Vanee looks very relieved to see Astral as she boards the cruiser over Coruscant. "Good, you're safe."

"Err . . . yes . . ." she answers, trying to keep Milo's cover story about a wedding trip. "Ready for the honeymoon," she improvises somewhat unconvincingly. For starters, she's here without any luggage.

Vanee dispenses with that fiction immediately. "There's no need for lies. I know why you're here."

"You do?" she squeaks.

He nods. Looking around to make sure no one is in earshot, he confirms, "Lord Vader has found his Rebel son."

Astral's eyes widen. "You do know . . ."

The longtime servant explains, "The Palace released the name of the Rebel pilot who blew up the Death Star this morning. It's all over the holonet. With that name, it wasn't hard to guess the relationship that merited such a galaxy-wide manhunt." Vanee fixes her with a very serious look. "I also know how the Sith work. Lord Sidious will worry that father and son will team up against him. That makes you a logical hostage," Vanee succinctly spells out the scenario that everyone is worried about.

"Y-Yes," Astral answers weakly.

"Milo thinks I'm an idiot," the senior servant sniffs, "but we all know he's as slippery as they come. He's always playing every side in every conflict. Lord Vader has long suspected that he is still Darth Plagueis' man somehow." Vanee's eyes slant over to Astral as he brags, "Whereas I am Team Vader."

"We are Team Vader," she corrects him.

"Very good. Let's go." Vanee propels her towards a waiting shuttle. "There's no time to waste. We're heading for the Executor. It's deep in the Rim at some flyover system called Bespin."

"Is that wise?" she wonders aloud. "Isn't the flagship the first place the Emperor will look for me?"

"Yes," Vanee concedes, "but if we are to form a conspiracy, we'd best do it together in person. Communications are far too easily intercepted."

He's right. Plus, Astral wants to meet Luke Skywalker herself.

"This is high treason," Vanee reminds her under his breath. "We either succeed at this, or we die. There will be no mercy for any of us if Lord Sidious catches us."

"That's what Milo said," Astral recalls.

"He's right."

Even at the fastest safe pace the shuttle's hyperdrive can manage, it's an almost three-day flight from Coruscant to Bespin. To maintain secrecy, Vanee keeps the shuttle under complete communications blackout. He does not inform Lord Vader or his flagship staff of their imminent arrival. That means when the shuttle exits hyperspace to rendezvous with the Imperial super star destroyer, they receive a hasty welcome. Up walk two officers, one of whom Astral recognizes from her last visit to the Executor. It's the Captain who stuck her in a jail cell. Unfortunately, once again, he seems to be the welcoming committee.

"Ah, Vanee. This is a surprise." The Captain greets Lord Vader's manservant even as his eyes rake over her questioningly. There's no doubt she is recognized.

Vanee gives a perfunctory nod. "Maddux." His clipped tone speaks volumes. Vanee is scrupulously polite as a rule, so his snippiness is noteworthy. He clearly doesn't like this guy.

"Piett sends his regards. He would be here himself, but there is an active situation."

"Understood."

The Captain addresses Astral now. "I remember you. You're the woman from Coruscant. Here to inform again?"

"No," Vanee answers for her.

"Good. He's busy with some Rebels at the moment."

"She's your honored guest and she's 'my Lady' to you, Captain," Vanee announces coolly. "She's not an informant."

Astral inserts herself, "It's fine, Vanee." She could care less what anyone calls her and there's no need to advertise that she's here. Astral gets right to the point. "Where is the Rebel pilot? Where is Luke Skywalker? Has he been captured?"

"You mean the Jedi?" the Captain asks.

"Yes," Vanee and Astral answer in unison.

"He's dead, we think."

"Dead?" old Vanee chokes.

"D-Dead?" she gasps. "Oh Gods, no . . . " Astral claps a hand to her gaping mouth. She worried that something disastrous like this might happen. Now, it seems, her worst fears have come to fruition.

