The Perils of Hyperspace Travel
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. If I did, I'd be fat, happy, wealthy,and wearing flannel. Instead I'm a struggling college student. So don't sue. I have enough on my plate as it is.
Vader hated hyperspace travel. He stood brooding on the bridge of his personal flagship, the Executor, watching the hyperspace tunnel before him. He was a man of action, a Dark Lord who changed worlds and lives. Mustafar had taken much from him, but the need to be active and work as he had been in his former life stayed with him. But when traveling between worlds, there was little to do beyond meditating in his chamber and dueling with the special dueling droids he had set up in the ship's target range and gym.
Even these options, though, were never enough for him. No matter how much he tinkered with the droids to improve them, they never were good enough to defeat, or even worry him. Like the General Grievous of old, the dueling robots were outfitted with multiple lightsabers, but lacked the creativity and true skill that either the cyborg general or any other lightsaber wielding opponent had. Vader didn't relish the idea of meditating either. Sith meditation was much different then that of its Jedi counterpart. A Sith focused on his rage and anger, building them to a boiling point, and then bathing in the emotions and reaching into the Darkside of the Force. Dark Lord or no, sitting in his hyperbaric chamber being angry for several hours, was not something he was interested in normally, unless preparing himself for battle, or needing guidance from the Darkside.
He scowled under his helmet, and then winced as the uncomfortable helmet that helped to keep him alive scratched his cheeks. By the Force, couldn't his Master have at least made the damned thing more comfortable? He'd worn this black shell for roughly twenty years and hated every moment of it. Grudgingly, though, he had to admit that his appearance helped in casting fear on his opponents and subordinates. Vader growled, making several bridge officers cower or jump in fearful of anticipation what often occurred onboard the Executor when Vader was in a bad mood. He turned, black cape swirling behind him and barked, "I'll be in my chambers. Alert me when we have reached Hoth." The battle for Hoth would be a decisive one, and Vader wanted to make sure he was good and ready for it. Nevertheless, he wasn't looking forward to his meditation and knew that he would be in even worse a mood when he was finished.
Author's Notes: This, is also my entry for Kenya Starflight's Fanfic contest. Look her up and check out her blog and fanfics. Damn good stuff.