at Jix. "Let's go."
He strode out of the diner, Jix running after him, leaving Eera stunned in the booth seat behind him.
AAAA—Page Break—AAAA
"You could have commed me," Vader snarled, shoving Jix out of the driver's seat, slamming the door, and rocketing onto the speedway.
"Purple Sky is powerful enough to hack into the palace computers," Jix explained. "I didn't want to risk the off-chance that he may have a tap on your comlink; you're such a powerful figure." That was Jix: always thorough. Vader shot past a line of speeders at near the speed of light, and Jix swore, "By the Core, don't do that again!"
"Shut. Up." Vader snarled.
He punched down on the accelerator and jerked the wheel. The speeder made a vomit-inducing, ninety-degree turn that had it shooting straight up into the air and through several lanes of panicked traffic.
"Purple Sky demanded that the Emperor revoke all laws protecting humans from slavery."
"The Emperor wouldn't agree to that," insisted Vader. "He promised me."
Jix looked at him nervously. "He claimed to have the schematics of the Death Star."
The speeder accelerated at such a rate that Jix found himself physically unable to talk. Vader shot the speeder through the heavy traffic, rage boiling in him, the Dark Side thickening so much in the little speeder that Jix was gasping for air. Up to his palace he raced, rage thrumming through him, till at last he neared the colossal structure. Then the rage dissipated, replaced by shock, disbelief, and finally, the first stirrings of fear.
The baby wasn't there.
