The day is done and Astral has arrived home from work. She tosses her purse and tote on the counter, shrugs out of her jacket, and plops heavily on the couch to remove her boots. When that task is done, she looks around at her luxurious, orderly, very quiet and exceedingly empty apartment. There's no sign of any uninvited princely visitors tonight. Her place feels especially lonely.
So she grabs the remote to switch on the holonet as she wanders into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. The nightly newsfeed begins playing. Astral pauses a moment to watch. She only pays attention to the top stories from the first five minutes. That's always when she sees him. Sure enough, the update on the hunt for the Rebel terrorists features Darth Vader in the background. Astral watches and then rewinds to watch again. Yes, it's just as she thought. That's old stock news footage to accompany tonight's report, and not new pictures. With Lord Vader, it can be hard to tell. His uniform is always the same and so are the uniforms of the troops he is pictured around. From day to day, even from year to year, the newsfeed videos of the Sith Lord can be hard to place. But by now, Astral is an expert on all Darth Vader media. So, she knows a few seconds in that there is nothing new to see here. Disappointed, she switches it off.
Is she hungry? No, not really. More like restless and pensive. So she refills her glass and heads outside to the terrace. Summer is coming, and Coruscant's nights are warming up. It feels good to be outside barefoot in just her blouse and her slacks.
Elsewhere on this vibrant city world, lovers are meeting for dinner, friends are gathering, and families are reuniting. People are giving the 'how was your day?' and 'what's new?' updates to those closest to them. Except for Astral. She's alone again, wishing she wasn't. It's nothing new. She had these moods back on Alderaan. They were often the impetus to take another stab at dating again. But here on Coruscant, that's not the solution. Astral isn't looking to trade up from Lord Vader. She just wants more of him.
It's partly her own fault. She said she wanted this arrangement. Once they reunited, Astral was determined to retain her independence and to eschew any formal commitment. Except now that she has what she said she wanted, it no longer satisfies. Because for all that she and Lord Vader are risking together, it seems like there should be more than this. Astral was afraid of risking her heart, but now she finds herself risking her life. Those stakes put things in perspective. Astral feels like she should get more than just fleeting glimpses of Lord Vader on the holonet. Especially because by now Astral knows not to believe any of what the state broadcast channel says.
But news reports are all she'll ever get of Darth Vader on a regular basis. He's off ruling the galaxy and chasing Rebels. According to Vanee, Lord Vader does ninety percent of the Emperor job without the title. Mostly because his boss thinks he has achieved all he needs to do as a leader. The Emperor devotes his days to worshipping Darkness, leaving Lord Vader to make all but the biggest executive decisions. Save for a few projects that Lord Vader is cut out of—like the second Death Star he's not supposed to know about—he has broad and deep influence. It's how Astral knows that Darth Vader subverts his Master far more than he lets on.
But that work schedule leaves little room for her. Thank goodness she's not stuck at the castle, marooned on Mustafar with nothing to do as she waits for an opening on his calendar. At least here on Coruscant, she has a life of her own. It's actually a very good life. But it's a life alone. This is not how Astral would ever have envisioned being in a relationship. So much of intimacy is the day-to-day stuff. Without that, things can feel distant because, well, they are.
At a time when you can have near instant communications lightyears across the galaxy, Astral finds herself ridiculously removed from Lord Vader. She doesn't even have a direct way to contact him. That's deliberate—designed to keep her existence quiet for her protection. But since her trip to Kuat three weeks ago, Astral has had no update on how he is feeling and what he is doing and whether he has made any progress in the search for Luke Skywalker. It makes their relationship more than merely long distance. It's downright arm's length. And that's not enough, Astral decides. She wants more of her Dark Lord.
She wanders over to the terrace railing. Watching the Coruscant cityscape lit up for the evening, Astral sighs and sips on her wine. Where are you tonight, my Lord? She wonders what he's doing now. Does he miss her like she misses him? Does he fantasize about their two nights together like she does? Because Astral remembers the feel of hard metal hands in her hair and soft lips on her mouth. She remembers a body muscled and strong that was so incongruous with his obvious frailty.
So much of Darth Vader is a compelling contradiction. It fascinates Astral how she can see him casually choke a man and yet shed a hastily wiped away tear as he looks on pictures of his grown son. Lord Vader is as harsh, ruthless, and gruff as his Sith allegiance suggests, and yet at times so shockingly vulnerable, thoughtful, and normal. He seems equal parts Dark overlord and Light hero in her mind. A committed Sith and yet still very much a Jedi. He's . . . complicated. But Astral likes it. Lord Vader's inconsistencies don't frustrate her so much as draw her in. He is a marvelously layered person who, like a good piece of artwork, stands up to repeated scrutiny. For the more you look and the more you learn, the more you understand and appreciate the work—and the man-as a whole.