"Death is too good for him. He's a Rebel traitor," the Captain declares staunchly as his colleague beside him nods agreement.

That attitude irritates Astral, but Vanee is the one to snap back, "He's more than that. How do you know he's dead?"

"Because Lord Vader just ordered a squad to search for the body. They probably won't find one though. Chances are that Rebel fell all the way to the planet surface."

Astral and Vanee now exchange horrified looks. "Oh, n-no . . ." she stammers as she feels her heart sink in her chest.

The Captain is not slow on the uptake. Seeing their reaction, he demands, "What aren't you telling me?"

Astral responds with a question of her own. "Where is he? Where is Darth Vader?" She's had enough of this self-important Captain.

"That's his shuttle arriving." The man gestures in the direction of a ship that has just crossed the airlock to land in a prime position in the busy hangar bay.

"He'll need to report to the Emperor," Vanee tells Astral. "This is news his Master will want to know."

She takes the hint. "We'll wait." She knows as well as Vanee does that if Luke Skywalker is dead, then Darth Vader's best move will be to declare victory and take credit. The Apprentice will pretend he was never anything but completely loyal all along to preserve his position.

But if that comes to pass, then today went terribly wrong. "Oh, how did this happen?" Astral frets aloud as again she and Vanee exchange more concerned glances. Impulsively, she reaches for the old man's hand. Suddenly, she's very afraid of what will happen next.

So is Vanee. "I'm so glad you're here," Lord Vader's trusted steward tells her under his breath.

"Vanee, if he's really dead—"

"—then this will get ugly," the old man finishes. "But at least you won't be in danger anymore."

"What aren't you telling me?" the Captain, who has followed this exchange, demands anew.

But they both ignore him as across the hangar bay the shuttle ramp deploys. Before it is even fully extended, a towering figure in black begins to disembark. Astral watches to assess with a wife's familiar eye. Lord Vader's dragging his leg again, she notices. It's a sure sign he's overtired. And wait, his cape is hanging askew. When her Sith Lord husband turns to bark orders at the men behind him, Astral sees the reason why.

"Oh, he's hurt!" she yelps. "See the shoulder!" She turns to Vanee, "Where is Dr. Levy?"

"He's onboard. Probably in the infirmary."

"Get him! Get him now!" Astral hisses.

Vanee nods slowly, "Yes, I think that's wise."

"That's his sword arm," anxious Astral wails. How deep does that slash on his armor go? From this distance, she fears the worst. "Go, I'll be fine," she urges to Vanee.

He clearly shares her concern because he does not resist. But Vanee turns to the Captain and admonishes firmly, "Do not dare arrest her this time," before he begins to depart.

The confused Captain cocks his head at Astral and complains, "Just who are you again?"

"Astral Sidhu."

Vanee overhears this exchange, halts, and turns. "She's Lady Vader, as in Missus Darth Vader. Do not arrest her. He won't be in a forgiving mood today, I assure you."

The Intelligence officer looks astounded by this very unexpected information. "Wait—you're—you're—"

Astral nods absently, "Yes." Her attention is all for the fast retreating figure of Darth Vader who heads for an elevator. His purposeful stride suggests that the shoulder wound is minor. That's a relief. Maybe it looks worse than it is because the armor bore the brunt of the blow.

"Why didn't you say something?" the flustered Captain grumbles.

Astral shoots the man a look. "Why bother? You wouldn't have believed me anyway," she challenges, momentarily ignoring the fact that she wasn't Lady Vader back when she spent half a day in an Executor jail cell. "My identity is need-to-know, Captain. Please be discreet."

The man and his colleague nod vigorously. Then, they rush to be accommodating. Apparently, Astral Sidhu gets no respect on the Executor, but Lady Vader does.

