Vader can't sleep. He sits in his medical capsule turning his old Jedi lightsaber over in his metal hands. He never thought he would see the weapon again after Mustafar. And then, decades later, he deemed it forever lost on Bespin. Except it's not lost. Like the rest of his complicated backstory, he cannot ever seem to put it permanently behind him. For as always, his past keeps rising up to become his present.

He burned Luke's severed hand that came with the sword. He didn't have a better solution and he didn't want to take the risk that somehow Sheev would find it and use it for one of his cloning experiments. And then Luke 2.0 or Luuke or whoever would be rambling around the galaxy in a few years' time. Vader wouldn't put that kind of stunt past his ghoulish Master.

He contemplates trying to reach out telepathically to his son again in the Force. That seemed to work immediately after Bespin, perhaps because of their physical proximity. But it hasn't worked since. So instead, Vader puts the sword aside and starts swiping through the intel photos of his estranged son. This long ago became a nightly habit but it has taken on new meaning in the wake of his failure at Bespin. Now, instead of imagining his first meeting with his long-lost child, Vader spends his late nights imagining all the things he wishes he would have done differently. For if Luke didn't consider him to be an enemy before, he surely does now. Worse still, it's more than a political conflict. It's personal.

And that unhappy truth is what has tempered Vader's anger at Astral. Because putting the very real safety concerns to one side, Vader has to concede that he needs a game changer. Luke needs to meet a new face—and a non-threatening face—to plead Vader's case. And by default, that means Astral. Having skulking old Darth Plagueis corner the kid in some Sith tomb certainly won't help matters.

Astral's mission to Tatooine is very Padme of her, Vader has decided. His late wife pulled stunts like this regularly. She took matters into her own hands—foolishly at times. Astral is much more measured than Padme, as a rule. Astral is inclined to be cautious by nature, which was what sent her running from his Mustafar castle. Vader didn't chase Astral to Coruscant since her reaction was a very rational decision. But once she came back into his life and Plagueis started involving her in his plots, Astral has been dragged into the mess of the Skywalkers. Maybe she was indeed a volunteer to meet Luke. That's a possibility. But Vader strongly suspects that damn Muun talked her into this.

Sly Plagueis had distracted him with their meeting on Naboo while he sent Astral to do the real work. Vader fell for it, of course. He never expected that Astral would be the second pitch to Luke. But maybe that's why Plagueis sent her after he bungled things at Bespin. Because she's so utterly ordinary for this sort of thing. With no Force, no combat skills, and no baggage in the Jedi-Sith fight. How she ever managed to kill that Inquisitor at his castle is still a mystery. That must have been Astral's one Mary Sue moment.

Unlike Padme, Astral is not a natural leader. She's more the foot soldier type. She's also not given to speeches or ideology. Thanks to her art world background, she tends to be more intuitive than linear thinking, even if she is usually pragmatic. Astral also won't lecture you or pick a fight. Vader has probably only heard her raise her voice once or twice. And, frankly, that approach can be very disarming. For while most everyone around him has strong opinions expressed loudly and often, Astral speaks softly but effectively. She doesn't lack for conviction even if she rarely insists. She doesn't lack for bravery either, Vader has to admit.

But Tatooine isn't safe and never has been, especially for a woman alone. Astral could end up snatched by the slavers who traffic women across the galaxy for the Hutts. Or get captured by the sandpeople for their vengeful abuse on humankind. Or maybe just victimized by the various unsavory types who hang out in the Rim on the run from creditors or from the law. The more Vader thinks through the possibilities, the more alarmed he gets about her adventure to his home world.

But could she be successful? Astral's been a secret bystander up until this point. She's not burdened by the past decisions and prior conflicts that provoked this situation. Unlike himself, no one can say that any of this is Astral's fault. That could make her an effective intermediary, he knows.

Beside him, Vader's datapad buzzes to interrupt his brooding. It's a message from Coruscant. Astral is back home. She's safe and alone. Good. That's a huge relief.

Vader immediately sends a message to the bridge. Time to get back to Coruscant ASAP. He needs to confront Astral in person. You don't yell at your wife about her treasonous exploits over a comlink. Plus, then he can get a briefing on Luke Skywalker. He's dying to know what happened on Tatooine.

