Title: Vader's Quest Chronicles

Summary: Darth Vader learns that he has a son and the search begins

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended with this story.

Preparing to report to Palpatine, Vader luxuriated in the carefully adjusted spray of his own shower. He kept temperature and spray set exactly as he liked them. He recalled marveling at the bathing facilities of the Jedi Temple, but even there, the shower had never been quite right -- and mid-shower some prankster would likely switch the temperature setting to cold -- he'd played that one himself a few times. In Padmé's apartment... well, the intent there had usually not been just for cleanliness.

She had loved the water, and had enjoyed their watery games as much as he had! Suffice to say, he had learned to appreciate water and just how wonderful it was to feel really clean, to smell clean. He must admit, though, there had been times... Even now, he was often extremely grateful for the presence of his respirator with its filters, when in company with others, such as those pirates -- or even Palpatine! -- who were less finicking about personal hygiene. He might be intimidating, but at least they wouldn't smell him coming!

Drying off carefully, he surveyed his reflection. Flat stomach, rippling chest muscles (still quite a bit of scarring there, despite the best efforts to minimize them), even the bionic prosthetics weren't bad, much better than those clunky first ones. He doubted that Palpatine would ever have sanctioned replacements without his mishaps with the Sith lightning! His second set had been a vast improvement over the first. This was his third full set of replacements, and were light-years beyond that first mechanical hand. These were lighter in weight and looked and felt much more real. And the state-of-the-art ones that he'd read were now available. Should he maybe chance a little Sith lightning and get another set of replacements? No, he'd save that for when he became Emperor -- then he would have the very best bionics in the Galaxy. And he wouldn't have to scheme to get them!

He ran a hand across his head -- he really ought to shave it again. His once luxuriant blond locks had never really grown back, but it was just as well -- what did grow had kept getting caught in his helmet, until he gave up and shaved his head. It didn't look quite as good on him as it had on Mace Windu, but no one ever saw it anyway. And while his seeming inability to grow much of a beard had secretly chagrined his youthful self, he was thankful now -- he didn't have a beard getting in the way of his respirator! The eyebrows had grown back nicely, and there was quite a lot of hair on his upper lip -- it was going to eventually be quite a dapper mustache. A satisfied murmur escaped him. Yes, Vader, you are a fine figure of a man now!

As he dressed, he idly wondered about the formerly vain Palpatine. Ostensibly a native of Naboo, he had once seemed to share the Naboo obsession with water and cleanliness. But since the revelation of his alter ego as Darth Sidious and the incredible deterioration in his personal appearanceVader's nose twitched in memory. Personal hygiene was no longer very high on old Palpy's list of priorities, if it even figured there at all. And not just his body; his clothing was at times barely presentable, it looked bad and smelled worse. Vader dreaded the upcoming interview. He made certain that his respirator was functioning and that fresh filters were firmly in place.

Time to go. He cast a last approving glance at his image and positioned his lightsaber at his belt as he left his quarters.

Approaching the Imperial Council Chamber -- a throne room by any other name, thought Vader -he was met by one of Palpatine's ubiquitous bodyguards.

"Welcome back. Lord Vader. We are delighted that you escaped and have returned safely. He is expecting you. However, it will be a few minutes more before he is ready to receive you." The man chuckled conspiratorially. "We have convinced him that a...uh... a Ritual Cleansing was in order. "

Vader snorted in muffled laughter. "Am I to assume then that he has taken a bath? Well, will wonders never cease! And his clothing? A bath won't help much if he is wearing those... rags. Really, Nerak, I have seen refugees with better wardrobes!"

"Also arranged, Lord Vader." Nerak chuckled again. "All new, richer, finer materials much more suitable for a Galactic Emperor, especially one who is a powerful Sith lord. We burned his old robes," he added in a lower voice. "The stench of their burning was almost unbearable!"

"Many thanks, Nerak. I was dreading this encounter. Tell me, though, did this ritual cleansing include a manicure and dental care?"

