Bloodmarrow 3

"What pathogen?" Darth Vader demanded to know, the unease growing within the pit of his stomach. The Sith Lord was no doctor, but he had never heard of a disease that could heal wounds.

"Come into my office and I'll explain it." Dr. Corrigan replied, a grim expression on his face, his eyes shifting to Luke. "Oh, and may I request some stormtroopers be stationed here?"

"Stormtroopers?" Vader asked, dumbfounded. Inside his mask, Vader's mouth had dropped open in bewilderment, his upper lip curled slightly. His brows knitted together and he gawked at the doctor, thankful that the black breath mask hid his stupid expression. "Why would you need stormtroopers? He's just a sick and badly injured boy!"

"As true as it may be, he's also contagious." Corrigan explained as he led the way out of the room towards his office. "The last thing we need is someone to bumble in there and get infected…"

"Contagious?" Vader stopped dead in his tracks, the horrible word repeating in his head. It was a word he knew well, too well. In the past, a deadly virus had escaped out of a secure medical facility. Unfortunately, that facility had been in the center of a huge city. Since the Empire couldn't risk the deadly disease spreading across the galaxy and killing trillions upon trillions of innocents, they had done the only thing possible. Using the powerful laser weapons on Executor, they had destroyed the entire city with aerial bombardment from space. The order had come directly from Palpatine himself so there was little he could do. With modern space travel, it would be all too easy for the deadly plague to reach every planet in the galaxy within a month. Chaos would reign and with no known cure, it would be utter disaster on a scale no one had ever heard of before. Of course, when it would be over there would be no one to tell the tale…

/Not Luke! Not my son!./

If the boy truly had contracted some awful contagious disease, the doctors may want to destroy him! Or if Palpatine heard of it…

Palpatine was still doing what he thought best for the galaxy and in most cases Vader agreed. The old man had done many wonderful things. He had built schools, provided training and jobs for those who would otherwise either starve or be forced to turn to crime just to survive, he had built a police force, locked up all criminals and he stopped deadly diseases before they spread. He stated several times in the Senate that he was just doing what was best for the general public. Although it had seemed cruel to kill that entire city, Vader had carried out the assignment with ease. Up in space one didn't see the twisted rubble, the smoke hanging in the air, the awful stench of burned flesh that clung to the back of your throat. Nor did you hear the cries of terror and the loud explosions that accompanied the city blowing up. And if you sleep wasn't good that night, well, you could always blame it on what you ate. But this…

The cold horror of the situation clarified in his mind and his stomach flip-flopped. He could imagine the order coming in over the hyperspace channel…

Luke Skywalker has become a threat to the galaxy. You will kill him, Lord Vader.

The words floated through his mind. Yes, he could imagine Palpatine saying that all too easily. The old man would sit there in his fancy black throne and gloat. No, he would laugh! He delighted in killing Jedi and he would see the boy as a threat! The threat would have nothing to do with the disease at all, just that he had the Force within him. What did it matter to the old man that Luke was just a boy and he knew nothing of lightsabers?

/He had made me kill Younglings…./

At the time he had been foolishly out of his mind with desperation so he had obeyed. What else could he do, anyway? Mace had already been gone. He had chosen sides and had stupidly picked Palpatine. Once the deed had been done, he himself had been stuck. So in a way he had been forced to do Palpatine's bidding. He hadn't thought of the destruction of the Jedi Temple in decades, but now it was all coming to the forefront of his mind. Several young faces from his past flashed before his open eyes, looks of horror carved in their unmoving faces. Their eyes accused him of their murder…

Palpatine would do the same to his son. He would be just as uncaring as he himself had been that awful day on Coruscant. The old man didn't have a real compassionate bone in his entire body.

