Chapter 37
Present Day: Mustafar's orbit
With the rest of the navy's Star Destroyers heading back to their regular posts, the Executor situated itself within Mustafar's orbit. Lord Vader had spent most of the voyage in the medical bay, watching over a sleeping Pamila. Every once in a while, Pamila would stir and smile at Vader, but she wasn't strong enough to stay awake for very long.
Vader's usually focused mind had now become scattered. The ring Piett gave his wife was a family heirloom, so that was of no help to Vader. However, he was sure Coruscant had more than enough jewelers to choose from. But could a dark lord of Sith really be seen purchasing an engagement ring? He would have to think carefully on this. Perhaps he would have Piett acquire it for him.
However, the ring was the least of Vader's concern. It was the answer to the question that was Vader's biggest worry. Would she accept him? What would happen if she said no? Should he just return her to Earth? Would he be able to handle that rejection? And if she said yes, then what? What would the marriage be like? He was called away so often to solve the Empire's problems, he would be an absent husband. Could a marriage survive that? Not to mention his tendencies toward violence. Would Pamila be able to handle that?
Then there was another issue. A matter of some delicacy and embarrassment to Vader. If she accepted his proposal, the wedding day was one thing. The wedding night would be something else entirely. Vader's injuries from Mustafar all those years ago were substantial. While in theory it was still possible for him consummate a marriage, it was not guaranteed since he had not engaged in that sort of activity for nearly two decades. And if he could not fulfill all his…duties as a husband, what then? Would she leave him? Turn to the company of other men? All the possibilities swirling in Vader's mind made his blood boil.
A welcomed interruption appeared. A silver protocol droid entered the medical bay and walked toward Lord Vader.
"Sir, Captain Piett has informed me that a shuttle is ready at you convenience to take you and Pamila to your fortress."
Vader nodded once, "As you were, droid."
As the droid made its way out of the medical bay, Pamila began to rouse. Her eyes fluttered then focused on Vader.
"Are we there yet?" she smiled.
"Yes, there is shuttle waiting for us." Vader answered. Pamila tried to sit up, but struggled to keep her weight on her elbows. Vader placed a stabilizing hand on her back and helped push her up. When she was upright, she started coughing profusely into her mask, causing it to fog up. Vader felt helpless as he watched her chest heave. All he could do was hold on to her and wait for it to pass. He worried that this was a lingering symptom from that radioactive, forsaken moon.
When it finally did pass, Pamila looked up at him desperately, "When can I take this stupid mask off?"
"As soon as we arrive on Mustafar and you are stabilized." Vader assured her, caressing the back of her head comfortingly. Then he carefully slipped one arm underneath her knees and wrapped the other one around her back, lifting her off the hospital bed, taking the mobile oxygen dispenser with them.
As Pamila let her head rest against his chest, he heard her mumble, "I'm sorry that I'm heavy."
"You are not heavy." He replied plainly, making his way toward their shuttle. It was true. He could barely feel her weight in his arms.
The walk to the shuttle was uneventful. Vader silently enjoyed the looks from the officers and crewman as he walked by with Pamila in his arms. In the past, they had seen Vader dragging prisoners through these halls for "questioning", many never to be seen again. They were not use to seeing a more gentle side of their leader. Vader would need to learn to manage his crew and make sure his softness toward Pamila did not affect the morale of Executor's crew. He would need to learn to balance his married life with his life as an enforcer. That is, if he got married.
He walked into the ready shuttle, placing Pamila on the medical cot softly. Piett had arranged for a droid to pilot the shuttle to Vader's fortress. As the shuttle sealed itself and launched, Vader watched Pamila's eyes grow heavier, fighting to stay awake.
He touched her hand gently, "Rest. You need it."
"No," She mumbled, trying to sit up again. "I want to look out the window."
Vader, forgetting Pamila was not used to space travel, tilted his head quizzically, "There is nothing of interest."
Pamila shot him a look, "To you, no. But to a girl who comes from a planet whose biggest accomplishment was going to the barren moon in the 60's and 70's, there is a lot of interest."
Vader sighed, resigning himself to her will, he helped her sit up to look through the window, "As you wish."