But even with her exalted Lady Vader status, Astral must wait her turn. She ends up cooling her heels for a few hours holed up in an office that Vanee commandeers. Lord Vader's steward has no official authority here on his Master's flagship. Still, all of the senior commanders know who he is. They fall all over themselves to please him. Everyone, it seems, wants to get on Lord Vader's good side by cozying up to his longtime personal steward.

It is through brief interactions with those officers that the bare facts of the Bespin trap come out. To her great relief, Astral learns that Luke Skywalker lives. The Rebel Jedi pilot got away in a desperate, daring fashion. Lord Vader wounded him first, cutting off his right arm, but the fugitive escaped anyway with help from his friends. The fool actually threw himself into a chasm at the bottom of the city. I guess he refused to be taken alive, some guy named Admiral Piett tells Astral with an indifferent shrug. The Rebel probably knew we would beat all the information out of him we could before his execution, the Admiral observes. Guess he preferred to die quickly to avoid betraying his fellow terrorists. But he got lucky and lived.

Astral nods along like she concurs. But inside, she is quaking as she pieces together the sketchy facts of what clearly was a violent confrontation.

Piett and the rest of Lord Vader's officers might know Luke Skywalker's name, but they don't know the Rebel pilots' relationship to their boss. The subtext of this mission is completely lost on them. They think Lord Vader is irate because he lost the opportunity to capture a high-profile traitor to present to the Emperor. No one would ever guess that this was a long-awaited meeting between an estranged father and son from opposite sides of a war and clashing sides of the Force.

Reading between the lines of the offhand reports Astral and Vanee hear, it is clear that Lord Vader is very upset. He gathers a group of local law enforcement personnel who were ordered to deactivate the hyperdrive on the ship the Rebels used to escape. Lord Vader executes them summarily in a fit of frustration. Not with the Force, they learn, but with his sword. Some Major who drops by to suck up to Vanee divulges the gory details with unbecoming relish.

Dr. Levy comes by as well to complain that Lord Vader has refused treatment. The doctor sighs and reports that he never even got close enough to look at the injury. Exasperated Dr. Levy produces a large bacta patch, a can of wound cleaning disinfectant spray, and some pain reliever. Here, he pushes the medical supplies across the table to Astral, see if you can help him when you see him.

Astral finally gets her chance to see her husband once the giant ship moves out of orbit and into position to send a clear transmission to the Emperor. Lord Vader reports to his Master and then withdraws to his quarters. The whole ship seems to heave a sigh of relief. Astral, however, is full of trepidation and anticipation. She's relieved that Luke Skywalker lived, but dismayed by the circumstances. Most of all, she is very, very worried for Darth Vader.

"Go to him," Vanee urges.

She needs no further encouragement. Astral gathers up the medical supplies and heads to Lord Vader's quarters. They're impossible to miss—they're the senior officer quarters with the red robed Imperial guards flanking the doors. The guards refuse her entry, of course, but Astral stands her ground. She remains on the threshold, waiting.

He knows she's here. He senses her presence in the Force. Sure enough, the doors slide open in silent invitation. Astral walks in and the small white medical pod across the room opens to admit her.

Astral climbs inside. The pod closes immediately to conserve the interior oxygen concentration. For Lord Vader is inside with his helmet off and no respirator. He's seated at his cluttered desk stripped bare to the waist with his cape, gloves, armor, tunic, and chestplate in a haphazard pile on the floor. As Astral ducks inside, he looks up from poking at his injured upper arm to meet her eyes.

Lord Vader says nothing as he holds her gaze steadily.

Then, he goes back to assessing the long bloody gash high on his right arm. It begins just above the collar for his prosthetic and continues up his shoulder towards his neck. Just looking at the ugly wound makes her wince. Astral's innate squeamishness kicks in, but she forces herself to look.

"How bad is it?" she asks, moving closer.

"It's nothing."

"Shall I get the doctor?"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing."

"Gimme that." Lord Vader grabs the wound spray she holds and starts to apply it. It causes the injury to temporarily foam white as the antiseptic activates.

