The hangar was open for the Lambda-class shuttle, manned by Darth Vader himself. As usual he felt no need to wait for the tractor beam to pull him in towards safety but instead decided to fly as fast as humanly possible while still making it look controlled. He had it down to perfection. And if he used the force to soften the landing no one would be the wiser. It landed with a screech nonetheless.

Due to the time sensitive news he had, as well as the condition his shuttle was in, his landing was hastier than usual.

If nothing else it would teach the troopers to get out of the way faster.

A contact on Tatooine had reached out to him, but refused to tell him any details unless in person. If he acted quickly and with military precision they could take out a newly established rebel base before they could install heavy artillery.

All the mechanics winced when they saw the damage on the shuttle. It seemed at first glance that it had been duct taped together in a desperate attempt to make the flight. The carcass was sooty from blaster shots and other damage that could only be explained by being repeatedly rammed against something. The wing was held together by messy emergency welding and pure luck.

He exited the shuttle and barked orders immediately. His comm had been crushed due to circumstances which he'd rather not divulge, which meant that the officers receiving him were not prepared for his hasty arrival.

Naturally, he was lucky they didn't shoot him down. It might have to do with the distress signal he had been outputting on his return, but he liked to think it was because they recognized his piloting style.

With a flourish he ripped the datastick out of the shuttle and made his way down the ramp. The cape flowed behind him and did nothing to conceal that his right arm was hanging limply by his side. Oil drips ran down his sleeve and trailed after his imposing figure.

In truth he had already turned off the mechanical limb to spare himself the agony, but he really did need to have it repaired as soon as possible.

"Are you hurt, Lord Vader?" the first officers who saw the mangled mess asked.

"It is no matter." He bit back harshly. "Give me your commlink. Now."

The Lieutenant quickly unclasped it from his belt and held it out to Vader, who took it with his left hand. Then the Lieutenant then backed away again, glad to not be next to him.

Vader's steps clanked loudly as he walked through the large floor of the hangar and connected to the bridge speakers. From experience he knew the intercom codes by heart. He didn't usually use the stationary speakers to relay his orders. The holo in his office was much more reliable and was open to two way communication and he could see what happened on the other side. The intercom would have to do but he would have preferred to call the bridge directly.

He'd settle for an open message through the speakers.

"This is Lord Vader, recall all attack spaceships within the sector. We will await them and plan an assault on the rebels. All senior officers to the bridge immediately." Now he just had to assume that whoever was on the bridge would follow his orders. He punched in the next number. This one was a ship-wide announcement.

"This is Lord Vader. Stop all training exercises. All troops on standby for now. More information forthcoming in the next 6 hours."

"Mechanics." He stopped before he reached the corridor exiting the hangar and turned around. "Someone needs to take a look at my Lambda shuttle. It has been tampered with. Find out what's wrong with the left engine and how it was done. Report to me directly. Greifalc, you're in charge."

"Yes, my Lord." He agreed immediately. He bowed out quickly and the other mechanics flocked to the damaged pile of steel to see what was left of it. The smoke coming from the engine was probably toxic as well, with all the unignited fuel expelled from the carburettor compensate for the failing ignition. It might have a little something to do with the tune ups he'd done as well. Maybe.

The announcements had the officers chattering behind him. He threw back the commlink to the officer he had borrowed it from. It veered a bit to the side but the Lieutenant caught it with both hands. The surprised look might have made a lesser man snicker if it hadn't been a stressful situation. Vader cursed himself for being right handed. "Lieutenant Cotall, I need you to assemble out admirals and generals for the meeting on the bridge. Upload the footage from the lambda and prepare them for a holo-screen viewing."

Two lieutenants who were still left from the initial group quickly followed Lord Vader as he walked towards the nearest tool rack. To their surprise he pulled off the glove from his right arm. He tried to roll up the sleeve as well but it was impossible. The stiff material was not made to bend, it was made to be fire proof, protective, and overall very sturdy.

He picked up a knife from the tool bench and started to cut away the seams. It was an awkward position to hold the knife in, and the fabric moved more than he had thought it would.

