He's in the Kuat system, but his star destroyer, like the entire Imperial fleet, keeps Coruscant time. That means Astral shows up in the middle of the night with Vanee. All things considered, that's the best possible time for her to sneak onboard the Executor with the least amount of fuss.

There's clearly been fuss back at Coruscant, however. Vanee has already sent ahead a message briefing him on Astral's run-in with Lady Sidious. If his Master didn't already know about Astral, he does now. Vader sighs. Whatever has brought her here, it had better be worth it.

When finally they are in private, Astral throws back the hood of her elegant cloak to reveal tired eyes, a pale face, and trembling lips. There's no mention of the argument with Sheev's wife. Astral instead recounts a slightly jumbled tale of a late-night visitor who handed her a datafile to give to him. Vader listens to Astral's stream of consciousness recollections of a stilted conversation proposing treason. It all smacks of danger and of intrigue, of the Force and of fate. No names were used, of course. It was all euphemisms and vagaries. Except for the subject matter of the datafile—that bit was very specific. The datafile contains information concerning the Rebel pilot who blew up the Death Star.

That gets Vader's attention.

It is the perfect lure. As Astral keeps talking, Vader can't stop his eyes from wandering to the datafile that she holds in her right hand. He lusts for that datafile. He is distracted with thoughts of what might be on that datafile. Vader can't get enough information on Luke Skywalker. He has memorized every image and scrap of data contained in the sparse Intel file Captain Groat cobbled together. That makes the promise of fresh information all the more beguiling. Whatever this conspiracy may entail, he is very ready to take this bait.

"This could be a trap," Astral wisely concludes. Inexperienced though she is at palace intrigue, she's no fool.

Vader immediately agrees. "Yes."

"Then, what do we do?" She looks to him with trusting eyes.

"We spring the trap," Vader answers automatically. "Come," he shepherds Astral into his meditation chamber. It's a far smaller version of the one in his Coruscant palace. But it's the most secure location on his ship and it's the only place Vader will risk opening that datafile.

"Did I do the wrong thing?" Astral frets as she climbs inside. "I didn't know what to do. I worried that if I refused, things would be worse."

"It's fine," he reassures her yet again. She's so worried about betraying him. But Astral would never consciously betray him, he knows. She was in a no-win situation. She made the right choice to at least appear to go along with her visitor's wishes. Once Vader sees what's on that datafile, he will determine how to proceed. He would rather that Astral not be dragged into this mess, but it looks like there is no avoiding it now.

Vader starts booting up his charging datapad as he removes his helmet. "Tell me how you know the guy again?" he prompts. Vader is as skeptical as Astral is, but he's intrigued all the same. He can't decide if he has a good or a bad feeling about this.

"He owned the paintings that I borrowed for the museum exhibit. The ones I returned after I left the castle."

"How did he know that you are connected to me?" That's the important part. Where is the breach in his security? Who is betraying his private life to the highest bidder? Vader needs to plug that leak fast.

Astral is no help, however. "I don't know. I never met the prince until the day I brought the artwork back. I gave him a story about the freighter with the paintings being temporarily impounded after we were diverted to Coruscant to deliver an injured Imperial pilot we rescued from the wreckage."

"Did he buy it?"

"I think so. He told his lawyer and the insurance inspectors to accept the paintings back with no questions asked. He seemed genuinely happy to have them recovered. He told me that his favorite piece is the portrait of y—I mean, the Jedi general. He knew all about y—I mean, the Jedi general."

Vader doesn't like the sound of that. This whole scenario reeks of trouble on so many levels. "This is the same guy who recommended you for your job, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"And you had never met him before that day?"

"Never," she confirms. "We did all the arrangements for the exhibit through his representatives. The museum did some investigating, of course. My Lord, the prince checked out. He purported to be a wealthy financier who became a recluse after his family was killed and he was injured in an accident. He is known to be a major collector of contemporary works. I saw his art myself at his villa. Everything was top notch."

"Did you see him again before tonight?"

"No."

"He's human?"

"Humanoid. I don't know his species. He's very disfigured. That sort of makes him hard to place."

"Tell me," Vader presses. He wants to know everything he can about this guy.

