The Rebels move against Astral straightaway. Vader is livid.
This is what he has long feared—that Astral will become the punishment for his crimes. But he allowed her pleas and Snoke's logic to impede his better judgement and he let her meet with the Rebel leaders to pitch treason. He trusted Luke and the kid let him down.
It happens a few days after Astral returns to Coruscant. She arrives home from work one night to stumble onto intruders lying in wait. One grabs Astral from behind as the other attempts to pull a hood over her head. But she fights back with unexpected vehemence. Kicking, biting, and shoving until one guy lands a very hard punch. She's reeling, but her efforts provide enough delay for Astral's surveillance tail to discover the plot. Her security guy puts a lethal flashburn into the head of one assailant and then into the chest of his accomplice. It is only a temporary reprieve, however. There must have been a speeder waiting close by to swoop onto the terrace to collect the kidnappers. Because after the initial danger is believed passed, a third man barges in to investigate. He kills Astral's surveillance guy. But she grabs the downed man's gun fast and starts shooting. That chases the third assailant away.
Astral immediately flees to Vanee who dries her tears and wisely deposits her on a shuttle to the Executor. She's more shaken up than truly injured. But once the adrenaline fades and the swelling sets in over the long flight, Astral arrives to his flagship limping and sore. She descends the shuttle ramp clutching a bacta infused icepack to her bruised cheek with bloodstains on her dress from her split lip. Concerned, waiting Vader strides up the ramp to intercept her. She looks so woebegone and distressed that he sweeps her feet out from under her and carries his bloodied wife to the nearby infirmary himself.
Vader doesn't care who sees. If the Rebels know who she is and Sheev knows who she is, who cares if the rank and file know as well? The risk of discovery already exists. In fact, it has manifested itself and that's why she's here.
There's no doubt that the Rebels are behind the attack. The two dead men are identified as known enemy operatives. But does that mean Luke was behind the mission? Could the Rebels have acted without his knowledge? Could this have been unsanctioned vigilantism? Vader decides it doesn't matter. He's holding his son responsible. Now, if he ever sees that would-be Jedi again, Luke's losing another hand for this cowardly reprisal. The boy is too afraid to rage at him directly, so he makes Astral his victim? Vader's contempt is unmitigated.
Luckily, Astral's physical damage is minor. Bruises, a hyperextended knee, one cracked tooth, and minor superficial facial lacerations that will heal without scarring. She will be well in due time. It's her spirit that is crushed. Astral feels very betrayed that Luke's Rebels have treated her this way after her overture for peace. It aggravates her already considerable frustration and disappointment.
Privately, Vader also worries that the Rebels will retaliate by releasing pictures of Astral visiting their cruiser. It would be very easy for the enemy to reveal to the galaxy the traitor wife of Darth Vader. And if that happens, they are both dead. No Jedi knight would do such a thing, but Vader knows for certain that a Dark Sith would. Will Luke to use his own methods against him? Where is Luke Skywalker on the spectrum of the Force currently? He's trending Dark, if this attack is any indication. But Vader doesn't worry Astral by confiding that particular fear. She's beleaguered enough.
It's too dangerous for Astral to return to her life on Coruscant. Vader gives her the choice of remaining on the Executor or living at his castle. She instantly opts to remain with him. Vanee soon arrives with the personal contents of her apartment. Astral deposits her belongings in the largely empty crew quarters assigned to him and promptly moves into his medical pod.
It's the most time they have spent together since his recuperation, and it's wonderful. Astral is the first thing he sees in the morning and the last thing he sees at night. For the first time in their short marriage, they live as husband and wife.
Suddenly, his private space becomes a lot more tidy. The bed is made each day and there's nothing lying on the floor. Most nights, he returns to find music playing. Yesterday, Astral had cookies waiting that she coaxed from the commissary. You're becoming quite the housewife, Vader teases just to make her frown. There's not much else to do while you're gone, Astral grumbles. Then she complains that she thinks she's read and watched the entire holonet by now.
She's bored. Vader catches her watching Rebel propaganda videos a lot, usually the ones featuring Alderaan refugees. He knows Astral still participates remotely in a grief support group. She has an enormous well of survivor guilt. It fueled her commitment to thwart Sheev and to destroy the Death Star, giving her the courage to approach Luke and the Rebels. That their plans have not come to fruition frustrates Astral as much as it does himself. The lost opportunity—for their family and for the galaxy—is a shared disappointment for them both.