A small lieutenant approached him cautiously. Her determination showed through the badly masked terror on her face. She picked up a pair of durasteel nippers from the tool rack and held them out to him silently. To both of their surprises he did not take them from her but instead used the knife to point to a spot right where the pauldron ended.

"Cut here." He said with a sigh. For efficiency's sake, he told himself.

She carefully cut around the outer seam first. It was a bit awkward to get to the inner seam mostly because she had to lift his limp arm slightly to reach. He tried to extend it as much as possible with It was doable though. After a moment he huffed and directed the force with his left hand. His arm levitated slightly and she got access around it. The stiff sleeve didn't fall off but hung rather loosely on his arm, stuck on bent panels sticking out from his arm.

"And across too. I need to see how bad it is." His deep voice echoed impatiently as everyone else held their breaths. No one but Vader's personal medic had ever seen his prosthetics. There were some rumours about his prosthetics after a scathing song made by the rebel alliance some years back, but the backlash quickly quelled anyone playing it on the ships. Although the song was generally mocking there were many who believed he was more machine than man. He did not share their sentiment. The galaxy was full of people who gladly spat on those with cybernetic enhancements. Vader did not appreciate the tone in the song. Nor the political message.

The final piece of fabric fell off and exposed an oily mess of indented durasteel panels. Vader used his left hand guide his right arm to eye level. He twisted it slowly back and forth to see the damage. The outer shell was indented and through the cracks he could see some damage to the hydraulic pistons. The oil was leaking all over and made it harder to see what exactly was out of place.

He let his arm fall back to his side and looked over the available tools on the workbench. After he found some acceptable pliers he threw his right arm on the bench and went to work on it. He slipped twice, almost getting it to open, before a metallic groan tore through the silence and the dented exoskeleton was opened. It did not look promising.

Initially he had thought that only a few hydraulic pipes had been damaged under the panels. This would take a few hours before it was functional again.

The outer panel was quickly slapped back into place with a few harsh bangs and he turned to his audience of two, already thinking about the tools he would need.

"Have someone bring the emergency tools from my quarters. I need an air compressor, AW 46 synthetic hydraulic oil, new gaskets, and quarter inch hydraulic tubes, a blowtorch, any spare parts from the box marked ´extra parts´. It should be easy to find. Bring it all to the bridge, I will have to fix it there."

He threw his personal code cylinder at the Lieutenant. "Return this to me after." No threat was needed to accentuate the situation. There was no trust in the action, only the cold hard ´or else´ hanging in the air.

"Should we contact the medics as well, Lord Vader?" The tone the lieutenant used was borderline insubordinate, though laced with worry. He allowed it. Blood had gathered at some parts where the panel had embedded itself in his flesh, and the tight supportive harness that kept the prosthetic limb attached had started to chafe.

"Yes, fine. Get a med-droid if you can." He agreed quickly and started the trek to the bridge. "Contact a competent mechanical engineer as well. One with steady hands."

Now that they all had something to do he quickly ditched them. The long corridors of the executor were usually empty of personnel but since his impromptu loudspeaker message they were crawling with people. Many tried to get to their commanding officers to await orders. They still proved an obstacle as far as getting somewhere was concerned.

With great annoyance he grasped the force, coating the vicinity with a threatening feeling. It was as much warning as they were going to get.

Most people pressed up against the walls or into other nooks nearby, but it was still slower than he would have liked. In the fifteen long minutes it took him to get to the bridge he was accosted by no less than three separate generals who were hounding him for the plans. He told them to simply be at the bridge for the meeting. They spent the rest of the walk in oppressive silence.

When he finally got to the bridge the captains were busy on their comlinks trying to get the logistics figured out. In their midst was Admiral Piett. He had been fleet admiral since the battle of Hoth about half a year ago. He had yet to disappoint. The short man looked inevitably stressed as the other ships questioned his orders and wanted to delay the request. Apparently they needed to hear it from Vader himself and not from an "easily falsified message from a lieutenant's commlink." The bickering of highly stationed military personnel never ceased to amaze him.

The sound of his heavy steps must have alerted the good admiral. Many would have missed the tiny jerk in his shoulders before he straightened his back and turned around but Vader was as observant as ever.