"That's a deep cut," she observes as she watches.

"It's a burn, not a cut."

"Was it a laser blast?" she asks.

"It was a lightsaber."

"Oh." Of course. From Luke Skywalker, no doubt. This must be a wound from Anakin Skywalker's old sword.

"Hand me the patch."

"I'll do it," Astral answers, as she tears open the rectangular sterile package. "I have a better angle. Now, hold still."

"Fine," Lord Vader grumbles, submitting to her efforts.

She presses on the large bandage and smooths it gingerly. "We should probably put another patch up here towards your neck. This one won't cover that part. Does it hurt badly?" she frets.

"It's nothing."

"Dr. Levy sent some pain pills." She offers them, but he refuses. Astral's not surprised.

Lord Vader now turns away. He's shutting her out. Astral accepts the rebuff gracefully. She has never pressured him for confidences, and she won't start now.

Astral busies herself by plucking items from the floor. Right glove, left glove. Cape. She holds the garment up and looks it over, noting the burn mark that mars it. "This doesn't look repairable," she remarks. "I'll get another. You'll need another shirt too."

Astral heads around the corner for the small closet near the bathroom. When she returns a moment later, she finds Lord Vader slumped, elbows on his knees, scarred face in his metal hands.

She freezes.

His shoulders are shaking.

He's crying.

"My Lord . . ." she whispers. Casting aside the clothes, she hurries towards him. He lifts his head from his hands and the expression she sees scares her. It's pain . . . so much pain . . . written all across his features. All this from the 'no whining, no crying, no pity' Darth Vader.

Standing above him, Astral reaches to clasp him tightly to her. She says nothing—she merely holds him-as she lets him vent his emotions. Tonight, she will be his safe space. His audience who does not judge, who just listens and accepts. Astral refuses to pile on to his already vehement distress. No one ever accomplished anything by saying 'I told you so.' And you don't kick your man while he's down.

Her job is to be strong now that he is made weak. She will be calm while he is distraught. Here in private with her, finally he can allow himself to feel the intense emotion that he has kept bottled up for hours behind that mask. It boils over now in a rush of feelings. It is cringeworthy, disorganized, and utterly raw.

"He hates me . . . he should hate me . . . I would hate me too . . . I don't know how to be a father . . . I never had a father . . . "

As the story pours out in fits and starts, between gasped words and curses, the theme is consistent: Lord Vader is terribly disappointed and frustrated with himself. She aches to see him like this. But truthfully, Astral shares the sentiment. He was supposed to show his son his true nature, but instead he showed him who was the boss. Lord Vader's hurt shoulder turns out to be a superficial wound. Today's true battle injury is to his heart and it is mostly self-inflicted. There is just so much guilt crushing him. It's guilt over his dead wife, guilt over his missing daughter, and guilt over the abandoned son he met once and maimed forever. Today feels like the culmination of years of regrets and it's way too much to handle.

"I never should have fought him. I should have told him the truth straightaway . . . but I was afraid . . . "

Astral holds him close, stroking his back as he sobs out self-recrimination into her chest. Anyone who thinks this man is a cold, unfeeling brute doesn't know the real Darth Vader. Astral has watched him endure in stoic silence physical agony that would bring an ordinary person to their knees in screaming hysterics. But when it comes to the people and ideas that matter, Darth Vader is anything but reserved or callous. This man cares even if he can't or won't show it.

Still Anakin Skywalker is there beneath the mask and the armor, though he rarely surfaces. She didn't know it then, but Astral saw him first when she watched Lord Vader confront his Master about Alderaan. Later, she saw his dead wife's belongings he kept in vain hopes of her resurrection. Astral also remembers vividly Lord Vader's reaction when he confronted the ghostly painting of his former self. More recently, she has watched her Sith Lord slowly come to terms with the sudden emergence of his adult son, all along seeking to find the boy to help him even at his own peril. Those are not the actions of a man without a conscience. They are not the aims of a man who seeks only death, destruction, Darkness, and power.