"His face is very damaged. He's missing an ear and part of his jaw. He has a huge scar running down the middle of his forehead. If I didn't know better, I'd say it looks like someone split his skull and stabbed his face. He's . . . well, he's . . ." Astral abruptly cringes and looks down.

So Vader supplies the words himself. "Worse than me?"

"Yes. Much worse." Astral flushes at the comparison. "I think he might be a Muun. He's very slim like they are, and super tall. Taller than you are, but sort of bent, too. He walks with a twisted limp. It's kind of painful to watch," she recalls aloud. "I guess the rest of him must be as damaged as his face . . ."

"Tell me more."

"I haven't seen many Muuns, but aren't they grey skinned? The prince has blue eyes and his skin isn't really grey. But maybe that's a result of the accident?" she theorizes. "I mean, I don't know . . . he's a little hard to look at," she squirms.

"Like me?"

"He's worse than you," Astral declares staunchly again. "Far worse. And you know that I don't even see that anymore, right? Right?"

She's cheerleading, but he mostly believes her sentiment. Astral Sidhu has no guile. "Right."

"I wish I could be more specific but, well . . . I didn't want to stare."

Vader grunts. He remembers her staring plenty the first time she removed his mask.

"Come to think of it," Astral recalls, "he was wearing a hooded cloak when I saw him last night. It pretty much covered his face. It reminded me of what I saw the Emperor wearing. Honestly, it was more like a shroud than a cloak."

That's not a helpful fact. None of the details Astral has relayed are encouraging, as far as Vader is concerned. But he keeps prompting her for more facts. "So, he got you the job?"

"Yes. He said it was a good deed. Sort of like a reward for returning his art."

Vader nods knowingly. "That's how he knew where you live. It would have been easy to follow you home from work. And it makes you feel indebted because if he got you the job, he can take it away."

"He did say that I owed him a favor," Astral recalls. Her face is bleak as she relives the interview. "I was so scared. He was polite. He never once raised his voice or threatened me. He kept telling me that he meant me no harm and he called me a friend," she remembers. "But still . . . he was terrifying. So intense. So creepy. And then, he disappeared! Into thin air," she still looks baffled over that event.

Again, Vader nods knowingly. "He was probably never really there."

"But I saw him!" Astral protests. "He was as close as you are now!"

"You saw a Force projection," Vader corrects.

"A what?"

"It's an old trick and a good one. A hard one, too. It takes great power to project in the Force. It's a lot like Force healing. If you're not careful, you can accidentally kill yourself."

She's confused. "So, you're saying that-?"

"He caused you to see him as a vision in the Force. He was very likely halfway across the galaxy the whole time. Safely away from Coruscant."

"No, he wasn't. He was real!" she huffs. "I touched him when he handed me the datafile. He helped me pick my bag off the ground. He was real! Like that datafile is real!" Astral is utterly convinced and that speaks volumes. Whoever this guy is, Vader thinks, he must be accomplished because his projection was very good.

Reminding himself that Astral knows very little of the Force, Vader explains, "He had to have been projecting. A Force user that powerful wouldn't risk coming to Coruscant. Sheev might sense him." Vader thinks a moment about how things ended between Astral and the prince. "He didn't have to leave like that, but he did. And then, he sent you to me. To tell me that you saw him disappear." That was no accident, Vader suspects.

"I don't get it."

"He wants me to know that he is a Force user." A very powerful Force user.

"Oh."

"Just like he wants me to know that he can find you. He knows where you live and where you work. It's an implicit threat. And a good one," Vader grumbles. From his mother to Padme, the women in his life have always been his weakness.

"Oh."

"He knows what he's doing. He doesn't have to get to me directly. He can control me through you. He can contact me through you." It's classic Sith manipulation.

But when Astral hears the word 'Force,' she like everyone else in the galaxy thinks 'Jedi.' "So you're saying that the prince is really a secret Jedi?" she squeaks.

That would make things simpler. But it's the least likely answer, Vader decides. "I know all the most powerful Jedi left alive and none of them meet his description."

Astral argues back, "He spoke of that Jedi prophecy you told me about. You know—the one about balancing the Force. He said it isn't too late. That he can help you—"

"I'll bet," Vader responds with withering sarcasm. "Let me guess-we team up with the Rebel pilot to take out Sheev and then we turn on each other? Allies of convenience until we revert to being enemies? If he's even a Jedi," and all facts suggest otherwise, Vader worries.