Oh, my Lord, come back soon. Astral makes a wish as she takes yet another sip. Without a meal, this glass of wine is going straight to her head. But she doesn't care. She might need to drink another glass to get her mind off Lord Vader. Because she remembers hot breath on her face and yellow eyes searing into hers as his body plunged into her body repeatedly. It had been glorious. Astral long ago ceased to be revulsed by Lord Vader's infirmities. For marked though he is, the man still manages to retain a sizeable measure of sex appeal. Sure, he's not the usual thing. But that doesn't mean he's unattractive.
Astral closes her eyes, wondering again where he is tonight. What she wouldn't give to be in his arms tonight.
"Missing him, are you?"
Astral whirls and gasps, "P-Prince!" After three weeks of waiting for him to return, her mysterious visitor finally comes tonight? Now? Standing there looking entirely too comfortable with her blouse untucked and no shoes, Astral feels at a disadvantage. And that's not counting that she's also slightly buzzed from the wine. Ugh . . . This is not how this conversation should occur.
Her uninvited guest graces her with a courtly bow. "Good evening, Ms. Sidhu." He is formal like she remembers.
She, however, is not. "Uh . . . hello," Astral gulps, quickly setting aside her wineglass. Looking behind the prince, she notes that there is no speeder or other form of transportation to explain how he is standing here on her terrace. Lord Vader must be correct that he's using a trick of the Force. And that's intimidating. Well, everything about this mysterious meddler is intimidating now that she knows he is far more than just a fellow art aficionado.
"Tell me, did your pilot enjoy my information?" the prince solicits, looking equal parts coy and sly. There will be no pretense that this is anything other than a negotiation, Astral surmises.
She knows her role. She's supposed to help Lord Vader play hard to get. She can't appear too interested on his behalf. So she does her best to appear underwhelmed as she shrugs. "It wasn't anything he didn't already know."
The prince looks amused by her lie. Like he knows it's a lie. "Oh?"
Astral doubles down on her posturing. Tossing her hair and crossing her arms, she lifts her chin and challenges, "You'll have to do better than that datafile." She's doing her best feisty-badass-heroine-on-the-holonet impression.
She's not fooling anyone. The prince barely suppresses his grin. It's rather patronizing actually. "Alright, then, what does he want?" he counters with twinkling eyes.
What does Lord Vader want? He wants his son. Astral answers, "The location of the Rebel pilot." And did she say that too fast? Yes, she said that too fast. Too eager. Too nervous. Astral cringes inwardly. So much for being an unflappable negotiator. This acting intimidating thing Lord Vader does is harder than it looks.
"The location of the Rebel pilot?" the disfigured prince echoes with a marked smirk.
"Yes."
"And he needs my help for that?" Her visitor raises his eyebrows in mock disbelief. "The mighty Imperial war machine can't find one Rebel?"
Astral doesn't answer. She doesn't know how to answer that question without making Lord Vader look bad.
The prince lets her silence speak for a moment before he continues. "My dear, let us cease pretending. We both want to find the Rebel. Did you know your pilot even put a bounty on his head? Your pilot has enlisted the scum of the galaxy to come to his aid. Good thing I doubled the bounty to ensure that the target will come to me first, if and when found."
"B-Bounty hunters?" Astral makes a face. That is so disreputable. And so unlike Lord Vader. "Bounty hunters?" she blinks. Can it be true?
"Yes. Bounty hunters," the prince confirms. "It smacks of desperation. But I have to concede that the situation is uniquely delicate. Still," his blue eyes slant to pin Astral down, "one can't help but wonder if your pilot wishes to find the Rebel or to kill the Rebel. Officially, of course, he wants to kill him. But unofficially . . . ?"
Astral doesn't immediately answer. She's too afraid to make a mistake.
"Well?" The prince approaches closer now and keeps walking. He's close. Threateningly close. He looms over Astral from his seven-foot height. He's so real that Astral can't believe that what she's seeing is some sort of vision of the Force. "Which is it?" he demands softly.
"He wants to help him." Not to kill him. Never to kill him.
"Why?"
Astral blinks back at the prince as she searches for an appropriate reply. She's unwilling to reveal the truth of Lord Vader's relationship to the Rebel pilot. He had warned her not to give anything away. But that's far harder than it sounds. The prince probably already knows the Skywalker lineage, but still . . .
When she continues to hesitate, her impatient visitor prompts, "Say the words. Tell me why. Why does Darth Vader want to help a Rebel pilot?"
Darth Vader. Not 'the pilot.' The time for dissembling is over, it seems. But she will not consciously betray Lord Vader. Astral keeps searching for an acceptable response. Or, at least, a less damaging truth.
"So good. So loyal," the prince approves as he considers her, like he knows what she's thinking. "Tell me why," he coaxes again. "Don't make me take it from you. Why does Darth Vader want to help a Rebel pilot? The Rebel pilot who blew up the Death Star?"