While Pamila watched the stars go by, Vader watched her intently as her face lit up with wonder. A smile grew in the corners of her mouth and her eyes glistened in the light of the stars.
"It's beautiful," Pamila whispered.
Vader found no beauty in the stars. He was only mesmerized by the beauty hidden within Pamila. He could feel the Light side of the Force radiating from her. The feeling of her aura next to his own was both foreign and wonderful. A beaming aura and a strong connection to the Force is what made Pamila such a great healer. In that moment, Vader was thankful that Pamila was born outside the Empire. Her Force-sensitivity could have led to her execution had she been born in this galaxy. Most likely by Vader's hand.
The shuttle's windows glowed red as they entered the heated atmosphere of Mustafar. As the brutal terrain of the planet came into view, the mystified look in Pamila's eyes morphed into fear. She could now see the darkened stone, the thick lava rivers, and ash clouds that the planet was comprised of.
"What is this place?" Pamila muttered under her breath.
Vader's jaw tightened. He sometimes forgot how harsh this planet appeared to others. Calling it his home didn't feel right. He had to somehow put her mind at ease about this planet. He gently placed a hand on her back, rubbing up and down her spine comfortingly.
"Your sanctuary." Vader spoke into her ear.
She turned to him, her face a mixture of emotions. The fear was still present, but now it was coupled with a subtle look of trust. That look made Vader all the more determined to never betray that trust.
The two pectoral fins of the shuttle descended downwards as it landed on the platform to Vader's fortress. Vader once again scooped Pamila into his arms, reveling in the feeling of her arms around his neck. The shuttles walkway lowered and the touching moment was abruptly cut short. Huddled in the center of the platform was a group of people with cameras in their hands and datapads at the ready to take notes. Journalists! Low-life reporters willing to do anything to get a story. Never before had their kind set foot on Mustafar. Not while Vader occupied it. In the middle of the group was Vanee, who wore a guilt-stricken look upon his face.
It didn't take long for the reporters to rush over to Vader as he walked down the gangplank. Vader had to fight his instincts. He wanted to react and push them all into the nearby lava using the Force. But Pamila was there. He didn't want her to see him take a life. Ever.
The news people already had their camera's ready, getting as many shots of Vader carrying Pamila as they could.
Pamila looked up at Vader, "What's going on?"
"I'm not sure. Just relax. I will handle it."
As soon as Vader pushed through the crowd, that's when the questions came rushing in.
"Is Pamila expected to survive?"
"What's her condition?"
"Where was she being held prisoner?"
"What about Willmeif? Is he alive?"
"Is Freedom with Blood still a threat?"
Vader didn't answer a single question. He didn't even look at the reporting scum. He just held on to Pamila tightly as she hid her face against him and pushed his way through the mob, ready to pounce on Vanee. Vader's attendant looked like a small, pale bug by the time his master reached him.
Vader loomed over Vanee, his voice venomous, "Give me a reason not to terminate you."
Vanee's feeble body shook as he struggled to speak, "I-I had no choice, my lord. I had o-orders…"
"Not my orders!" Vader thundered, making both Pamila and Vanee jump. Vader felt remorse for Pamila. He couldn't care less about Vanee.
"No sir. Not yours," Vanee whimpered. "The Emperor's"
Vader stood stunned, "The Emperor?"
"Yes, my lord. He insisted they be here for your arrival since you were unable to make it to Coruscant. They were even escorted by Royal Guards and Death Troopers. I had no choice!" Vanee groveled.
All the muscles in Vader's body clenched. The Emperor sent journalists to his private residence?! Why? As punishment for disobeying him? Sidious had doled out punishments before, but none as low as this.
Pamila must have sensed Vader's frustration. Soon he felt her gentle hand running across his chest. He looked down to see she was looking at him with sweet, pleading eyes.
"Please," she murmured. "Let's just forget about them and go inside. What's done is done."
Vader looked at the crowd, feeling his anger seething. He should kill them all. Send the Emperor a message. But then he saw Pamila's delicate hand gently pawing at his chest, begging him to let his frustration go. Finally, Vader sucked in a deep breath through his mask and focused his attention solely on Pamila.