Astral nods along. "But if he's not a Jedi, then—"

"That just leaves Sith," Vader finishes glumly. It's the worst answer to the mystery of who this fictional Prince Venamis actually is. Because the mostly likely candidate for a leftover Sith still hanging around is Lord Sidious' old Master. The dead one who could supposedly cheat death for others but not himself.

Astral frowns. "But I thought there were only two of you at any given time. A Master and an Apprentice, right?"

Vader smirks hard at that naïve contention. "The Sith Rule of Two is often honored in breach. Maul was still alive for years when I became the Apprentice."

"Maul? Who is Maul?" Astral blinks.

"Darth Maul is perhaps the first Sith Lord ever to retire. After he was injured, he went into a life of crime. Then, he changed his mind and wanted his old job back, but Sheev turned him down. Maul is dead now. Killed by a Jedi."

"Oh. Well, are there any more of you guys rattling around?" Astral asks.

"Apparently so," Vader sighs. And this is the last thing he needs—some Dark Sider to surface and start meddling. Looking to sow discord between him and Sheev. Looking to stoke a war to create upheaval and distrust. Looking to lure Luke Skywalker to be his Apprentice so together they can take on the duo of Sidious and Vader. Whoever this guy is, he's clearly a foe to be reckoned with. And Vader seriously doubts that he's going to fade away quietly back into the Unknown Regions or wherever he's come from.

How the Hell did this prince guy know to get to him through Astral? Their meeting was by chance and romance was never the goal. In fact, when Astral left him at the castle, she had vehemently declined a relationship going forward. And yet, here they are. Intimates and confidantes. Co-conspirators now, too. But this prince couldn't have known that would happen. When the prince got her the job at the auction house, he and Astral had already gone their separate ways. Moreover, this all started with the museum exhibit Astral began planning three years ago. No one could have inferred that her trip to ferry the artwork to Alderaan would be interrupted by the Death Star and lead to a chance meeting with him. Even the best seers—Dark or Light—couldn't foresee all those coincidences. Visions are rarely so specific. So either this prince guy is extremely powerful or he's very lucky. And because there's no such thing as luck, if it's the latter, then the Force is with him.

It's a sobering thought.

But before Vader can determine the next step, he needs to understand what he stands to gain from all of this. And it had better be good, because the risks are daunting. Vader turns expectantly to Astral. "Let's see what he gave you."

She hands over the datafile. But then, she thinks better of it. "Wait. Do you think it's safe? What if it blows up or something?"

Vader shrugs as he inspects it. "It looks fine to me. You've watched too many holonet movies," he chides. Plus, nothing is going to stop him from looking at this datafile.

It loads and opens to a picture of a small child smiling up at a young woman who holds his hand and smiles back. They are walking through one of the local desert townships, looking very much like the Outer Rim residents they are. The woman has a pleasant smile and a corona of braided hair. She's wearing a rough homespun dress topped by a vest. The boy wears a baggy shirt and pants. Even at this tender age of three or four years, he wears tall boots. It keeps out the sand, Vader remembers. He hated sand as a child.

Curious Astral peers over his shoulder and frowns at what she sees. "That's not a pilot. Or wait—is the pilot a she? Is it the mom in the picture?"

"The pilot is the boy."

"Well, then this is useless." Tired Astral sounds very annoyed. "What do you want with baby pictures of the pilot? The prince said this would show you truth. How is this going to help you find that pilot?" she complains.

"It won't and it's not supposed to. It's supposed to whet my appetite for more. He knows I want this. Look at the date on that photo—it's over sixteen years old," Vader does the math. And, fuck. That's a whole new wrinkle on the mystery of this art-loving prince. Because whoever he is, he hasn't come late to the party. In fact, he might have been the first to arrive. "He's known all along," Vader surmises. "Fuck!" the curse slips out. Mostly because everything about Luke Skywalker and the brutal past he raises stresses Darth Vader out. "He knows . . . he's always known . . . " It turns out that this secret Skywalker on Tatooine wasn't so secret after all.

"Knows what?" Astral isn't following. "Look, he said we could get killed over this. But who kills over baby pictures?" she wonders aloud peevishly.