She's not blind to his faults. Darth Vader is many things, and not all of them are good. But many of them are. Unfortunately, that might be the best kept secret of the Empire. For only a select few see the conflict inherent in his psyche. He hides it well. Too well today, apparently.

"I hurt him . . . I didn't mean to hurt him . . . I wish I hadn't hurt him . . . If Padme were alive now, she'd take a sword to me herself . . . "

Oh dear, Astral sighs inwardly. It's clear that the duel on Bespin is the latest entry on Lord Vader's long list of regrets. What makes it especially hard is that he showed up wanting to do the right thing. But sometimes good intentions go awry or they simply aren't enough. Astral wonders what Luke Skywalker said or did that provoked such a violent response from his father. Because she knows this was never how Lord Vader wanted things to progress. Luke must have hurt his father for Lord Vader to hurt back. Was it because the kid landed a blow? Or was it words that inflicted the wound? Even listening to Lord Vader's own account, Astral still wonders-how the Hell did it come to this? How did this happen?

She knows how this happened. It happened because her husband has zero emotional intelligence. Darth Vader doesn't need it. He issues commands, so he never needs to persuade. He plots, stalks, and entraps rather than negotiates. He tends to overpower until his foe capitulates. But those tactics didn't work with Luke Skywalker. Astral, who has spent her career dealing with high-strung artist types and entitled, rich museum benefactors, thinks she is probably better positioned to broker a truce with the Rebel hero than his father is. Her husband simply lacks tact. And, she suspects, Luke Skywalker took all his father's gruff posturing at face value. And why wouldn't he? He's his enemy.

"He would rather leap to his death than join me. Padme wanted to change me . . . she would absolutely have left me . . . but she never would have risked killing herself just to get away from me . . ."

Lord Vader's choked voice trails off into incoherence now. And that's fine. It's more important that he let this pain out than that Astral hears every word. She knows enough to understand what happened. Lord Vader was his usual acerbic self, betraying none of his real intentions and showing none of the emotion that humanizes the man in the mask. He likely met or exceeded every one of Luke Skywalker's expectations, and all of them were bad.

This is the result. Astral suspects that for years her husband has suffered from deep depression marked by intermittent fits of despair and frustration. She knows he usually vents those episodes with violence, reinforcing his fearsome public persona. But tonight, his go-to vice is tears . . . and sex. For as the tide of outpouring emotion crests and falls, in its wake Lord Vader is needy in a different way. The metal arms that cling to her now begin to roam. It's more possessive than sensual as his words underscore.

"Don't you turn against me."

"I'm here," she whispers back.

He lifts his head at her words. Then stands to his feet. His face is tear streaked as he looks down on her. His eyes look strange, less yellow than green.

"I'm here," she reassures him again.

"Don't ever leave me," he rasps.

She hears the obsessive, fearful paranoia underlying his words loud and clear. For this is a man who little by little left his former life behind, along with everyone in it. First, his mother. Years later, his Jedi Master and mentor. Finally, his wife. He went down a path she and others could not follow. He ended up alone as a result. A man broken in body and wounded in spirit, who nonetheless refused to die.

"Don't ever leave me."

It's a command mixed with a whine and now a kiss as his lips come down on hers. His mouth is rough and urgent. His hands clamp down on her arms as if to physically restrain her. Like he fears she might break free and literally flee from him now. But Astral isn't going anywhere. She knows the man she married. She understands the commitment she signed up for. This is the 'for better or worse' part of marriage. You don't run when things get rough for your spouse. That's your cue to dig in and hunker down.

"I'm here," she whispers against his lips. "I won't leave you."