/I will not kill my son!./

A sharp pain stabbing at his chest brought Vader back to reality. Stumbling forward, he braced one hand against the nearby wall, the other on his chest. The pain blazed brightly and he closed his eyes tightly, his breathing fast. "There is a pain in my chest…"

"An anxiety attack…" Dr. Corrigan replied, his eyes filled with concern. Moving to help the tall Sith Lord, he wrapped one of Vader's arms about his shoulders and gently led him to his office. Once Vader was seated, the doctor moved around his desk and seated himself. The doctor's office was nothing fancy. It had the usual desk and computer terminals, a shiny white floor and pale peach walls. Relaxing paintings of nature hung on the wall: a green forest dappled with sunlight, a peaceful thatched cottage during the colorful autumn and a beautiful sunset in the tropics; the red light reflecting off the gently rolling ocean. A few curios sat on his desktop, souvenirs from the worlds he had visited. Relaxing back in his chair, the doctor eyed the man in black armor. "You must really care about your son."

"Of course I do. I've been searching for him my entire adult life." Vader breathed slightly easier, the pain disappearing. Glancing down at the panel of lights on his chest, he noticed that none of them had gone off in alarm. If it had been a real medical emergency, they would have. He, of course, knew what an anxiety attack was. It mimicked a heart attack and was mainly caused by stress. Odd that he had never had one before…

Clearing his mind of the phantom pain the best he could, Vader relaxed more in his chair. "This pathogen. It's not air born, is it?"

"No, it's carried in the blood." Dr. Corrigan began to explain as he leaned forward over his desk. "That beast that bit your son carried the germs in its saliva. That's how he got infected. We're just lucky that none of the medical staff got infected when they worked on him. Thank the Force for gloves and face masks…"

"This disease," Vader started to say, his nerves jumping again. "Is it fatal?"

The question hung in the air.

/Please, don't let it be fatal!./

"No, it's not fatal. That's not the problem." Dr. Corrigan sighed loudly. Placing both hands on his desk, he continued. "The problem is this virus, if it even is a virus, is very complex. Simply put, it's rewriting your son's DNA."

Vader blinked within the mask. "What?"

"I said, it's rewriting his DNA."

Darth Vader was stunned. He knew what DNA was. It was a person's genetic identity. Luke would have inherited DNA from both his parents. Some of it determined what color his hair and eyes were, how tall he would grow. Other bits of it said he was human. And now this pathogen was stealing his very humanity from him? "I have never heard of such a thing! How is that even possible?"

"Well, the disease itself is called Metoncedo Belua." Dr. Corrigan explained as he waved a hand about in the air. "Not much is known about it, I'm afraid. It's extremely rare and more a myth. From what I understand, the disease organism attacks the bone marrow and makes a home there. It does this very quickly, right after the attack. Then it hijacks the stem cells. Stem cells are produced in the bone marrow and they can turn into any other type of cell needed, whether it is bone, skin, hair or whatever you need. Normally that's how the body heals itself. But with Metoncedo Belua, the stem cells are being used to change a person."

A moment of silence passed.

"I'm afraid in a short time, your son will no longer be your son."

Darth Vader was stunned. His mechanical breathing was loud in the room, the sound echoing off the walls. He could understand Luke dying in a battle or of a life-threatening wound. He wouldn't like it, but he could understand it. But this, this was just insane! Organisms had found all sorts of ways to reproduce, the most common being sexual reproduction. Then there was asexual reproduction, where a creature simply split in half when it grew old enough. And here, apparently, was a third way: it infected someone and stole his or her body.

/But what is Luke turning into?./

The Sith Lord pondered that for a moment, his breath rattling in his lungs. A cold dread had settled in his body, like when you knew something terrible was going to happen and you were powerless to stop it. Here he had all this power at his disposal and it was useless against this bug that had taken his son over. He would not loose the boy this way, not after all this searching! His robotic hand tightened into a fist and he slammed it down onto the doctor's desk, one of the souvenirs leaping upward and crashing to the floor. "You will find a cure!"

