Another thank you all for reading!

Padme approached the bridge hesitantly. To an outsider though, her steps resembled those of every other officer on the Star destroyer. Quick, calculated, and traveling in a specific direction. But the agent's steps contained a particular level of slowness to them that only the woman herself recognized.

She didn't want to follow through with her decision. Didn't want to see Vader again. But she knew it was required of her, an order that she personally agreed to follow.

With one final sigh and quick pat at the nonexistent wrinkles in her blue uniform, Padme Naberrie entered the bridge of the Executor.

One quick glance at Vader though nearly sent her right back outside.

The Sith stood with his back to the side viewport that extended along the length of the room. His hands were clasped behind him, hidden in the folds of his thick cape. His outfit looked different today, a slight variation on the clothing she was used to seeing him wear. But the particulars of his outfit weren't the problem.

No, Padme took once glance at his eyes and a chill ran down her spine. Instead of the usual cold blue, his irises appeared to be an unnatural and garish shade off yellow-gold ringed by red.

The rebel forced herself to swallow back her fear and confusion at the sight, but she was sure he felt something from her. His eyes immediately jumped to the newcomer and the perpetual scowl deepened.

"Nice of you to join us, Agent Naberrie," he barked. Padme jumped at the unexpected greeting. Her appearance set some unknown plan into motion as the destroyer immediately jumped into hyperspace at his words. The familiar tug in the pit of her stomach was her only warning before the bridge was lit with bright, swirling lights.

She slightly stumbled backwards on her heels when the ship shifted forward. Her well-trained instincts were the one defense against falling completely on her back. Glancing around at the other officers didn't help, except saving her ego a bit of embarrassment. None of them even briefly acknowledged her presence.

"Naberrie," Vader repeated her name. She glanced back up at him. His eyes retained the same frightening shade of yellow and Padme wanted to look away.

"Y-yes, my lord?" She finally found her voice and kept her own gaze just short of his eyes. Her focus stayed on his heavy brow, sharp cheekbones, and full lips….?

No.

"I assumed the ISB trained its agents on the necessity of punctuality. Perhaps I was wrong," he told her, annoyance tinging his words.

"I apologize Lord Vader." She felt the scrutiny of every single imperial surrounding them on the bridge. No doubt, more than a few found their exchange humorous—-on Padme's part at least.

Vader rolled his eyes at the rebel's apology.

She continued to approach the Sith, albeit unwillingly, until she took her place next to him. The man turned around to face the viewport and Padme mirrored his actions.

"We are headed for the Garel system. The Emperor tasked me with hunting down an active rebel cell on the planet."

"Emperor Palpatine assigned you a mission? I thought we were going…to the Outer Rim." She looked over at him. Her eyes only reached his shoulders and she refused to look any higher.

"He did," Vader responded through gritted teeth.

Something finally clicked in Padme's mind. The malicious contempt he held for Palpatine wasn't something she'd created in her head.

No, Vader truly did despise the imperial leader.

Is that why his eyes have gone yellow?

The rebel wasn't well-versed in the peculiar nature of the Force, only ever catching snippets of conversations between Obi-Wan and a few remaining survivors. Did the sharp change in his emotions have something to do with the strange coloring of his irises?

"What does his majesty expect us to do on Garel?" She finally asked after a beat.

"Wipe the entire cell out and reestablish imperial control in the Lothal sector." Vader's voice lost a bit of its tightness as he explained the meat of their new mission, but Padme refused to look back at his face.

She couldn't.

Her mind wandered at the mention Lothal. The Alliancd had yet to initiate rebellious activities in that particular sector. Three failed cells since the beginning of the Empire were difficult to handle. The Imperial presence on the foremost planet of the region made the planning stages nearly impossible to begin. Bail and Mon eventually wished to see a greater influence from the rebellion there, but it was a long time in the making. Then who made the decision to start something on Garel?