Is he convinced? No, he's not. He's needy for reassurance. Insecure about their still very new union. Raw from his bruised ego and dashed hopes. And he's trying to balm over it all with pleasure. The man has few physical comforts. Sex is at the top of that short list. So, Astral plays along. She's not really in the mood, but she will give him what he needs to feel better. To feel wanted after today's stark rejection.

His hands are in her hair, his mouth is on her throat. This isn't stopping at a kiss and an embrace, Astral realizes. She's not the enemy, she's an ally. But his sudden urgent lust seems to have an edge of belligerence to it. It's misplaced anger at himself and at his son directed at her. And underlying it all is a sense of desperation, too.

Will this numb his pain for a bit? She hopes so. His hands are hiking up her skirt now. Things are moving fast past foreplay.

"Your shoulder," she protests.

"It's fine."

It's not fine, but Lord Vader has an inhumane pain tolerance. And the pain that's bothering him now isn't physical anyway. In another minute, he's got her on her back on the bed, legs spread as he starts to slake his lust. Lord Vader is usually slow and conscientious in the bedroom, but tonight he is aggressive. He isn't making love to her, he's fucking her. With hard, emphatic thrusts that drag her along beneath him. He's usually so careful with his sharp, cybernetic limbs. Cognizant too that she's an average sized woman and he's a towering, muscled man made extra heavy by his steel prosthetics. But tonight, all his usual gallantry is gone. It's all about him. Astral indulges it without complaint. She knows he's trying to use sex to forget-for however briefly-his pervasive sense of failure.

He did something like this once before at his Coruscant palace after his Master threatened her life and called him a droid. He had been upset then, but it wasn't nearly as bad as this. This is soul-crushing disappointment mixed with frustration, regret, powerlessness, and hurt. He's angry, so very angry, with himself more than Luke Skywalker. And though they are in bed together in the most intimate of acts, Astral might as well be a bystander. For this is much more about Lord Vader's Dark demons than it is about their personal connection. He's using her right now, and she knows it.

The heaving and grunting physicality of sex ends far too soon. Lord Vader gets his momentary oblivion, even if Astral does not. He collapses heavily on her body and seems to finally remember that she's there. "Did I hurt you?" he rasps.

"No. I'm fine."

"I never want to hurt you."

"I know."

"I'm sorry if I hurt you. Please don't leave me if I hurt you," he yelps. This is his constant fear spoken aloud, Astral knows. That he will be alone, that he will be rejected, that he will find love and lose it like he did once before.

It's her cue to stoke his bruised ego and to reassure. "I'm not leaving you."

"Please don't leave me—"

"Anakin—"

At the sound of his forbidden name, he lifts his head from her shoulder. His eyes are still that strange murky green and not the yellow she's used to. She knows his feral eyes are from the Force and so seeing them change has her worried. So, Astral gathers her courage and tells him what she knows he needs to hear. It's probably the only thing that can make this moment better for both of them. "Anakin, I love you."

He blinks at her as he nods. "Say it again."

"I love you." She pulls him close and whispers it a third time. "I love and I won't leave you."

His face is buried in her hair as he chokes out, "I love you, too." And then, he confesses an awkward truth for both of them. But this is the kind of night when feelings are exposed, no matter how uncomfortable. And so, he adds, "I think I might love you more than I loved Padme."

He is sincere, but Astral doesn't believe it. Since that first kiss she and Lord Vader shared in his castle, they have been in a love triangle with his dead wife. Astral knows she only wins by default, basically because she's alive. Despite Lord Vader's sweet confession, deep down there will never be another woman who can compete with the memory of his exalted Senator-Queen wife. Padme Amidala was his first crush and his first love. She became a decades long obsession and she's still on a high pedestal in a class by herself. But Astral appreciates his attempt at honesty. For a deceitful Sith, Lord Vader can be astounding blunt and forthright at times.