Nerak shook his head. "I am afraid not, milord. He would not allow anyone to touch his nails. And when we suggested that he seek the services of a dental droid, he turned stubborn and refused to even consider it. He has been drinking sparkling wine in celebration of your safe return."

Oh, great! Vader thought in resignation. He's clean, but inebriated! I can't win. To Nerak, he merely remarked, "Any excuse, I suppose. I'll keep my respirator on, then, or I'll soon be drunk on the fumes."

The doors opened just then and they entered the vastly overheated chamber. The Emperor was resplendent in his new attire. While they closely resembled his old robes of state, the new were of finer materials and workmanship, with some subtle embroideries and braiding. He waved a large and overflowing crystal goblet, blithely ignoring what sloshed over the rim.

Vader knelt, feeling an ominous creak in his knees as he did so. He really wanted those new bionics! "Master, I await your commands."

Palpatine's free hand motioned him forward. "Lord Vader, my boy, come and join me. I was most concerned for your safety."

I'll bet, Bantha Breath, but only as it concerned your own inconvenience! Vader was not feeling very charitable toward his Master.

"Sit down." He patted the chair beside him, from which his aide obediently arose in order to make room. "Bring a glass for Lord Vader."

Vader gulped; he had known this day would eventually come. "No thank you, Sir. Surely you do remember that the med-droids have forbidden it for me? Perhaps some sparkling mineral water?"

"Nonsh-- nonsense --that was years ago! Surely, a little bit won't hurt you! I command it!"

"No, Master, I really cannot -- my asthma -- I dare not! My breathing is much easier when I avoid drinking wine. The em-dees think an allergy to something in it, some ingredient common to all such beverages." Vader felt his Master's unbelieving stare upon him. Old Palpy isn't buying this, I knew he wouldn't; it'll have to be a battle of wills between us...

Unexpectedly, Palpatine querulously capitulated. "Oh, all right, Lord Vader. Go away then, if you won't be sociable! Attend me tomorrow morning at breakfast to make your report." He downed his wine and held the glass for a refill.

"Very good, Sir." Vader made a cursory bow and turned to leave. Nerak accompanied him to the doors. Well, so much for the new clothes. He probably already reeks like a winery!

As if divining his thoughts, Nerak quietly murmured, "We took care to order several sets of everything. He'll never know they aren't the same"

As long as he took them off at night. Vader wasn't entirely sure that the senile old bantha's ass didn't usually sleep in them. Oh well, he would just have to trust that Nerak and his cohorts would see to it. Much as he now heartily despised his Master, he did not want this. Being the apprentice to a senile old fool was not Vader's idea of status. He had better locate his son and take over soon, or there would be no Empire left to rule -- and he was beginning to wonder if he really cared. Had the alcohol merely pickled Palpy's brain cells, or were his immense Sith powers short circuiting his intelligence? He certainly couldn't last much longer, at this rate! Not for the first time, Vader wondered just how old Palpatine really was -- he had once claimed to be that infamous apprentice who killed Darth Plagueis of Sith legend. If true, he must, like Yoda, count his years in the hundreds.

Reaching the doors, Vader beat a hasty retreat. Sweat trickled down his back. He was going to need another shower.

The report was not going well. Vader suspected that Palpy had a hangover -- he was cranky and vicious; his bad temper kept all around him uneasy and fearful of reprisals for minor infractions. And Vader's supposed infractions were far from minor. In the Emperor's mind, Vader has lost both the Death Star and a prototype Tie fighter. This couldn't get much worse. Vader carefully refrained from revealing just which Rebel had actually fired the shot that set off the explosion. Somehow, he didn't think that Palpy would react well to that news. Besides, although Vader was certain that it had been his son in that Rebel X-wing, he had no absolute proof, other than that intense feeling of the Force surrounding the boy. Best to leave well enough alone...

Perhaps Palpatine's hangover was easing, or else his displays of temper were soothing him. He abruptly moderated his diatribe on Vader's part in the destruction of the Death Star.