"I . . . I . . ." Astral is still fumbling for an acceptable answer to the verbal trap she has laid for herself.
The prince leans in and cajoles, "We are friends, are we not? We can trust one another."
No, they cannot. Never trust a Sith. A Sith Lord himself taught Astral that piece of wisdom. Feeling cornered in more ways than one, she now attempts to take a step back. But she's standing at the terrace railing and there is nowhere to go.
"Why does Darth Vader want to help a Rebel pilot?" the prince asks again. This time, his voice is slow and quiet. But it's just as effective as if he were yelling in her face.
"To save him," Astral admits, looking down in discomfort.
"Save him from what?" the prince presses.
"From the E-Emperor," she stammers out.
"Why? Why would Darth Vader want to save a Rebel fugitive from the Emperor's justice?"
Astral clams up. She refuses to reveal that the Rebel pilot is Lord Vader's son.
"Why?" The prince hovers. "Tell me," he commands. "I am many things, but I am not omnipotent."
He is very convincing. For a moment, Astral finds herself strangely wanting to comply. But then, she blinks and reasserts herself. She might not be the loudest voice in the room, but she's not weak minded. Still, Astral feels the stone balustrade digging into her back. This man is big enough that he could probably toss her over, she worries. But to reveal the relationship of Luke Skywalker to Darth Vader in not an option. She settles on a lesser confession. "Because he has the Force." Lots and lots of Force.
"Good. Gooood." The prince's eyes light up. And is it her imagination, or do they flash yellow? "It is as I hoped," he breathes out.
Oh, yikes. Astral realizes immediately that she has revealed something meaningful after all. "You didn't know? Oh Gods, you didn't know—" She claps a hand over her mouth in horror.
The prince looks very, very pleased. "I wondered if there was a reason Kenobi never trained the boy. The Force is hereditary, but not in all instances. I worried perhaps not in this most special case."
"Oh Gods . . ." she groans anew, mortified by her admission.
"Not to worry. We can trust each other. Let us share more confidences," the monstrous looking prince wheedles. "How does Lord Vader know that the boy has the Force? He's never met him."
Astral shakes her head, unwilling to divulge more. No one needs to know that Lord Vader only recognized the enormous power of the Rebel pilot when he almost killed him in the Death Star trench. "N-No. . . n-no . . ." she balks. She's done enough damage, she fears.
But the prince switches tactics. This time he reaches out a large, clawed hand to cup at her trembling cheek. His touch immobilizes her instantly. Suddenly, Astral is frozen and unable to resist or flee. It's the strangest, most frightening feeling ever to be trapped in her own body.
"We can trust each other. Relax," the prince soothes as he now controls more than just her movements. Suddenly, it feels like he's in her head. Rewinding her memories to view them like a holonet show. "Give me everything. Show him to me as you see him. Show me what you know," the prince whispers.
"I won't—" Does she say the words? Or merely think them? Astral can't be sure. But either way, the prince understands.
He counters gently, "You must. You can't stop me. No one can stop me this time."
He's right. The prince sees it all. From Lord Vader's rescue by the art freighter, to his punishment from cruel Lord Sidious, to his slow and painful recovery at his castle. Prince Venamis sees Lord Vader yelling at her, complaining about her, lecturing her, and commiserating with her. She's feeding him, fetching things for him, then kissing him and more. He's asking her to stay as they stand next to the body of the assassin she shot to death. But she's too scared of his dangerous life and the even scarier marriage commitment he had casually tossed out, so she flees . . . only to find herself back in his arms again. For two nights, she's improbably lost in the rapture of his broken body. Here she is, divorced and forty, in bed with a quadriplegic, and yet having better sex than her newlywed twenty-something self who had thigh gap, pert breasts, and her whole life ahead of her. Astral can't get enough of this enigmatic man, and so she ends up plotting treason with him on his star destroyer when together they view the prince's datafile on Luke Skywalker.
Astral is overwhelmed and ashamed to be the source of incriminating information. This is betrayal, even if it is not voluntary. Is she as bad as Padme Amidala now? Astral can feel hot tears spilling down her cheeks, but she can't move to wipe them.
The prince is in her mind still. He knows how she feels. Thankfully, he takes pity on Astral. He wipes the tears himself with fatherly hands. "Shhh . . . I won't hurt you. He needs you too much. This isn't your fault. Now forget," the prince intones as he waves a hand before her eyes.
She does forget. Astral blinks. "W-whaat?" she wonders aloud in confusion. "What just happened?"
The prince ignores her. He's grinning ear to ear. "Like a good guest, I come bearing a gift," he announces. He reaches into his robes to retrieve two datafiles. He offers both to Astral.