Dr. Corrigan gulped nervously, the bump in his throat moving. His blue eyes widened in fear and he jerked back in his seat, as if mere distance could save him. "But Lord Vader, there is no cure!"

"Excuses do not concern me! You will find a cure!" Vader coldly repeated. "I will not loose my son to this abolition!"

"I … I suppose we could try a bone marrow transplant…." Dr. Corrigan nervously stated, his eyes locked on the emotionless breath mask.

"And this would cure him?" Vader asked, his hope rising.

"I … I don't know!" Dr. Corrigan admitted honestly. "Bone marrow transplants are not usually done in less the person is dying or has no other hope, as they're dangerous. Ten percent of the people who undergo them die. That may seem low to you, but I assure you it's a very high death rate. At the moment, your son is doing fine. Are you sure you wish to subject him to such a thing, especially since we don't know if it'll work?"

"What exactly would this entail?" The Sith Lord asked.

"We would irradiate him to kill his own bone marrow. Once that is done, we use an i.v. and cathererto replace his bone marrow with that of a donor. The tiny bits of bone marrow enter his blood stream and travel in the blood until they reach his marrow. They will settle there and start to grow. In fact, that's exactly how Metoncedo Belua works. We would just be repeating the process. Of course, we can only do the transplant if we have a suitable donor."

"I will be the donor." Vader stated. "I am his father."

"Well, even if you are his father that does not mean you can be his donor." Dr. Corrigan's nimbler fingers flew over his computer and quickly pulled up Vader's medical file. "Well, I see you still have your original pelvis, so it's possible we could use you as a donor, if your HLA matches that of your son, that is…"

"HLA?" Vader asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"It has to do with matching genes and tissue types." Dr. Corrigan explained. "Simply put, if yours do not match your son's, then you can't be a donor. Siblings generally match better than a parent."

The Sith Lord frowned under his mask. It sounded like there was a great likelihood that his HLA would not match Luke's. Still, he had to try. There was just so much he didn't know about his son. In fact, he knew nothing! He didn't know his favorite food, his hobbies or if he were allergic to anything. And the people that did know, the Lars, were probably dead. He needed to acquire Luke's medical records. If his memory served him correctly, Anchorhead was the nearest town to where the Lars' farm had been. Perhaps Luke had files there. One could only hope that the Lars had taken him to a doctor on occasion and not been too paranoid about the Empire looking for the child. "I am afraid Luke is an only child…"

"I will run a test to see if you two match." Dr. Corrigan stated.

"Good." Vader rose to his full height. "You should contact the medical facility at Anchorhead, check if they have any files on Luke. It would be the town closest to where he grew up, I believe. It may be under the name Skywalker or even Lars. And now I will go sit with my son."

The doctor agreed and begun the process of contacting the planet below, as Executor was still in orbit around Tatooine.

Darth Vader rapidly strode the short distance back to Luke's private room. Opening the door, he entered silently and closed it behind him. He spotted a chair by the bedside and sat down, his mind heavy with thoughts. Should he order the doctor to do the transfusion, even though it may not work? Was it even right that he make the decision? Luke didn't even know him. He may be the boy's father but Luke knew nothing of him, just as he knew nothing of his son. He desperately wanted time to get to know the young man his son had grown into, but how could he with this DNA snatching disease? His son may be gone before he even got the chance to know him.

/It's not fair!./

No, it wasn't. The galaxy seemed to enjoy playing cruel tricks on him all the time!

/I'm cursed!./

Lifting his helmeted head, Vader studied the sleeping young man. The light blanket had been thrown off and hung off the bed sloppily. Long, jagged white scars marred the skin of his shoulder and others ran along his upper arm, the only visible signs of his recent attack. A slight sense of awe gripped him at the sight and Vader moved one black-gloved hand outward to touch the faint white lines.

/How can this be? If I would have had this ability years ago…./

Vader's hand paused and then he jerked it back, shocked. What had he just been thinking? This DNA snatcher was a bad thing!

