Summary:
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life.
Force of Destiny - Chapter 4
Two days later, Garin was stumped. On the first day, he and his team had taken the Avenger apart to its most basic components. It quickly became clear that the explosion had been caused by a failure of the cooling system, combined with a fault in an internal sensor that should have shut off the overheating engines. The resulting explosion of engine No. 2 completely destroyed its coolant pump. The pump of engine No. 3, however, also showed signs of burning out that were not a result of the explosion. But what caused the pumps to burn out in the first place? They had cross-checked every part of the craft with the technical specifications given to them by the manufacturer, Siena Fleet Systems, and still they came up empty. Everything was as it should be according to the manuals, but still the pumps had failed.
The second day, they had taken samples of all materials the fighter consisted of, from its solar panels to the hull, from tubing to wires, and even from the lubricants that kept its moving parts from freezing into place in the absolute zero of space. They painstakingly bagged and labeled each sample and sent it to the Executor's on-board laboratory for further testing.
Now, on the third morning after the accident, Garin walked around the remains of the craft, alternately rubbing his chin and running his fingers through his hair. He knew he had missed something, but what? To make matters worse, a communication from Siena Fleet Systems claimed that only a pilots' error could have been the cause of the accident. No-one who had ever flown with Darth Vader, or serviced a craft Vader used, believed this claim. It was simply too ridiculous to even consider.
Tugging at his hair again, Garin made his decision. He picked up the No. 3 engine's coolant pump and tucked it under his arm. With an air of exasperation, he addressed his team: "I'll be in sickbay. Maybe Lord Vader can solve this riddle."
"Where shall we send your stuff?" Zev called after his retreating back.
After what Veers had jokingly called his 'temper tantrum', Darth Vader had plunged into the deepest, blackest depression. He barely touched any food offered to him by the medidroid. He refused any medication, although his sleep was disturbed by nightmares almost as soon as he closed his eyes. Neither did he demand to be released from sickbay anymore. He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Nothing seemed to spark the Sithlord's interest. He barely reacted when spoken to. Not even Hanley's persistent poking and prodding seemed to matter to him. When asked something, he answered in monosyllables, if at all. It was as if the fire in him had gone out.
Torb Garin did not have to search long to find Lord Vader. Although the Executor's sickbay was of adequate size for the ship's quarter million crew, it had only a few private rooms, only one of which was currently in use.
Garin entered the small room, trying to make as little noise as possible. He had no wish to disturb Lord Vader should the Sithlord be asleep; after all, he valued his life and his ability to breathe. But the man in the bed, although he seemed awake, did not acknowledge his presence. He simply continued to stare unseeingly at the ceiling. Garin stepped closer. Lord Vader looked terrible. A large purple scar ran over his left cheek, another was on his scalp. Both stood out clearly against his deathly pale skin. He obviously had not shaved since the accident; a three-day beard covered the lower half of his face, and the stubby growth of new hair his scalp where it was not scarred. The bruise on his left temple had faded to a greenish yellow. But worst were his eyes. They were blue, and completely void of any emotion. Only the dark circles under them spoke of the inner demons Vader was battling.
Garin realized he was staring and cleared his throat. "Mylord, I am Sergeant Garin", he began. "I have come to report my findings on the explosion in the TIE Avenger." He shifted nervously. "We - my team and I - have determined that the cause is a failure in the coolant system. We have narrowed it down to the coolant pump itself, but were unable to find the fault. According to the manuals, the pump should not fail, but it has." He paused, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Vader still did not even look at him. Garin wondered if the man had heard a single word of what he had said so far. Daringly, he held the pump into Vader's field of vision, and proceeded to explain its workings in detail. He nearly dropped the pump when, after a few minutes of detailed technical explanations, Darth Vader suddenly blinked and focused his eyes on him.
"I know how that thing works, Sergeant. I designed the Avenger", the Dark Lord stated in a rough, tired voice. "What do you want from me?"
"Mylord!" Garin exclaimed, shocked by the sudden change. "I... I was wondering if you remembered something of the accident that might help us determine the cause."
"I see." Vader closed his eyes. "I cannot recall the explosion, nor the last minutes preceding it."
"I understand, Mylord. Maybe your expertise as the designer... "
"Leave me alone", Vader demanded, cutting Garin off in mid sentence.