"Give these to Lord Vader with my compliments. One contains more information on the Rebel. The other contains coordinates and a meeting date. I wish to meet with him. As much as I enjoy your company, Ms. Sidhu, the time has come for Lord Vader and I to meet. Tell him to come alone lest I be forced to murder his companions. High treason," he warns, "requires minimal involvement."
The mysterious prince who assuredly is not a prince now disappears as abruptly as he did last time. In his wake, Astral has two new datafiles, hazy recollections of a mostly cordial conversation, and an inexplicable runny nose like she's been crying.
She contacts Vanee who promises to contact Lord Vader. The message promptly returns that Lord Vader will be on Coruscant in three hours. Astral is to report to the palace later tonight. Excited and relieved, she hastens to freshen up. Lord Vader likes his women to look fancy and feminine, she knows. So no slacks and boots tonight.
When hours later Astral arrives at the palace, Vanee is waiting for her at the security checkpoint. He ushers her through with minimal fuss. Like last time, no one examines the contents of the datafiles in her pocket.
"The Master will be arriving shortly," Vanee informs her as he bids her to follow him. "He's come to have a quick word with you before he leaves. He won't be staying. This is just a quick detour on the way to the Mid Rim."
"Oh." She's disappointed and it shows. "I see."
Vanee commiserates. "I'm sorry, Astral."
"He's very busy, I know," she concedes. "How is he?"
"About the same, but you can see for yourself. He just dropped out of hyperspace. It won't be long now."
It turns out that Astral won't even get a private moment alone with Lord Vader in his quarters. Vanee conducts her to the giant palace landing pad to await his shuttle. Tonight, all she'll get is a rushed conversation under the bright lights of the landing pad as stormtroopers with heavy rifles and the ground crew look on. Astral sighs and tries to feel satisfied. It's something, at least.
A large shuttle touches down. Astral's heart does a little flutter of excitement. But it's not Lord Vader's shuttle. His shuttle has been held up in order for a higher priority vehicle to land. Who has higher priority than Lord Vader? The special guests of the Emperor.
Astral watches a group of cloaked and hooded people disembark from the newly arrived shuttle in silent single file lines. They are met by the slim, slight older man who Astral remembers Lord Vader overtly distrusting. This is the Milo guy who Darth Vader threw out of his castle. As Lord Sidious' servant leads the solemn group away, Astral leans into Vanee to ask, "Who are they?"
"Sith acolytes," Vanee replies with a contemptuous lift of his chin and a disdainful sniff. "They are the Dark Side version of the Church of the Force. They have no Force sensitivity but they adhere to the Sith religion. Wannabes," Vanee rolls his eyes.
"Oh."
"Lord Sidious convenes them for his monthly rituals. Darth Sidious has a keen interest in alchemy and mysticism. He has quite a few followers now," Vanee grumbles. "They are lured by access to power to be his personal cult of personality and," his old eyes twinkle with undisguised sarcasm, "his personal cult. Tonight, looks to be a high mass judging by the numbers. Looks like everyone got an invite." Vanee's disapproving eyes follow the group as they walk towards the greenspace that separates Lord Vader's palace from Lord Sidious' far larger edifice. "There they go to worship at the altar of our Emperor's ego."
"I see they stole your outfit," Astral teases him.
"Wannabes," Vanee harrumphs as he lifts a hand to adjust his own black hooded cloak.
"So this Sith business has been going on for generations and no one knows?" Astral asks.
"Oh, no. The Sith persist, of course. But these cult rituals fell out of observance eons ago. Lord Sidious has revived them for modern times. It's rather quaint," Vanee condescends. "I'm half expecting Lord Sidious to start sacrificing goats for augery any day now," he says with gleeful snark.
"Why?" Astral is fascinated by the line of spooky hooded Dark Side loyalists. "Why does the Emperor do this?" And does Lord Vader do this too? Astral knows so little about the religion of the Sith. And the Force, for that matter.
"Lord Sidious fancies himself as the return to the glory days of the Old Sith Empire. He slavishly apes the pageantry and ways of the Old Sith. His dead master would have laughed at it."
"Who was he?" Astral asks, knowing full well that Lord Vader thinks Lord Sidious' old Master is the most likely candidate for the true identity of Prince Venamis.
"Lord Plagueis?" Vanee thinks a moment. "He was a very rational man. He eschewed superstition for the most part. He hated it when the Force was referred to as magic. Power, he would correct you. The Force is elemental, eternal power. Not some hat trick to impress laypeople." Vanee shakes his head. "Lord Sidious and Lord Plagueis were two very different men with sharply divergent concepts of the Force. There was much conflict between them."
"So Lord Plagueis did not use rituals with acolytes?"
"Lord Plagueis didn't feel the need to be worshiped as a Dark priest. He craved knowledge and power, not renown. The only hocus pocus he believed in was the Sith'ari."
Astral knows that word. "The Chosen One?" she whispers aloud the term's Jedi equivalent.
"Yes." Vanee's eyes narrow as he turns to regard her with some surprise. "You know of the legend?"