And so, many hours later, Vader is holed up in a crowded conference room at his Coruscant palace going through the motions of a deep dive analysis of the construction delays and supply shortages on the second Death Star project. It's a pretext with two purposes. First, he's pretending to investigate the problems he helped to create, making a record to justify assigning blame elsewhere. Second, he's killing time before he can see Astral. An hour ago, Vader was ready to adjourn and send Vanee in a speeder to fetch her for dinner. But that's when her surveillance tail reported that Astral had headed out to the opera. So, increasingly impatient Vader decided to continue his impromptu meeting a little longer.

The second string Moff Jerjerrod who has Tarkin's role on the new project is annoying him with his ridiculously optimistic appraisal of the situation. Vader tolerates only about another half hour from that yes-man before he acts. Anticipation has made him overeager. Feeling equal parts anxious, stonewalled, and bored, Vader decides he's tired of waiting and dispatches a squad of troopers to fetch Astral. It's time to yell at her and hear about Luke. Then, they can move on to some strategic plotting over dinner and then the makeup sex.

He doesn't have to wait long. Vader senses Astral's presence before the troopers march her in. But when she actually appears, she does not disappoint. The column dress she wears is black velvet and it swishes slightly as she walks to outline the curve of her hip with each step. One arm is swathed in tight fabric to her fingertips. The other arm is completely bare. The one shoulder style is neither décolleté nor prudish. It's somewhere in between. But it's the most skin Vader has ever seen his wife bare in public.

Despite his intentions to play this cool, Vader does a double take as she walks in.

At his side, so does Jerjerrod, Vader notices. He lets it slide.

Over time, Vader has begun to understand Astral's aesthetic. It's sort of gravely glamorous. Often colorful, but never pretty. Usually simple and deceptively modest. For there is an almost intellectual sex appeal to her elegance. When it succeeds like tonight, Astral appears dauntingly expensive and decidedly authoritative. Currently, she is surrounded in the midst of heavily armored troopers but Astral still manages to appear more boss lady than prisoner. Like they are her honor guard and not men sent to collect her. Astral is very credible as Lady Vader right now, even if none in attendance know it.

Behind the mask, Vader smiles.

Her expression, however, hovers somewhere between fuming outrage and ladylike dignity. And she's mad? Well, he's mad too. He's been worried sick over her since Plagueis revealed that she was Plan B to approach Luke. How dare she pull a stunt like that without consulting with him first. They're married now and they are supposed to make important decisions together.

As Astral stands there glowering, more irked than intimidated, the lead trooper announces, "The woman who you requested, my Lord."

The habitually nervous looking Jerjerrod does not appreciate the interruption. "What is this?"

Astral pipes up tartly. "That's what I'd like to know. I'm missing the third act of The Mandalorian," she informs the room. "It's the last performance. I won't get to hear Pre Vizla's big aria now."

Vader smirks as their audience blinks at her effrontery. Here they are planning the galaxy's next war crime when a prisoner appears to complain about the inconvenience of missing the opera. But with Astral, it's always art or music or literature. When she's not committing treason, his wife lives in a cocoon of high culture that she takes very seriously. But Vader isn't much for that sort of thing himself. He informs her, "The Death Watch were not heroes."

"Maybe so, but they make an excellent chorus." Astral is not concerned with the actual history, he knows, she's focused on the opera plot. "Vizla is the hero. It's the climax."

"Spoiler alert—he dies," Vader smirks behind the mask.

"Lord Vader—" Moff Jerjerrod, like everyone else watching, fails to see the relevance of this conversation. It's late and he and the rest want to wrap up the meeting and go home. But Vader's suddenly having fun. This sort of reminds him of the many times he and Padme stood in the same room among others totally unaware of their relationship.

Astral's eyes now alight on the Death Star hologram projected above the meeting table. "Is that what I think it is?" she half shrieks. It's not her usual measured, composed tone. Her eyes are bulging.

"Yes," Vader confirms, using the official euphemism for his Master's super weapon, "It's our latest subspace research facility."

That sarcasm sets her off. Astral hisses, "It's an abomination!"

"This is a secure meeting and she sounds like a Rebel," the Moff reacts. The huffing man turns to him. "Who is this woman? Is she a Rebel? And why isn't she cuffed?"

Astral answers for herself. "I might become a Rebel if you build another one." Her normal temperate demeanor evaporates when it comes to the Death Star. Astral is passionate about her opposition. She points to the hologram. "That's an abomination!"

