Chapter 11 : The Black Death
It began as a creeping thing, a quick death that came to a few, in the unnoticed places.It had lived forever in the small vermin prevalent in developed areas, but randomly it changed a little,and became able to infect humans.Now it slunk in the back alleys, the dark taverns, the dank hovels on the edge of cities.Methodically it moved forward, always finding a new host in the nick of time. Since it could kill within a day, it always risked stranding itself in an isolated corpse.In the game of survival, where luck may be the most important factor, it came up a winner.
One day, it had the fortune to catch a ride in the body of a stowaway, and it took to space.They thought he died from pressure loss, what with the bloody foam pouring out his mouth. So sure were they of the reason for his demise, that they weren't worried when specks of foam hit their clothing. But they should have been.
When they undressed that night, it was hiding in the dried spots on their clothing. It could have lived another twelve hours, but it was not necessary. It had already made the leap to another body. These men did not die from it, but they gave it to their shipmates when the coughing began. The med droid isolated them, but it was already too late.
Their ship docked at its destination, and it walked out with the crew onto a new world. Not that it cared; one human host was as good as another. Some crew members took new assignments immediately, and it went with them. Through the trade routes, unlimited numbers of naive hosts were made available to it. It had hit the viral equivalent of a jackpot.
When it made its appearance in the cargo handlers and tavern keepers, it gained attention, but not comprehension. No one understood how quickly it had dispersed in the Galaxy. On its home world, where most of the population had already gained immunity, it killed mostly newcomers.Now every host it came upon had no defenses against it. Their bodies rose in an uproar against it, their own immune response causing their lungs to fill with the frothy fluid. The healthier they were, and the stronger their immune system, the sicker they became.
When it began to kill on planets spread far across the Galaxy, fear rose throughout the Empire. Quarantines sprang up overnight, and suddenly nonhuman workers were in high demand to keep commerce going.With an entirely human composition , the Imperial Forces did not have that option. When it entered an Imperial Star Destroyer, and killed ten percent of the crew, even the Emperor took notice.
While the Galaxy withdrew behind nanopore masks, and xenophobia raged on as travelers became as welcome as the tax collector, the medics hastened to develop a vaccine, but without success. Worlds turned to their own traditional treatments to keep the invader at bay, mostly without changing the course of the disease. But on one planet the death rate from the virus was virtually nil. A plant used for centuries in folk medicine, now given against this new invader, worked. When the medics would finally study it, it would be found that the plant, if taken early in the infection, halted the devasting inflammation that ruined the lungs and led to death.
It was not a cure, but it was an enormous aid in battling the killer. Its use should have spread quickly throughout the Galaxy, as the anti-inflammatory chemical in the plant was easily synthesized in the laboratory. But the planet on which the plant grew was under the control of one faction of humans, who saw their good fortune as an advantage to be pressed against the humans on the opposing side. While their own peoples would be safe, they hoped the virus would run unchecked among their foes.
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Life had gotten easier since he no longer thought of himself as the Chosen One, since the battle in which Palpatine crowned himself the victor between them.He had become a good soldier in the service of the Empire, following orders, suppressing his own ambitions when they arose. With that change, Palpatine's antagonism had subsided, and sometimes the Emperor even considered his ideas. Perhaps on the instructions of the Emperor, the command staff of the Imperial Navy had become less obstinate and more cooperative with him. And, oddest of all, Palpatine had begun addressing him as "friend". He guessed he qualified as "friend" because he was the only person Palpatine thought wouldn't kill him, and that was only because he had already tried and failed.
The battle had been so long ago, he could hardly remember what he had been fighting for, anyways. He had once pledged to bring peace and justice to the Empire, to make something of which Padme' would have been proud, but his memory of her was like a disc that had been played too many times, and it had become erratic and weak. Sometimes, if he tried too hard, her face would not come to him, and he had to make himself relax, so that he could pull her image from his memory. He feared that one day it would not come at all, and it would be as if she never existed.
There was the proof of her existence, though, waiting for him on Tatooine. He had once thought he fought against Palpatine so that he could rescue his son, raise him, know him, work together to restore both justice to the Empire, and prominence to the Force. But Luke was already thirteen, already started down the path of manhood. The people around him, Owen, Beru, and probably Obi-Wan, were the ones guiding him, not himself. What could he offer the boy, what example could he be for him, if he was not strong enough to overcome Palpatine's grip? Each year he renewed his vow to regain his son, but it had become more a habit than a real promise.