For a much-needed distraction, Vader sets Astral to work learning rudimentary self-defense skills. There can be no denying that Astral is a Rebel target at this point. Those terrorists might make another attempt to seize her, he worries. But next time, she will be better prepared. He assigns Astral a team of trainers to teach her defensive combat moves and how to use a blaster. She's a diligent, if lackluster, student. She'd much rather be selling art than reloading a pistol. But she gamely tries.
I am terrible at this, Astral grumbles when Vader stops by one afternoon to assess her meager progress. The goal isn't to be good, the goal is to live, he reminds her. Do it for me, he requests. She immediately acquiesces. Like always, Astral is a team player.
Vader might delegate her personal defense training, but he teaches her flying himself. It's fun. He takes Astral out in a TIE and in a shuttle, patiently guiding her along. She's better in the smaller ship, especially when it comes to landings in his flagship's perpetually busy, always overcrowded hangar bay. One not-so-perfect landing provokes a humorous episode. Rookie Astral doesn't allow enough clearance distance from the neighboring shuttle that has just docked. The two crafts nearly clip wings. The irate pilot from the other vehicle comes to confront Astral about it.
He storms up the still lowering shuttle ramp and marches into the cockpit, hollering loudly as he approaches, "Who the FUCK taught you to fly? Do that again, and I'll have you demoted, asshole! You'll be flying a prisoner transport at a work camp after I file my-oh."
The charging man stops short when he spies Astral sitting at the controls in a yellow dress. She's no ordinary Imperial pilot and it shows. Plus by now, the entire crew knows she's his wife who the Rebels tried to kidnap.
"Oh," the man repeats. "It's you . . . er . . . Ma'am." He's aghast.
"Sorry about that," Astral replies sheepishly. She's guilty and wringing her hands. "I'm terrible at flying, I know . . . I'm still learning . . . "
Just about then, the angry man becomes aware of his telltale respirator hiss. "Ooohh . . ." his eyes widen. He seems paralyzed by dread. "He's here . . ."
"He's teaching me to fly." Embarrassed and sputtering Astral directs the offended pilot to him standing in the cockpit doorway with arms crossed. "But don't blame him. He's a good teacher. I'm just not a very advanced student."
"Yet. She's getting better," Vader assures the man who looks ready to faint from fear.
"That was better?" the angry pilot echoes weakly. Then, he immediately reverts to sucking up. "I mean, yes, my Lord. Absolutely, my Lord. Better, for sure."
"Maybe you should do the landing next time," the increasingly red-faced Astral mumbles.
"No," Vader insists. "You need to learn."
"I did almost hit his ship."
"That does not concern me. I've wrecked plenty of ships myself."
"You have?" Astral and the angry pilot react in shocked unison.
"Yes. That's how we met. Dismissed, Lieutenant," Vader orders curtly. But Astral ruins it by giggling.
Meanwhile, the Death Star construction continues. Moff Jerjerrod is a competent administrator and he sets himself to the task while Vader throws resources at the project. It yields consistent progress that Vader dutifully praises while inwardly he groans. The weapon is far from being structurally complete, but progress on the superlaser is proceeding rapidly. That means Sheev's new technological terror could be operational on schedule.
Where are the Rebels to blow it up? Vader knows for a fact that the Bothans received the information he leaked. In case the plot fails, he made it look good by killing a lot of those little spymaster couriers. Vader learned long ago to maintain plausible deniability for all his subversive acts. But what's the hold up? His enemies have the information they need and the cash to finance the attack. It's time to blow this thing up. Where are the Rebels? He has basically invited them to repeat their greatest terrorist attack.
In the midst of it all, Yoda dies. There can be no other explanation for the enormous disturbance in the Force that sends Vader mentally reeling for several minutes. He himself has no love lost for the diminutive little creature who was a giant of the Force and a stalwart defender of the Jedi Order. But with Yoda now gone and Obi-Wan dead, the universe skews hard to Darkness.
The entire mantle of the Light now rests upon his son's young shoulders. Maybe on his sister's as well. And maybe some on his own tired, slumped frame as the galaxy's last, best hope, the Chosen One. He is supposed to stand for the not-Jedi, not-Sith middle ground. But these days, with Sheev trending Darker than ever, Vader feels called to the Light.