Admiral Piett's eyes immediately turned to the exposed prosthetic arm hanging limply at his side. A flicker of concern flashed in his face but professionalism stopped him from openly staring. Blood and oil mixed into a nasty flurry, staining in the floor where he had stopped.

"Lord Vader, you are hurt." Well, that was obvious.

"I'll look at it shortly, Admiral. Are the generals ready?" one of the reasons he liked Admiral Piett was that the man knew when to push and when to save it for later. Mostly he looked concerned from afar, which suited him fine. Other officers would do well to follow his example if they valued their lives.

"Yes, they're gathered in office A05."

Before going to the office Vader made his presence known as he walked up to the holo-call connected to the many ships in the fleet. It was a clear support for his Admiral. The other admirals had ignored a direct order from their fleet admiral, and had also waited to obey his own command. Foolish of them, but he had more pressing matters. He would deal with them later.

"I trust that you are all on your way to the flagship." He addressed them directly, quelling any protests. It was enough of a reprimand for now.

The officers in the many screens nodded in agreement but he didn't acknowledge it. He turned to the Admiral.

"Let's go."

The Admiral quickly left Captain Venka in charge before following Lord Vader.

Vader walked half a step in front of him just to emphasize that he was in charge. Together they made their way towards the medium sized room. Even if they had not known the number they could have guessed where they were by the shouts and loud arguments that were taking place. With a little more force than necessary he threw the doors open with the force. The reverberating bang effectively silenced the room.

Different tones of ´Lord Vader´ greeted him in various degrees of concern and confusion.

"I've just returned from confirming a lead on the rebellion." He started. He felt their attention centre on him. While many younger people in the military shied away from his gaze the generals were another story. If they saw weakness they exploited it, and he had no intention of indulging them in their intricate power plays. He continued as normal. "The rebels have acquired a new base on Tatooine, located east of the dune sea. If they gain control of the planet it will disturb the galactic trade routes and halt our expansion. It does not please the Emperor. We have a rare chance to take out their base before their supplies arrive."

Despite his immediate introduction he felt their attention were not so much on his words, but rather his condition.

There were few things more unlikely than Darth Vader appearing vulnerable in front of anyone, and he did not enjoy it. If he could deny them from looking at his clearly disabled arm he would have but the mission took priority. Before they could begin their questioning he quickly brought the holoscreen to life. The lieutenant had managed to get it all connected to the recordings. It seemed they were in order. The first video was from about five hours ago, proved by the time stamp, taken from the lambda shuttle.

"From what I could find they are somewhere on the eastern end of the Great Mesa Plateau. Their last base was concealed in the sand, but this is located in the caves. As you can see from the footage they have some traffic coming in and out, mostly by hovercrafts. They are far enough from Mos Eisley that they remain undetected, and most traffic to Mos Espa goes on the western side."

He paused to zoom in on the transports. Their contents were not visible from the air but his contact had confirmed that the weapons were smuggled from another outer rim planet with many factories and dubious contracts.

"With all due respect, Lord Vader, but is this a confirmed rebel outpost? All the evidence is just transport shuttles. That could mean anything." The brave general who spoke out seemed righteously concerned.

"Which is why we are having a meeting, general." Lord Vader said impatiently. "Feel free to view the footage. You'll see known rebels from the probe droids footage."

Vader gestured to the control panel and stepped aside. The general stood up and muttered "I'll be the judge of that" under his breath. The screech of his chair added to the tension in the room and the others held their breaths. He accessed the footage on the screen and switched cameras.

On the screen the probe droid was obviously hidden under a lot of sand and only the disk covering the camera was above the surface. The video showed a few rebels, whose faces were mostly covered by beige fabrics, taking care of the cargo load and moving the crates into the cave mouth.

Vader deliberately leaned forward and froze the screens with his left hand and gestured to his audience. If he hadn't been wearing a mask he might have conveyed an expression emphasizing ´see´. And zoomed in on the rebels faces. The grainy 480p footage was enlarged by 200%.

"Rebels. As you can see."