He had also fought against the chaos that Palpatine brought to the Galaxy, against his manipulations, against his lies, against his lack of concern for the citizens of the Galaxy. He still valued honesty and loyalty, however rare they were, and believed the people were owed a straightforward leader who acted decisively for their benefit. Perhaps that was why he continued on now, kept his patience, trusted in the Force. Afterall, it was one of the few dreams he had left.
Sometimes, though, his faith was weak. He doubted whether it was right to simply wait and watch, to aid Palpatine in his convoluted rule of the Galaxy. That strategy had allowed the elusive Resistance to grow into a now official Alliance, as they called themselves, or Rebellion as they were known in the Empire.Certainly when a Rebel intrusion was too bold, the Empire chased the offenders down, tried to make examples of them, but the root from which the Rebellion grew was never harmed, and each branch that was cut down gave rise to five more. He feared for the stability of the Empire, cursed those who would tear it apart, hated even more those that would withhold the answer to this disease from their fellow man in the hopes of weakening the Empire.
He relished this assignment, then, because it was one of the few that he could believe in. There was no doubt about its necessity, about the clarity of its purpose.All citizens deserved to be safe from the black death that had spread across the galaxy, not just the ones that hid behind the curtain of the Rebellion. They would seize the reserves of the drug Anatriene from the hands of the Rebels, duplicate it in Imperial pharmacies, and deliver to the Empire relief from the spectre of the black death.
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Protect the lab. They must protect the lab at all costs. Mar Nilan hadn't been a soldier long, but already he knew he must think only of the mission objective.The pharmaceutical lab was their most valuable asset. Some said the drug was evidence that the Alliance was right, that its discovery on an Alliance controlled planet was meant as a punishment for the misdeeds of the Empire. The Alliance had never been able to take down as many Imperial troops as the sickness had, and rumors circulated that the Emperor was even afraid to leave his residence on Imperial Center. Others thought the drug's discovery was just good fortune, but either way the drug protected the outnumbered troops of the Alliance and funded the organization through exports to the worlds deemed worthy.
He counted himself among the ones on the side of luck. The proof that the Alliance was right came from its own ideals, not from some imagined omen of destiny.The Alliance was right because it fought for the rights of all citizens, not just humans.The Alliance was right because it espoused freedom, and democracy, for the right of worlds to agree to disagree, rather than subscribe to an Imperial ideal that came from one man.He had not suffered much under Imperial rule, but that could change tomorrow with a whim of the Emperor. Mar wanted a secure, stable Galaxy for his daughters to grow up in, and that alone made the Alliance worth fighting for.
This fight would be different from all other missions he had undertaken as a soldier in the Alliance. While it was true that the Alliance was growing in strength and numbers, it was still a speck in the night sky compared to the Empire. It battled the Empire the way rebels always had, with stealth, ingenuity, and the strength born of conviction. They had disabled communication lines, disrupted key Imperial meetings, and engaged stormtroopers in small numbers on outlying planets, but they had never taken the Empire head on. This time, the Empire was coming for them.
The reports of Star Destroyers in orbit had already trickled down the ranks. The Alliance commanders had no illusions about their ability to overcome the superior numbers of the Empire. Victory might not be possible against the Empire, but they could do damage, instill some caution in the Empire for the next time they engaged the Alliance. Maybe, just maybe, luck would be on their side, and by some miracle they would keep the Empire from overrunning the pharmaceutical lab and the associated treatment center.
The Alliance leaders had spread their meager troops over the most vulnerable areas. Mar Nilan's company had taken up position directly outside the medical complex. The day was so beautiful it seemed surreal that the Empire would soon be upon them.With nothing to do but wait, he pulled his image pad from his shirt pocket, and thumbed through the pictures it held. Liria, his wife. Seya, his older daughter. Nea, the younger. Liria had been shocked when he first told her he was going to join the Alliance, leave his safe position in the commercial sector. He just hadn't been able to shake the feeling that this was important, that he needed to contribute, and tearfully, she had put her support behind him. He looked up from the image pad, feeling guilty, and was relieved to see he wasn't the only one in his company viewing images from home.
At the first crackle from the captain's comlink, Mar's company rose quickly to attention. The Empire had landed. Stormtroopers were coming. Many stormtroopers.Then an unexpected bit of information came across the com. Darth Vader himself had been sighted alongside one battalion.Murmurs rose from among the troops.
Mar's captain attempted to set his men at ease."Vader's presence is an opportunity, an opportunity to cut at the heart of the Empire in a way we've never been able to do before. Taking him out would be a huge victory for the Alliance."