/People used to fear Force Users thousands of years ago, too…/

Yes, that much was true. And as he examined his sleeping son in more detail, he realized Luke really didn't look all that bad really. Except for a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, he seemed normal enough.

/Perhaps Luke will be OK and won't need that transfusion after all…/

The boy certainly didn't look ill and a slight fever couldn't be that bad, not after what had happened to him. The pleasant thought reassured him and he breathed more easily. As he leaned back in the chair, Luke moaned and slowly opened his eyes. Glancing around, the boy's wide blue eyes fell on the Sith Lord. Startled, Luke jerked upright and away from the masked man. "Who … who are you?"

"I am your father, Luke." Vader replied as calmly as he could. A warm feeling of relief flooded his system as he saw the boy was coherent as well as awake. That was a good sign, a very good sign.

Luke's eyes widened even further. "My … father? But you're … you're …"

"Darth Vader?" Vader asked, his black breath mask hiding a smile.

"Yeah, him!" Luke nodded, his shaggy sandy hair dangling in his eyes. Impatiently he shoved it out of the way. "You can't be my father! Ben told me he died years ago, that he was a Jedi and fought in the clone wars…."

"Yes, I did fight in the Clone Wars and I was a Jedi." Vader explained, his mind traveling backward to long ago days. "I was badly injured, burned by lava. When that happened, I changed my name. I became Darth Vader instead of Anakin Skywalker. I have been searching for you all these long years, Luke. I thought I would never find you, but I did. And I'm glad that I've found you at last. Now we can have a life together…"

Luke's bottom jaw hung open and he weakly collapsed back against his pillow, his eyes still on Vader. He couldn't believe it! Darth Vader was his father! Vader was only the most powerful and richest guy in the whole galaxy, in command of big Imperial Star Destroyers and even appeared on the news! The news! It just couldn't be. "There must be some mistake. I mean, I can't be your son. I mean, I'm a nobody and you're … you're Darth Vader!"

Still smiling under the mask, Vader reassured him. "You are my son, Luke. The fact that Obi-Wan was with you proves it. He used to be my former Master. He trained me to be a Jedi."

"Oh." Luke replied in a small voice. He remembered Ben telling him something about a former apprentice that had turned to the Dark Side and had become Darth Vader. "Ben did say something about that, but he made it sound like he had two apprentices. I guess he just didn't want me to know…"

Suddenly a more recent memory surfaced in Luke's mind and he shot upright in bed. "That thing! It attacked me!"

"The beast is dead, Luke. You are safe aboard my ship, Executor." Vader placed a calming hand on Luke's uninjured shoulder and gently pressed him back onto his back. "You are in Sick Bay. My physician has seen to your wounds…"

At this, Vader paused. He was uncertain if he should tell the boy what Corrigan had told him. It might just upset him further. He did seem quite excitable. Perhaps it would be better just to talk to him? "Tell me, Luke. What were you doing in Mos Eisley?"

"Well, we were…" Luke paused, his mouth hanging open. He didn't know if he should tell Vader the truth or not. Ben had warned him they needed to avoid the Empire. Had it not been the Empire that had destroyed the only home he'd known, killed his Aunt and Uncle? Were they not the ones holding the Princess captive? And how could he know that this masked man was telling him the truth? What if it was all some elaborate trick to gain his trust so he'd answer their questions? Maybe Vader had somehow found out about his desire for a father and had decided to use that in a ruse to gain his trust? Darth Vader just couldn't be his father! Luke closed his mouth and cautiously peered at his injured shoulder instead. He half feared to find some horribly mangled flesh, something that looked like it had gotten caught in a skyhopper air intake valve and ran through the engine several times. But his eyes only found smooth skin a tad redder than normal crisscrossed by white scars. Shocked, he turned to gaze at the Sith Lord. "Did your doctor fix it that well? I thought it'd be all gross!"

