Chapter Three


He was surprised to find how easy it was to move, no inhibitions, no slow joints…he felt free.

His hands touched against loose, comfortable material… the thick, constricting garb he was used to vanished. His fingers reached for his face, and he was dismayed to meet the cool helmet still in place.

Must he still be tortured? Must even his dreams be hell? Must he be denied any chance of escape, even if it were only temporary?

In the corner of his eye, a strange glow began to form. Turning, he saw the golden silhouette of a woman approaching.

He could feel his hear pounding against his chest; with such magnitude he was sure it would burst free. His eyes, still confined behind the vile mask, followed her, squinting.

The glow was growing brighter, brighter…it was getting harder to see. He couldn't make out the woman's figure anymore, could hardly tell anyone was there.

But the light kept coming closer, growing whiter as it came. He could hardly take it anymore, the intense purity of the light. His eyes burned.

If this were a test for her, for Padmé, he was determined to pass it. He'd failed her already, he wouldn't do it again. All the pain in the world wouldn't keep him from that.

And so the light kept coming.

He could feel the sweat forming on his face, dripping down. Still, he didn't move. The heat was intense, it was the first time he'd felt it in his dreams before, and he often dreamt of the mysterious woman, and her light.

Faintly, he could feel something hot dripping onto his chest, sinking through the comfortable clothing he'd discovered himself wearing moments before. The mask- it was melting away!

He could feel hot tears streaming from his eyes. Had he passed the test? Was he being rewarded?

Suddenly, the heat vanished, the light fading quickly after it. He was standing in the middle of a barren wasteland, amid a freezing temperature that sent a chill down his spine.

The mask was there, completely intact once more.

He knew all too well who the woman had been, the glowing beacon. It had been her. He didn't understand quite how he knew that, when his dreams had never actually progressed far enough for him to see her, but he knew.

Anger welled up inside of him, pleading to be set loose. He had been so close. It had been his chance for redemption, his chance to repent the darkness he'd come to know so well, his chance to lose his fear of the light.

The dream had ended too soon!

His fists clenched, his thick, black gloves creaking as he recognized the presence that had entered the dream.

"What are you up to, my apprentice?" a voice whispered in his mind, reverberating in the barren space he stood in.


"Lord Vader is no longer aboard the Executor, you say?"

"Affirmative, my Lord. He left approximately one standard day ago, and took along Recen Torles, our best droid and computer technician, sir. Their transport is Lamda-class shuttle number 643."

Clearly, by the way his thin, pasty lips twisted into a grotesque frown, the Emperor was not pleased with this news. His yellow eyes narrowed.

"That will be all, Commander."

Before the other man could reply, the connection had been ended.