"Then, you'll be happy to know that it's way behind schedule," Vader counters as he rises to cross the room. He moves to loom over Astral as the squad of stormtroopers scatter like flies.

She lifts her chin. "Good."

Nervous Jerjerrod is very troubled now. "She sounds like a Rebel."

"She's from Alderaan," Vader explains. "But have no fear, she'll need a few more flying lessons before she can blow up your new toy."

No one in the room appreciates that line. They all shift uncomfortably in their seats. All except Astral who looks like he's just issued a challenge.

Vader can't resist needling the Moff, telling him, "Don't be too proud of the technological terror you're constructing. It's only as good as its most vulnerable exhaust port."

"The very existence of this project is top secret," Jerjerrod frets. "My Lord, this isn't something a prisoner should see."

"She's not a prisoner." Vader now waves away the troopers. "That will be all."

Astral takes that as her cue to leave as well. "Since I see you are busy on important matters, my Lord, I will meet you later."

She turns to regally flounce from the room in her opera finery when he stops her in her tracks. "You are not dismissed."

Astral half turns to raise an eyebrow. "I'm dismissing myself," she informs him coolly. That's her version of telling him to go to Hell. She really is pissed about the opera. Well . . . probably also about the progress on the Death Star as well. When it comes to superweapons, his wife might as well be a Rebel.

Well, tough. She can deal with it. "You can leave after we discuss how you liked Tatooine," Vader rumbles as he crosses his arms.

The comment has the desired quelling effect. Astral's frosty attitude sort of deflates. She looks very guilty. "Er . . . How did you know—"

"Your co-conspirator told me."

"He did?" she chokes.

"Of course, he did. How many times must I tell you to never trust a Sith? They betray you every time."

Astral stiffens. "I'd like to go back to the opera now."

"That was very, very dangerous!" Vader thunders, waving a gloved finger in front of her nose.

"I know." She lowers her eyes.

Vader now gives full vent to his pent-up anger, momentarily forgetting his resolve to yell at her in private. But the stunt she pulled was ridiculously brazen. Does she know how worried he was? The group in the room looks on with lurid interest at the woman who dares to argue with Darth Vader. But no matter. They won't overhear anything useful. He and Astral are both too savvy to give away any incriminating details.

"You should not have intervened! I will deal with this matter myself." Luke Skywalker is his responsibility.

Astral placates him. "Yes, my Lord."

It's irritating. Moreover, the Force tells him it's insincere. She's wholly unrepentant. Just telling him what she thinks he wants to hear. Vader has spent the last three hours listening to the Death Star construction group do just that. He's had enough of it. "You could have ended up in a Rebel prison cell. That was a foolish risk!" he roars.

"No, it wasn't," she grumbles under her breath. As usual, the louder he gets, the quieter she responds.

So, he growls again good and loud, "It was a foolish risk!"

This time, Astral raises her eyes and responds softly so only he can hear, "Maybe so, but you're worth it, my Lord."

Well, damn. That sort of steals the heat from his anger. She still doesn't look the least bit contrite, but she does look very fetching. Her face upturned to his, her lips slightly parted, and her expression earnest. For a moment, Vader forgets he's angry. But it's a fleeting moment. He's still plenty mad.

"Come," he orders gruffly, grabbing for her upper arm as he propels her towards the exit. "I want to hear your report." Vader pauses in the doorway and turns to address their onlookers. "We're done here. Jerjerrod, send the followup to my staff. Commander Paulix," he addresses the only competent officer in the room. She's one of the few Imperial science officers who survived the trifecta of defeats on Eadu, Scarif, and the first Death Star. "Get me a new construction timetable for the reactor core. Something I can present to the Emperor for a status update." Vader plans to prioritize the superlaser, even if completion of the rest of the station lags behind.

As soon as he and Astral step through the door into the hallway, she mutters, "I'd like you to stop arresting me in public places." She gives his guiding hand on her arm a pointed look and he relinquishes his grip.

Still, he grumbles back, "How else do I get on your busy social calendar?"

"Try having Vanee tell me in advance that you'll be in town."

"This meeting wasn't scheduled. The new weapon is very behind schedule."

"Is that your doing?" she whispers hopefully.

"You know I can't answer that. But now that the project is my responsibility, it needs to get back on track."