Padme threw her arms tightly over her chest. The thick duroplast of her armor dug into the sensitive skin of her wrists, but she ignored the pain. It helped focus her mind away from any possible slip-ups, mentally or otherwise.

"Very well, Lord Vader," she finally responded to the man's explanation of the impending mission. She forced herself back into her imperial mode: the unfeeling, unkind persona that made the ISB proud and invoked fear into the minds of unsuspecting rebels—until they learned better. "Do you have any numbers, any data on them?"

Vader produced a data chip from spot along his belt. "Tarkin saw fit to send a significant data transfer this morning. We should have everything we need." His voice sounded as though he doubted his own statements. Again, the clear distrust of Palpatine's stooges in power colored his words.

"Can I see it?" Padme finally pivoted her body more fully towards the Sith Lord. Her eyes slowly climbed their way up the length of his body until she met his gaze once more. The fiery yellow and orange was gone completely, replaced by a cool azure she was much more used to seeing.

The abrupt change in hue startled Padme.

Why …

"Here," Vader shoved the chip into her hands before she could even consider the shift in eye color. "Do you have a datapad?"

Padme nodded quickly, struggling to maintain a steady composure. She pulled the device from a deep set pocket in the leg of her pants. It was smaller than the standard issue pads, considerably more portable as well. The rebel inserted the data chip into the tiny port at the bottom. Suddenly reams of data streamed across the screen.

File upon file upon file immediately downloaded to the device. Padme glanced back up at Vader, skillfully ignoring the oddness of the icy blue gaze that met her. "They've collected this much data, but are only telling you now?"

The Sith Lord stared down at Padme, a ripple of confusion clouding his expression. The skepticism shifted to something more akin to curiosity and possible…Was he impressed?

"Yes." Vader grumbled after a few seconds. His usual mask of annoyance returned, wiping away any of that strange interest.

"Why not hand it over to the ISB? Our teams are more than qualified—"

"I know," he cut Padme off. His hands slunk down to the thick belt around his waist. His cape moved just enough for the light to catch against the shiny metal of his lightsaber. A constant reminder of the power imbalance between them.

"So Emperor Palpatine would rather use you despite being on the other side of the galaxy?"

"Yes."

"It makes perfect sense to me," she whispered, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Indeed," Vader returned just as softly, but the dryness of the response was palpable.

"So," Padme swiped through more of the data, "We're heading off for Garel."

"Yes."

"To wipe out a new rebel cell?" She nearly stumbled over the words. It took every ounce of her training to stay in imperial mode.

"Yes."

Padme continued running through the files. Names popped up on lists of possible members: Kleith; Maneszt; Roloot; Brile; Eodth. None of them were even remotely recognizable to the seasoned rebel. It had been a while since she'd received any intel from her friends in the alliance, but her mission constantly exposed her to the ever-growing numbers of new rebellious allies.

She glanced up at Vader again. His attention had shifted away from the agent. His eyes—still blue—were focused on the rapidly passing space around them. "I'm not familiar with any of them," she admitted honestly.

"Unsurprising. Tarkin is convinced this is a brand new organization in the making."

More files, more information. Dates, locations, personnel movements. There was so much data available.

Too much.

Something wasn't right.

And her suspicions fell directly on the governor that assigned them the mission.

"Well, at least you're smart." Vader's comment took Padme off guard. She felt his eyes back on her.

"Excuse me?"

"This isn't exactly a gifted assignment, Agent Naberrie."

"What is it then?"

"A punishment."

The Executor exited hyperspace to settle into orbit around Garel.

Vader sat behind the controls of the shuttle. Normally, he'd prefer to use his own modified stealth ship. Avoid detection from any and all prying eyes on the ground, but of course his master's plans called for a show of force against the rebel cell.

Even if said "force" was five clones and a spy.

He glanced over from the captain's chair to peek at Naberrie. She'd taken the spot next to him in the cockpit, while the clones readied themselves in the cabin. The agent gripped her ever-present datapad tightly between her hands, eyes poring over the plan one last time.