"A little," she admits. "Lord Vader told me."
Vanee gives her a serious look. "It's true. All of it."
She nods. Curious, she asks, "Did you know Darth Plagueis?"
"Milo was his servant," Vanee answers with a non-answer.
Astral lets the point slide. "So why does Milo serve Lord Plagueis' murderer now?"
Vanee is matter of fact. "That's how it works. When the Apprentice ascends to the rank of Master, he inherits all of the Master's wealth, property, and household. That includes us. We serve the Sith, Astral. Meaning we serve the reigning Sith Master."
Milo now reappears and beckons to Vanee. Vanee excuses himself and leaves Astral standing alone on the landing pad.
Another shuttle lands. Could this be Lord Vader? It is. Down the still lowering ramp tromps the caped, masked, and armored Sith Lord from the holonet clips. Astral can't contain her relief and excitement. She steps forward fast, only belatedly realizing that Lord Vader is not alone. He is accompanied by an officer. Astral had missed the assistant's approach. She only has eyes for Lord Vader.
Be careful what you say. She hears Lord Vader's warning voice in her head. Keep it neutral. Follow my lead. This has to be quick.
"This is the informant, Sir?" The officer looks Astral over critically as he and Darth Vader walk up. Does the man think it strange that they are meeting a middle-aged civilian female dressed in her most elegant gown like she's heading off to the opera? If so, he doesn't comment.
"Report," Lord Vader orders to Astral. As usual, he gets right to the point. "What do you have for me?"
Astral offers over the two datafiles.
"Two?"
"One has coordinates," she answers. "He wants a meeting."
"Good."
"The other is more surveillance, I think."
"Good."
"Shall I get those processed through Intel?" the officer at Lord Vader's shoulder solicits.
"No. I will deal with them myself," Lord Vader decrees as he pockets the datafiles. "I'm stiff from the flight. I'm going to walk a bit while we refuel, but hurry up. You," Darth Vader shakes a gloved finger under Astral's nose, "follow me and tell me about this meeting."
Astral dutifully follows Lord Vader away from the shuttle to the far side of the landing pad where a big cruiser is parked. It's the direction that the Emperor's acolytes had headed toward the Imperial Palace. There are still plenty of guards on the perimeter here, but it's away from the night ground crew on duty. That makes their conversation less likely to be overheard.
"Are you alright?" Lord Vader asks. His brusque demeanor is gone.
"Yes, I'm fine. The prince was pretty much the same as last time." Or so, she thinks. Their meeting is kind of a blur in her memory, but maybe that's because she was so nervous.
"When and where is this meeting?"
"He said the coordinates and time are on the datafile. He said to come alone."
"Naturally. That makes an ambush so much easier," Lord Vader gripes with heavy sarcasm.
"Are you going to meet him?"
"That depends what's on the new information. If it's good, then yes. If not, then I'm going to hold out a bit longer." The inscrutable helmet swings her direction as they walk side by side. "Astral, I want to get you out of the middle, but there's no point in doing it too soon. This prince needs to work for it."
"I understand."
"Trust must be earned."
"I understand." She's the gatekeeper to Lord Vader now.
"Sheev is holding one of his rituals tonight. He doesn't like me around for those. He thinks he keeps an advantage by hoarding his tricks. It's why I can't stay."
"I understand."
Lord Vader draws to a halt and Astral stops too. She is facing him under the gloomy shadows of the parked cruiser. It's not exactly private, but it's the best they can do to obscure this public meeting. "I m-miss you," she says a bit tentatively. Is she speaking out of turn in this context?
She must not be, for her admission provokes one from her Sith. "I miss you more," he answers softly.
"I wish I could see your face," she whispers up at the mask that is all sharp angles and glossy veneer. It's nothing like the man beneath. "My Lord, I . . . " Astral falters, embarrassed to give voice to her desire to kiss him. But she plows forward anyhow. She needs to get this off her chest. Her face flaming, she sheepishly admits to her longing, "I wish we could be together again."
"We will," he promises. He reaches out a gloved hand that she accepts. They stand together hand in hand a moment before he tugs her forward into his arms. It's a shockingly intimate pose for this setting. Given the risks, their embrace will have to be short lived. But even so, Astral melts into him for this too brief, too chaste moment. It's all she will get for weeks, so she will savor it.
"Look, how touching."
Astral has her face buried in Lord Vader's armor and her arms encircling his chest when she hears the gravelly voice drawl from behind. The smug, mocking tone is scathing. "Who knew there was a woman alive who would volunteer for this?"
Embarrassed Astral steps back fast. She doesn't get far. Lord Vader still has an arm about her. It tightens into a vice grip. That uncharacteristic roughness speaks volumes.
