Diaboli Chorus

—Part 3—

STAR DESTROYER EXACTOR: HYPERSPACE

Vader heard the commotion before he saw it. Screams and yelling echoed up the passage, both from his troopers and the two Jedi. Rounding the next bend, he and his commanders reached the corridor for cell block three-thirteen-A, and the yelling grew louder—more urgent. He heard his troops call to the Jedi, ordering for them to cease hostilities. A girl's angered scream filled the recycled air, and Vader quickened his pace, desperate to reach the two younglings before they fled. Nearing the cell holding the two Jedi, Vader raised a fist to halt his commanders, then ground to a stop. "Set your blasters to stun, and await my signal," Vader said to his men. "I want them alive."

An instant later, another scream came from within the cell. "Zeke, No!" And in a flash of white, he saw one of his stormtroopers fly across the open passage. The soldier's armoured body slammed into the opposing wall and crashed to the floor, and Vader glanced to the fallen trooper, momentarily stunned by the younglings' strength. He then went to take a step forward, when the red-skinned twi'lek youngling darted out from the cell into the corridor, towing the unsteady human boy behind her.

Vader stared at the young twi'lek. And the twi'lek stared back. Her eyes wide with fear, scarlet skin and lekku paling to a dusty dark-pink, she blinked at him a moment, then turned to run...

And stopped at the sight of four troopers blocking her path.

"You cannot run, youngling," Vader said to the twi'lek, hooking his thumbs to his belt. "There is no escape."

The twi'lek—panting heavily—spun around and faced him; even as the older boy staggered and slammed into her back. The four troopers closed in around them, and the two younglings were now back-to-back in the detention-level corridor; completely surrounded.

"Where is our Master?" the twi'lek cried at Vader. "What have you done with him?"

Vader offered the girl no response. Instead, he allowed his respirator to speak for him, and immediately worked to subdue the young Jedi. Holding out his gloved hand, he stretched out toward the twi'lek with the Force and felt for the fabric of her mind... then, seizing it within his mental grasp, sent forth his dark power and wrapped it around her. Eagerly observing her reaction, Vader then watched on as the red-skinned twi'lek closed her eyes, clutched at her temples and violently shook her head.

Appearing to sense his attack, the human boy whirled on the girl, grabbed for her shoulders and yelled. "No, Riishi, No! Don't listen to him!"

The twi'lek's resistance began to fade, and Vader tightened his hold. He sought out the girl's Light and worked to suffocate it, then, used the Force to speak directly into the core of the girl's fragmented mind. "It is useless to resist, youngling..." Vader said, pressing his will upon her. "Surrender to me. Give yourself to the Dark Side of the Force."

And the lethan twi'lek cried out in pain. She slipped from the boy's grasp and collapsed to her knees. The boy's fear turned to rage in an instant, and he moved to stand protectively over the submissive twi'lek. He clenched his fists and turned to yell at Vader.

"What have you done to her?"

Again, Vader refused to answer. The Jedi's anger was potent; the boy's powerful emotion igniting his presence in the Force like a sun. Vader continued to wait, permitted the rasp and hiss of his breathing to heighten the boy's fury. The boy snarled and continued to glare. Then, his blue eyes narrowed, lowered to focus on the hilt of Vader's lightsaber hung upon his belt. Sensing his intentions, Vader eased back his personal shields and waited. Even if the boy did manage to call upon his lightsaber, Vader knew he posed no risk to him. All the action would prove is that the boy had potential. And that, if handled correctly, he would soon succumb to the will of the Dark Side of the Force.

As expected, the boy thrust his hand forward and used the Force to call Vader's weapon. The hilt suddenly rattled upon his belt. Then, with one final dislodging shake... it took to the air, flew from its place on Vader's hip, and slapped into the boy's outstretched hand with a thump.

Vader cocked his head at the sound of the unmistakable snap-hiss, and watched as his murderous crimson blade thrummed to life in the young Jedi's hand.

The boy yelled—"It's over, Sith!"– as he shakily moved into attack position. The young Jedi staggered, and the weapon wavered; clearly struggling with the weight of his bloodshine Sith blade. His eyes focused on Vader, narrowed into pinpoints. Then, his voice dropped an octave and he snarled. "Come any closer—and I'll kill you!"

Commanders Cody and Vill raised their blasters and went to push forward. "Lower your weapons, Commanders," Vader ordered, gesturing to his men to stand down.

