Chapter 14: Ingrata Peregrinus

DROMUND KAAS: KAAS CITY

"I don't like this, my lady," Sabé said, standing arms folded by the bed in Padmè's suite aboard her new ship. "I should be coming with you."

Padmè tucked the last of her tunics into the dresser and pushed the drawer closed. She knew that her loyal handmaiden was going to be uncomfortable with the idea of her going on this mission without her, but Anakin was right, it was for the best.

"I know I don't always agree with my husband, Sabè," Padmè said, turning around, "but Anakin is right, I need you to stay here with Obi-wan to protect the twins." She walked back to the bed and closed her suitcase. "Besides, I shouldn't be gone for too long. If everything goes according to plan, I will be coming straight back here after the Senate meeting."

Sabè folded her arms and frowned. "Vader only means for me to stay here because he is afraid I will convince you into running away from him. Him wanting me here to protect the twins is nothing more than a smokescreen."

Padmè turned to meet the concerned woman's stare. Whether her assessment of the situation was accurate or not, it didn't matter. Luke and Leia had to be kept well out of sight of the emperor, and as much as she felt nervous leaving her children half-way across the galaxy while she returned to Coruscant, they had no other choice. "I am not about to abandon our children. I feel bad enough leaving them here as it is."

"Then take us with you, my lady. You have your own ship; this is our chance to escape. We could take Obi-wan and the children and vanish, run away to some remote Outer-rim world and start over. Vader is unstable and dangerous. Who knows what he could do when he gets back?"

No wonder Anakin had been concerned, if this was what he'd sensed brewing inside her handmaiden before he left. And now, Sabè had just proven him right. She trusted her handmaiden, she only ever had her best interests at heart, but how much longer was this argument going to last?

Taking a deep breath, Padmè picked up the empty suitcase and deposited it into her closet and closed the door. Sabè would come around in her own time, for now she would just need to keep her objections to herself and fulfil her duty. She went to turn around when a loud knock on the door startled her.

"Who is it?" she asked, shooting her handmaiden a cautionary glare. Whoever it was, she desperately hoped they hadn't managed to overhear her conversation.

"Commander Appo, Lady Vader. I have your new handmaiden here. She wishes to speak with you," the trooper's voice echoed from outside.

Padmè cleared her throat and immediately adopted her senatorial voice. "Very well, Commander. Inform her that I will be out shortly."

"Yes, my lady."

Padmè breathed a sigh of relief, that was too close for comfort. Appo was already well aware of their situation and her handmaiden's objections. But, had that have been anyone else it could've spelled disaster. She turned to face Sabè and jabbed her finger. "We will continue with this conversation later. Until then, I would very much appreciate you keeping your opinions regarding my husband to yourself."

Sabè lowered her gaze. "Yes, my lady."

As promised, Commander Appo was waiting with Niobè in the ship's royal parlour when she finally opened the door. With Sabè following, Padmè stepped out with her head high and smiled graciously at the trooper. "Commander, I am sorry to have kept you waiting."

The trooper nodded and gestured to the young dark-haired woman to his left. "Pardon the intrusion, my lady. This is Niobè. She wished to meet with you to discuss her duties."

"I see..." Padmé said, folding her arms and appraising the grey-uniformed young woman. She was keeping her head down, avoiding eye contact. Her long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, finishing just short of her elbows and her ivory hands were tightly clasped together by her stomach. For someone who wanted to speak with her, she sure wasn't saying a great deal. Was she being bashful? Or was this somehow her husband's doing, with him terrifying her into obedience?

"Where are you from?" she asked, still using her emotionless tone.

The young woman didn't look up. "Corellia, Lady Vader," she answered quietly.

Lady Vader. Not, my lady or ma'am. So, this was her husband's doing. She suddenly felt empowered, like she was the queen all over again, but even back then, her own people had never been too frightened to look at her. "Being a handmaiden can be dangerous and demands complete loyalty. Do you understand what is expected of you?"

"No, my lady," Niobè answered, nervously wringing her hands. "Not entirely."

Perfect. Not only was this officer too timid to look her in the eye, but she was apparently clueless as to what being one of her handmaidens truly entailed. Hardly appropriate considering the difficulty of their assignment. Naboo royal handmaidens, such as Sabé, trained intensively for years in both hand-to-hand combat and espionage, and now this girl was going to be serving as her substitute? Did she even know how to fight? Her thoughts drifted to Anakin. She'd have to thank him for this later. A dull ache erupted in her stomach, as if brought on by her sudden thinking of him. She fought hard not to wince and discreetly laid one hand over her small bump.