It's a silent warning that Astral doesn't need. For she immediately recognizes the couple standing behind them watching. The petite woman with her arms crossed is Lady Sidious. Astral would recognize that magenta-red mane anywhere. Even in the dim light, it's far too bright. Plus, the tight gown she wears has a thigh high slit that seems very much in keeping with the catsuited woman Astral recalls meeting.
Cocking her head to the side, the older woman muses aloud, "She really is his girl . . ."
The man at her side, cloaked in the style of Vanee, could only be her husband. This is the Emperor of the known galaxy, the former stalwart statesman who presided over the fall of the Republic, the reigning Sith Master Lord Sidious himself. Here is the man who is building yet another Death Star. He's the punisher with the magical Force lightning he cast down on Darth Vader like an angry Dark god. And he is the man who she, Lord Vader, and the prince are conspiring to depose. The proof is on the datafiles in Lord Vader's pocket.
Astral freezes and swallows hard. This moment could not be more dangerous.
His Excellency the Emperor shoots his wife an annoyed look. "Of course, she is his woman. Did you really doubt me?" he complains.
"Ani has a girl? After all this time?" Lady Sidious looks equal parts relieved for herself and happy for Lord Vader, who stands silent except for his ever-present respirator hiss. "Oh, Ani, that's wonderful," Lady Sidious beams. She looks genuinely happy, like she truly likes the Apprentice. Elbowing her husband hard, she now prompts, "Sheev, isn't that wonderful?"
Lord Sidious grunts. "I'm sure it's platonic. He's a droid."
Lady Sidious sizes them up. "That doesn't look platonic," she points out. Her Emperor husband scowls in response. But Lady Sidious is full of apologies. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Ani. If I knew she was your girl, I never would have said anything. When I saw she was a pretty redhead, I just figured this asshole was cheating again—"
That further irritates the already irritated looking Emperor. "You know I would never cheat on you," he proclaims to his skeptical wife. Jabbing a withered, skeletal looking hand Astral's direction, Lord Sidious disdains, "Certainly not with that."
Lady Sidious looks mollified. "She is a little classy for you," she concedes.
"Shall I have him kill her? Will that make you happy?" Lord Sidious offers.
Astral stiffens.
Lord Vader's automatic respiration quickens.
But Lady Sidious just tosses her red mane and retorts, "Don't be a dick, Sheev."
"To kill what you love is very Sith," Lord Sidious observes with no small amount of relish.
"And very stupid," his wife informs him quickly. "Don't be a dick, Sheev. Ani just wants to be happy like us," she announces smugly. Now, she moves to hang on her heavily robed husband, sliding up close next to him to drape herself down his side. It's a possessive, adoring gesture that makes Astral blink at its intimacy. But maybe she herself has no grounds for censure given she just got caught in a furtive public embrace of Lord Vader.
"He still owes me some Rebels," the Emperor observes coldly. "She should die because he owes me dead Rebels."
Lady Sidious objects. "Sheev Palpatine, did you learn nothing from the Muun?"
"Don't talk to me of him," Darth Sidious huffs. "I killed him for you."
His wife raises an eyebrow. "You killed him for you."
Her husband snaps back, "It helped us both. A win-win, my dear."
"Well, leave her alone," Lady Sidious decrees. "Don't repeat the mistakes of your own Master."
"Vader can't kill me," Lord Sidious retorts with a bully's glee.
"Yes, yes, we all know," his wife all but rolls her eyes. "But you weren't supposed to be able to kill the Muun either. Don't tempt fate. And don't be an asshole." Lady Sidious now turns to Astral. "How did you guys meet?"
"This is not a social occasion—" her husband growls.
"Why not?" Lady Sidious turns back to Astral. "Let me see your hand. Did he slash your hand?" She walks forward to take Astral's left hand. "I'm Cresta, by the way. Don't call me 'my lady.' I hate that."
Astral is confused . . . and alarmed. The choice of verb doesn't portend well. "Slash my—"
"It's a Sith thing," Lady Sidious explains without managing to explain anything. She inspects Astral's unremarkable left hand and looks disappointed. "No? He hasn't popped the question yet?"
"Perhaps she said no," Lord Sidious purrs. "Maybe she knows what happened to the first Lady Vader. Did he tell you?" the Emperor asks coyly. "Well?" Without waiting for Astral's reply, Lord Sidious reveals, "Darth Vader choked his pregnant wife until she passed out unconscious at his feet . . . and died."
Lord Vader breaks his silence. "She was alive—"
"Or so, he claims." Lord Sidious' yellow eyes peer across at Astral as he warns, "Padme Amidala was never seen alive again."
"The Jedi stole her," Lord Vader thunders.
His Master disagrees. "He killed her. He killed his unborn child along with her. Then he blamed the Jedi. All these years later, my Apprentice is still unwilling to admit his guilt. To face the truth." Lord Sidious gives Astral a stern look. "Do be careful, Astral Sidhu, lest you share her fate. Darth Vader is a killer," he leers, "my killer. He will kill who I tell him to kill. Even you."