"What about your arm, Lord Vader? We would never ask you to lead a battle while… disarmed." the concern came from the Admiral. His manners were calm and could come across as uncertain but Vader knew he had a spine of steel. The way he handled five ranks of promotion proved his fighting spirit.

His medical condition was a reasonable concern, however. Not one he'd let it stop him. He was not going to be weak in their eyes, now or ever.

"I'll look at it during the meeting. It's a three hour job at minimum. Since this is time sensitive I'll simply do what I can." He paused for a moment. "We can't afford to not to use this opportunity." He did not volunteer that the patch job they'd be able to do in that timeframe was rough at best, or that a new arm installation would probably end up with surgical droids soon after the mission was complete.

"Of course" Piett agreed, not unkindly, then took charge of the discussion. "General Veers, how do we best equip the ground troops for the Tatooine climate?"

They viewed more of the footage, and were supplied with copies of documents from the data analysts. Objections on military movements and troop deployment filled the room as they tried to figure out which units would fit best for the mission.

Vader interjected sometimes with some tactical opportunities. He attributed it to the same trip he'd just made, but really, anyone born on Tatooine knew these things. Like to watch out for the sand people. And the krayt dragons, which in turn meant that you can't just land on any stretch of sand, you'll get swallowed whole, especially so close to the caves.

They listened attentively and continued their discussions.

Veers was an experienced general, having led battles in most terrains. While his face was a grim mask he projected a calm directive when among his troops. He never shied away from the frontlines, and always fought to give his troops the best circumstances in battle. Asked for more equipment, more training, and more resources. It could get annoying in the long run, but he was useful.

While the video was paused the door opened. A medic accompanied with a 2-1B med droid, and the head mechanical engineer strode into the room and fixed their eyes on his arm. They were followed by out of breath ensigns rolling in the mechanical equipment and spare parts he had requested earlier.

The Lieutenant form earlier returned his personal code cylinder with a nod.

"Lord Vader." The group greeted him cautiously. From the other side of the room they couldn't see how bad the injuries were but the stark contrast of the half-clotted blood against his pale arm was enough to pique their interest.

"You can set up on the table." He offered calmly and turned his attention back at his generals. "We need to plan an attack on the base before they can assemble their defences. Look through the footage and make a plan. The captains at the bridge will update you on the available battleships. They should be here in an hour or so."

The ensigns unloaded what they could on the end of the table and then removed themselves from the room. It was a war meeting after all, and they should not be in the vicinity.

Vader walked over to the medic and the engineer and sat down in a chair at the end of the table.

"Is the arm turned off, Lord Vader?" the medic asked anxiously, trying and failing to see how bad the arm looked.

"It is for now." He supplied tensely. "Didn't want a constant output, some sensors are damaged."

He tried to unclasp the damaged prosthetic from where the osseo integration was attached to his skeleton. It didn't budge.

With both hands the medic tried to help, but all it did was cause additional pain to his joints. Ideally they would have disconnected the neural electrodes and detached the arm. It would have made repairs much easier, but they couldn't reach them.

From what Vader could see the arm wouldn't detach unless the dented panes were out of the way, and he couldn't get them away without access to the very much damaged bolts, which were one of the parts that held the panel currently imbedded in his flesh. It would take some time to loosen it up.

The generals were simultaneously uncomfortable with not having Vader's full attention on them but simultaneously seemed morbidly curious to see what he would do about the arm. They decided that they'd rather focus on the battle plans than draw Vader's ire to themselves. Some survival skills were required for the job.

The med droid rolled up to Vader and ran a diagnostic scan across the arm. In a few seconds it had analysed the data and let the room know.

"Scan complete. The arm is broken. Physically you are bleeding." The metallic AI-voice rang loudly.

"What of the arm?" asked Vader. The droid scanned once again.

"Scan complete. The arm is broken."

"I'm well aware droid." Vader sighed and waved away the droid. He turned the arm over angrily as if it would magically offer an easy solution. The worst part was the damage to the hydraulics and the oil leaks. It would be very time consuming.

"My lord, if I may…" the medic trailed carefully. "The flesh wound needs attention right away. Would you like localized anaesthesia?"