"Can you use a blaster pistol?" Padmé asked, trying to mask her growing discomfort.

Niobè finally looked up, her big doe eyes wide. "Yes, Lady Vader. I was initially training with DC-17's for the Imperial Infantry until my reassignment to the Exactor..."

The ache was getting stronger and harder to ignore. It was now spreading down her back, pulsing in a peculiar rhythm, making the simple task of listening too difficult to manage. Was she losing the baby? Aleria had mentioned several symptoms during her last check-up that she needed to watch out for, one of those being the sudden and severe onset of abdominal cramping. And now that she'd considered it, she couldn't dismiss it. She needed to see her to find out for sure. Rubbing her stomach, Padmé looked to her handmaiden, who had seemingly noticed her distraction and was now staring at her in concern. "Sabé, can you please take Niobé and brief her on her new responsibilities. I'm afraid that I must return to my chamber to continue getting ready."

Sabé narrowed her gaze, her brown eyes scrutinising her every move. After a moment she nodded and reluctantly acquiesced to her request. "As you wish, my lady."

Which she knew to mean that they would be discussing her condition in great detail later. Fine, so long as she had the chance to see Aleria first, at least that way she wouldn't be left wondering. Padmé called out to the trooper and moved to leave the parlour. "Commander, would you mind escorting me back to my suite?"

Appo, not blind to the sudden shift in her behaviour, curtly moved to follow. "Right away, my lady."

Standing on the balcony, Obi-wan twiddled with the silver com-link in his robe pocket and stared up at the storm clouds blanketing the city. So dreary. It was always raining here. It seemed he'd swapped one extreme for another. No rain, for never-ending rain. Solitude, for constant company. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure which one of them he actually preferred now, either.

Possibly the company, but it was hard to decide, and the darkness radiating from Kaas City's core wasn't helping matters. He was definitely out of balance, even his meditations had felt a bit off recently. Well, he couldn't really blame that on the city — he hadn't been able to meditate properly since...

No. He'd promised himself not to dwell on the past any more. But as usual, the painful memories resurfaced anyway, despite his own internal refusal. Perhaps one day he'd grow to accept it. He let out a deep sigh and pulled the com-link from his pocket. Turning it over, he gazed at the silver plating as it shimmered in the dull light.

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with his former padawan only moments prior to his departure, when his black gloved hand had firmly pressed the small metal disk into his palm. He remembered staring up into Vader's blacked out lenses, wondering; awkwardly waiting for him to say something. And he had silently turned and walked away, not stopping until Obi-wan finally called out to him.

"Anakin..."

Vader stopped, his cloak gliding to a rest at his boots.

"I will watch over them," Obi-wan had said sincerely, tightening his fingers around the gifted com-link. It wasn't exactly what he'd wanted to say, but he'd known his former padawan would understand precisely what it meant.

The dark lord had slowly turned back, his respirator cycling in the silence. They had stared at each other for a long moment, before he'd finally spoken.

"I have left something for Padmè on the dresser. See that she finds it."

Then, with a wave of his hand, he'd motioned for Artoo and disappeared through the door.

"I see he gave you one, too," a feminine voice sounded from behind.

Obi-wan closed his fingers around the com and slowly turned around. Syrennè was crossing the main chamber, moving to join him on the balcony. So much for peace and quiet. Sighing, he slid the com-link back into his pocket and started toward her. "I was beginning to wonder if he had taken you with him to Coruscant."

Her blue eyes followed him curiously as he carried on passed her into the sitting room.

"I wanted to go, but he said I had to stay here — something about me needing to continue my training."

"I see ..." he muttered, slumping down into the recliner. He stroked his beard, watching the young woman move to sit on the seat opposite him. "So, you are still going ahead with it then?"

Syrennè stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. "Yes ... why wouldn't I be?"

Obi-wan shrugged indifferently. "I guess I wondered ..." He let his words trail off and looked to the balcony, thinking back to his conversation with Ferus Olin — when he'd promised to keep her out of trouble when he'd left her with him at Tatooine. He sighed at the memory. "Ferus and Caleb are going to be disappointed."