Vader sighed. He really didn't care if Luke told him what they had been doing in Mos Eisley; it wasn't important. But Luke's health was important. "How do you feel?"

Luke cautiously poked at his shoulder with his other hand, being careful to be gentle. His shoulder felt stiff and sore when he moved it a bit, as if he had fallen off his Uncle's old speederbike. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. "Well, I don't feel too bad. I'm sleepy and feel like I got the flu or something. But my shoulder or arm doesn't hurt. It's just a bit stiff, the bite area slightly tender…"

/I hope he will be all right…/

The flu-like symptoms were a concern. Was the boy simply tired and weak from almost dying or was the doctor correct? The flu Luke was reporting could very well be that Metoncedo Belua working inside him. It was clear he had a fever, as beads of sweat kept appearing on his forehead, several fine strands of hair wet with sweat and sticking to his skin. His face was also looking slightly greasy, evidence of more sweat.

"Where's Ben?" Luke asked, his voice slightly worried. Although he didn't exactly know what a Sith Lord was, he did grasp that the two men were not exactly friends. Concern for the kind old hermit filled his heart and he reached out for one of Vader's black-gloved hands. Grasping one, he held onto it tightly. "Please tell me you didn't hurt him! He saved my life, twice! First from the Sandpeople and then again from that awful thing! If you did anything to him…"

"No, I didn't do anything to Obi-Wan." Vader said as he glanced down at their clasped hands, wishing his hand were real so he could feel it. At this moment, he would give anything to have real hands again just so he could experience the sensation of his son holding his hand. It was stupid and sentimental really and unworthy of a Sith, but still he desired it greatly.

/I'll never be able to feel my son with these hands or arms…./

Droid parts, as efficient and strong as they were, couldn't feel the sensations that human skin could. It was cold, ugly and full of wires. It's one of the reasons that he always wore black gloves, to hide the ugly bare droid parts. This way, at least some of the crew thought he was human. "I've given him accommodations on the ship…:

"You didn't put him in the brig?" Luke cried, horrified. He was sure his father, if that's who this masked man really was, had put poor Ben in the brig. "You can't do that to him!"

"Why not?" Vader asked, curiosity biting at him.

"Because he was going to get me off that miserable, sorry excuse of a dustball!" Luke almost shouted. "I was going to go train to be a Jedi and rescue a Princess and …." Realizing what he had just said, Luke slapped a hand over his mouth. Wide-eyed, he watched Darth Vader to see what he would do.

/Ah, so that is what they were doing in Mos Eisley! They were going to hire a ship to rescue Princess Leia…/

In that one wildly blurted sentence, Vader had learned much about his son. He now knew that Luke didn't like living on Tatooine any more than he had, that he had dreams of being a Jedi and he apparently had a hero streak running through him somewhere. In other words, he was very much like his younger self. Obi-Wan had obviously convinced him to go on some badly planned mission, no doubt one being made up as they went along. Typical Obi-Wan. "Luke, believe it or not, but I was very much like you when I was younger. I loved going on missions with Obi-Wan, but he is accident-prone. More often than not I ended up saving his life. And you need to train up a bit before you're ready to go anywhere."

Luke's face fell and he slumped against his pillow. "I know…"

"Someday you'll be a great Jedi, Luke." Vader told him as he rose to his full height. "But for now you should get some sleep. I will be back to talk with you later…"

"All right." Luke yawned. He did feel sleepy. Reaching downward with his good arm, he pulled the blanket up to his chin and snuggled underneath it. Within moments, he had fallen asleep.