"Oh," she sighs.

He's as keen on a new Death Star as she is. He reminds her, "I must obey my Master."

She sighs again with much resignation. "I know."

They jump the queue to commandeer an elevator and Vader waves everyone else away. Finally, they are alone. He turns to Astral. "Have dinner with me."

She shoots him a look. "I thought I was here to get yelled at."

"You are. We're not done yet. But then I want you to stay." This is their first fight as a married couple, he realizes. They're still newlyweds. That means they definitely need to kiss and make up. So, he presses, "Stay with me tonight."

"Oh, alright," she relents easily. Astral has the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. Then they exit the elevator into a hallway of guards and personnel and their conversation must cease.

Only when they are in the interior private corridors of his Palace do they resume speaking. Astral wants to know, "How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine."

"Does Dr. Levy think it's fine? Or are you just telling me it's fine?"

"It's fine."

"The young man I met on Tatooine told me the very same thing about his hand," Astral reveals. "Apparently, it's fine too."

"It's fine," Vader gripes. He's trying not to think about his son's injury he caused.

Astral isn't letting up. "When we get inside the egg, I want to see that shoulder first thing," she orders. Yes, she's very Lady Vader tonight with her haughty demeanor. But truthfully, he was hoping she would fuss over him.

Minutes later, they are alone in his medical pod and she's got his mask, cape, and tunic off. Astral stands inspecting his shoulder, marveling at how well it has healed in a month. "You were right. It does look fine," she decides as she runs a hand lightly over the still pink scar. "How is the rest of you?"

"Everything works about as well as it always does." Meaning, of course, that he's his usual wrecked self.

Astral face softens as she looks down on him seated. She impulsively bends to drop a kiss on his forehead. The gesture is more motherly than loverlike, but he likes it. "I'm not asking about your health," she prods him. She cups his face with her hands and searches his eyes. "How are you holding up?" Astral knows by now that the mental state of the Chosen One is as problematic as his physical condition.

He answers truthfully. "I'm better now that you're here." Then, he remembers he's mad and shoots her a glare. "You gave me an awful scare."

"I'm sorry." She drops another kiss on his head.

"Are you trying to distract me?"

"Is it working?"

"No. But keep going." He tugs her down to land unceremoniously in his lap. "Kiss me for real and then I will yell at you."

Now, it's her turn to glare.

He ignores it. "Welcome home, Mrs. Skywalker," he smirks before he plants a kiss on her. "Now that's over with, tell me about Luke." Curiosity has won out over anger. He's dying to know about his son. Plus, at this point, Vader is more relieved than angry. Relieved that Astral is safe, relieved that she is here, and relieved that she did in fact find Luke.

Astral stands up and moves to lean against his desk, facing him. Shaking her head, she exhales and admits, "Snoke says it went well . . . but I'm not so sure . . ."

"Smoke? Who is Smoke?" He's not following.

"Snoke," she corrects. "He's the Prince. I mean, Lord Plagueis. It's his nickname."

"Snoke?" He has a nickname? "Snoke?" Vader squints at Astral. Snoke sounds like a child's name for something they can't pronounce. "That's terrible. How many aliases does that guy have?" Plagueis used to be Hego Damask, the head of the Banking Clan during the years leading up to the Clone Wars. And Vader knows that the Prince Venamis ruse is a nod to the rival Apprentice Plagueis once defeated. But Snoke? At least, it's not Snokey or Snoker or Sneaky or Squeaky. No Dark Lord should be named Squeaky. It's beneath the dignity of the Sith. But then, Vader remembers that some people still call him Annie, so maybe he doesn't have the machismo high ground on this issue.

Well, whatever. Back to Luke. "Tell me more," he prods. "How is my son?"

"Angry. Confused." Astral meets his eyes. "I guess that is to be expected."

"How's his hand?"

"He wears a fake flesh covering of some kind."

Vader nods. "I never bothered with that. It feels like wearing two gloves. You trade off the sensation for a better appearance." He frowns now. "The Rebellion probably doesn't have the latest medical care."

"I offered him help from Dr. Levy."

"Let me guess-he declined."

"Yes." Astral tucks a stray strand of red gold hair back behind her ear. Her face portrays all of her dejection. It's clear that while she's unrepentant about her brazen interference, she also feels she has disappointed him by making little headway. "Luke was wearing black," she dutifully reports. "I didn't expect that."