Could he be Jedi again? Could he meet Luke's purity test for a conspiracy? Nah, he decides, there's no point in turning back the clock. He knows better than anyone that the dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate for the stormy present. Vader doesn't believe in the halcyon glory days of the Jedi and the Old Republic because he was there to witness firsthand their many shortcomings.
But what now? With his assassination plot a failure and the attack on Astral, Vader knows he needs to reassess the future. He decides that is time to preserve what he has. To protect his wife, safeguard his position, and keep in his Master's good graces. And if that means fighting off the young, foolish son who reminds him far too much of himself, then so be it. But hopefully, it won't come to that. Perhaps it's a futile wish, but if there is a chance that he and Luke can reach some arm's length status quo on opposite sides of the Force and the war, Vader will take it. He's not killing his own son nor will he lure him to the Dark Side to become his own executioner.
Privately, Vader envies Luke's stage in life. His son is still in the striving years. When the future feels full of possibilities and ambition rules the day. When part of the excitement of life is waiting to see how it will eventually unfold. It's a time before self-imposed limitations intrude. For daring has little risk when there isn't much to lose. The position, the possessions, the dependents and all their inherent responsibilities haven't come yet.
But most importantly, his foolhardy terrorist kid doesn't know his limits yet. He's dreaming big and, well, why not? Luke's living at a time in life before failures dim your sense of what is achievable. He hasn't had enough life experience to temper his dreams. How Vader misses those days. How he misses the young man he once was. His future was limitless up until the day he choked Padme and ended up hacked into pieces and left to die.
Will Luke face his own comeuppance? Vader hopes not. He wouldn't wish that on anyone. But still . . . he is livid over the Rebels' treatment of Astral.
Now, while his son is off crusading to remake the past as the most important agent of change on the scene since-well, since himself—Vader is stuck defending the status quo. His long-ago reformist zeal has been ground down by the reality of the slow pace of institutional change and by his Master's dictatorial whims. Like it or not, he's the Establishment now. His name is a byword for Imperial authority and his mask is a symbol that provokes more fear than trust. Of course, Darth Vader can't be the transcendent figure to bring peace. Naturally, the Rebels refuse to trust him. What had he been thinking? He's the most hated man in the galaxy. He's what people want to change. And so, of course, he can't be the one to make the change.
If their roles were reversed, would he be making the same choices Luke is now? Vader wonders . . . In a different time, might he have accepted an overture from Dooku or Grievous? He's honestly not sure. And maybe it doesn't matter. Perhaps he should give up trying to understand his estranged son.
The relationship is broken and it won't be repaired. Even before his mistake at Bespin, he and Luke were positioned to be at odds. Obi-Wan got his revenge, Vader sees. He trained Luke to be his father's assassin. To be a revolutionary to undercut all the good the Empire has achieved. To be a zealot to remake the Jedi Order his father systematically destroyed. No wonder Obi-Wan warned he would become more powerful in death. He must have known that by killing him Vader would serve Obi-Wan's purpose: that his martyrdom would convince Luke of everything bad he had ever been told about Darth Vader.
It makes Vader very angry. He feels extremely aggrieved. Let down first by the Jedi, then by duplicitous Sheev, and now by his own son. Can no one other than Astral see the truth of him? Does no one understand his perspective? He is not a monster. He is not the villain. In his own way, all along, he has been trying to do what is right given a set of choices that keep continually limiting. He is the Apprentice—he doesn't get to make the rules. Does Luke understand that?
One thing is for certain—he damned sure isn't flipping Jedi to appease his sanctimonious kid. Is it Luke's youthful arrogance that makes him determined to cling to bright line rules of good and evil for the Force? Or is it just the comfort that absolutes bring? The Sith don't deal in absolutes—it is the Jedi who insist on viewing the world in black or white choices, Vader knows. Can't Luke see that's far too simplistic? All morality is ultimately a facts and circumstances test. Leaders have to weigh their options, choose their priorities, and make decisions accordingly.
He is the Chosen One, neither Dark nor Light but variable from one extreme to the other. Vader knows he is not so much grey as he is vacillating. Maybe he just stands for nothing, Vader worries. For nothing is where this is all headed if Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa get their way. Because if the Republic is reborn and the Jedi Order reformed, then everything that Vader has fought and suffered for will be undone—and by his own son and daughter, no less. In that case, the galaxy will have to learn the same lessons all over again, he glumly supposes. History will need to repeat itself. Thirty years from now, some other poor slob will be stuck killing Jedi in a temple trying to finish what that colossal failure Darth Vader started.