"Very well," Vader spoke through gritted teeth. "We shall let bygones be bygones."
Focusing his mind on the entryway to his fortress, Vader tried to ignore the reporting rats scuttling across the landing pad. He made his way into the fortress, the obsidian sliding doors slamming in the faces of the reporters. Vanee walked fearfully in the dark lord's wake. As it should be.
Vader could feel Pamila moving slightly in his arms, trying to get a better look at her surroundings. Her eyes looked up, soaking in all the details of the dark, engraved walls. The she looked down at the black metallic floor. Her face flushed as she saw lava streaming underneath the floor they stood on.
"Huh," she exhaled. "Well, I never thought I would date a guy who lived in Barad-Dur."
Vader turned his head to look at her, "What is Barad-Dur?"
Pamila just smiled, "Nothing. Just a fictional place from a book. It looked a lot like this."
"Is that a good?" Vader asked.
Pamila shrugged, "Depends. Do you have an evil ring you can use to enslave the minds of men?"
Vader furrowed his brow, "No."
Pamila giggled slightly into her mask, patting her hand on his chest reassuringly, "Then it is a good thing."
Vader wanted to question the matter more, but the Pamila snuggled up to his chest again, and all the questions flew from his mind. He just carried her into the medical room, looking forward to the future.
… … … … …
Two days later…
News and images of Pamila's and Vader's safe return to Mustafar had been well circulated throughout the galaxy. The footage was shown on a loop on Coruscant, per the Emperor's insistence. The usually reclusive Emperor was now giving speeches and public appearances on a near daily basis, praising Pamila's resilience and Vader's bravery while shaming the horrid Rebellion for their crimes against the galaxy. He also informed the public that Pamila would arrive on Coruscant soon. Before long, more and more people began flying in their cruisers past the Imperial Palace, trying to catch a glimpse of Pamila, hoping she arrived one day early. Palpatine noted how his security bristled at all the speeders flying so close to the palace, but Palpatine waved it off and said he would be more concerned if they didn't.
Farther away on a moon near Geonosis, Tarkin sat in security briefing with the increasingly arrogant and flustered Director Krennic. Krennic was updating him on how Galen Erso reported gas leaks with the current exhaust port. Krennic talked about Erso's plans to relocate and rework the exhaust port, but Tarkin wasn't listening. A nearby HoloProjector was airing the recent HoloNet news. From the corner of his eye, Tarkin saw the footage of Vader carrying an injured Pamila down the ramp of a shuttle. The sight of Pamila's face snuggled near Vader infuriated Tarkin. Vader had won and he, Grand Moff Tarkin, had lost! Pamila would now be the handbag of that monster and it was all approved by that senile Emperor! Now Tarkin was condemned to work with the over-stuffed Krennic and his deluded aspirations.
However, Pamila's recent rescue had effected no planet more than Alderaan. A planet where protestors used to peaceably gather to rally against taxation and increasing imperial control. A planet where its citizens happily turned the other cheek at the accusations that it's government supported the Rebellion. Now, Bail Organa leaned against the rail of one of the palace's verandas, looking down onto the square. What he saw filled him with despair. No longer were his citizens protesting the Empire. Now the protested the Rebellion. They shouted curses for the Rebellion, condemning it as evil. They carried signs, most of which called out Bail and his family for supporting a heinous organization. Some even called for a change in Alderaan's leadership, calling the Organa's corrupt rebels. They praised Pamila and Vader, calling their love a triumph.
Bail sighed, leaning his elbows on the rail and hanging his head low.
Without the support of the people, the Rebellion was dead. The Emperor got exactly what he wanted. The Rebellion had fallen out of the peoples good graces. Death to the Rebellion. Long Live the Empire.
Bail didn't hear Leia come up behind him. He jumped slightly as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Soon he recovered and tried to smile warmly at her, but it was hard to manage.
Leia looked at the angry crowd below, then back at her father. "What are we going to do?"
Bail inhaled stiffly, trying to maintain his regal composure. He nodded, as if finally reaching a conclusion. "We will do what we always do, Leia. We shall be patient and hold on to hope. The Emperor may have won this day and perhaps the next, but this victory cannot last. It will not last."