"Mylord", Garin continued, "Siena Fleet Systems claim the explosion was caused by a pilots' error. I can't believe that. It's impossible."
Vader glared at him. "I just told you I can't remember", he snarled.
Garin held Vader's gaze; he would not, could not back down now. "It has to be a design flaw", he said flatly, putting the pump on the nightstand.
Vader's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting I made an error there?" he asked in a cold tone.
"No. I'm trying to find the cause, not place the guilt", Garin shot back.
"Give me the pump", Vader snapped, sitting up in bed so abruptly that the room started to spin madly before his eyes.
"Sir, are you alright?" Garin's voice seemed to come from a distance. Vader shook his head, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.
"Just got up to fast. I have been in bed too long", Vader grated out between clenched teeth. Taking the coolant pump from Garin's hands, he turned it over, looked at it, and finally shook his head. "It's burned out alright. This should not have happened", he mused. "I must see the rest of the craft." Throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood.
"Like this?" Garin exclaimed, horrified.
"What?" Vader looked at Garin, caught his expression, than looked down at himself, realizing for the first time that he was wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital shirt. The kind that was open in the back, allowing it to be changed by the medical staff without turning the patient over. Unfortunately, it also allowed for a rather detailed rear view of the patient.
"Oh", Vader remarked. "Of course, this won't do." He looked around. The room did not even have a closet, only the bed, nightstand, a comm unit, and a fresher unit; then, he remembered Hanley telling him they had to cut his suit off him.
"Find me something to wear, Sergeant", he ordered. Grasping behind himself, he pulled the thin fabric together to at least keep a bit of dignity and stalked towards the fresher unit.
"Uh.. how?" Garin called after him.
Vader turned around. Did he have to explain everything? The man was really trying his patience! "Call quartermaster's and have them send something. A uniform, coveralls, I don't care. And don't forget the boots!"
Walking into the fresher unit, Vader pulled the door closed and shed the offending garment in one fluid motion. He dropped the shirt and stepped in front of the sink; the mirrored cabinet above it threw back his reflection.
"Ugh", Vader exclaimed, rearing back as he saw himself in a mirror for the first time in years. He really looked a sight. 'Now I even scare myself', he mused, chuckling quietly to himself. 'And to think that some believe my mask is supposed to frighten people...' Leaning closer to his reflection, he said: "You look like death warmed over, old boy. Well, let's see what we can do about this." Scratching the stubble on his chin, he decided to take a shower first.
The hot water loosened up his stiff muscles; Vader luxuriated in the feeling and allowed the water to pour over his body for a few minutes before reaching for the soap. Having spent the early years of his childhood as a slave on the desert world of Tattooine, a shower still held a special feel for Darth Vader, although he had lived most of his later years in space and on planets where water was not a rare commodity. On Tattooine, only the rich could afford a regular bath or a shower. For the poor and the slaves, it was dry sand or a bowl of soapy water at best.
Having finished his shower, Vader wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped in front of the mirror again. Already his appearance was much better. His skin was flushed pink by the hot water. Of course, there was nothing he could do about his scars, but at least he did not look like something that should have been buried days ago anymore. He was also feeling much better. Trying to decide whether he should shave only his beard or the hair growing on his head as well - having to comb or brush with the scars he had was a nuisance, and painful too - he opened the cabinet in search for something to shave with. It was empty except for a toothbrush and toothpaste, a small bottle of shaving cream, and a tiny disposable razor. Vader picked the razor up with this thumb and forefinger and brought it close to his eyes for inspection. "Oh, dear", he sighed. There was no way he would be able to shave his head as well with this thing. In fact, he would be lucky if it wasn't dull before he was done scratching the stubble from his chin. With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, he settled to the task.
When Vader finally exited the fresher, clean shaven and with the towel still wrapped around his waist, Garin was still talking on the comm.
"No, this is not a joke", Vader heard him say in an exasperated tone. "For the hundredth time, just send some clothes here for Lord Vader!"
"I told you before, I'm not falling for this", the man on the other end of the line answered. "And I'm warning you for the last time. One more prank call, and I will report you, Sergeant." He was about to cut the connection when Vader walked in front of the comm unit.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
"And who would you be?" the other sneered. "Oh, wait, let me guess. Of course you are Lord Vader, right?"