Her exhausted, stressed out husband now promptly falls asleep. It's for the best, Astral decides. Perhaps things will feel more manageable and hopeful when he wakes. And then, they can talk through things with less ragged emotion. She herself is far too keyed up to sleep. It's as if all the emotional drama of the day that she experienced secondhand has now been foisted onto her. She lies awake next to her Sith Lord husband trying to figure out what to do next. But her mind keeps coming back to 'I love you' and what it means for them both. To love and be loved by this fearsome man is a step further than just being his wife. She's all in now. His danger is her danger, his hurts are her hurts, his ambitions are her ambitions, and his failures are her failures. But most importantly, his happiness is her happiness. It works vice versa, too. Except nothing Astral will ever do in the Coruscant art world will have the consequences that Lord Vader's decisions do.

Do the times make the man? Or do men make the times? She wonders. It can be hard to tell with these overpowered Force-using overlords who jockey for position at the apex of the galaxy. But knowing Darth Vader as she does, Astral thinks he was far more made than he was born. Maybe that's how we all are, Astral muses. We evolve into a set of perspectives based on our individual experiences. It's why we mature into ourselves with time. It's why to truly know someone, you need to know how they became who they are. It's also why society will never be blind to differences in sex, age, species, class, or culture. Moreover, maybe it shouldn't be. Because to deny those differences is to deny the myriad richness of our collective existence.

But in this instance, those differing experiences led to conflict. The young Rebel Jedi Luke Skywalker met the middle-aged Imperial Sith warlord Darth Vader. Sparks flew, swords ignited, and wounds resulted. Is there any salvaging the situation? Or is this heading fast for a tragic resolution?

Astral takes a long look at her sleeping husband with his bandaged shoulder and decides she will take some responsibility for the situation herself. Just because Darth Vader cannot get through to Luke Skywalker does not mean all is lost. She's part of this family now too. Astral decides that she has a few choice words that her stepson needs to hear.

The one saving grace of the debacle on Bespin becomes Lord Sidious' reaction. The Emperor is fully convinced of his Apprentice's commitment to turn Luke Skywalker to the Dark Side. The duel ending with both men wounded apparently displayed sufficient bona fides from each party. Ironically, Lord Vader's ill-fated attempt to plot a treasonous coup gets him back in his Master's good graces. Moreover, the animosity between father and son also means there is no special threat to Astral's safety. Lord Sidious does not feel the need to get extra leverage over his Apprentice by threatening her.

Sheev suspects nothing, Darth Vader tells her. When he heard that I hurt Luke and he took that leap, Sheev cackled. Said he wished he could have been there himself. He's not worried that we will join forces now. In fact, the Emperor feels so confident that he finally tells Lord Vader about his new Death Star that's in the works.

Luke and Lord Vader joining forces is, of course, the long-term plan. If not to kill the Emperor, then at least to balance the Force. Astral will do her part. So days later when Lord Vader is back at his Coruscant palace in long meetings to discuss the second Death Star project, Astral lingers on her apartment terrace hoping for a visitor.

She is not disappointed.

"Prince!"

"Now, now, we are family now," the Force specter of Darth Plagueis beams at her. "Let us have no more formality between us. Call me by my name—by my nickname—Snoke."

"Lord Snoke—"

"Just Snoke."

"Yes, of course." Astral wrings her hands and tries to choose her words carefully with maximum tact. "Things with Luke Skywalker went—"

"Horribly. Yes, I know." The old Sith's ruined face twists into an even uglier grimace. "Lord Vader's failure is most regrettable."

His tone is scathing, but it's water under the bridge as far as Astral is concerned. She has no wish to run down her husband. She'd rather focus on fixing the problem. "Can you get me to Tatooine? Luke will be there soon."

"How do you know?" The exiled Dark Master looks intrigued.

"Lord Vader turned Luke's friend over to Jabba the Hutt. He's frozen in carbonite."

"Carbonite?" Darth Plagueis chuckles darkly, giving Astral a glimpse of the legendary Sith Lord who for decades bribed the Senate and plotted the downfall of the Republic. "That was creative," he remarks. "Vader might be a grump but he certainly has flair." And actually, Darth Plagueis sounds as if he wished he had thought of that carbonite stunt first.