Darth Vader would, that's who. "I would kill to learn this information. I will kill to protect this information."

"Why?"

Vader doesn't answer. He starts scrolling through the rest of the datafile. There are more photographs, chronicling the child as he matures. The date stamps on the photos increase as the boy ages. It's clear that someone kept the child under regular surveillance for years. Here Luke sits clutching a small spaceship toy while perched on the edge of a landspeeder that has seen better days. Other pictures show him coming and going, carrying a backpack and a water bottle. He's school age now, well into boyhood. Like children everywhere, Luke Skywalker progresses from cute to awkward. Next, he is pimpled and gawky, but later he begins to resemble a young adult. The maturation is as predictable and typical as it is galling. For in the many pictures Vader now scrolls through, all he can see is what he has missed. Years and years of a baby becoming a boy and then a young man. The chronological pictorial puts all that Kenobi stole from him in laser focus.

Through it all, the boy appears perpetually scruffy and tanned. His clothes are utilitarian, with patches and stains. In later pictures, Luke wears a utility belt with an assortment of tools and devices at the ready. He puts them to regular use, judging by the many pictures of his kid out in the hot sun repairing moisture vaporators. His brown-blonde hair is worn longish. It falls in his eyes and turns up at the back of his collar. Altogether, the impression the hardworking kid gives is vaguely unkept and disheveled. That's nothing like how Padme would have raised their son. But flipping through the pictures, Vader is rather uncomfortably reminded of his own Tatooine upbringing. And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that will give them something in common.

His rapt attention to the photographs is not lost on Astral. "My Lord, what aren't you telling me?" she asks softly. But Vader keeps methodically scrolling through in silent fascination. He can't look away at his son's secret past.

Next, there are a new series of photographs that are not Luke Skywalker. It's two grown men interacting at different times and in different places, but usually in the desert with the family homestead in the background. The younger, unfamiliar one looks angry in most of the pictures. With an aggressive stance and even a wagging finger under the nose of the other man. One photograph shows him with a threatening hand on the holstered pistol he habitually wears. "That must be Lars," Vader decides. "That's Kenobi," he tells Astral as he points at the hooded figure with a lightsaber strapped to his waist.

"Who are they?" she asks blankly. If Astral has heard mention of the names before in passing, they evidently haven't registered as significant.

But Vader doesn't answer. Because the significance of what he is seeing has begun to register. First and foremost, Luke's guardian didn't get along with Obi-Wan. Hopefully, that means the boy hasn't been trained. The less Jedi dogma his kid has been fed, the better. That's the good news. The bad news is that whoever this prince guy is, he knows the whole story of who was hiding in the Dune Sea on Tatooine. Vader scowls as he grumbles aloud, "He knew where he was. He knew that a Jedi watched over him. And he left him there anyway." What kind of Sith does that?

Astral isn't following. By now Vader has scrolled to the end of the file and it has reverted back to the beginning. She now gestures over his shoulder to the picture of preschool age Luke Skywalker walking with Lars' wife. "The kid looks happy. Look how his mom loves him," Astral observes offhand.

"That's not his mother. Those are not his parents."

"Oh. Well, they look happy. Very normal," Astral contends.

"It's nice," Vader has to concede as he contrasts Luke Skywalker's life with his own humble beginnings in slavery before he was sold into the Jedi cult. "Normal is good." Normal is more than he got.

And maybe that's why Luke Skywalker was left to grow up unaware. Because it looks to have been a stable, loving home. Completely obscure and unremarkable. Hidden far away from Sheev and himself. A good place for the boy to grow until he reached the age to be trained for Darkness. Because while the Jedi began their indoctrination young to keep control, the Sith tradition is to wait to train young men. Only a young man full of raging male hormones and youthful rebellion is poised to embark on his journey into Darkness.

Still unaware, Astral wonders aloud, "If things were okay for these people, then why would the kid grow up to be a terrorist?"

Vader answers, "Because Kenobi was a Jedi who filled his head with lies. And because the Empire killed that boy's guardians looking for the Death Star plans."

"Oh. That's right. I remember now from your conversation with the Intel guy back at the castle." Astral considers the endearing picture again. "He's really cute there. He looks so innocent."