"In fact, I am", Vader told him. "And I would appreciate a more civil tone from you, Lieutenant", he added coolly.
"Listen, buddy, I've about had it with you and your friend", the lieutenant raved. "I have some work to do here, so you either stop bothering me or you're gonna find yourself in the brig in no time! Lord Vader will certainly not appreciate you impersonating him. Do I make myself clear?"
Vader felt his jaw drop. "Buddy?" he echoed. This moron had actually called him buddy? And threatened him with the brig? He blinked, perplexed, when he suddenly found himself staring at a blank screen. The lieutenant had cut the connection.
Belatedly, it dawned to Vader that the man simply had not recognized him without the dreaded black mask. But to assume he was an impostor? He sure hoped this was not a common occurrence on board the Executor! He hit the redial button. After a few seconds, the lieutenant was on the screen again.
"You!" the man started angrily. "I just told you..."
"I am Darth Vader", Vader interrupted him, reaching out with the force to squeeze the man's windpipe just enough to get his attention. The lieutenant started to cough as his throat constricted. "Now get someone to sickbay with some clothes for me or get me someone on the line with some brains. Do you understand?"
The lieutenant turned an ugly shade of green. "M... Mylord", he stammered. Vader released him, and the man sucked the air in as if he was afraid it was his last breath. It might very well be, after all.
"I... I... I'm sorry, Mylord. I didn't... I mean... I... I need..." He gulped and continued in a scared whisper: "I need a requisition form, Mylord. Uh.. and your size, please?"
"Requisition form?" Vader echoed. "Did I hear you correctly?"
The lieutenant' face turned from green to a bright red. "It's... regulations, Mylord", he squeaked.
"You don't expect me to come down to you, wearing nothing but a towel and a smile, to fill out a form, do you, Lieutenant?" Vader asked him sweetly. From the corner of his eye, he could see Garin clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.
Someone shoved the Lieutenant out of the picture to take his place. "Excuse me, Mylord, I believe the Lieutenant is not feeling too well", the newcomer, a young ensign, said with a forced smile. "If you could give me your size, I'll bring something right away."
Vader told him, and the ensign shook his head. "I'm afraid we only have mechanic's coveralls and trooper uniforms in that size. There aren't many men on board with your built, Sir."
"Never mind, mechanic's coveralls are fine." Vader waved his hand dismissively.
"I'm already on my way, Sir." The ensign cut the connection.
Vader sat down on the bed. "Bureaucrats", he muttered, making the word sound like an obscenity.
The ensign arrived only a few minutes later, carrying a box and a datapad. Vader was already pacing the room impatiently.
"What kept you?" he snarled.
"Had to call the meds first, Mylord", the ensign replied, handing him the box. "The lieutenant didn't look too hot, Sir."
"Understandable", Vader nodded. He checked the contents of the box. Boots, shorts, undershirt, socks, coveralls, all in his size.
"If you'd just sign here, Sir", the ensign said, sticking the datapad under his nose. Vader scribbled his name on the pad and headed for the fresher, box tucked under his arm.
"Wait, Sir", he ensign called, producing a measuring tape. On Vader's frown, he quickly added: "I'll just take your measurements, won't be a minute, and we'll have some proper uniforms for you by tonight."
Vader almost smiled at that. Finally someone was using the brains they were born with!
"Of course, ensign." He nodded, and allowed the ensign to take his measurements. As promised, it took less than a minute, and Vader could finally get dressed.
When Vader emerged from the fresher once more, dressed in crisp gray mechanics' coveralls and shiny new boots, the ensign had already left.
Motioning to Garin to accompany him, he left sickbay and headed for the main hangar. The sergeant almost had to run to keep up with Vader's long strides.
Vader slowed his steps when he entered the hangar and surveyed the room. Garin was still close on his heels, if a little out of breath. The parts of the Avenger covered a fair amount of room. It looked like they were strewn haphazardly across the floor, but to Vader's experienced eye they were neatly ordered by the place they had occupied in the small ship. Somebody had set up a table and several folding chairs nearby; the table was cluttered with manuals, thermos cans and empty cups. Several of the chairs were occupied by the men of Garin's team; upon Vader's entry, they scrambled to their feet.