"No drugs."

"Well, the metal needs to come out." He stated tensely. "It will hurt a lot."

"It's fine, I can handle it." Vader countered.

"Are you sure you don't want a localized painkiller, Lord Vader? No one in this room would think lesser of you if you take one."

"No I'm fine." Said Vader confidently. "It's a minor adjustment, shouldn't take long."

"I must insist." The gutsy medic didn't waver even as Vader looked straight into his eyes.

"I will not be drugged during a battle, doctor." He contested tensely. "And I will not stay out of it either, so get that thought out of your head."

"Never crossed my mind." The doctor said thinly. Vader could see the lie in his surface thoughts. He chose to not address that.

"Painkiller would be a waste anyway. They don't work very well on me, and I'm not sure how they'd interact with the ones I'm already on." It was more than he'd like to admit, but the medic seemed to be the stubborn sort. Hopefully this would keep him from reading through his medical history, that would take hours, and they didn't have that kind of time.

The medic nodded with a sigh and prepared the medical equipment. An assortment of bandages, needles and thread, and many bottles of disinfectant cluttered the table. "You have been warned, my lord." He sighed apprehensively, but continued with his preparations.

During the medic's careful ministrations Vader found his attention back on the generals. They mostly seemed to underestimate Tatooine's geographical difficulties. Not a lot of vehicles could travel on sand, climb rocks, or remain stealthy in the dunes.

He had to give them some direction on this. "Captain Kessham, pull up the recent probe droid data. The terrain is a small obstacle but we should be able to manoeuvre it with repulsor lifted speeders. Find out approximately how many rebels can be armed with those crates. If we find out how many there are we and confirm with the number of rebels we can find out if they're ready to attack. The Intel is promising but we'll need numbers as well."

"And what of ground cover? The dunes are unreliable and the cliffs give them many opportunities to attack." The ever sensible Piett strikes again.

"I'll create a sandstorm as cover, they won't see us coming."

The protests started coming again and they spoke over each other, each trying to voice their ideas.

The medic seemed to be ready to pull out the offending durasteel panel splinter out of his arm and he braced himself. A squelching wet sound rang through the room. The medic steadily guided the steel out of his flesh. Only because he was mentally prepared did he manage to sit still, though his respirator betrayed his quick breathing. The medic looked apologetic but not regretful, and quickly started to clean the wound.

A few officers looked a little green. Their eyes were glued to his raw and bleeding arm.

"Generals, we need to plan an attack right now." He hoped to redirect their efforts to the troops. They would probably keep sneaking glances regardless of what he told them. There was a reason he preferred to only let droids handle any medical procedures but he rumours of him being invulnerable seemed to be profoundly shattered by now anyway.

Darth Vader tuned them out slightly and input his opinion where he felt it was needed, but his main attention was on his no good, very bad, broken mechanic arm.

"If I may ask, Lord Vader," the medic intervened quietly while they were all visibly distracted with reports on their data pads. "How exactly did you hurt your arm?"

The chilling stare was obviously not conveyed through the helmet. He sighed.

"Got stuck."

"Ah."

"Yeah." He didn't volunteer any details.

He turned his attention to the arm itself while the medic stitched up the flesh wound. They did have their own fields of expertise. The medic wiped off the area with a disinfectant and at last put a bacta patch over the swollen edge on the arm. A cool salve soothed the throbbing pain.

"It's all good for now but you should see someone about the stitches in a couple of days. Make sure to clean it properly and if it gets infected; get help." The tone allowed no misinterpretations.

"Will do." Vader agreed readily, glad that one part of the day was over.

The medic and engineer switched places, and the medic lingered behind his back, keeping an eye on the wounds. Table was cleared and the engineer popped open the toolbox. Vader quickly grabbed a screwdriver and prepared to work on the arm. First thing; get it open.

With rapt concentration he forced the indented flap open, exposing the broken cylinders and the oily mess that was his wrist. He listened to the generals with one ear, ready to input his opinion whenever it was needed, and with his left hand he unscrewed the external panels from his arm. The engineer moved to his side with a watchful eye, trying to gauge the damage.