It's an especially depressing thought. He hates when he gets in these moods. But, truthfully, he's more discouraged than ever after the failed conspiracy with his son raised his hopes and then dashed them. Vader is hurt by the rejection, disappointed by the lost opportunity, and furious over the attack on Astral. It all combines to make him more obsessed than ever about Luke Skywalker.
Tonight, he and Astral are back to talking about what they both can't stop talking about—his son. The lights are out and they are lying side by side in bed speaking out loud into the snug darkness of his small Executor medical pod. This time, it's his turn to start the mutual lament.
"I keep thinking he's like me, but he's not. He has my Force and he has my Darkness, but he's Padme in all the ways that matter," Vader sighs. "She was reluctant to compromise on principles as well. Always worried that it was a slippery slope . . . and she was right. But that's not the situation now."
Astral adds, "He's very afraid to make a mistake."
"That was never my problem," Vader admits ruefully. "I was reckless. Obi-Wan hated it. I guess I was arrogant as well."
"You say that, but I can't imagine you reckless and arrogant. That's just . . . well, it's not you."
"It was me back then. I didn't know any better yet," he admits. Life has humbled him. Astral has only known the older, wiser Darth Vader. Not the young, brash Anakin Skywalker.
"Obi-Wan once thought as Luke does. He was adamant that I stay wholly in the Light. He and the other Masters hid the Jedi knowledge of the Dark Side from me. All along, I knew there were things about the Force they weren't telling me. . . they were holding me back."
Damn, those memories are so long ago. Vader thought his Jedi past was forgotten. It mostly was until Kenobi showed up on the Death Star with his long-lost son to rescue the princess he was torturing, ignorant that she was really his daughter. What Vader wouldn't give for a do-over on the Death Star. This time, he wouldn't let himself get distracted with revenge on his old Master. He would focus on nabbing his children and talking some sense into them. His son and daughter don't know it, but they are just the latest pawns in a conflict that predates their birth. Together, they have the power to change that, if only they will accept him.
Vader stares at the ceiling as he speaks of the past. "I see now that Obi-Wan probably thought he was protecting me back then. But all I could see at the time was that he didn't want me to surpass him. And that may have been part of it."
"Snoke says the Jedi feared you."
"Yoda did. The Jedi were always looking for threats and the Chosen One was their biggest threat ever. In many ways, a homegrown iconoclast was more dangerous than any Sith could be. Yoda knew it, too. Ever since the days of the Jedi Crusaders, the Council had been careful to weed out freethinkers. Obi-Wan's own Master—the Jedi who found me—was a bit of a dissident himself. Yoda made sure that he was a peripheral figure with an unremarkable career. Qui-Gon Jinn was kept on a tight leash by the Council for his radical ideas."
"What were those?" Astral asks.
"He was interested in the Living Force—in the here and now. He was less about limitations and boundaries than he was about exploring the Force. Letting the Force guide you places. Even places the Jedi didn't want you to go." All these years later, Vader still wishes he had learned more from his initial Jedi Master he barely knew. The man was quietly admired for his patient, intuition instruction. He taught the Force as a set of truths to be discovered, rather than a set of rules to memorize. And if Obi-Wan is to be believed, Qui-Gon bent a lot of those rules rather blithely.
"Jinn didn't give a damn what the Council thought, although he didn't go looking for confrontations. The Council kept him sidelined and in return he ignored them." Vader smirks. "They must have been very chagrined when he became the first Jedi in a thousand years to get himself killed gloriously by a Sith Lord." Vader thinks back to the tall, broad shouldered Jedi Master with long hair and kind eyes who he met as a youth. "Qui-Gon was a good man," he remembers aloud.
"Luke's a good man," Astral observes.
Vader grunts his dissent. "He's just a kid."
"He's young, but he's not a kid. Not anymore."
"He hates me." And now, the conversation shifts, as it always does, to Leia Organa. "She hates me too."
Astral doesn't deny it. She just comments, "She's not helping things with Luke, I'm sure. At least their smuggler friend is safe now."
That's something, at least. "All's well that ends well, I guess," Vader mutters.