"Well, my young apprentice," Vader cringed; Force knew, he was nearly middle aged! "You are safe. We must be thankful of that. Are you positive you could not have done more to protect the Death Star?" Vader sighed in exasperation. Palpatine ignored him. "How small Rebel X- and Y wing fighters could have destroyed it... That is being analyzed as we speak. There must have been some design flaw that was overlooked. If the Rebels could find it, so shall we! Although if you had retrieved the plans in the first place..." He looked at Vader in accusation.

"Yes, Master, I understand. But the Princess was unaccountably resistant to our standard interrogation procedures. Even the destruction of her home planet of Alderaan failed to loosen her tongue." Vader thought privately that Palpy would have had no more luck with Leia than he and Tarkin had -- he would probably ended up rendering her incoherent and mindless, if not dead, with his infernal Sith lightning -- that was ever the method favored by Sidious. He never seemed to learn that Sith lightning didn't really help. Instead, it usually left the subject useless for any further interrogation procedures.

Palpatine finally let that subject drop. But he had another complaint against Vader. "And losing your fighter -- that was totally irresponsible, Lord Vader! It was a new design, a prototype. You were to analyze and report on it. Instead, you managed to lose it!"

"Uh... Sir? Master? I crashed! It did save me. I can still report on its handling and how well the design works. But I didn't just lose it!" No, I gave it away to my rescuers, as a part of their reward for saving me. It was worth it! Hopefully, they will cut it up and sell the pieces for scrap -may. the Force be with me if it ever resurfaces whole...

Palpatine hadn't finished with him just yet. He continued his harangue for some time, eventually repeating allegations and complaints. Vader patiently waited for him to run down; It would accomplish little to interrupt or attempt further defense of himself. The Emperor was on a roll, apparently enthralled by the sound of his own voice. At least Vader wasn't kneeling. Since it had been a breakfast meeting, he was seated across the table from his Sith Master. He hadn't eaten much, either, anxiety having dulled his usually hearty morning appetite. Palpy hadn't eaten at all -- he must have the mother of all hangovers! Vader thought, recalling his own past experiences, and is consuming more than a little of the hair of the bantha.

Once again, Palpatine changed the subject, so suddenly that he startled Vader. "The Princess... Leia Organa. Did you find her beautiful? Soulful brown eyes... soft voice... seductive smile..."

Palpy's voice trailed off as he peered across the table at his apprentice.

Who the blazes is he describing? Leia the curse mistress? Princess Foul Mouth? Vader, with difficulty, suppressed a snort of laughter. "Not especially, Master. I suppose she is pleasant to look at and is intelligent." She'd have to be to remember all those curses! "She's... uh... petite, and her eyes are brown, but they were usually angry and her smile was nonexistent. She didn't really appeal to my senses. And she certainly wasn't inclined to regard me with any favor, either!" And if you could have heard what she called me --. Well, he ought to at least be convinced now that I am not interested in the girl...

"But Lord Vader, I thought you favored petite brunette women -- your wife was such a one. The Princess was even a Senator -- that is, until she openly joined the Rebels, and I dissolved the Senate. Are you certain...?"

Vader's patience was wearing thin. The man has to be out of his mind! Look at Leia like that? Even the idea feels somewhat incestuous...! "Master! She is a mere child! And I am not looking for a romantic liaison with anyone. Yes, the Princess does slightly remind me of Padme, but so does any girl who has brown eyes and is a small brunette! She just touches a chord of memory. My feelings toward Leia Organa are more... well, more ambivalent than anything."

Palpatine smirked in satisfaction. "Goood, good. Just so you are clear in your feelings there. Do you think she could have any Force capability? Could she be turned toward favoring the Dark Side? Does she seem to favor... um... older men?"

Just what does Palpatine have in mind? Does the randy old bantha have the hots for Leia? The thought amused Vader. He filed it away, and replied to his Master's questions. "Force capability? I never thought about it. Favor the Dark Side? Probably not -- she is as stubborn and committed to her cause as any other Rebel. And favoring older men? I really would have no clue. I personally found her arrogant." Vader wanted out of this discussion; his suspicions of Palpy's intentions were causing too much inner mirth to keep hidden for much longer.