Neither did Vader. "Like father, like son . . . I guess. That's probably our only similarity," he sighs. Aside from bionic limbs now.

"Actually, I saw a lot of you in him. The younger you."

Vader grunts. "You never met the younger me."

The corners of her lips turn up slightly. "I met him first in a painting. And I still see him now and then . . ."

Vader looks up sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She meets his eyes again. "It means you're still the hero . . . even all these years later."

"Hardly." He brushes off the comment. All along, Astral has been determined to see the best in him. He worries sometimes that she deludes herself. He's a Sith Lord, after all. "Well . . . what did you offer him besides Levy?"

"A home. A family."

Not the Dark Side and the galaxy. This was a very different pitch apparently. "And?" Vader prompts, knowing full well how it will end—more rejection.

"He's not ready for any of that yet," Astral replies slowly. It's clear that she has spent a lot of time reflecting on the conversation because she sounds thoughtful. "He is very angry. And afraid, I think."

"That kid doesn't fear anything," Vader retorts sourly, recalling how his boy had marched right up to him to light a sword. Then later, he had calmly leapt into a bottomless abyss. Luke Skywalker is either reckless or courageous. Maybe a little of both. Like his Jedi father before him, Vader recalls ruefully.

Astral disagrees. "He's very afraid of you."

"I never should have hurt him—"

"It's not the violence or the Empire he's afraid of," Astral clarifies. "I think he's afraid of the truth," she asserts.

And geez, it's like talking to Yoda, she's so obtuse tonight. "What's that supposed to mean?" he complains again.

"He does and he doesn't want to know about you." Astral looks a bit sheepish now. "Snoke wanted me to tell him about you. So, I tried . . . "

Vader groans. "What exactly did you tell him?"

She hesitates, and now Vader is really worried about how he has been portrayed. "Well?"

"I told him that you're more than what he sees on the holonet."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "I told him that the Emperor has made you do a lot of bad things but you're not bad."

He scowls and his eyes narrow. "So you made me look weak? Controlled by Sheev?"

"No."

"So I'm the chump who got duped into flipping Sith?" he bristles. "The fool who went to the Dark Side to save his wife and to save the Republic but he lost them both?"

"No."

"Then I'm just a failure, is that it?" he jeers. "The Chosen One who couldn't make it as a Jedi and ended up a substandard Sith?"

"No." She must see how wounded his ego is because she's flirting again now. Astral pushes off the desk to stand above him again. She has both hands resting lightly on his shoulders as she leans down as if confiding a secret. "I made you look slyly good. Subversively moderate."

He makes a face. "There is no deep state in the Empire. Not the way you think." Not the way she hopes.

"Sure there is. It's at the highest levels." Again, her voice drops to a whisper. "It's the Apprentice himself," she answers, dropping another light kiss on his forehead. "Admit it, you're a secret, sort of Lefty," she teases.

"Is that what you told Luke? Please tell me you did not tell Luke that."

"It's true."

Again, he scowls. "So now, I'm a Rebel? That's a stretch."

"Then what were you doing in that conference room tonight?" Astral challenges.

Well, she may have a point. But no longer. "I'm not going to get away with scuttling the new weapon much longer. Now that I'm the one in charge, I'm going to need to show progress."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes. I know you'll find some way to handle the situation. You won't let it come to Alderaan again."

He hopes not. Vader now slants hopeful eyes up her direction. "So . . . did Luke believe you? About me, I mean . . . "

"No," she replies sadly. "He wants to believe the worst of you."

"Can you blame him?"

It's a rhetorical question, but Astral answers, "I think it's easier for him to understand you as the bad guy. It puts him firmly in the good guy role."

"I knew this would be a failure," Vader sighs. He exhales long and hard. "What else did you talk about?" he grumbles.

"We didn't talk about the Force or the Jedi. I told him you didn't want him for an Apprentice. You want him for a son."

Vader nods.

She continues, "Basically, I asked him to come home. He doesn't have to join you on the Dark Side or conspire against the Emperor. He just has to be a part of our family."

There she goes again with talk of family. "What family?" he wants to know.

She answers like he fears. "You, me, Snoke, Luke. Maybe someday your daughter too."