For before Plagueis succeeded in buying back frozen Han Solo, Luke, Leia, and some Rebel friends rescued him, killing Jabba and many of his unsavory hangers on at the Hutt's Tatooine hideout. They left behind quite a body count, not that Vader cares for the lives lost. He's sort of proud that his two kids laid waste to the local outpost of the criminal enterprise that enslaved him and Shmi Skywalker a generation ago. It's a win-win, all in all. Vader gets some revenge and his kids get their buddy back. Although he's not very keen on having a small-time spice smuggler for his daughter's boyfriend. Sure, Solo is a great pilot, but that doesn't make him eligible to date his daughter.
Not that she will ever care what he thinks. Vader had thought things were bad with Luke, but they might be even worse with Leia. Now, when he sees the princess' holonet rants, all he sees is Padme. How had he never perceived the resemblance? It's more than just physical. It's everything about the feisty, confident Rebel leader. Leia is her mother through and through, even if she doesn't know it. Padme would be so proud of her. Vader knows his late wife is probably cheering on the Rebellion from the netherworld of the Force. If she were alive today, Padme would likely be leading the Alliance to Restore the Republic alongside that Chandrilan Senator Mothma.
"Do you think Luke knows about Leia?" he wonders.
"I don't know. If he does, he didn't let on. Neither did she. Maybe in time, they both will come around," Astral makes a halfhearted attempt to remain optimistic.
His eyes wander over towards the direction of his desk. He can't see it in the darkness, but it's where he keeps his old Jedi saber that Plagueis cast to the ground at his feet along with his son's rotting hand. The sword is a talisman of regret for him now. "Luke and Leia won't come around," he predicts. "They have no reason to do so." Not after Bespin and Alderaan.
Astral disagrees. "You don't need a reason for forgiveness. That's the point. You can't compel it. You can't demand it. You can't bargain for it. Someone has to give it. Like you forgave Padme."
Vader sighs. "I wronged her." He nearly killed her and the children on that landing pad.
"She wronged you as well," Astral loyally points out. And it's true. Padme brought Obi-Wan to Mustafar to kill him. "Sometimes the people closest to us are the ones who hurt us the most." He knows Astral is thinking of her cheating ex-husband when she says this. Astral's past is not Skywalker level dysfunction, but it has been traumatizing nonetheless.
"I wish I hadn't allowed you to be drawn into the mess of my family," Vader apologizes yet again.
Astral says what she always says in response: "It's our family now."
"Astral, wherever this leads—"
"Don't start that talk."
"We should talk about this—"
"I don't want to. My Lord, don't give up hope. Luke might reconsider."
But she herself told him that Luke's answer was final. His son will not join him and Plagueis unless he turns to the Light.
Could he be Jedi again? He's rejected the idea out of hand, but now Vader ponders the question seriously. Because is he the one being stubborn? Vader honestly could care less what he calls himself. When it comes to the Force, the stylings matter less than the substance. And that's where he has the issue. He simply refuses to adhere solely to the Light. He won't restrict himself to only half of the Force. As it stands, he has so little Force left that he needs all he can get. But this is not a matter of pride so much as it is a matter of principle. No one will ever balance the Force wholly in the Light. Or wholly in Darkness, for that matter.
Moreover, he certainly won't adhere to the rest of the Jedi traditions. There's no way he will return to being a celibate, unfeeling monk who eschews all personal ambitions for the greater good. Vader is willing to give on whatever political reforms his kids want—Luke and Leia can turn back the clock on secular matters if they insist. But when it comes to the religion of the Force, things are moving forward, not backward.
But is this the wrong decision? Vader makes decisions for a living, but he long ago learned that he's much better at making decisions for the Empire than he is at a making decisions for himself. His famous ruthless efficiency is only for the office. When it comes to personal matters, Vader knows he's rather hapless. He blames it on his Jedi upbringing. All those years of denying his own emotional needs has him sort of clueless on how to manage them. Strong emotions tend to overwhelm and confuse him. Well, except for anger. He knows how to handle anger. You just channel it into power.