She rose to her feet, a sudden burst of anger surging through the Force. "Ferus didn't want to train me any more than you did!" she snapped indignantly. "I gave my life to that Order, only to be abandoned in the end." Shaking her head, she turned and started to walk away. She stopped before the split sofa and glanced back over her shoulder. "My master was right," she said quietly, her eyes glazing over. "It is time for me to leave the Jedi behind. They can no longer help me."

He went to respond when two pained screams echoed from within Vader and Padmè's bedroom. "The twins!" he said, immediately jumping from his seat and hurrying across the chamber. When he reached the cot, both children were thrashing about on their backs, crying at the tops of their lungs.

"What's wrong with them?" Syrennè asked, stopping alongside him.

Reaching into the cot, Obi-wan scooped Luke up and lifted him over the railing. He pulled the young Skywalker to his chest and started to pat his back. "Nightmares would be my guess," he whispered. "They haven't had one for some time, so I guess they were due."

Syrennè lifted Leia into her arms and started to sway. "She's so tense. I can feel her fear barrelling through the Force."

"It's alright, young one," Obi-wan cooed, turning to carry him out from the bedroom. "It was just a bad dream. It will pass in time."

Luke continued to cry in his arms, his tiny body stiff with fear. Whatever he was seeing had him so terrified that he was trembling in pain. He carried him back into the main chamber and slowly paced by his father's desk, gently rocking him in his arms.

"Senator Organa said that Leia suffered from night-terrors," Syrennè said, joining him by the obsidian desk. "He said that some times they lasted nearly fifteen minutes and that he was powerless to stop them."

"Yes, he did tell me that," Obi-wan said, glancing briefly to the young woman. "Both children seem to suffer from them. It comes as no surprise though, their father has had them for as long as I can remember." He continued to rock Luke, sending calming energy to him through the Force. "Come on, little one," he pleaded, looking down at his sodden face as he continued to cry.

The secret passage door slid open and the rattle and thud of trooper armour joined the noise. Obi-wan glanced up, only to see Commander Appo with his arm supporting a very weak Padmè stumbling into the room. Her face was pale, her expression strained and she was clutching at her stomach.

"Padmè, what in blazes happened to you?" he asked, watching as she unsteadily staggered forward.

She locked stares with him but didn't answer.

"She's been getting progressively worse since we left the hangar," Appo said, helping her to the sofa. "I have commed Aleria, she is on her way up now." He eased her down onto the cushion and gently lifted her legs up to lay her on her back. "It's alright, my lady," he said quietly. "The doctor will be here shortly."

"Thank you, Commander," Padmè said, dropping her head back to rest.

Obi-wan continued to try and soothe Luke. He looked between the Skywalker family: to the boy cradled in his arms, the girl in Syrennè's arms and finally to their mother now buckled over on the sofa. All three of them were suffering, and he couldn't help but feel suspicious. This was more than some mere coincidence, it had to be. What were the chances that independently, the three of them would all be in so much pain, at the exact same time, for no apparent reason? Padmè couldn't be having nightmares, she was wide awake.

Aleria walked in from the main door, carrying her black bag and stopped to stare around the room. She saw Padmè on the sofa and immediately went to her, kneeling at her side and placing her bag down on the floor.

Padmè squinted at her, still clutching at her stomach and pulling her knees up. "Aleria," she whispered. "The baby ... something is wrong."

"It'll be alright, Lady Vader," she comforted, retrieving her scanner from her bag. "Let's scan you and see if we can identify what is causing this."

Turning his attention back to the young boy in his arms, Obi-wan headed for the Sith's desk and sat down in his leather chair. Syrennè moved alongside him, with Leia finally starting to settle against her chest.

"What are you doing?" she asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Pulling up the Exactor's location," he answered matter-of-factly. He entered in the security clearance Vader had given him earlier, using it to bring up his fleet's tracking systems.

"He gave you access to the Imperial database?"

"You sound surprised," he said, looking to the holo-projector as it displayed the galaxy map and hyperlane routes.

"He didn't give me the codes, and I'm his apprentice."

"There you are," he mused out loud. He found the Exactor's call sign and gestured to the map, zooming in on the star destroyer to get a closer look. "You may be his apprentice, Syrennè, but that doesn't mean that he trusts you. You still have much to learn about your new master."