"Luke came to save his friend on Bespin. He'll come again to rescue him from the Hutt gang, I'm sure of it. Once his hand heals, he'll go to Tatooine."

Lord Plagueis considers and agrees with Astral. "Yes, he will, won't he?"

"I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him," Astral asserts. "Luke doesn't understand who his father really is. He only knows the holonet version of Darth Vader."

"Do you think you can get through to him?" Her father-in-law in the Force gives her a frank look of doubt. Then he warns, "Astral, approaching that boy has risk. Especially now."

"I know. But I have to try. Otherwise, those two might kill each other the next time they meet." Astral has no idea what the future holds, except she's certain that there will be a next time for Lord Vader and his son. That duel on Bespin was only round one.

"Hmmmm . . . yes. Things are bleak currently. We need something to change up the dynamic." Her visitor now posits thoughtfully, "Perhaps I should meet with the boy."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"With respect, my Lord—"

"Snoke."

"Snoke. With respect, Snoke, that boy doesn't need to meet another Dark Lord." One scary dude with the Force claiming to be his kin is enough already. "I can approach Luke in a way that is non-threatening."

"You are Lady Vader," her Force projected guest points out. "You are hardly without influence."

"Yes, but I don't swing a sword, I'm not officially part of the Empire, and I don't have the Force." All she has are words . . . and love for her husband.

"There's nothing to stop young Skywalker from taking you hostage. From using you against his father just like Sheev would."

"Luke won't do that."

"How can you be sure?"

"He's a Jedi, isn't he?"

"So was Lord Vader," Darth Plagueis reminds her. "Darkness is in that boy's nature as much as the Light. He is the son of the Chosen One."

"Maybe so, but I will risk it." Sometimes you have to show trust to get trust, Astral figures. And the tactic of approaching Luke Skywalker from a position of strategic strength backfired terribly on Bespin. So, she will go without weapons and bodyguards. She will go as herself. As an ambassador of the very broken Skywalker family.

"Your Lord won't like this," Darth Plagueis observes.

That's putting it mildly, they both know. But Astral is determined. She lifts her chin. "I'm his wife, not his officer. I don't take orders."

The old Sith patriarch is unimpressed by her show of moxy. "You know he won't like this."

She nods, but persists. "He's the reason I'm doing it."

"Very well, I will get you to Tatooine," her visitor ultimately agrees. "Go plead your husband's case. But don't tell young Skywalker about me. The boy has enough to digest for now. Don't stir the pot just yet. Keep me in reserve to swoop in as the white knight. Sheev will want to play that role, so I may need to beat him to it."

"I understand. Thank you." Astral doesn't bother to hide her great relief.

"What is your strategy? What will you tell him?"

"That there is still good in his father. That the Emperor hasn't driven it fully away."

Darth Plagueis scoffs at her words. "Of course, there's still Light in him. Conflict is the hallmark of the man."

Astral nods. "You see that. I see that. But I don't think Luke Skywalker sees that."

And that is her strategy in a nutshell. Luke Skywalker is a hero, right? Astral will convince him to be the hero by saving his father. To see the Light in Darth Vader that they have in common. Sure, her husband wants to rescue his son from Sheev, but it might end up the other way around. Or maybe, they can meet in the middle. Either way, if it works, the Skywalkers will be on the same side. That's all that matters, Astral has decided. Plus, if Lord Vader gets his way, the labels Jedi and Sith will have no meaning when Dark and Light ally. Her beleaguered husband will finally fulfill his destiny and bring balance to the Force. Maybe that will be enough to usurp Darth Sidious. And then, all the hardship and loss—both for the Skywalker family, for Alderaan, and for the galaxy at large—will be worth it.

END OF PART TWO

More to come . . .