A voice from behind Mar. "But sir, can that be done ?"
The captain continued."Despite what you may have heard, our contacts from within the Senate tell us that he's just a man.And if he's a man, he can be killed. His most vulnerable spot would be appear to be the electronic controls on his chest. The rest of his armor is reportedly resistant to blaster fire. But let's not get too fixated on Vader. Our assignment is to protect the reserves of Anatriene in the pharmaceutical area. The Empire might be too afraid of the sickness to even enter this building."
Mar heard his captain's instructions, but couldn't stop his mind from turning back to Vader. Vader, the messenger of the Emperor's will. If he was a man, there was no evidence of it, no heart, no soul. Lacking even the face that gave the Emperor a token of humanity, Vader was simply an enforcer, death embodied. Mar shivered unconsciously at the thought of him.
An explosion near the front of the building rocked Mar's entire company. The Empire was here. They had planned for hand to hand combat, thinking the Empire would not destroy the very thing it had come for, but the Empire apparently felt confident in the accuracy of its bombs.
Mar's captain called to his men to disperse around the perimeter of the building, to make a smaller target area. Stormtroopers were now visibly advancing, taking cover in the ornamental landscaping at the outskirts of the medical complex.The Alliance fighters returned fire as the front line of stormtroopers came into range.
Mar leaned back against the wall of the medical building, taking refuge behind a concealing shrub. His captain was suddenly at his shoulder, shouting instructions over the din of the bombs.
"You're the best shot in the company, Nilan. I want you to go in to the pharmaceutical lab, secure yourself inside, and take out any Imperial that comes through the door. If they reach you, that means the rest of us are gone. Understood ?"
Mar nodded crisply. Proving to be the best sharpshooter in the company had come as a surprise to a man whose previous career had kept him confined to an office. But he had taken to sniper training like a Hutt to gambling. His ability to become completely single-minded about his target, along with his superior eyesight, had earned him the highest marks in the company.
With a side to side assessment of the incoming fire, Mar moved swiftly from points of cover to a side entrance. He slipped into the building, pleased that blaster fire had not followed him. He headed confidently down the corridor, the importance of his assignment giving him fresh energy. This was what he had joined the Alliance for, to accomplish something of significance.
In was a running joke in his family, the way he could predict a visitor's arrival. He didn't know how he did it, he just knew that he could. He had that weird feeling now, but he wasn't at home, and he wouldn't have any guests here. He knew not to ignore the sensation though, so he doubled back to check the hallway from which he had just come. What he saw made him suck in his breath. Vader was coming his direction.
He ran far enough down the hallway to be out of what he guessed was Vader's hearing range. He hit his comlink, listening for his squad. He needed to know what to do about Vader. The com produced only static. He didn't have time to think through what that meant; he had a job to do. He thought of his captain's orders; he had to get to the lab, protect its contents.
The medical complex could be a maze to those new to its interior, but Mar could run its hallways as easily as his own home. He thought quickly of the fastest route to the pharmacy. He would have to take a shortcut through the patient ward, the one housing those who had been too ill to move to a safer location.
Mar knew he was immune to the sickness, having already survived his own bout with it, but that didn't stop his skin from crawling as he passed the beds filled with patients. Some were on ventilators, some looked gone already, and all had been brought here by their families in the desperate hope that the drug Anatriene would save them. Transported on private ships, moved at lightspeed from all parts of the Galaxy, they came from affluence, racing against time. He was sorry to disturb them, but with Darth Vader on his heels, he had no choice.
He hurried through the double set of doors exiting the ward, acknowledging for a moment that he had broken isolation protocol. He ran down the hallway, pausing to hit the entry controls outside the lab. Once inside he surveyed the room for a defensible location, then turned off the lights in the room to give himself the advantage over an intruder. Anyone entering the room would be starkly outlined for a moment, and that was all he needed. If his intuition served him right, that "anyone" would be Vader.
He tried one last time to contact the rest of his company, speaking softly into the comlink, but there was no answer.
He tucked himself into a corner behind an island cabinet that jutted out into the room. He took the luxury of closing his eyes, using the spare moment to draw in a deep focusing breaths.When he opened his eyes, he thought only of what it would take to bring Vader down.It would have to be a chest shot, at that electronic box, which hopefully controlled something vital. The flashing panel was a good sized target, and easy to see in the dark, which this room was.