Luke stopped crying and started to fidget. He reached his chubby hand out toward the image of the star destroyer and wriggled forward. "Dada ship," he sniffled, pointing. "Dada ship, Zakta."

"Yes, Luke, I've found him," he said, ruffling his short sandy hair. "Your Dada has made it to Coruscant."

"Dada..." Luke whimpered, not looking away. He sensed something flicker from him through the Force.

"Well, my lady," Aleria said, her voice drawing his attention. "I don't see anything to cause concern, both you and your baby appear to be in perfect health."

"But... the pains?" Padmè asked, turning to face her. "Something has to have caused them."

"They are most likely phantom pains, my lady. There is no need to panic, I'm sure that they'll pass," Aleria said soothingly, placing her scanner back into the bag and closing it.

Obi-wan looked between Luke and his mother then over to his sister, who was now also intently staring at the holo-projector. It all started to click together. Anakin's visions of his mother ... and back when he'd told him that they'd pass. He rubbed Luke's head affectionately. He was making the same mistakes all over again. Thankfully, this time around, he still had enough time to correct it.

"Forget what I said about your dreams passing in time, young one," he whispered reflectively, staring into the young Skywalker's crystal blue eyes as he turned to gaze up at him. "You listen to your dreams — listen to them carefully. When you are older, they may just show you something that could have the power to change the galaxy ... forever."

"Obi-wan?" Padmè called out, her hazel eyes fixed on him from across the room.

"Yes, Padmè?"

She knotted her hands together on her lap. "Have you heard from him yet?"

"No, but I also haven't tried to reach him." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing into the Force. "Give me a minute."

Luke's hand gripped hold of his finger, and he used the young boy's bond with his father to strengthen his presence. Reaching out through the Force, he sought out his former padawan across the galaxy. He was met with a wall — not emptiness or a black void — but a wall. He pressed against it, willing the shield to heel. The wall started to weaken and for the briefest of moments, he made contact. Pain, fear and anger slammed into him before he was violently shoved back, a chilling warning resounding in his head: "No, Kenobi. Keep your distance. He will sense you."

Obi-wan opened his eyes and locked stares with the dark lord's wife still perched on the edge of the sofa. He slowly shook his head, tightening his arm around the youngling on his lap.

"Well, did you reach him?" Padmé asked, a hint of desperation leeching into her voice. "Is he alright?"

"He is with Palpatine, Padmé." He sighed and shut off the holo-projector, feeling lost. "And from what I felt from him just then, it isn't going too well."

CORUSCANT: IMPERIAL PALACE : ROOM OF A THOUSAND FOUNTAINS

Knelt on the floor, surrounded by dead bushes and dusty rocks, Vader tapped at the buttons on his control panel trying to reactivate his respirator. Nothing seemed to be responding, and whatever that remote was, apparently it had the ability to render his suit powerless.

Giving up, he dropped his flesh hand to the ground and slumped forward, releasing an exhausted groan. He'd known without doubt his master would've been able to sense his building conflict. He had even planned for his punishment — had expected it. But this... this felt more than a simple reprimand for disobedience. This was a demonstration of power. A painful and humiliating reminder of his physical limitations and what he had to look forward to, should he ever decide to rise and challenge his master.

Slave. The word whispered inside his head, and with it, washed out memories of his former life on Tatooine began to surface. Working for Watto in the junkyard, building his pod-racer, and coming home to his mother. His mother. He clenched his hand into a fist at the thought. He hadn't been strong enough to save her then, and if he couldn't sort himself out soon, he doubted he'd be capable of protecting Padmé and the twins, if his master lost patience and moved to separate them.

His heart pounded. Shallow, ragged breaths rebounded within his helmet. Staring blindly at the long-since departed turbo-lift, he felt the familiar sensation of fear starting to take hold.

Out the corner of his eye, he spotted something move. A shadow, darting out from behind one of the dead trees. He snapped his mask around. Behind him, what sounded like footsteps crunched through the dried leaves. He went to turn when, to his right, another shadow shot between the trees and disappeared.

His throat clamped tight. Sweat trickled down his jaw as he sucked in a shallow breath. No! Reaching across his knees, he scratched at the dirt for his lightsaber; his eyes watching for movement.