Vader knew she didn't trust him to do it right. She was with the ISB after all. A group of Imperial devotees set in their ways.

But something was significantly different about this one. Yes, she followed her prescribed protocols and exceeded expectations in the eyes of his master, but there was…something. And it nagged at the back of Vader's mind.

The Sith Lord forced himself (momentarily) to forget about it. The mission at hand required his attention.

Didn't it?

He looked over at her again. Her brown curls were plaited in a loose braid down her back. A few flyaway strands framed her face in a way that only made her more…

Vader held onto the control column tightly.

Too tightly.

But the grip helped control his thoughts from skewing too closely to being inappropriate for any reasonable situation. The Sith forced himself to turn away from Naberrie, but his reflexes weren't quick enough for the woman to miss his gaze.

Her warm brown eyes met his own natural blue.

Vader blinked.

"Is something wrong? The coordinates were inputted correctly, right?" Naberrie asked, closely regarding the screen on the console in front of them.

"Nothing's wrong," he responded, refocusing a hard stare out through the viewport of the cockpit. But his hold on the controls never relented. He sensed the woman's skepticism through the Force, something he wished to ignore.

"I'm not an idiot, Lord Vader. Did the steering controls insult you then?"

"What?" He finally relented his grip.

"You're gripping that column like you're trying to kill it."

His stare morphed into a glare and he felt a rush of ire run through him, but the emotions quickly passed. Vader rolled his shoulders. "Maybe I am, Agent Naberrie. Perhaps it insulted me and deserves a painful end."

The spy dramatically rolled her eyes, an action that didn't annoy the Sith as it might on a normal occasion.

But this wasn't an instance of normalcy, was it?

Vader was about to set out on a prescribed mission dictated to him by two men he despised more than anyone in the galaxy—one to which he owed his life. With him were only his closest human companions and a woman, who's very being played with his emotions. Everything felt out of whack at this moment. For all of the reassurances he gave himself when Naberrie appeared, for all of the intense ignorance of unfortunate sensibilities, being sat next to her preparing for a mission felt strange. Vader's fingers itched to grasp the column again, to recenter himself once more.

Ignore everything that was going wrong in his mind.

Naberrie's quiet chuckle drew him from his thoughts. "Because ships can insult their pilots."

The conversation was taking a turn. But was it for the better?

"Actually, I've known one or two that have," Vader replied. His fingers—both flesh and mechanical—relaxed under the cover of his leather gloves.

"I highly doubt that. They aren't exactly sentient beings," the agent stated as she settled back against the uncomfortable co-pilot's chair. A small grin tugged at the corner of her lips, while a slight touch of warmth slipped into the Force. He disliked the sensation, but coming from this woman…Well, Vader wasn't about to beat back against it. Instead, the Sith lord did what he does best: purposefully ignore anything that bathed in the light side.

"You must never have piloted a starship before," Vader spoke matter-of-factly as initiated the take-off sequence for the shuttle.

"Once or twice."

"Recently?"

"Possibly," Naberrie replied cryptically. She watched the Sith through a veil of unexpected curiosity.

"They come to life in their own way. No two ships are ever the same."

It was something, a notion that Vader picked up in his youth on the Force-forsaken dustbowl of Tatooine. Working in a junk shop in the midst of a large spaceport exposed him to different models of transport on a near daily basis. And he'd often sneak out to see even more when his mother—

No.

Vader stopped himself before his mind went any further. These were not the thoughts of a seasoned Sith apprentice. They were not the ideas of a devotee to the Dark Side. No, they were the unrealized delusions of a dead man. That childhood was not Vader's. That mother gave birth to a son named Anakin, who died a long time ago.

"You're doing it again, Lord Vader," Naberrie reminded him. She was pointing to his hands around the controls of the steering column. "Are you sure nothing is the matter?"