Uncertain and fearful of making another major mistake, Vader obsessively meditates on the issue. He talks Astral's ear off on the point as well. He even goes as far as to consult Plagueis on the matter. Vader is half expecting the old Sith Master to instruct him to tell Luke what he wants to hear and just renege after the fact. Deceit would be standard Dark Side advice, after all. But the old Muun surprises Vader by demanding he be forthright. Young Luke is either with us or against us, Darth Plagueis decides. His sentiment sounds more Sith than ever in the moment, but actually it's not. Plagueis wants transparency on the goal of balancing the Force.
While Vader continues playing Death Star construction foreman, the Muun has been hard at work noodling over plots to kill Sheev without Luke's help. Plagueis still wants to use himself as the lure and the completed Death Star as the means. None of the proposed scenarios are particularly impressive and Vader says so. That's less constructive criticism than it is Vader's unwillingness to move forward without Luke. He and his boy either do this together or not at all, Vader has decided. But that seems very unlikely at this point.
Back at the Death Star, Moff Jerjerrod keeps assuring him that his men are working as fast as they can. That's not exactly true. Vader still finds new ways to motivate them. He has to. The optimistic Moff overpromised bigtime to Sheev. The completion schedule he proposed was ridiculously unrealistic. Sheev knew it, too. Ordinarily, Vader would just let the Moff fail and suffer his Master's wrath. But this project is Vader's responsibility too so he has to manage it. He refuses to let Jerjerrod take him down with him. So the Moff doubles his efforts. If Vader didn't know better, he would think the man more scared of him than of Sheev. But somehow, some way, the guy does the impossible and the Death Star is back on schedule. The superlaser is very near operational, even if the hull of the weapon lags behind. It will be only a few short weeks before Sheev's new toy will be ready to test on some poor unsuspecting planet.
Vader comes home one night to deliver the bad news to Astral that the new weapon works, and damned if she doesn't cry. He pulls her into a hug and she clings tightly. They both knew this day would come, but now that it's actually arrived, it feels as bad as they both feared.
Vader feels like such a failure. Unable to do anything meaningful to stem the tide of Darkness that will soon send the universe reeling. He's the Chosen One and yet he spends his days aiding and abetting his Master's excesses that he can no longer stealthily oppose. Maybe his Rebel kids would expect him to martyr himself with a suicide mission to kill Sheev. But Vader knows that won't be effective. He has long believed that staying alive to subvert his Master is better than making some symbolic gesture that will get himself killed and do nothing to improve things. Besides, he's fought too hard for too long to stay alive to throw his life away now.
Lacking any realistic plan to change the situation at hand, Vader prays to the Force. Standing at the bridge of the Executor gazing soberly out at the imperfect giant sphere that is the half-completed Death Star superstructure, he requests its intercession. Praying silently that the Force will step in to guide events once again. After all, the ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force. And the last time Sheev got his hands on a Death Star, the Force assembled the Skywalkers—unknowing kin at the time—to scuttle it. Leia stole the plans, Luke took the shot, and he confronted Sheev in the aftermath. Their family can agree on nothing but this one fact: Darth Sidious and his super weapon must be stopped. Too bad they can't agree on a plan to actually do something about it. This missed opportunity is galling.
It leaves Vader feeling especially responsible. Make me an instrument of your will, he implores his divine creator again and again. Plagueis might claim to be his father, but Vader knows his father is the Force. So, he beseeches his indifferent parent. This time, it is not to ease his personal suffering but to prevent the mass suffering of others. Why have you forsaken me? He rages at the Force in moments of frustration and futility. I have failed you, but do not fail others. Do not forsake the galaxy. It needs you now more than ever. Stop Sheev now, Vader growls his fervent prayer. Reveal your intent and show your might. Depose that fool Darth Sidious who believes he is the ultimate power in the universe.
But, as usual, the Force ignores him. It is a slap in the face when nothing happens and the days tick by. Soon Vader finds himself on one knee in the largest of the completed Death Star docking bays as Sheev plods out of a shuttle to be greeted with maximum pomp and circumstance. His Master doesn't need to move this slow, Vader grumbles inwardly as he crouches in the uncomfortable pose. Today's stately pace is solely for effect.
"Rise, my friend." Sheev beckons to Vader even as he completely ignores Jerjerrod. It's a showy display of disdain in front of the large assembly of engineers and troops. Sheev Palpatine clearly wants everyone to know that he credits Darth Vader for his new weapon.
Vader takes it as his cue to officially report, "The Death Star will be completed on schedule." Those are not words he takes pride in uttering. This time, a job well done is a de facto defeat. Where the Hell is his son to blow this technological terror up? Luke has a fortune in credits and all the intel he needs to plan an attack. What's taking so long? This day should never have come.