With only one task before him, he eliminated all other thoughts in his mind. His determination cooled him, chasing away anger and fear, and keeping him calm. Vader would trace his path, follow him into this room,and become the target. He would shoot him square in that electronic panel, and the Emperor would be minus one key aide.It was a simple plan, and he just needed to wait for Vader to come to him.
Already he could hear the mechanized breathing coming closer. He drew his blaster, rising just high enough to see over the cabinet countertop.He took aim at the doorway, and his field of vision narrowed.His knees complained from pressing into the hard floor, but he ignored them.His heart rate slowed, and along with it, the passage of time. The normal chatter in his head was silenced, as his whole body awaited the signal from his eyes. Like the snare on a primitive's trap, when the flashing red lights tripped his retinas, his fingers would close on the blaster trigger, and Vader would be done. With no thinking involved, the action would take only the time necessary to traverse his synapses, a fraction of a second. He would sit here all night, in this position, mind emptied of decisions, if that's what it took.
He didn't know exactly how long he waited, crouched and ready, but his patience was rewarded. The door slid open, the respirations of Vader announcing his proximity. The glow and hum of a lightsaber entered the room ahead of him, but it was not the correct red stimulus, so for Mar nothing yet had changed, and he held position. Something told him that Vader was about to move forward, and so he held his breath, looking to steady his aim.
The lightsaber provided the only light in the room, and in its eerie glow Mar could make out the startlingly tall form of Vader. He was not turned correctly to give Mar the clear shot he needed. Mar forced himself not to react, to maintain focus on his target. In the darkness, Vader turned towards him, as if he could see him. The chest plate came in full view, and Mar squeezed the trigger.
He expected the shot to hit Vader dead on, and have an effect, preferably lethal, but instead the blaster fire was deflected harmlessly by the lightsaber. His commanders had told him Vader was powerful, ruthless, cunning, but they hadn't explained what a lightsaber could do. He pulled off several shots in succession,no longer keeping his tight focus, but the result was the same.
He scrambled backwards across the floor, knowing his position now revealed in the dark, and moved towards the rear door of the lab. He kept firing one-handed, thinking that one shot was bound to make contact, but his hopes were not met. Vader was moving in on him with a speed that seemed unnatural.He could not stop that black death, that monstrous blending of man and machine.
So this was how he would die.He hadn't died when the ocean swept him off the jagged beach rocks when he was nine, nor had he died when another pilot almost flew a speeder full throttle into his when he was twenty. But he would die here, in this room, the logic was inescapable. He was surprised by how calmly his mind accepted that reality, but he truly felt no fear.
He thought of Liria, and their daughters Seya and Nea. He loved them all so much, and suddenly sadness filled him, not because he would die, but because he would never see them again.It felt so wonderful when they were all at home together, the girls laughing about some thing or the other. He held them tight in his mind, while his hand continued squeezing the trigger on his blaster. He was thinking of them still when the lightsaber ran him through.
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Vader watched the Rebel disappear through the doors directly ahead. A ripple in the Force had caused him to notice a soldier breaking away from the group and entering the building. After the stormtroopers had cleared a safe zone, he had followed the soldier's route.He felt the young man's protective intent, his focused dedication, and knew he was headed somewhere important.
The room Vader was standing in front of now was filled with many people, their muddled thoughts overlaying the trail of his target.He ignited his lightsaber, not knowing what he would find inside the room.
The first door slid open to reveal a second, and he paused in the space between, feeling for those that lay beyond. Not soldiers, that was evident by the disorganized thoughts flowing out of the room, not unless they had given into fear. He stepped forward to activate the door, and moved into the room decisively.
Once inside, he was sorry he had done so. This was a patient ward, filled with gravely ill people obviously infected with the black death. When the illness had begun to spread in the Galaxy, he had lined the air filtration system of his mask with not one, but three layers of nanofilter, to keep from being exposed to the virus. The med droids said one layer was sufficient, but it was not they who risked catching the disease, so he had been using three just to make sure. If this thing killed healthy people, there was no doubt that his ruined lungs would never withstand the assault of the virus.He was going to have to disinfect his whole suit when he got out of this place.
He shook his head once to bring himself back to his task. He ignored the gurgled breathing of patients and the whoosh of ventilators in the room to concentrate on finding the young Rebel. Feeling no trace of him in the ward, he thankfully exited the room through the set of double doors at the rear.
He found himself in a hallway intersection, and paused a moment to decide how to proceed. He sensed the path the Rebel had taken, the fixation of the soldier's mind on his task marking clearly which way he had gone. He followed the trail to its end, stopping outside another doorway. Scanning the interior of the room, he hesitated when he no longer felt the determined thought patterns of the young Rebel.
