CHAPTER 7 - Stalemate

Upon release by the medic droid, Mara was promptly summoned to Lord Vader's private shuttle for their return to the Imperial Palace. Waiting for departure, she stared out a small viewport into the Executor's hangar bay. The uneasiness she'd felt in the Force had grown to the point of becoming disorienting. She would have asked her master about it, had he not departed abruptly after their…disagreement.

Mara stood in greeting as the imposing form of Darth Vader entered the passenger cabin. The floor beneath her seemed to shift and something suddenly felt…wrong.

Vader seemed unaffected. "Your arm is healed?" his deep baritone rumbled.

"Yes, my Lord," she answered succinctly. There was no need to elaborate, as he appreciated precision and straightforwardness. He did not take a seat and, following suit, Mara remained standing, though not without difficulty.

"Good," his voice did not convey the unexpected spike of pain that ripped through the Force and was immediately suppressed. "Luke tells me that your training is almost complete."

Startled, she did not reply. He had never mentioned it to her.

"You work well together," Vader continued pointedly. "You will make a formidable team."

Mara averted her eyes, attempting to shield her apprehension, "Thank you." Why was it so hard to breathe?

"You do not agree?"

"I am," she swallowed, struggling to focus on the topic at hand, "unaccustomed to such a partnership. I have always worked alone."

"Is that what you prefer?" He shifted slightly and Mara felt another muted spasm from him.

"I don't know," she answered vaguely, distracted by his discomfort. "Pardon me for asking, my Lord. Are you all right?"

There was a pause in the Force, or so it felt, before he finally answered, "Yes…for now." He continued, a hint of reproof in his tone, "The Sith work in pairs."

"So I understand; but there are three of us," she countered.

"True," he conceded. "But it will not always be so."

She stared up at him, "What do you mean-"

He silenced her with an upraised, gloved finger. "I will be secluded in my private chamber. Alert me when we arrive."

"Yes, my Lord," she nodded, her hair rippling with a brush of his cape as he strode past.

The Lambda-class shuttle settled gracefully on a private landing pad and Mara keyed for announcement outside Lord Vader's secured chamber. There was no answer. Keying again, she reached to him through the Force and felt…nothing.

The sequestered compartment could not be accessed by conventional means, therefore hot-wiring it was not an option. Stretching out with the Force again, she felt for the release mechanism inside the access panel and popped it, stepping back as the chamber door slid open.

Vader was seated in his customary position in the center of the pod. Mara wished, not for the first time, that she could see his eyes behind the mask. "We have arrived, my Lord."

He did not move. His rhythmic breathing continued uninterrupted and she approached cautiously, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, "Lord Vader?" He remained motionless and a cold snake of fear began to worm its way up her spine.

Fighting panic, Mara's first instinct was to check for a pulse, until she realized that she had no idea where to find one beneath his armor.

"Shavit!" She slapped the comm switch for the cockpit, "Pilot! I need a medical team immediately. And," she swallowed, "contact Lord Skywalker."

That evening, Mara found Skywalker in the training arena, surrounded by broken pieces of decimated sparring droids. Tunic discarded, his fitted undershirt clung to his chest as he systematically demolished the top-of-the line droids.

She stopped a safe distance from the blur of his red blade and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

"Not now, Mara," he grunted, sending yet another droid into the spare parts heap.

"I wouldn't presume," she answered flatly. "How is Lord Vader?"

"Resting," Skywalker wiped sweat from his brow. "Recovering."

She studied his agile form, expertly executing a complete repertoire of lightsaber forms with deadly precision. True to his own teachings, he betrayed no emotion at the mention of his ailing father. Her own brief investigation had revealed the truth of the situation that Skywalker would not confess.

Mara felt her ire rising. She hated lies and had foolishly thought her master above such ignominy. "That's not what I hear," she retorted. "According to my sources, Lord Vader has been battling an ongoing illness for some time and the prognosis at this time is very poor."

Skywalker stopped, turning slowly to face her. "Your sources?"

"I was not always in your service, if you recall," she continued without hesitation.

"Oh, I recall," his eyes flashed. "And when I discover your 'sources', they're dead."

Mara shrugged nonchalantly, "Suit yourself. But I assure you that they are very secure."

Skywalker lowered his saber, spearing her with a pointed stare. "Are you challenging me?"

"Not at all, Master," she met his gaze steadily. "But I was wondering when you planned to tell me that Lord Vader was ill?"

He crossed his arms, mirroring her stance, "It is not any of your business."

"That's odd," she countered, "seeing as how he made it my business."

Skywalker lifted his chin in surprise, "He told you?"

"Not in so many words, but I got the point," she bit out. "So, is that what…this," she motioned between the two of them, "is about?"

"This?" he hissed.

"Us! Me and you!" her voice rose sharply in anger. "Is that why you want me?" She tasted the bitter bile of unspoken disappointment. "Because your father is dying and you don't want to be alone? Exactly how long have the two of you been conveniently plotting my future as your consort?"

He shut down his blade, closing the distance between them. "How dare you," he hissed.

Mara stood firm, undeterred. "Tell me about this 'Force bond' again. Is it even real or just a ploy to keep me here?"

Skywalker's voice lowered precariously, "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Would you be so angry if it weren't true?"

Before she even saw him move, he grasped her arms and pulled her roughly against his chest. His fingers dug into her flesh and he answered with bone-chilling calm, "You've never seen me angry."

They stared at each other, locked in a stalemate of mutual defiance. Seconds pounded between shallow, rapid breaths as her shirt grew damp with his sweat.

As suddenly as he had grabbed her, Skywalker pushed her away. He turned his back, still panting and growled, "Get out."

Spinning on her heel, Mara stalked from the room blinking back tears that had nothing to do with the pain in her arms.

to be continued…