"You have done well, Lord Vader," his Master commends. Sheev's eyes slant his direction from beneath his low hood. "And now, I sense you wish to continue your search for young Skywalker."
Yikes! Vader nearly chokes. His thoughts have betrayed him. He knows to be more circumspect around Sheev. Vader gulps and hopes his Master didn't catch the details of his thoughts, but just caught that gist that his emotions were focused on his Rebel son. "Yes, my Master," he hastens to reply.
"Patience, my friend. In time, he will seek you out. And when he does, you must bring him before me. He has grown strong. Only together can we turn him to the Dark Side of the Force."
Not a chance. Plagueis is right that Sheev will pit him and Luke against one another and sit back to enjoy the show. Still, Vader dutifully assents, "As you wish." He continues to play the loyal, obedient Apprentice.
But now, his Master says something truly unnerving. "Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen." It's typical Sheev—insufferably smug and overconfident.
And, well, fuck. That's not good news. Vader wonders for the upteenth time whether the Emperor knows about his attempt at a conspiracy with the Rebels. Whether Sheev has never bothered to acknowledge the threat because he knew the plot would fail. The animosity between father and son is simply too great to bridge.
Vader's sense of trepidation grows when he is summoned to the new Death Star throne room later that day. He lumbers down on one knee and begins with his usual formal groveling. "What is thy bidding, my Master?"
"Send the fleet to the far side of Endor," Sheev orders. "There it will stay until called for."
Er . . . why? A third of the Imperial fleet is here to ferry essential supplies to finish the Death Star. Moving the local fleet means suspending construction. It's quite a reversal of position. Vader's whole focus for these recent months has been to finish the weapon. Moreover, even with the shield projected from Endor and the operational status of the superlaser, the station is vulnerable. Until the superstructure is finished, a small fighter can easily penetrate to target the reactor core. So . . . why stop now?
But Vader knows better than to argue with his Master. Instead, he raises a competing concern. "What of the reports of the Rebel fleet massing near Sullust?" Those ships that are not here moving supplies are spread thin across the galaxy on routine patrols or seeking out Rebels. So if Sheev's going to delay completing the Death Star, he ought to move the fleet to Sullust not to the far side of Endor.
Sheev brushes him off. "It is of no concern. Soon the Rebellion will be crushed and young Skywalker will be one of us." His Master now issues an order that makes Vader extremely suspicious: "Your work here is finished, my friend. Go out to the command ship and await my orders."
Sheev is getting rid of him. Vader bows his head low and withdraws to brood on the implications. "Yes, my Master." Suddenly, he has a bad feeling about this.
So bad, in fact, that he immediately sends Astral to the castle. She is reluctant to leave because he doesn't really have a basis for the move. It's just a gut hunch that has Vader especially pensive and worried. It makes him determined to get his wife as far away from the Death Star and his Master as possible. Astral complies with his wishes under protest. Vader suspects it's mostly to humor him.
Astral, better than anyone, knows that he is extremely stressed about how the Death Star situation will play out. Every morning, he wakes up hoping that today will be the day that the Rebels attack. It's got him anxious and impatient. Sheev is only going to hang out here so long before he starts using his weapon. And then, it will be too late. Unless, of course, Vader takes matters into his own hands to attack the Death Star himself.
What's the first target for the new weapon? Vader is completely in the dark. That could be because Sheev knows he opposed Alderaan. Or, it could be because Sheev hasn't decided yet which system to destroy. But knowing his Master, Sheev has something special in mind for the debut of his new toy. Something to make an impression on the galaxy at large. But what? Vader has given up trying to guess.
As Astral leaves, Vader walks her to the hangar bay. Heedless of the many curious onlooking eyes, he holds her hand. It's comforting. Already, he misses her. Having Astral as a constant presence has helped a lot these past few months. She alone understands how he feels about his Master, his family, and the Empire.
But it is time to part for a little while. At least until whatever's going to happen happens. So he turns to face his wife at the bottom of the shuttle ramp. They join both their hands now. He and Astral have already said their goodbyes in private so he will keep this short.
"I'll let you know when it's safe to return." There's no need to hide their relationship any longer. That means they can now contact each other freely.