Vill did as instructed, but Cody hesitated. "But... my lord?"

"Do as I command."

"Yes, Lord Vader." The former 212th commander instantly backed down, lowered his weapon and fell back into position behind him.

Vader returned his attention to the Jedi and snorted. "You think... you can kill me, Boy?"

Then, raising his gloved hands, he held them palms out at his hips and took two purposeful strides forward. "Prove yourself. I am unarmed. Strike me down with your anger. Show me how strong... a true Jedi... can be."

Still holding the Sith blade, the boy looked down, gazed at the lethan twi'lek as she groaned weakly beside him. "Zekiel, don't. It's... it's a trap."

And just as his Master had done with him only one standard year ago, after he'd beaten and disarmed Count Dooku above Coruscant on the Invisible Hand; Vader drew on the Force, then used it to command the Jedi boy into action:

"Do it!"

Then, obeying his command, the Jedi boy screamed, heaved the thrumming Sith blade high above his head, and charged at Vader.

And by simply doing so... he had already lost.

YAVIN 4: MASSASSI BASE

Padmé glanced around her new quarters. The living space was modestly appointed; consisting of a small two-seater settee in the centre, a workstation and chair to the left, and a makeshift kitchenette to the rear. The kitchenette itself boasted a food replicator, three cupboards for storage, and a single-bowl sink recessed into a short bench.

The suite seemed comfortable enough. But it had one major setback. It was adjacent to Bail's quarters. Which was, in her opinion; too close for comfort. Now she'd have to keep her voice down whenever she spoke with Anakin. And somehow, convince him to do the same. Just in case Bail would be able to overhear their conversation through the wall.

So much for privacy, she thought.

"I'm afraid the room isn't much, Mrs Skywalker," the older Jedi said from the door. "But, it's bigger than ours. And it has the basics."

He was certainly right about one thing... the room did have the basics. As long as you didn't count personal space as one of them. She turned in place, and forced a polite smile. "Thank you, Master Olin. I'm sure it will do fine."

Exiting from Padmé's new bedchamber, Ahsoka stopped and called out to her. "Well, the bed sure is comfy enough," she said, looking to Padmé. "And it's more than big enough for the two of us."

Padmé's heart sank. First, she finds out that Bail's room is right next to hers, and now this. She inwardly sighed. As much as hearing Ahsoka's desire to bunk with her was endearing, she really did need her own space. For obvious reasons—Well... obvious to her at least. Finding privacy was definitely going to be the biggest challenge here.

"I'm sure your own bed is just as comfortable, Ahsoka," Padmé said, hoping to dissuade her. "Besides, I tend to get up constantly throughout the night. I wouldn't want to disturb you."

Ahsoka glanced back to the bedroom, then smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "You're probably right. But it would still be nice to have a room-mate. I haven't exactly had many since leaving the order, and I used to have Obi-wan and Anakin to talk to during the war." The young togruta looked down, frowned and gave a short chuckle. "Not that either of them, was ever too happy about it."

Hearing Ahsoka speak so affectionately of Anakin, nearly brought tears to her eyes. And it took all her inner-strength to hold them back. It had been so long since anyone had said something kind about her husband. No, now all she heard was "Darth Vader did this", or "Darth Vader did that". It was as if no-one cared to remember the great Jedi he'd once been. Or how he had constantly risked his life in order to defend and protect the Republic and its people. Not that they knew who he was, of course. But at least one person did. And he rarely said a nice word about him. He even ridiculed Anakin at times; criticising and commenting on his perceived lack of commitment to the Jedi Order.

Okay, so he'd done some terrible things. And, yes, he was likely going to do many more. But that didn't make him all bad. In-fact, some of the most romantic gestures he'd ever done for her, had been since he'd adopted the identity of Darth Vader.

Seeming to sense her disquiet, Ahsoka crossed the room to stand beside her, and Padmé put her hand upon the togruta's shoulder. "He never complained to me about you keeping him up at night, Ahsoka," Padmé said.

Ahsoka smiled. "That's probably because it was mostly him who did the waking—not me," she added. Then a forlorn flicker swept across her face and she looked down. "Some of his nightmares... well, they sounded pretty intense at times. It's a wonder he got any sleep at all."

And that... hit a little too close to home for Padmé. It was time to change the conversation. She doubted Anakin would be pleased if he found out she and Ahsoka had been discussing some of his most private issues. Especially his nightmares—he was always so touchy about them. Hearing someone clear their throat by the door, Padmé turned around just in time to see the older Jedi folding his arms.