A sudden gust of wind swirled out of nowhere, lifting the decaying leaves high, violently twisting them around him in a whirlwind. Even without using the Force, he could feel it. The building tension, the energy, the emptiness and despair that echoed throughout the vast halls and chambers of the Jedi Temple. Then, at almost a whisper, he heard it... a ghostly voice carrying on the air.

"Skywalker."

He froze. The temple was awake, and they —the dead Jedi— were coming. Coming for him.

His heart hammered, the throbbing pulse drumming in his ears as the whirlwind intensified, swirling into a thick, dusty blanket that blurred out the chamber. A tall shadowy figure reached the smog and made its way toward him, followed by two more, slightly shorter figures. He started to panic, his sudden sense of vulnerability and the closeness of his mask suffocating. For months he'd avoided stepping foot inside this haunted tomb of a temple, the sickening reminder of his past too confronting to endure. He didn't want to remember — but he did. He remembered every sordid, bloody detail. Every anger and hate fuelled slash of his lightsaber. Every Jedi, from master to youngling, that had fallen to his blade. He remembered all of it.

It still made his stomach churn.

And to think he had done it all for a lie. That he'd been so manipulated and deceived to the point of madness and irrationality.

Even now the realization burned hotter than the twin suns of Tatooine.

He felt his fear start to transform at the thought. His heart, no longer pounding in trepidation and dread. But with rage. A blazing hot fury that had his flesh hand clenched so tight it was trembling.

He looked up, only to see the tall figure reaching its ethereal hand through the whirlwind and moving to grab hold of his shoulder pauldron. But Vader had had enough. He was done being the victim. Just as he was done being a pawn. Closing his eyes behind the mask, he took the deepest breath he could manage and drew on the Force.

The Dark Side answered his call, flooding into him like a tidal wave, swallowing his former-self's fear whole. He fed on his anger and focused it, allowed it to simmer until he could feel the thrumming heat mercilessly incinerating every last trace of light left inside him. Driving it deep, he channelled the malevolent energy into his suit, willing it to life.

His suit and cybernetics did not control him. They were him. And he was damned if he was going to let anyone — his master included — treat him like he was just some mindless battledroid that could be shut down on a whim!

As if hearing his internal declaration, the respirator burst into life, the infamous yet comforting rasp-and-hiss of the breather forcing air down into his scorched throat, serving to strengthen his new-found resolve. Within seconds he could feel the sensors in his prostheses responding, and he clenched his cybernetic hand to test it.

A victorious sneer stretched across his face when the appendage instantly obeyed. He'd done it! Two flaming amber eyes sprang open behind the mask, glaring at the chamber as he unfolded his knees and rose to his feet. Standing tall, he recalled his fallen lightsaber and hit the actuator. With a satisfying snap-hiss, the crimson blade extended, bathing the haunted chamber in its blood-red glow. He pulled it into position and dropped into stance, preparing to fight.

The whirlwind had mysteriously disintegrated, the dust and leaves listlessly settling to the floor by his boots. Sweeping his mask left and then right, he searched the tree-line for the three Jedi ghosts that had come for him earlier. There was no sign of them and the temple's previously tumultuous energy now sat silent and still.

"Come on!" Vader roared, twirling his saber. "I'm right here! You wanted me, come and get me!"

Nothing answered his challenge. The room of a thousand fountains, was as quiet as the diseased tomb it had come to represent. With a derisive snort, he deactivated his lightsaber, hooked it to his belt and shook his head. Gutless cowards. Preaching the Sith were the enemy, yet vehemently denying their existence for years, even now; in death, when one was standing right in the heart of their temple and calling them out.

No wonder their pathetic order had been torn asunder so effectively. Centuries of ignorant complacency had eroded the very foundations of their once commendable institution, and left it helplessly vulnerable to corruption and decay. And as payment for their inherent foolishness; decay, it would. He was going to make damn kriffing sure of it.

Whirling on his heel, he turned his back on the once sacred chamber and stormed off, his midnight cloak billowing in the stale air behind him.

Thundering down the ancient corridors toward the Archive rooms, Vader noted how surprisingly silent they were. It was almost as if his outburst had scared the resident ghosts into hiding. Good. He preferred silence, it made thinking about his next move that much easier. His master had told him to go to the archive rooms and select a holocron that best represented his renewed commitment. Which meant he needed to search the Force once he got there, to ensure that he retrieved, not just any holocron, but the right one.