"And now, Sir, I really must ask that you excuse me? I have appointments with the em-dees to determine how my health fared during my recent ordeal in space. Of course, if you prefer that I cancel... ?"

"Go! Go then, if you must, my boy. We will continue this conversation later." He waved his dismissal.

With alacrity, Vader left, before he burst into inappropriate laughter. His overactive imagination was supplying him with too many ludicrous scenarios featuring old Palpy and Princess Foul Mouth. Reaching the comparative privacy of his sometime office, Vader dissolved into helpless laughter. At least the security recordings would only show the laughter and not the reason for it. That girl had provided him with a tremendous amount of humorous amusement since her initial capture. Palpy and Leia? Taken seriously, the thought was more than slightly revolting. He doubted Leia would react very favorably to advances by the Emperor. In fact, her reaction would probably get her a dose of Palpatine's favorite form of reprisal -- Sith lightning. At the rate he had been throwing that around lately, he probably could have powered up a Star Destroyer or two!

In the midst of his laughter, an unwelcome thought crossed Vader's mind. Leia did have a minor passing resemblance to Padme. Perhaps therein lay the key to Palpatine's unaccountable sudden dislike --of Padme -- had the old lecher made advances and been rejected? That certainly would explain a lot of things for Vader. Though occasionally jealous of his wife's male acquaintances, he had never seriously questioned her fidelity and love for himself. And if she had rejected Palpy -- well then, no wonder Palpatine had suddenly turned against her and had attempted to drive a wedge between them. Vader's laughter abruptly ceased, replaced by burning anger at his Master. Someday, he vowed, someday I will repay you for ruining my life. Then I will be Master and you -- you will be dead! He allowed the anger to feed his power, allowed it to wash over him in a pleasurable wave.

He actually did have a medical appointment. Poking, prodding, bright lights and mysterious instruments of torture -- er -- examination -- Vader hated it. But he did need to have his health thoroughly assessed. So he endured the torturous indignities of the procedures with unusual patience. The creaky knees were as yet nothing to worry about, but they would be in need of replacement within the foreseeable future, just not soon enough to suit Vader. He reluctantly accepted that news. His heart had apparently healed far beyond the need for any mechanical assistance -- a quick procedure and the tiny inactive pacemaker was permanently removed, taking with it a source of secret anxiety: Vader need no longer fear that some stray bolt of Palpy's Sith lightning would upset the pacemaker and send him into cardiac arrest, as had happened once many years ago. He smiled in relief. Now about his lungs...

The lungs were surprisingly clear and seemed to be functioning far better than had ever been expected; his asthmatic wheezing was no longer noticeable. What had Lord Vader been doing --or not doing -- for such remarkable improvement? Just the opening Vader needed for his question: could there be a connection between asthma and the consumption of wine and other beverages containing alcohol?

"Oh certainly!" agreed the med-droid. "There is a possible connection between them. For some persons, a component, possibly the alcohol itself, exacerbates the condition with an allergic reaction, leading to an asthma attack. Had Lord Vader...?"

Vader hurried to deny any recent indulgence in alcohol, and admitted that the abatement of his symptoms had prompted his question. He would appreciate documentation in his medical recordsHe left it at that, and the em-dee agreed to note the possible connection in Vader's records.

Vader left the medical facility assured that his statements to Palpy were now covered, as his records would certainly be accessed as soon as the Emperor received notice that Vader had, indeed, visited the facility for a physical.. Darth Sidious was not one to respect the personal privacy of his apprentice.

And now, back to his own office to perform a task that he hated with a passion -- filling out forms and filing reports. The fine print was getting smaller and the print quality fainter. Palpy's budget cuts were much like sand, showing up everywhere. He hoped he could get back into space aboard a Star Destroyer -- and soon. At this rate, he would assuredly go blind before long! He picked up a datapad, and, with a deep sigh of resignation, began reading.