IV. Vader

That night Vader slept fitfully; a dream kept coming to him of Bespin. After that nearly disastrous duel he had left the generator room half running, desperate to get away, to get to the safety of his ship. He knew his son was hanging on a weather wane somewhere below the structures of Cloud City and his mind worked furiously, trying to decide what to do about it. The one thing he would not dare to do was to take his shuttle and retrieve Luke himself, for he knew the boy would prefer falling to his death — and this time there would be nothing to stop him. No bottom for this fall. Or maybe he was even more afraid of facing the boy now, after what had transpired between them.

But the pilot of his dream shuttle took a course directly to the belly of the Cloud City, and no matter how Vader raged, he could do nothing about it. He could not utter a sound or move a finger... all he could do was stare at the viewport where the small figure of Luke drew closer and closer, inevitably and unstoppably, until his tear-streaked face was finally pressed against the cockpit window — a face that kept haunting him — and then the boy let go.

Vader jolted awake, covered with a sheen of sweat, tears in his eyes. Just a dream, he muttered. Luke did not fall. He was saved. He is alive. Grabbing a glass of water, he gulped it down.

After he had calmed down a bit, his mind returned to the world below him, and the previous night. An unexpected phenomenon... Was this supposed to be a lesson from the Force? If so, a lesson of what? Of how incredibly foolish and weak he was, that he still had not been able to purge the last traces of light from his mind? He snorted: as if he wasn't reminded of that constantly by his master.

It was just a vision, he repeated to himself. Visions are normal, visions are supposed to come to a Jedi. Or Sith. But — why a vision of the past? He tried to remember if there had been anything in that part of his life that might give a clue for his present. The Anakin he had seen could not have been older than ten or eleven — quite early in his training then, not really going on missions. No key events as far as he could remember: he must have been gradually getting over the separation from mother and the Naboo incident; and Padmé, Palpatine and all the others had not yet begun to influence him seriously. One of the most quiet, most stable periods in his life.

Should he investigate the matter further? Should he consult his Master? After a brief hesitation he decided not to report to the Emperor unless there was something to report. He still had a couple of days before he would have to return to the Imperial Center, and he decided to use this time to look into this phenomenon more deeply.

Yet — he shook his head in disgust at himself — what in Hutt-spit had he been thinking, staring agape at the mirror like a Rodian in a Wookiee zoo? And then, shocked, slipping out of the room, only to lean against the wall panting like a frightened child who had just seen a monster? Fool, fool, fool! Fool a thousand times over!

He checked the chrono and grunted: still a couple of hours to the morning shift when the huge command ship would wake to its daily activities.

Donning his usual armour and mask, he made his way to the bridge. The bridge crew quickly snapped up from their semi-dozing state — as if they could fool him!

"Captain. Any activity down there? Life signs?"

"None registered, sir." The officer was young, but efficient-looking.

"No abnormalities?"

"None. The planet is bare, according to the sensors."

Vader grunted and turned towards the viewport. The planet loomed across one edge of it, its nightside turned towards them. It would be early morning according to Theed time, the Sith reckoned.

He pondered for a while. What was it that he had actually seen? Was it dream, or reality? It was clear that he had been shown a picture from his early apprenticeship. He very vaguely remembered playing in the palace during his first visit after being apprenticed to Obi-Wan. Oddly, the only thing he really remembered from that period with some clarity was a relatively minor accident, a fall down the stairs that had resulted in a concussion and a brief loss of memory — and that mainly because of the fussing and cosseting that had followed.

But the question was, why had he been shown that? Was he supposed to do something about it? Learn something?

And yet again he asked himself, should he consult his master? At times like these, when he was unsure, it would have been prudent to rely on the old Sith's superior wisdom and experience; but once again, Vader admitted to himself, any contact he initiated with Palpatine would undoubtedly bring uncomfortable questions about young Skywalker, questions he was not yet prepared to answer. And what would he tell him anyway? That he saw a vision of his old self, an insignificant boy? Palpatine would laugh at him, and he should count himself lucky if no bout of lightning was forthcoming.

In fact, if he was honest with himself, one of the reasons he had asked for a brief reprieve from his duties was the opportunity to be away from the oppressive feeling of being Darth Vader, Sith lord and Lord Protector of the Empire. He had needed a chance to be alone with his thoughts and try to settle his newly emerged and roiling emotions in order, and he was loath to ruin his rare and treasured moments of solitude here, on the rim of the Empire. No, he would seek the answers by himself.

An unexpected wave of something akin to eagerness rose in him. This promised to be not such a bad way to pass time, as far as things went. Vader allowed himself a tiny smirk behind his mask at the whimsical thought: what if the vision would repeat?

Or what if it wouldn't?

Well, there was only one way to get the answers, he thought, bracing himself against the inevitable disappointment.

"Have my shuttle readied."

"As you wish, my lord."

TBC