Some of the generals got stuck with their eyes but he ignored them, already immersed in the mechanical part which he didn't mind. And if the others were a bit pale at the casual medical and mechanical intervention no one said anything. They all tried to focus on the meeting at hand. It was important. It was time sensitive.

Darth Vader was essentially doing open surgery on himself in front of them.

Disregarding their loud thoughts Vader tried to assess the complete damage. Basically, many of the parts of the arm needed to be replaced.

When he saw that the pistons were pushed back into the cylinders he sighed to himself. They could be removed manually but they didn't have the time. If he used what was left of the built up hydraulic pressure he could probably push them out with a flex of his hand. He needed the arm to be activated for that. It would hurt.

"What do you make of this?" he asked the engineer. With his left hand he curled and uncurled the lifeless flaccid fingers on his right. The metal tendons moved a little bit in response to the manual movements.

"May I?" asked the engineer hesitantly and gestured to the arm.

After a confirmative nod he carefully sat down in the chair next to Lord Vader and hesitantly put his hands on the arm, examining it at an angle. The slight jostle didn't seem to bother Vader but the engineer felt a pearl of sweat run down his temple. He as well moved the fingers to examine the movements.

At first glance it seemed to be an oily mess, which was a fair assessment. The outer panels had taken most of the pressure of the inner parts though, and apart from a couple of cylinders, skewed joints, and loose hydraulic tubes. That was not the worst part.

"The problem is the neural interface damaged." He said with a grimace. "The moment we turn on the arm it'll transmit through the whole arm at once. If we could choose to activate the parts one at a time it would be better. And even if we change the sensors it'll be agony as they connect."

Vader nodded in agreement. "If we focus on switching to the new parts first and then activate it for flushing air from the system it should be doable."

"Normally people are heavily sedated for this kind of procedure." The medic said over his shoulder, obviously disapproving.

Vader sighed and recalled the last time his arm had been damaged. "It's doable, only unpleasant."

The engineer's face paled even more but steadily agreed. He didn't have much choice anyway.

With the generals discussions in the background they methodically cleared out what was left of the spent rubber gaskets from the durasteel components. He turned his arm to the side and let what was left of the hydraulic oil spill on the floor. Not his priority right now.

Unscrewing the broken cylinders took some work. The space they worked in was tight, Vader was trying to do most of it by himself, and their tools often collided. When the third screw fell on the floor he felt his patience wearing thin.

Normally he wouldn't use the force for menial tasks or casual levitation, but grabbing something in the air was easier than putting down the tools every time. Though his attention was split between the meeting, the arm, and the levitation, they made progress.

The spare parts box had a little bit of everything, but it was for all four of his limbs. He guessed the Lieutenant hadn't dared to miss out on any parts and brought everything. It didn't matter much, though he would have preferred not to have to dig through all boxes to find the necessary parts.

At least the engineer was at competent. Vader didn't hire fools. Over the next two hours they emptied the hydraulic fluids, replaced the damaged valves with new ones, replaced the crooked hydraulic tubes with new ones, and blew out any residual soot from the welding with the compressed air.

They worked mostly in silence. Their mutual experience made it bearable at least, and gradually the engineer's nerves stopped playing tricks on him. Vader usually didn't mind some basic maintenance on his prosthetics, but damage control was annoying at best.

In just a few moments they would push the pistons in place and remove the last air. The engineer was ready to top off the last oil with the pistons pushed back into starting position. When the system was full only the air pockets needed to be vented.

It was time to restart the arm.

He'd have to activate the arm briefly and flex his hand. It was a moment filled with trepidation and he could see on the engineer's face that he knew what was about to happen. The pain he'd undoubtedly feel as his damaged neurotransmitters were activated while the arm was still, technically, outputting pain signals.

The engineer and medic next to him glanced at each other nervously but they wouldn't have made it to the flagship of the republic if they were cowards. Vader gave a small nod to them. They nodded right back.

He tensed the second before he reconnected the synth net neural interface to the turned off toggle switch. Then he hit it.