"Plagueis isn't our family," Vader gripes, shooting her a look of reproach. "He's not my father. The Force is my father." Astral has her head turned by that wily Muun. She shouldn't trust that guy. He's dangerous.

Astral now resumes leaning back against his desk. She looks down a moment before she next volunteers, "Luke hoped I was his mother . . ."

Oh. Astral looks wistful suddenly and Vader senses it has nothing to do with Luke.

She looks away. "I had to tell him that I wasn't his mother . . . that his mother is dead . . ."

"What did you tell him about Padme?"

"That she was a queen and a Senator from Naboo. That the Emperor killed her to hurt you and maybe to try to kill Luke too."

"That's it?"

"I said that you loved her deeply and mourned her for years."

Uh oh. "Did you tell him that I tried to—"

"No. I didn't want to speak of the Force. That's above my pay grade."

Good. Luke might be scared by the Dark art of resurrection. And, well, Vader doesn't need his kid to know that he failed at that trick. He doesn't want the boy to realize just how diminished his father's Force powers are. He wants Luke to respect him.

"Did you tell him about Plagueis?"

"No. He asked me not to tell him."

"Good."

"What about his sister?"

She shakes her head. "Snoke wanted me to stay focused on you and to highlight all the ways that Luke has been lied to." Astral muses a moment. "He listened for a bit, but he didn't trust me. I'm not sure how much of what I said really sunk in. I gave him some of the doctor's salve for his hand. And also, a map to the Hutt's headquarters."

"Who gave you that? Plagueis?"

She nods. "He wants to promote trust. Snoke says to let Luke think it over. He said the meeting was mostly about creating doubt. That he has to be ready to hear the truth."

Vader agrees with that assessment. "He wasn't ready to hear it from me. So . . . how did you leave things with him?"

"I'm going back to Tatooine next week."

What? "You are not!" Vader launches to his feet. "I'll go!" he announces. She is not going back to Tatooine.

"No." Astral digs in her heels.

They've been over this already. "It's too dangerous!"

"I'll be fine. Lord Plagueis has men to protect me."

No, thanks. "I will protect you—by going myself."

"You can't," she informs him bluntly. "My Lord, if Luke so much as sees an Imperial cruiser in orbit, he won't show for the meeting. As it is, he may not show to meet me."

"Because he doesn't trust you?"

"Yes . . . I guess," she concedes. "But mostly because he doesn't trust what I told him about you." Astral shifts her weight nervously as he waits for her explanation. She awkwardly reveals in an especially small voice, "He thinks you have deceived me."

Luke might not be far off, Vader knows. Astral has always looked for the good in him. She doesn't exactly look away from the bad stuff, but he knows she tends to rationalize it. And, well, there are some good rationales for what he does. But Vader is not blind to the fact that his wife is his biggest apologist. She's the head cheerleader of Team Vader. From the beginning, her hopefulness is what drew him to her. For while the galaxy at large hates him and his own son rejects him, Astral accepts him.

She's seen him kill, she's seen him cry, she's seen him fail. She knows his ugly past and all the details of his infirmities. She also knows exactly how trapped he is as the Apprentice. So what does she get out of their relationship? Sure, he gives her love, but he mostly gives her danger. He's never around either. They've been married a month and this is their first night together since the wedding. They are so arm's length that he basically had to arrest her to get her here tonight. And so, in many ways, his second marriage feels even more doomed to fail than his first. Because now there's a lot more at stake than just his career as a Jedi and his wife's Senate reelection. You can't quit the Sith and his Master has already threatened to kill Astral. And that's not counting the risks of plotting treason to ally with his Rebel son. Plus, who knows what that wildcard Muun is really up to?

Why does Astral love a broken man like himself? She could do much better. Vader knows he's a shadow of his former self physically and in the Force. He was defeated on Mustafar decades ago and he never really recovered. Sure, he's still alive but that's more stubbornness than anything else. He's always been a bit subversive. These days, he mostly lives to quietly thwart his Master. Still, he's nowhere near as effective as Astral believes. But look at her now—she's staring up at him like he's the hero. Like he's the handsome, young dashing Jedi he once was, not the yellow-eyed, bald and burned half-droid monster he has become. Yes, Astral is deceived, Vader thinks as he pulls her to him. She is deceived and he won't be the one to disabuse her. He's simply too selfish. He needs her love too much to push her away.