"He is innocent." Luke Skywalker is a victim if there ever was one, Vader suspects. Stolen from his family, raised on a backwater planet, and no doubt groomed to be a tool for the Jedi's revenge. Force only knows what the boy has been told about his father. He will be a hostile, fearful stranger when they meet no doubt. "Look at him," Vader whispers aloud. Even he can hear the anguish in his raspy voice. "He's so . . . so young . . . " So gullible, most likely. So impressionable. So . . . used.

"What aren't you telling me, my Lord?" Astral asks again. "What truth is here? How does any of this help you find the pilot now?"

"It helps to fill in the gaps. I know some of this. Not all of this." It's time to come clean. Vader sits back and looks up at hovering Astral. He wanted to protect her from this knowledge, but that's no longer possible. She needs to understand all the facts if she is to contend with this wily prince. With a deep breath, Vader reveals, "The Rebel pilot who destroyed the Death Star—the boy in those pictures-is named Luke Skywalker."

"S-Sky—" Astral stops herself from saying that forbidden name. "That kid is your kin?" she squints at him.

Vader answers with the terrible, wonderful truth: "He's my son."

"Your son?" she echoes faintly. He sees her glance over his shoulder to the picture once more. "You're sure?"

"I discovered his identity from two independent sources. And it all makes sense now. Luke Skywalker has my Force. He has my old name. And he lived with my step-brother on my homeworld watched over by my old Jedi Master. Hidden from me his entire life."

"That's your son?" Astral squeaks again in stunned disbelief. "Your son—Darth Vader's son—is the Rebel fugitive?"

"Yes."

"Oh, my Gods . . . " Astral covers her mouth with her hands. He can tell by the horrified look on her face that she gets it. She absolutely gets it. With all of the nasty implications. Sure enough, she starts connecting the dots. "The man with so much Force that you worry he will become your replacement is actually your own son? The man who you say the Force used to strike back at the Emperor's Death Star after Alderaan is your son? You're fighting your own child on opposite sides of a war? Oh, my Lord," alarmed Astral exhales, "you have to find him! You have to find him and stop this manhunt! Or you may end up killing him!"

"Or Sheev will find him, and kill him first. Or use him to kill me," Vader completes the parade of horrible outcomes. For as much as his offspring is a threat to his own position as Apprentice, Luke is also a potential long-term threat to Sheev. Because if you're not with the Sith, you're against them. No Force-user gets to remain neutral in the ongoing Jedi-Sith conflict. Luke Skywalker will have to choose a side.

Vader looks down, somewhat ashamed to be revealing this deadly secret. "I wanted to shield you from all this. But I can't. Not now." His eyes rise to hold steady on hers, his voice heavy with apology. "You're already implicated by bringing me this datafile."

She nods. "I knew that when I came here. My Lord, I will help," Astral promises immediately. "The prince wants me to act as go-between. I'll do it."

"It's treason," he warns. "No trial, just an execution." The Empire's justice is swift and harsh.

Astral nods again. Looking equal parts grim and valiant, she commits. "So be it."

Vader smiles his appreciation, and admits his relief. "I was hoping you would volunteer." He and Padme used to be a team like this long ago. Padme had a way of knowing what mattered most to him, whether it was urging him to abandon his mission to seek his mother on Tatooine or to disobey orders to attempt to rescue Obi-Wan on Geonosis. With Padme at his side, he was bolstered and resolved. It was only later, when they began to see things differently that their comradery faded into bickering. Now, looking at Astral's pale face full of misgivings but determined all the same, Vader realizes how much he has missed this feeling. Sex is great, but companionship is everything in a relationship. Knowing that there's someone on your side rooting for your success matters. Vader craves Astral's reassurance that he's not alone in all of this. He realizes now that he is happy to have unburdened himself of this terrible secret.

"This is what's been bothering you, isn't it? This is what you wouldn't tell me on Coruscant."

He doesn't deny it. "I . . . I . . ." He grimaces as he has trouble expressing how he feels. Mostly because he's a man of actions, not words. But also because the fate of Luke Skywalker dredges up all sorts of emotions. They threaten to unman him now as he feels hot tears sting at his eyes. Darth Vader may spend his days marching around issuing orders and outmanning the Imperial elite in their constant pissing match to establish a pecking order. But with Astral, he doesn't have to put up a front. She's seen him weak. She accepts him weak. So, he can be choked up and at a loss for words on this most difficult topic. For twenty years, he has largely ignored his lost children. But he can't do that any longer.