A sharp intake of breath briefly warned everyone in the room as he reconnected the prosthetic arm to the power source. The neurotransmitters were active. Vader had always had a large force presence and had no problem reaching out to people around him. Proper shielding usually kept him from projecting onto others but at this moment the whole room felt the oppressive waves of agony flowing from him.

The blinding nausea and sharp pure pain were felt by the whole room. Wave after wave of pure agony surged through their arms. Those closest were most affected. Vader brought the arm a little bit closer to his body but otherwise sat completely still while the military officers ducked under, holding their arms and turning pale at the pain. Not that theirs were for real.

A low shaky breath travelled through the vocoder and Vader flexed his arm once. Twice. Thrice. The pain was constant, but now manageable.

He cursed himself for the dropped shields and raised them in seconds. How embarrassing. He hadn't meant to do that.

"Turn it off." he said softly to the mechanical engineer who held the arm in place, tightening the last vents as the air pockets were replaced with more oil.

With the flick of a switch he could breathe again. "Sorry about that, took me by surprise." He addressed the room airily. He sounded as blasé as he could. If he didn't make a big deal out of it maybe they wouldn't either. He then remembered that he had just apologized. Oh well.

"Seems like we need to recalibrate the transmissions." He addressed the medic, as if he hadn't just made everyone suffer through his shared excruciating pain.

Vader used his left hand to inspect the work. He moved his limp fingers back and forth and saw the metal tendons move back and forth. When he held the finger curled up for a few seconds it smoothed out as a regular relaxed finger. The hydraulic pressure needed some adjustment but all in all it seemed correctly assembled.

The medical droid made came forward once more. It restarted the systems and with its programming optimized the functionality of the arm. Now that Vader was prepared he did not project sudden pain onto everyone else, but they observed him with horror. It appeared the sudden pain had shocked them slightly.

He turned the arm on again with relief. It stung a bit in places but seemed to work fine. The droid poked his sensor pads with a needle, gauging his reaction times and adjusting the intensity of the signals.

"The transports, do they have any merit as undercover remote bombing?" he continued their previous discussion, as if nothing had happened. He could feel the surface of their thoughts were still shocked by the pain he had let slip through his mental barriers.

An officer threw up on the floor. Weak, Vader thought to himself.

"My Lord, excuse me." Another exclaimed and rushed out of the room to puke. At least that one has manners.

In the brief distraction he didn't notice that general changed the video on screen.

Momentarily Vader felt as if the worlds slowed around him. He did not realize his mechanical prowess had been recorded as well. He thought the camera had been damaged by the stray shots.

Fuck.

"No don't watch that." he pleaded but it was too late. They all saw him trying and failing to weld the wing of the lambda together.

Under normal circumstances the wing would have to be lifted with a cross beam crane. In the video Vader was clearly levitating it with the force. Tools were spread out in the air beside him and in the same moment he reached for a wrench he slipped off the edge.

The moment of distraction caused him to drop the wing, which promptly wedged his right arm in the joint. On the video they saw him trying to yank his arm loose. A string of curses they never would have heard under normal circumstances were flowing from the vocoder.

He ripped apart the batteries powering the arm.

He then tried to lift the entire wing one handed. Tried to wiggle out. He was undeniably stuck under the weight.

Vader felt he had to explain himself. "Alright so just because I have the force does not mean I always use the force. You may not laugh I was in immense pain."

Someone snorted.

He would have told them off but right then the video showed a group of Jawa's running towards the lambda shuttle. The Jawa heading the group cautiously approached the vehicle with the blaster pointed straight at Vader.

"He is stuck." He said in jawaese to the others. "Let's get what we can."

Blaster fire and levitating rocks flashed on the screen, and Vader could be heard shouting something untranslatable in huttese before the footage was distorted. The black screen provided no more information. Nor did Vader.

"This does not leave this room, understood." He said imperatively. The generals nodded eagerly but their thoughts betrayed them.

Their thoughts also did echo some sentiments. Apparently they thought him both more and less human than before, but for different reasons. It really wasn't his fault they had such low pain tolerance. In addition it wasn't really fair that his own was so high either.

Truthfully he just wanted the day to be over with. "If you're done gawking, can we please return to coordinating the troops? We don't have all day."