Rounding the last bend, he approached the massive reinforced doors and with a wave of his gloved hand, willed them open. The moment he stepped inside the multi-levelled library; he knew something was off. He continued on, toward the holocron vault located at the far end of the complex. Listened to the thud of his weighted boots echo off the cerulean-blue glowing walls, as he strode across the solid adamantine floor. He stopped between the last pair of bronzium busts, mere metres before the first viewing desk and stretched out with the Force. He sensed a tremor, as if someone had been in here — recently, in-fact. Closing his eyes, he dipped his helmet and lowered his right hand to guardedly cover the hilt of his weapon.

The tremor grew and his eyes sprang open. The source of the disturbance, it ... it was still in here. Not only that, but it seemed that the Force was with them! How could a Jedi have managed to slip this deep into the palace without being detected?

DANGER!

Senses on high alert, spurred into action by the warning he'd sensed in the Force, he spun around ... and grabbed for his lightsaber, as a black-robed figure suddenly yelled and lunged at him. With no time to think, he thrust his flesh hand out and Force-pushed his surprise attacker mid-leap. The robed figure instantly flew back, hurtling across the walkway like a proton torpedo. With an almighty crash, it slammed into the opposing archive wall and sent the centuries-old holobooks flying. But his attacker didn't stay down for long. In a split-second it was back on its feet and sizing him up; the cowl of its robe slipping away. Two angry black eyes, underlined by red triangle markings, and surrounded by grey leathery skin, glared back at him.

The being was humanoid, possibly Pau'an, but he couldn't say for certain — and as it reached into its robe and pulled out a weapon, he decided its origins were irrelevant. Sliding his thumb over the actuator, Vader ignited his lightsaber —

And watched on in disbelief as his attacker did the same. He stared at the metallic half-moon hilt and glowing red blade as the robed-figure again charged toward him. Moving on auto-pilot, he parried a strike destined for his shoulder and back-stepped, dodging out of range of the next jab.

The figure kept coming, slashing his lightsaber left and right, as he tried—and failed—to find an opening in the Dark Lord's defence. Vader staved off each strike, instinctively blocked and then parried, his crimson beam flashing from side to side. He felt his cloak drag on his shoulders as he continued to back up, suddenly becoming more and more aware of the wall creeping up behind him.

It was obvious this thing had been trained in the ways of the Force. But as he raised his lightsaber to intercept and hold the next swipe—one aimed for his head— he found himself fixated on the crimson glow of the two arcing sabers. His attacker wielded a red blade—not the green, or blue of the Jedi—but red. Sith red. This creature was trained in the Dark Side?

The question burned in his mind, twisted in his gut like a fiery hot dagger, giving rise to yet more and more unnerving questions. Blinking, he recounted his battle with Count Dooku aboard the Invisible Hand, and how his soon-to-be master had coerced him into killing the Separatist leader–come–sith–apprentice. He frowned at the thought. Was that what was happening here? He'd known his master had been displeased with him over his internal conflict ... but —

He pushed the thought aside. Staring into the gleaming black eyes of his mystery assailant ... their contesting blades inching closer to his neck, he took another step back ... and felt the heel of his boot hit the solid wall. Inwardly, Vader berated himself. He'd gotten sloppy; lost focus. He'd been so consumed by his thoughts, so paralysed by insecurity and self-doubt, that he'd inadvertently allowed himself to become pinned, and now—finally awake and paying attention to the duel—he realised, he had nowhere to go. This needed to end ... and he had to make his move, now.

Glowering between the crossed sabers, his attacker pulled his grey lips tight, and bared his teeth in a snarl. "Fool! You may be strong, but you are no match for me. You have no concept of the power I wield." He pushed harder into the contest, and the red arcing plasma glinted in his eyes. "And now ... you will die!"

But Vader was no longer listening. He was only focused. While his opponent was foolishly declaring his so-called superior prowess; he was busy adjusting his grip on his lightsaber, methodically realigning and tightening his fingers around the vibrating hilt. Then, when he was confident his defences would hold; he closed his eyes and stretched out into the Force—

And used its power to amplify his strength. In one sudden and swift movement, he heaved forward, unfolded his sword arm at the elbow and swung—upward and outward; the sizzling tip carving an arc in the air—slicing through the space previously occupied by his attacker's face; relieving him of his weapon and sending it airborne.