Astral looks at him patiently until he blurts out, "I owe it to Padme." After he called Astral his wife's name in bed—a very mortifying slip of the tongue—Vader has been careful not to speak of his late wife. But be cannot avoid it now. "We parted badly. We argued. It got ugly . . ." Far uglier than he cares to confess to Astral. The guilt of harming Padme, of maybe killing her or at least contributing to her death, haunts him still. It all culminated in her death and the orphaning of his twin children. Vader cannot deny his own role in that unintended fate. It's a big reason for his obsession with saving Luke Skywalker.

"I have to find our son for Padme," he rambles in a hoarse, whispery voice. "Astral, I can't change the past, but I can change the future . . . I hope," he gulps. "Because if Sheev finds Luke, he will kill him or worse."

"What's worse than dying?" Astral asks warily.

"He will turn him into another version of me." Vader desperately wants to avoid that result. It will doom his kid and it will continue the ongoing Dark/Light, Jedi/Sith Force war that leads nowhere but circles. His boy needs to learn the Dark Side and to embrace the whole nature of the Force. But he needs to eschew all the rest of the Sith religion. Darkness must be put in proper perspective, as should the Light. That is the only way to bring balance to the Force.

"We won't let that happen," Astral declares staunchly. Then, she frowns and wonders aloud the same thing he has pondered, "Why would your son keep your surname if he's in hiding? That makes no sense."

Vader gives the only explanation he can think of. "The Jedi hid him in plain sight. That must have been the strategy. They gambled that I either didn't know he survived or I didn't care." Obi-Wan kept his surname too, come to think of it. What a lousy little plot this was. And how galling it is that such a half-ass endeavor was so effective. For twenty years, it worked.

"Oh, Astral . . . I can't find him," Vader now confesses miserably. His ongoing failure has Sheev breathing down his back and his own fears heightened. "I have no leads. We have probes and spies in most every system and we can't find any trace of him. Every now and then, we find a Rebel. But they always die in interrogation. Or they kill themselves before they can be captured."

"We'll find him," Astral cheerleads loyally.

"How?" Vader demands, giving vent to months of pent up frustration. "I have the entire Imperial Navy at my disposal and we have nothing to go on!"

Astral argues back, "We have the prince. He knows way more than he's letting on. I'm sure he knows who you are . . . er . . . were. And he's known where Luke has been for years. He wouldn't care who that boy was if he didn't appreciate his significance," Astral reasons. "And if he wanted Luke dead, he would have made a move years ago."

She's right, of course. But Vader can't help but bemoan the complexity of the situation. "Even if I do find him, Luke will hate me. For what happened to our family. For what happened to the Jedi. For what happened to Obi-Wan. And that's not even addressing the politics between us," Vader groans. He's whining, but he can't help it. He is anxious, so very anxious about this situation. And that's not him. He's ruthless and detached as a rule. The coolest head in every battle. The most calculating of commanders. But somehow, nothing stresses him out like Luke Skywalker.

"That may all change if Luke knows who you are," Astral asserts. She fixes him with a stern look. "Who you really are. My Lord, you're not who you appear to be on the holonet—"

"He won't know that."

"Then, you will have to make him understand. My Lord, we will find a way to help your son. To make him appreciate your true perspective." She fixes him with a pointed look. "Darth Vader is not who the public thinks he is."

He nods. Yes, that's the plan. "I have to at least try." He owes it to Padme to try to reconcile with their boy. And if that can't be done, perhaps he can at least protect Luke from Sheev. Pulling himself together, Vader sheepishly wipes at one wet eye and repeats, "I have to at least try."

"He's the only family you have left. You have to do more than try," Astral chides softly. "So, what do we do now?"