So, Sith that he is, he presses his advantage to shore up her support. "I have never lied to you," he rumbles softly.

Her chin bobs. "I know. In time," Astral assures him, "Luke will see the real you. When he understands the entirety of the situation, he will see how complex it is. One day, he will understand," she says with more hope than conviction. "And then, he will see you like I do. You," Astral tells him firmly, her palms resting on his bare chest, "you are the man the galaxy needs right now. You can bring the change to fix things. We don't need a revolution, we just need a course correction and new leadership."

"He'll never join me."

"He might. Or," Astral ventures boldly, "you could join him."

What? "Not a chance."

"Does it matter what the semantics are? Who cares who joins who? If you join together, you and Luke could end the Rebellion and chart a new path for the Empire—"

"There's no compromise in that kid. He's a zealot." Bespin proved that.

"It's mostly because he's lost," Astral argues. "Luke's clinging to his Rebel identity because it's the only thing he has." And that's a predicament Vader can relate to. He understands what it means to become someone new once you have lost everything.

"You think your best days are behind you, but what if they're not?" Astral challenges. "What if this chance with Luke is why it all happened? Because for you to bring balance, you first had to break with the Jedi and then experience for yourself the problems with the Sith? My Lord, what if you haven't failed at all? What if you haven't even started?"

She's so beguiling in her earnestness, even if Vader suspects she is parroting ideas from Plagueis. This all smacks of Darth Plagueis. But it perfectly fits with Astral as well, for she wants so much to make him the hero. And, well, Vader would be lying if he said the idea didn't resonate with him. He has been searching for years now for a way to give his mistakes and suffering meaning. Could the Force be giving him the motivation he needs to balance the Force with the reemergence of Plagueis and the surprise discovery of his son?

"Let me go back to Tatooine," she wheedles. "Let me do this for you." And when she puts it like that, Vader can't say no. Damn, if she's half as effective persuading Luke as she is persuading him now, Astral might actually succeed in negotiating an alliance. "Let me do this," she persists again.

Vader answers with a kiss. He's too much a Sith not to be turned on by a beautiful woman urging him to unseat his Master. And, well, he's also still too much a Jedi not to be moved by the goal of saving the galaxy. Fuck, he needs to let go of this either/or religious mindset. That's long been the problem with the way the Force is understood. The problem is that he doesn't yet have an alternative. But who cares? He needs to stop thinking and start feeling. He now commits himself to the easy task of seducing Astral.

Except tonight, it's not so easy. He needs this, he really needs this. He's so stressed out. Riddled with guilt and failure over Bespin, worried for Luke, worried too for Astral. Also annoyed by his dressing down from Darth Plagueis and frustrated by his inability to reach his son in the Force. And that's not counting his day job to put down the Rebellion that he is kind of, sort of sympathetic to plus all his new Death Star II busywork. Vader knows he is anxious and overworked, as usual. Sex is just the diversion he needs tonight. But unfortunately, his body is not cooperating.

Fuck, this is humiliating. Astral is here to cheer him up, but he can't get it up. Sexual frustration is nothing new. He spent two decades as a lonely widower. But to be in this position in bed with his beautiful and willing new wife is especially galling. His problem isn't lack of opportunity now. It's lack of performance.

This turns out to be one of those situations where trying harder doesn't yield results. After some determined foreplay, he relents. Defeated, Vader sighs as he rolls off of Astral and glares at the ceiling. "I'm too tired." Is this his middle age showing or just his wrecked body failing him again? Some groom he is. The honeymoon is most definitely over.

She takes it gracefully. "Shhhh . . . Just hold me."

She wants to cuddle but he wants to do the deed. "We'll do this tomorrow morning," he promises. He'll be good to go in the morning. He still wakes up ready to go in the morning.

"Just hold me," Astral requests as she tugs him closer. She assures him, "This is good," but he knows it's not.

She soon falls asleep, but he lies awake ruminating over this fresh embarrassment. It's a bitter joke that the Empire's most famous tough guy Darth Vader is weak. Neither the commanding presence he once was on the battlefield nor the powerful decisionmaker he purports to be. For while his responsibilities are many, his discretion does not extend to the things that truly matter. And maybe that's what it means to be number two, but he's damned tired of being the Apprentice.

Astral knows it, too. It's part of her motivation to bring home Luke, Vader knows.