Vader walked slowly around the remains of the craft, picking up a part here and there to look at it more closely, and putting it down again. After a full circuit, he addressed Garin: "You have taken samples for the lab?"
"Yes, Mylord. We're still waiting for some of the results, but I do not expect any breakthroughs from those", Garin replied.
The Dark Lord crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You did a thorough job, Sergeant", he conceded. "We will learn little more from this wreck unless we take apart an intact fighter for comparison." Turning on his heel, he pointed at the next best Avenger. "We'll take this one."
Garin clapped his hands together. "Right, boys, you heard Lord Vader. Let's get to work! And don't forget to label the samples."
The team swarmed over the Avenger, picking up tools on the way, and began to disassemble the second fighter. Much to everybody's surprise, Lord Vader himself picked up a tool as well and started to work alongside the men.
Three hours later, a very irritated Darth Vader called a halt to the work.
"What is the matter with you?" he rumbled when the men had gathered. "I've never seen a team work together so badly. A bunch of green cadets could do better."
"I'm afraid it's you, Mylord", one of the men spoke up.
"What? What do you mean?" Vader barked.
"We spend more energy pussy-footing around you than we actually use for work, Sir", the man continued. "Sorry, Mylord."
Vader stared at him. Of course! How stupid. Being who he was, he had a reputation for a lot of things. Being a team player was not one of them. Instead of helping, he was actually hindering the team with his mere presence. The question was, how could he rectify this situation? He did not wish to leave. In fact, he found he enjoyed working on an actual piece of machinery once more. There had been little opportunity for that in the past years.
"You may be right, corporal", he acknowledged. "What is your name?"
"Uh.. Sorensen, Mylord", the corporal answered.
Vader shook his head. "No. Your given name. You do use first names among yourselves, do you not?" Time to change perceptions a little.
"Why... yes, Sir. And it's Zev, Sir."
"Very good, Zev. And you?" Vader turned to the youngest member of the team, a short, skinny redhead.
"Kenny, Mylord", the youngster whispered shyly.
"Kenny", Vader repeated. The others also introduced themselves with their first names, having caught on.
"Good", Vader finally said. "I shall call you by your first names, and you shall treat me like any other member of the team. Try to forget who I am, at least for the moment."
"Well, Sir", Zev began, scratching his head, "we can't really... I mean... I don't think we can call you Darth, Sir."
Vader froze. He realized he had almost gone about this the wrong way, or at least only half way. If he truly wanted to be regarded as just another team member, it would not help to have the men still call him by his title, or the name they had grown to fear. What a strange notion, anyway. For a moment, he wondered if he had truly gone mad now. But he quickly pushed that thought aside. It was time for some changes. He was not isolated by his mask anymore, he did not need to isolate himself now.
"No", he said slowly. "That won't do. Call me Anakin."
"Anakin." Zev nodded and smiled. "That's a pretty long name."
"Look who's talking", Jay chimed in, "Zevulon Iantine Sorensen III."
The others snickered, and even Vader' lips twitched. Then, the Dark Lord's eyes widened as he recognized the name. He remembered the scandal that had so upset the upper crust of Coruscant society a few years back. "Zev Sorensen? As in Sorensen Enterprises?" he queried.
Zev blushed. "I... um... I don't want this to be public knowledge", he entreated.
"I understand. Your little secret is safe with me", Vader nodded. Indeed, being the heir to a multi-billion company could make things difficult for Zev. At least, Vader now understood how Zev was able to see the problem. 'He must have gone through the same at first', he mused.
"Alright, enough chatting, let's get back to work", Torb announced, making shooing gestures at them.
This time, Vader found himself working together with Zev under the Avenger's belly. "Tell me, Zev", he said, reaching for a tool, "why did you run off to join the fleet?
"I didn't, really."
"Oh? Somehow, this is hard to believe, after the scandal you caused."
Zev smiled. "I guess I just wanted to have a normal life for a while before I took my place as heir. Grandmother agreed; she said it would give me a better perspective."
"A wise woman, your grandmother. Why not the academy?" Vader asked.
"Bah. In the academy, I still would have been Zevulon Iantine Sorensen III, pampered little billionaires' kid. This way, I'm simply Zev. Just another guy. Nothing special about me."
"I know what you mean." They continued to work in companionable silence.
To be continued.