The robed-figure stumbled and tripped, rolled boot-over-head backward, and landed; twisted-up in the middle of the walkway. But, with a jerk, he was back; rising to his feet, tearing free of the flowing black robe and casting it to the floor.

Widening his stance, Vader pulled his lightsaber into both hands and lowered it to his waist. He watched as the grey-faced intruder threw his hand out and recalled his weapon, noting the oddly military-looking uniform he was wearing—tightly fitted; tailored in all black, with utility belt and armoured shoulder caps. The metallic hilt flew straight up from the floor and glided into his outstretched hand with a thud.

"I know what you want," the dark-sider announced, staring him down. "The knowledge in these archives ... you ... you want it for yourself!" He bared his pointed teeth and spat: "But...No! You can't have it." Lifting his sword arm, he brought the half-moon hilt before his face and twisted it, side-on. "This ..." the handle partition split in two; formed a full circle, extended a red blade to the left, "was promised ..." a second red blade extended to the right, "to me!" And with a click and whirring grind the dual-blades started to spin, rotating faster and faster around the hilt like an electrified wheel.

Let's do this, Vader mused with an anticipatory sneer, grounding his feet and shifting into a forward lean. His attacker leaped high, using his spinning saber like a propeller then angling it toward him on his way to ground. Raising his blade, Vader deflected and dodged, cloak flapping as he whirled 'round on his heel to face the intruder as he carried on through and passed him. In a flash he was on him again, the spinning red saber acting as both shield and weapon—and, frustratingly, Vader was forced to back-step, his blade harmlessly spitting and crackling across the blinding inferno, seemingly unable to penetrate it.

The grey-faced intruder continued to press forward, the electrified wheel of light sweeping left and right, guiding the retreating Dark Lord closer and closer to the other end of the walkway.

Sensing the wall approaching his back, Vader held his blade steady and kept moving to block, all the while staring at the gyrating weapon, using the Force to seek out a weakness he could exploit. And then, even as he was taking yet another begrudging step backward, his masked eyes suddenly focused on the intruder's hand—more specifically—the empty space between said hand and spinning blade.

"Hah! You're losing!" the grey-faced dark-sider said triumphantly, angling his still spinning-blade toward Vader's mask. "You've nowhere to go. I have you!"

Vader sized up the void in his attacker's weapon and withdrew his lightsaber. He adjusted his grip on the hilt. "You ... have nothing," he snarled—and thrust his blade forward at lightning speed, driving the tip through the empty space between grey hand and wheeling-plasma.

His attacker choked out a garbled: "What?" as his wide-eyes darted down to glare disbelievingly at the glowing crimson tip.

But that split second was all that he had. Vader yanked his lightsaber high, the crimson blade wrenching through the circular hilt—shattering it with a thundering crack. The intruder flew back, launched through the air from the devastating impact. He skidded across the floor, came to rest on his side and shakily pushed up with his elbow.

Vader stalked forward before he could get up, loomed over his defeated opponent with ignited saber in-hand. The wide black eyes stared up at him, no longer glittering with excitement and aggression, but with fear. Real fear. And he could taste it.

"Who ... who are you?" the beaten dark-sider gasped between ragged breaths.

Allowing the rasp and hiss of his respirator to speak for him, he lifted his lightsaber—

"Lord Vader, stop."

Feeling his master's command through the Force as much as hearing it, he instantly froze, arm fully extended, his singing crimson blade pointed to the ceiling. He turned his mask to the doors, saw Sidious walking forward, his withered hand gestured in his direction.

In one slow resounding beat of his heart; the questions returned. Chest heaving in exhaustion, he lowered his weapon, but remained poised—prepared. Just in case.

His master walked closer, stopped just short of standing between him and the still bent over intruder, clasped his hands together and sneered. "I see you have met the Grand Inquisitor."

Vader turned his mask back to his attacker and couldn't help but to remember the battle with Dooku. He tightened his flesh hand into a fist and stood tall, inclining his angular mouth grill. "Grand ..." he drawled, gritting his teeth together as he slowly, and purposefully, hooked his lightsaber back to his belt.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Sorry about the extended wait, this one took a lot of work and even more to edit. I hope the length makes up for the wait. Happy New Year to everyone, hope you are all keeping safe and well.

Some of you may recognise the last battle from the comics, I tweaked it a little, but loved the chemistry of it and couldn't think of a more fitting way to introduce him.