The trail had led clearly to this spot, but now it seemed to have dead-ended.If the soldier was in the room ahead, he had a remarkable ability to clear his mind, an ability he had not often encountered except in his days among the Jedi. He raised his lightsaber, and proceeded cautiously after hitting the door controls with his mind.
Inside, the room was completely dark, save for the light from his weapon. His helmet automatically adjusted the gain for low light conditions, but it was still too dim to see clearly. At last he sensed his target, a flash of Force energy coming from the middle part of the room.Vader realized this Rebel had minor Force talent, though untrained, and he turned toward the source of the Force blip.
Blaster fire revealed the Rebel's existence even more definitively, fire which Vader reflexively blocked with his lightsaber. His foe worked his blaster as fast as it would recharge, but all shots were lost in the red energy of the saber. He pushed forward towards the Rebel, working furiously to deflect the incoming shots.He admired his opponent's determination and lack of fear, but that feeling did not stop him from taking advantage when a brief lapse in blaster fire occured. Detecting the Rebel's position more through the Force than with his vision, without hesitation he plunged his lightsaber through the young man's chest.
Breathing heavily, he felt the cooling system in his suit activate. Finally able to turn his back on the Rebel, he located the light controls and illuminated the room. He made a visual sweep of the room to assess where he was. A medical room of some sort, not unlike the pharmacy he had seen too many times at the Surgical Reconstruction Center. He had been right to follow the soldier here.
Using his helmet comlink, he made contact with the commander of the stormtroopers. Satisfied that the building had been secured, he finally turned his attention to the fallen Rebel. Blond and blue-eyed, he looked how Luke might in another decade. He had fought courageously, unconsciously using the small bit of Force talent he possessed. What a waste.He would have made a fine Imperial, the kind of man Vader wanted supporting his command. Had it been worth dying to keep others from living ?
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In the refresher, he had scrubbed himself until his scars stood in stark white contrast with the irritated redness of his skin. His life support suit hung in the air, drying from the vigorous application of disinfectant.Finally certain that he had removed any trace of the virus from his surroundings, he could at last relax within the hyperbaric chamber.
He reclined his tall body in the chair, the lightness of his robe a welcome change from the weight of the suit.Eyes closed, he rubbed both golden hands slowly over his face, ending with them clasped behind his head. His concern over catching the virus must have been the reason he forgot. Afterall, it had been part of his earliest combat training by the Jedi; it was usually second nature. But he had lapsed this time, and now he was paying the price.
Like all soldiers, he had long ago developed the detachment necessary to kill another being. In hand to hand combat, it was easy, because it was a matter of self defense. In other situations, it was usually simplest to focus on the act that would bring death : the acquistion of a target in the sights of a TIE fighter, or pulling the trigger of a blaster. Galaxy-wide, all soldiers knew this, but for the Jedi, there had been one more requirement, one they only discussed among themselves. For Force sensitives, it was usually best to turn off that ability at the moment of contact, otherwise the dying thoughts and feelings of your opponent came rushing to you.
He knew this, better than any, but he had forgotten, and now the last images of the fallen Rebel pervaded his mind. Part of it was his own fault; he could have shoved the memories away, but instead they fascinated him, and he couldn't help reliving them. The young man had been so certain of the righteousness of his cause.He had no doubts, no fears about his actions, only a last moment of surprise. Even when he knew death was coming, he had not regretted giving his life for the Rebellion.
There had been a time when Vader felt a similar conviction behind his actions, but that time was long gone. He had risked his life this mission, not from Rebel weapons, but from the deadly virus, and he wasn't sure why. Nominally, it had been to gain the use of Anatriene for the Empire, but would that have been worth dying for ? Was he really willing to die for Palpatine ? He snorted, because the answer to that question was an obvious "No". Truth was, he continued on because he saw no other path to take.He envied the dead Rebel's clarity of purpose, wanted that again for himself.
And then there was the other part of the Rebel's final thoughts, the ones filled with his love for his family.His family had brought him strength, brought him comfort; he had been rich beyond compare. So short a time had Vader known feelings like those, it surprised him how much he still longed for them.Denied both the life of an ordinary man and the path of the Chosen One, the place between the two had proven as barren as the Jundland Wastes. He played the borrowed feelings of the dead Rebel over in his head, savoring them while they were still fresh.
Once he had hoped to sit atop the Empire, but today he wished only for the things a common Rebel had possessed.