Her line of questioning seemed out of place for an ISB agent, most especially one with an assignment like the woman seated next to him. They were taught to never challenge their superiors, particularly one like Darth Vader. And yet here she was, genuinely concerned for him. Well, perhaps concerned was too strong a concept. But Naberrie was in fact at least interested in the Sith's well-being.

"Nothing's wrong," he hissed behind gritted teeth.

"Are you nervous then? I'd never believe someone…like you would ever let nerves get the better of him," Naberrie commented, sarcasm tinted her words.

"No," he growled, eyes focused on the hangar shielding in front of them. A slight hum buzzed around the interior of the cockpit as systems came online one after the other. The control panel lit up and Vader inputted the coordinates into the navicomputer. Despite the short distance of the flight, he needed to consider any and all possibilities of failure.

Although, the Sith knew it would be a simple mission. Like he told the agent, the easier an assignment, the more it was a punishment gifted to him by Sidious.

The sound of the engines firing up cut short any further conversation between them. He pulled back on the yoke and the shuttle lifted from the floor of the hangar. Vader directed the ship out of the lower level of the Executor and out into the space beyond them. His star destroyer was the only one in orbit around the planet, as per Tarkin's directives. He left the majority of his fleet behind over Bakura. Three light cruisers were on standby above Lothal, back-up should the worst happen.

An insurance policy, Vader never needed nor even wanted to consider. Sidious insisted.

"Have you ever been to Garel?" Naberrie's voice served as an odd distraction for the Sith lord. His hands never left the controls, but he did spare a glance towards the woman.

"Once." He directed the shuttle towards the upper atmosphere of the planet.

"What's it like? What are the people like?"

"You planning to desert the Empire, Agent Naberrie?"

"Never." The conviction of her words were a comfort to Vader, or as close to a state comfort a Sith lord might ever reach. It was reassuring to know there were others in the Empire with the same inherent sense of duty as himself. But there was still that…something behind her words. If he reached out far enough with the Force, he might have understood it. Might've seen what small part of herself that Naberrie continued to obscure from his vision.

The mission. Focus on the mission.

Vader retreated back inside himself; gave up on any sense of probing her mind. There was time enough for that later. But he did peek over at her one more time as he flew them down to the planet below. Her arms were held tightly over chest, datapad discarded on the console in front of her.

"Are you cold?" He heard his own voice ask.

"It's nothing, my lord. Just a quick chill, a bit odd, but space is quite cold, isn't it?"

Vader grunted. Apparently his reflexes weren't quick enough for the agent. She felt his exertions in the Force, the use of the dark side to further examine her hidden thoughts. "I suppose."

"You never answered my question, Lord Vader," she redirected their conversation away from her own discomfort. But the Sith saw her rub at her shoulders before focusing his attention back on the viewport: a violet sky and bustling city. He followed a path directly towards the Imperial spaceport along the fringe of the urban center.

"There's no real answer to give, Agent Naberrie. Everything you'll need to know is on your datapad. I willingly choose to avoid intermingling with the locals. When I'm here for a mission, I have a specific goal in mind. Everything else is secondary and unimportant."

"Shuttle EX-4541, proceed to landing pad eight. Personnel are standing by, Lord Vader," an air controller spoke through the comms, startling Naberrie. Her arms dropped to her sides.

"Noted," is the Sith's one word reply before the channel cuts off once more.

"Personnel?" The agent questions. "Are you receiving more assistance?"

"Less of a way to help and more of a way for Tarkin to retain a tighter leash of control over m—the mission." Vader flew directly over the bright lights of the capital below them. He expected Naberrie to follow his line of vision to the view outside their ship, but she kept her warm brown gaze firmly fixed on the Sith. Apparently, it was her turn to pick at his mind. Without Force sensitivity though, he knew his own thoughts were firmly secured behind layers of carefully crafted shielding. "Is something interesting happening on this side of the ship, Naberrie?"

She quickly shook her head and relented her stare. "It's nothing, my lord."

"Then I expect it to remain nothing."