"I'll be counting the days," Astral promises solemnly.
"Not like I will be," he assures her. He needs Astral far more than 'I love you' can adequately communicate. He got a taste of ordinary married life—well, as ordinary as life can be for Lord and Lady Vader on a star destroyer—and now he wants more. That's always been his problem—he wants more time, more attention, more love than he ever seems to get. Some part of him never fully recovered from the separation from his beloved mother at the tender age of ten. He's been quietly desperate to replace that love and emotional stability ever since. Vader knows he's a man who needs attachments far more than others do.
"My Lord, whatever happens," Astral is being deliberately vague lest they be overheard, "don't be the hero." She's telling him not to get himself killed trying to scuttle the Death Star on his own.
He smirks behind the mask. "I thought you liked me playing the hero." All along, Astral has been the one cheerleading him on to treason. Although, admittedly, he didn't take much persuasion.
But now, it seems, she is getting cold feet. "I like you alive better," Astral replies as she reaches up wife-like to smooth his cape.
She's got a point. There's no agreement and no plan. A coup d'etat isn't something you wing. But if he sees an opportunity . . . well, Vader just might take it.
Astral had been composed when they spoke behind closed doors. But now, in the public space of the hangar bay with their parting imminent, her bright eyes sparkle with unshed tears. His unease has rubbed off on her clearly. Astral is worried and trembling now as she sputters out words at him. "I love you, my Lord. Take care of yourself."
"I will. I always do." Vader reaches to brush his gloved hand at her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "I'm a hard man to kill." That's not a boast, that's the truth.
Rey nods but then whispers, "I'm scared."
He almost says the words aloud. Me too, me too. None of this has worked out like they hoped. Now, it looks like his choices are to be the complicit Apprentice or the righteous dead man. Where his son and daughter fit into the mix is anyone's guess. But at least Astral will be safe at Mustafar away from his Master, the Rebels, and the Death Star.
Vader wishes he could rip his mask off now to kiss her one more time. But he can't. Instead, he blesses her softly, "May the Force be with you." The phrase is from the lexicon of his former life as a Republic Jedi. When said among individual members of the Order, it was a sign of special respect and endearment. It indicated something approaching a forbidden attachment, although of course that was never acknowledged.
For her part, Astral throws caution to the wind and flings herself into his arms. It's a fleeting blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment of intimacy, heedless of the public setting. Then he deposits her on the shuttle and watches it leave with a mix of relief and regret.
Next, he heads for the bridge to fulfill his Master's wish that he cool his heels on his command ship. Vader will hang out bored on the Executor for the foreseeable future while he meditates on what Sheev is up to. And all the while, the foreboding sight of his Master's newest planetkiller will loom large over his busy bridge command post. Reminding Vader of all that is at stake.
A few days later, he's drifting deep in the Force while standing on the bridge. His mind is only somewhat monitoring his surroundings when he startles with instant, unmistakable recognition.
Luke.
Vader almost says the name out loud with shock as his eyes blink open behind his mask.
Luke! That's Luke!
It's a presence he hasn't felt since Naboo. And before that, Endor and Yavin. Vader peers out the triangular shaped windows of the bridge at the line of transports awaiting clearance for the Endor shield gate. There is considerably less space traffic now that the majority of the fleet is lurking behind the local moon. Construction has essentially halted. The official explanation is Sheev's visit, but that fleet placement looks an awful lot like an ambush to Vader's strategic mind. It's a big clue that something is afoot. And now, Luke is here too . . .
But on which ship? Vader's gaze instinctively finds a nondescript cargo shuttle waiting for its turn to land on Endor. His son is on that shuttle, he's absolutely certain. Vader would know that enormous Force imprint anywhere. And so, he immediately worries, will his Master.
Fuck. This is not good.
His heart racing and his adrenaline pumping, Vader heads for the nearest communications officer. "Where is that shuttle going?" he demands, trying to project his usual public demeanor of efficient command. But behind the mask, he is quaking.
Piett takes charge of the situation. Vader tunes out the Admiral's chatter with the shuttle pilot as he stretches out his consciousness. And that's when Vader senses the ripple of recognition. He knows Luke is here, but Luke knows he's here too. His son is not happy about it either, judging by the wave of dread, surprise, and fear that Vader detects. One thing's for certain—Luke might be here to blow up the Death Star, but he's not here to reconcile.