The Master now turns his attention to his Apprentice. "Find me some Rebels," he orders, "or you will bury this woman too. I can see that she has been distracting you from your duties. Perhaps she is the impediment to our progress?"
"No, Master," Lord Vader instantly responds. "I will find them."
"See to it personally, Apprentice. Because if your failure continues, I will need to deal with this distraction."
"Yes, Master."
The servant Milo now appears. He bows respectfully to the Imperial couple. "My Lord," he inserts himself, "the acolytes are assembled. They await your attendance for the convocation."
"Yes, yes, I will be there directly," Lord Sidious nods. His threats finished and his damage done, the Emperor now shepherds his wife away. The pair leave at a leisurely pace, as if it is their nightly custom to stroll through their palace landing pad that reeks of spilled hyperfuel and engine oil. But Astral rather doubts that is the case. The moment she showed up at the palace gates, the security guys must have alerted them. Lady Sidious had threatened she should not return, Astral recalls. She made good on that threat.
When the pair are safely away, Lord Vader speaks. "Come inside with me."
He starts striding inside but Astral is reluctant. Honestly, every instinct now tells her to flee, not to follow. To run from the scary sadist Emperor who casually threatens her death, to run from the danger presented by whatever is on those datafiles from the prince, and to run from Lord Vader who clearly hasn't told her the whole story of what happened with his wife. Because what sort of fool is she to think that she can hold her own amid all these alpha male Force demigods who jockey for position? She is way out of her league in their deadly power plays.
When she doesn't immediately tag along, Lord Vader turns back to insist. "Come inside. We should talk."
"You said you didn't have time—"
"I will make time." He offers her his gloved hand now. It softens his request from a command to an invitation, and that gets her walking. Astral has a soft spot for the gallant, private version of Darth Vader.
Astral knows what the conversation will be, of course. Here come the explanation and the excuses. The apologies and the warnings. Vanee was right when he told her that it is a dangerous thing to be Lord Vader's lady. Tonight could not have illustrated that point better. Sure enough, after a long walk inside in silence, Lord Vader starts talking the moment they are inside his medical pod and he gets his mask off.
"I didn't kill her. I swear I didn't kill her. She was alive—"
"What did you do?" Astral cuts him off. She's far more interested in his admissions than his denials.
Lord Vader's mouth twists as he looks down. "We argued."
"Yes?"
"I told her to remain on Coruscant. It was for her safety. But she disobeyed me. She showed up on Mustafar with a Jedi to kill me." His face reveals that two decades later, Darth Vader is still furious about that betrayal. Seeing his expression now, Astral can only imagine how bitterly livid he must have been in the moment.
But still . . . she was his pregnant wife. Could he not have found a solution short of deadly force? Astral shoots Lord Vader a hard look. "Are you going to choke me if I disobey you? If we argue?"
"No!" He is vehement.
"Are you sure? Because this plot we are hatching could have any number of issues we might disagree on. And the stakes are high, too."
Lord Vader is quick to reassure, "I will meet with the prince going forward. I'm taking you out of the mix. No more go-between—"
"And the Emperor?" she demands.
"I'll find him some Rebels. Astral, I won't let him hurt you. I won't hurt you. I promise you. No harm will come to you."
She can't help but feel a little skeptical. "Did you promise your wife that?" Violence seems to be a Sith's stock and trade.
Her sharp comment makes Darth Vader blanch a little. The fearsome Sith is momentarily diminished. "Padme and I . . . look, we were moving in different directions . . . I see that now . . . but I was desperate to save her—"
"Save her from what?"
Lord Vader hesitates and then exhales a weary, resigned sigh. The whole story starts tumbling out now. "Back then, I had Force visions. It's common for a strong Force user to get a peek into the future. It's the cosmic Force—the arc of the universe—not the living Force that is the here and now."
Whatever. "Okay."
"What I saw for Padme was what I saw for my mother—death. And I was determined to stop it! I didn't save my mother when I could have. I was too busy being an obedient Jedi to listen to what the Force was telling me. So when I got there, it was too late. My mother died in my arms. Raped and tortured for weeks by the animal sandpeople."
"Oh." The short version of that story is so bad that Astral isn't sure she wants to hear the long version.
"I could have saved her-easily! So when I started seeing visions of Padmé's death, I knew I had to act. I wasn't going to let the Jedi or anyone else stand in my way. I had longstanding issues with the Jedi, it's true. But I went to the Dark Side mostly to save my wife. I went seeking new powers that could save Padme from certain death."
Astral screws up her face. "But instead, you killed her yourself?"
"The Jedi turned her against me!" he rages. "I lost her the moment I flipped Sith, even if I didn't recognize it. When we fought, I lost control, I admit it. But I'm not some novice Sith anymore. I can control my power now."