Could he really be the man for these troubled times? He's the only begotten son of the Force, and yet he is a man like any other man in all things. Most especially in sin and shortcomings. He's weak in body and spirit, morally flawed, and ideologically ambiguous. Those qualities don't strike Vader as the benevolent strongman leader the galaxy will rally around to replace Darth Sidious. Vader worries he is too polarizing of a figure to unify the Rebels with the more moderate, reasonable types in the Empire. But he does appreciate her vote of confidence. The Force may—or may not—have forsaken him. Padme certainly did. But Astral, he knows, will not.

She is so good for him. He suspected that from their first days at the castle, but it has proven true in time. With Astral, he has found the intimacy he needs. She's his bedmate for romance and his co-conspirator for treason. She's also unquestionably loyal, with no particular agenda other than their happiness together. That's what motivated her trip to Tatooine, he knows. She did that for him. Because she knew that he alone could not fix the mistakes of Bespin.

Vader can't help but be reminded of Padme who left the safety of Naboo for Tatooine for him once. In their better days, his late wife cheerfully endangered herself for him as well. All for the fool's errand that was rescuing his mother. But that's what love does. Love takes risks.

And so, the next morning after he has redeemed himself with some enthusiastic lovemaking, Vader takes a risk. He doesn't want Astral to be the only person sticking their neck out for Luke Skywalker. He too will tempt fate. It's time for a grand gesture.

"When you go back to Tatooine," Vader begins with tacit approval of her return trip. He's stroking Astral's back as she lies across his chest. They're both sweaty and sated in the aftermath. But they are so cozy right now that neither of them wants to get up for a shower. "When you go back, I want you to tell Luke about the new Death Star. Tell him that I will leak the details through the Bothans to the Rebellion." That's how these things are done to preserve plausible deniability. He can't simply hand Astral a datafile with the new plans to deliver to his Rebel kid.

She lifts her head. "You want the Rebels to blow it up again?"

"Eventually, yes. But mostly, I want to earn Luke's trust. I need to show him that we have common concerns." If Luke is ever going to see him as someone other than Palpatine's enforcer, Vader needs to confound his son's expectations. To that end, he will continue Astral's strategy of creating doubt. But instead of casting aspersions on the lying Jedi's motives, he will confuse the kid about who he thinks his father is.

Surprised and pleased, Astral half sits up to hover over him. "So . . . you are going to show him that you're the traitor Apprentice?"

"Yes." It's two birds, one stone. Vader will subvert Sheev's repeat folly and hopefully earn some begrudging goodwill with his kid. And if Death Star II gets blown up in the process, it will be the icing on the cake.

It's a bold move, but still . . . he's not the covert Rebel Astral wants him to be—not really. There are plenty of pragmatic solutions the Empire employs that Vader endorses. Sheev just takes things too far at every chance he gets. He's unnecessarily extreme because he can be. Throwing his weight around to exert control and to punish mostly for the Hell of it. For at his core, Sheev Palpatine is a sadist. It's part of what makes him such a successful Sith. He's the galaxy's alpha predator who's also a gleeful hater. It's why Darth Sidious needs to go.

Astral is beaming down at him. Vader reaches up to twine a strand of her hair around his finger. Her shiny copper locks are getting quite long again. He loves it. He's always been a long hair guy since his childhood days of watching his mother unplait her own hair at the end of the day.

"I refuse to allow another Alderaan," he promises Astral. "If Sheev gets another weapon operational, things will get a lot harder." And then, the universe will skew hard to Darkness. It's the wrong direction from the balance he intends.

He might be a sad poseur as the Chosen One. Force knows, Vader has prayed that the burdens of that unfortunate status be taken away from him since the benefits seem to have waned as well. But he was raised a Jedi too long not to believe in the prophesy. And though he might be the son of the Force, Vader knows that it is the will of the Force that matters, and not his own. That's a good thing, really. His own decision making is clearly flawed—as demonstrated most recently at Bespin. And so, Vader long ago abandoned the hubris that his personal actions express the will of the Force. Instead, he hopes for the best. Make me an instrument of your peace, he silently implores the Force. It's an old Jedi prayer that is very ironic for a Sith Lord. But more and more these days, Vader finds himself a man without a creed or a purpose. He's not adrift so much as he's fed up. Tired of waiting for change and ready to make it.