Vader exhales glumly, knowing that the best path forward is the one he would rather not take. "We wait for your prince to return," he decides. That will put a lot of pressure on Astral. It's risk he's not sure she fully appreciates. Frankly, he'd feel a lot better if it was Padme acting as go-between. His wife had years of self-defense and combat training during her years as queen. She knew how to handle a blaster. She had more than one occasion to use one. In fact, Padme Amidala was far more likely to run into danger than to run from it. That meant his wife was far more equipped than Astral is to deal with it. Sending this art historian to negotiate with a maybe-Sith Lord feels like sending a lamb to the slaughter. But hopefully, it will only be a few meetings. Vader plans to remove Astral from the middleman position as soon as possible.

"What do I tell him?"

"I want more information. I want to know who he is, what he wants, and what he knows about Luke." Vader plans to play hard to get in order to get the prince to reveal more. "Be careful not to reveal anything or to commit to anything. We will make him convince me, which will force him to do the talking."

"Okay," she nods along.

"Astral, don't trust him. Whatever you do, don't trust him." She needs to heed this warning for both their sakes. "Never trust a Sith."

"But I trust you."

"That's different," Vader grumbles.

She smiles back. "I know."

Those two words speak volumes about how much he and Astral understand one another. And about how much Astral appreciates the nuances of who he is and the position he finds himself in. Vader worries that if Padme were still alive, she would never be able to do that. His wife was a high-minded woman, full of cherished principles she was loath to compromise. And that's why, even had she survived, Vader knows that they would eventually have parted.

He stops himself now. He knows needs to stop comparing the two women. But that's hard because Padme will always be the standard by default. Still . . . his wife was far from perfect. And Force knows, he has many faults himself. But love isn't about being perfect. In fact, love might be more about imperfections than perfections. But either way, it's unfair to compare his wife with Astral. It's not a competition. It's okay, he decides, for Padme to be the right woman for his younger self and for Astral to be the right woman for him now.

His eyes find her tired, earnest face. Astral is brave, very brave for coming to him with this datafile tonight. Has he even thanked her? He hasn't, so he does it now. "Thank you," he tells her with utmost sincerity as he pulls her into a hug. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"I'm glad to finally know what's been troubling you," she answers as she hugs back.

He resumes brooding over the new pictures of Luke Skywalker. This prince fellow could only be a Sith, Vader concludes grimly as he scrolls through the photographs. For the Sith have an uncanny way of seeing into your soul. Of peeking into shameful longings and repressed desires. Of recognizing your self-doubts and hidden fears. Of twisting your guilt and yet simultaneously repressing your conscience. That is what makes their manipulation so potent. Because in the end, you fall prey to their schemes willingly. You know it's a mistake, and yet you cannot stop yourself.

That is why as a young man he knelt to pledge allegiance to Darth Sidious in his Chancellor's office. Because saving Padme was worth any cost, even thirty scared younglings hiding in the Council chamber who thought he had come to save them. And now, older and wiser, Vader finds himself yet again falling prey to another such illusory lure. He will join the foolish treason plot of the poseur prince because saving Luke Skywalker is his paramount objective.

In this, Vader is all-in. You don't dip your toe in the Dark Side, you surrender to it completely. And so, if need be, he will destroy the prince, he will destroy the Empire, he will destroy anything that gets in the way. He may even destroy himself and take trusting, supportive and oh-so-good Astral down too. Why? Because his boy could turn out to the man that Anakin Skywalker fell short of. Luke Skywalker could be the hero the galaxy has been waiting generations for. And then, the son's rise could make the sins of his father worth it. Gazing at a picture of his stolen child, Vader thinks this kid could be the one saving grace for all the pain his father has both endured and caused. At long last, twenty years in, the Force presents him with the purpose Darth Vader desperately needs, the vindication he wants, and the redemption he seeks. All in the form of his long-lost son.

And so, Vader vows to protect Luke at any cost. He will do what must be done. He will not hesitate. He will show no mercy. For yet again, he will double down on Darkness. Damn, Vader laments to himself, this is why the Dark Side is such an insidious choice. Because in the end, you control your own corruption. It's why there are no innocent Sith. You only have yourself to blame for your regrets.

Astral is standing behind where's he seated, looking down over his shoulder. He feels her lift a hand to rest it gently on his right pauldron. "We'll find him," she promises softly. Vader doesn't reply. He just lifts a gloved hand to cover hers. Finding Luke Skywalker, Vader worries, will be the easy part.