Astral looks down as she realizes aloud, "So . . . you did kill her . . . "
He keeps to his story. "I hurt her. Whether I killed her or not, I'll never know. I had her body examined by several forensic types. There was no conclusive cause of death. But I did choke her until she fell unconscious. Sheev is right about that."
Lord Vader is miserable now. The memories this conversation dredges up have his face bleak with regret. Remembering the closet full of dresses at the castle that he kept in hopes his wife would return, Astral knows his remorse is sincere.
"I was wrong to hurt her. But I just couldn't let her go. I went to the Dark Side to save her, I did terrible things to stoke my power, and then it was all for nothing because she didn't want me. And so, of course, she died." Lord Vader is clearly so frustrated still. His yellow eyes are flashing as intense as she's ever seen. "If I hadn't choked her, she would have died anyway, I know it! Either way, I was fucked!" he rages against the false choice he made. "I just didn't see it. I guess I couldn't accept it. I loved her too much . . . "
Astral nods. "I'm sorry."
"The Jedi advised me to let go. This is precisely why they forbade attachments. Because love can cloud your reason and trump your priorities. It can lead you to be rash. They would have wanted me to be passive and to accept Padmé's death as the will of the Force. But I couldn't do that." Lord Vader pleads with her to understand. "Astral, I loved her! I refused to give her up. And that moment we argued, it was like my world was collapsing. My Master who I loved like a brother had come to kill me. Led there by my own wife. I was so betrayed. She was so ungrateful. I lost it . . . I couldn't stop myself . . . "
There are tears in the yellow eyes of the Sith Lord whose name is a byword for ruthless detachment across the entire galaxy. This is the man no one sees but Astral. The complicated man who is a mix of good and bad.
"Of all the mistakes I have made, hurting Padme is the one I regret the most. I don't regret breaking with the Republic. I don't regret killing the Jedi. But hurting my wife . . . it was a mistake. And now that I see what has happened to my son, I see that hurting Padme had very lasting consequences. She paid for my mistake, I paid for my mistake, and our children paid too. I still don't know where my daughter is . . . I may never know . . ."
"The prince might know."
"If he does," Lord Vader observes bitterly, "the price for that information will be high." He resumes his talk of the past now, looking terribly haunted. "I tried for years to revive Padme in the Force. To make it up to her. I failed. It's why I can't let my son become some Jedi Rebel. I failed his mother, but I refuse to fail him." Lord Vader looks very committed as he vows, "I can't change the past. All I can do is try to do better now."
Astral nods and steps forward to embrace him. For right now, Darth Vader sorely needs a hug. They stand there a long moment together. Even in full armor, she can feel the tension in his rigid frame. He's very upset.
"I get attached," he mumbles into her hair as he clings tightly. Heartache and failure have made him humiliatingly self-aware. "I can't love with limits and conditions. I was never cut out to be a Jedi. I need people too much. And I can't let go. I hate it when people leave me." His words keep coming. Fast, intense, and full of shame.
"It's okay," she soothes, trying to talk him down. "It will be okay."
"Don't leave me. Please don't ever leave me," he rasps from above her head.
Astral doesn't answer. Talk of forever scares her. She did forever once and it didn't work out.
He knows it, too. "You don't have to marry me. We can keep it informal as long as you never leave me. I think I need you—"
"Shhhh," she soothes, hugging him closer. "I'm here."
But he still needs reassurance, if not in words then in deeds. Lord Vader starts kissing her cheek now. Weakness has made him kneejerk aggressive and possessive. "This is not platonic," he growls before he moves to claim her mouth.
Yes, it's far from platonic. For this is what Astral has been longing for these past few weeks. She can't help it. She moans. She's very willing to be seduced.
It's the encouragement Lord Vader needs. His gloved hands are everywhere. They begin hiking up her long skirt. "I am not a droid," he snarls, once again refuting his Master's stinging words that cut deep.
No, he's not a droid. Lord Vader fiddles with his suit and now she can feel the evidence of his very human lust. They don't have time to do this properly. He removes the bare minimum necessary and so does she. Then he bends her back over his cluttered desk as he braces himself for better leverage. It's not very comfortable and it's all over in five minutes. But it's the connection she's craving and the validation he needs. They don't have time to look at the datafiles together, but they have time for this.
But just barely. He has to get back to his ship. Lord Sidious has his Dark Side séance tonight. Plus, it's late and she needs to get home. Astral has to work tomorrow.
"Be careful if you decide to meet the prince," Astral admonishes as they right their clothing and prepare to part.
He's already jamming back on his helmet. His reply comes in the amplified stentorian tones of the public Darth Vader. "I'll let you know how it goes."
Trying to part on an optimistic note, Astral reminds him of the one bright spot of the run-in with his boss. "At least the Emperor still believes the children are dead."
"For now," Lord Vader grumbles.