Vader watched him for a long moment and then exited the room. He still hoped that the boy was just suffering from exhaustion and blood loss, stress. Yet he could not get the doctor's words out of his head. Nor did he have the heart to tell him that he might have to suffer a horrible medical procedure soon. Luke was too kind-hearted and he needed his rest. If he had told him, he suspected the boy would fret and worry non-stop. Nor did he miss the boy's suspicion and doubt through the Force. Perhaps if he could get Obi-Wan to tell Luke the truth, the boy would finally believe he was his father. Not that he really blamed Luke for doubting him. After being raised on a moisture farm, it must be daunting to realize Darth Vader was your father. Vader knew all too well how famous and powerful he'd grown in the Empire. Even the Tatooine peasants knew who he was.

/But I would trade it all if I could hold Luke in my real arms…./

Over the long years since his injury, Vader had lost count of the times he had attempted to heal himself with the Force. Sadly, it never worked. And doctors could only do so much.

/Yet Luke's awful wound had been healed…/

What exactly was this Metoncedo Belua and what exactly did it do? The doctor said it changed people and that Luke wouldn't be his son any more, yet the boy looked just fine. Tired, yes and a bit achy, but he saw no serious harm from it. He had even sat up in bed for a while and talked. If Luke was already strong enough for that, then it couldn't be all that bad, could it? Determination in his step, Vader left the medical section and headed to his private quarters. The stress of the situation had wrung him out and he needed some nutrients. Because he was always forced to wear the breath mask, he always ate alone. It never really bothered him all that much, still there were a few times when he missed the companionship during a meal. The laughing, talking or just the company of another person; it would be nice to experience that again. Yes, he would very much like to eat meals with Luke once the boy got better.

/But that would be impossible…/

He needed his special air in the room and it may be unsafe for Luke to breathe it. He had spent so much time searching for his unknown child that Vader had never contemplated what it would be like when he found him. He couldn't feel Luke's hand with his, he couldn't share meals with him, and he couldn't even look at him with his real eyes! They could never laugh together because his breathing didn't allow for that. And if he smiled or frowned the boy wouldn't know that, either! Luke would forever be staring at the expressionless mask and never know his true feelings, always be guessing. It was infuriating!

/Even though I have found him, I'm still cut off!./

His boots striking the floor loudly, he quickened his pace and finally reached his quarters. It pleased him slightly to see crew and even a few droids scurry out of his way; but even that didn't lift the gloomy mood that had settled upon his spirit. A dark thought was playing hide and seek within his brain, but he refused to acknowledge it. It would be foolhardy to even think such a thing. And he had not grown to be the Dark Lord of the Sith by being a fool. Sitting in his special chair, he allowed the helmet to be lifted off his head and then he removed the mask. Going to the special slot on the wall, he ordered a meal and it quickly arrived. Sitting down to eat, he allowed the flavors to explode in his mouth. At least he still had his taste buds and could enjoy the flavor of his meals.

/I wish Luke could dine with me someday…/

Vader glanced around his private quarters as if seeing them for the first time. They were stark and simple, black and white. Even the doctor's office had more personality than his quarters. If Luke were to ever come in here, what would he think or learn?

/Surely he would think that I'm cold-blooded and care for nothing but doing my job…/

Which he exactly how he had lived these past twenty years.

/But now I have Luke!./

Yes, he did. Vader finished his meal and replaced the soiled dishes back into the wall slot. A mechanism would return them to the kitchen where they would be cleaned. Sighing, he leaned his head against the wall. Who was he kidding? He'd never be able to eat with Luke or anyone ever again. His medical condition saw to that. If the Force couldn't heal him, nothing could. He had thought he had accepted it, but apparently he hadn't. The thought of being healed and whole again kept returning on a regular basis for him to moan and fret over. And like a hopeless fool, he did just that. It just stabbed him more painfully this time, that's all.

/I should be used to it by now…/

The buzzer at his door rang and Vader returned to his special chair. It wouldn't do for his crew to see him without the mask. Once the mask and helmet were back in place, Vader opened the door. An Imperial in a neat gray uniform stood there. "Yes, Captain Piett? What is it?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, My Lord, but I've received word that one of the prisoners tried to kill themselves in their cell."

To be continued…