"I apologise for interrupting... but my padawan and I can leave you to your conversation if you'd like," Ferus offered. "We can always reschedule the tour of the base for later."

Padmé briefly considered his offer. While catching up with Ahsoka was pleasant, and something they both desperately needed, she still had to find a medical centre to help Dormé. She knew there was bound to be one around somewhere, even if it was only basic. Looking to the Jedi, Padmé shook her head. "No, no. That's quite alright, Master Olin," she said. "Actually, I was hoping to see what kind of medical facilities you have here. My handmaiden suffered a rather nasty knock to her head on our way out of Coruscant, and I would like to get her seen to."

The older Jedi nodded. "By all means, Mrs Skywalker. I would be more than happy to take you there."

She made sure to keep smiling as he turned away, but an uneasy feeling kept gnawing at the back of her mind. The Jedi's insistence on calling her "Mrs Skywalker" was unsettling. It's not that she was ashamed of her marriage to Anakin—she wasn't. But it felt almost disrespectful for a Jedi to be so openly broadcasting it. Especially considering the great lengths she and Anakin had both gone to in order to keep their marriage a secret.

Perhaps she was just being overly sensitive, or reading too much into things. The pregnancy was definitely making her more tired and emotional than usual. But... no matter how hard she tried; she just couldn't shake the feeling. Every time Ferus referred to her as "Mrs Skywalker", it felt like he was almost trying to be insulting. If not to her, then definitely to Anakin.

The thought was irritating, and she narrowed her gaze at the two Jedi as they went to leave. Then out of nowhere, a cold wave of anger swelled inside her belly—a wave so powerful she could no longer think straight. How dare this Jedi try to insult her Ani. Whether he'd broken the Jedi Order's precious codes or not. Their marriage was none of his business. In-fact, it was nobody else's business but theirs. Unable to hold it in any longer she called out to the Jedi: "Ferus."

The older Jedi cautiously turned back. "Yes, Mrs Skywalker?"

Folding her arms across her chest, Padmé coolly held his stare. "Master Olin, I am a senior serving member of the Imperial Senate. I would appreciate it... if you addressed me as such."

And the room suddenly fell silent. Ahsoka stared at her. Ferus stared at her. And so did his padawan: Caleb Dume.

Standing just outside the door to her new quarters, the older Jedi looked down as if being scolded. "Forgive me, Senator, I... I meant no disrespect," Ferus apologised. Then, looking up, he sheepishly gestured with one hand toward the awaiting passage. "Please, I can take you to the medbay now if you'd like."

STAR DESTROYER EXACTOR: HYPERSPACE

Lightsaber back in hand, Vader loomed over the defeated young Jedi curled up by his feet, then shut down the red blade. Holstering the hilt, he then pressed his hands to his hips and barked to the Jedi. "On your feet, boy."

Eyes wide and brimming with fear, the youngling gazed up at Vader from the floor and nervously shook his head. "You... you killed him... Didn't you?" the boy whimpered. "You killed Master Koth."

This youngling had no idea how hard the effort of sparing his life had actually been for Vader. And yet, despite his act of mercy, the boy still had the audacity to accuse him of murdering that worthless piece of filth Zabrak.

"Master Koth indeed..." Vader snorted. Koth's earlier admission to using the three younglings as bait during their battle on Kashyyyk came to mind. He had truly despised the former Zabrak Council member back when he was still a Jedi. And now, as a Sith... just the mention of his name had his blood simmering to almost boiling point. Infuriated by the thought, Vader whirled on his heel and turned to leave.

"Return the Jedi to their cell!" he yelled, his robotic voice booming through the vocoder. "Perhaps then... they might learn some respect."

• • •

Pacing up and down the destroyer's passageways, Vader hunted for a way to work out his raging fury. He had no patience for anything or anyone—especially not with the throbbing pound constantly beating inside his head. That Jedi youngling had no idea how close to death he had come just now. Nor how hard Vader had needed to fight his own selfish desire to destroy him. If it hadn't been for the agreement he'd made with Obi-wan to keep his own children safe, the boy would be dead.

Fists squeezed tight at his thighs, he stopped rigid and jerked to glower back up the passage. In-fact... he should go back there and kill him. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith, hunting and killing Jedi was his primary mandate. And if his Master somehow caught wind of his sudden moment of weakness, he would most assuredly beat him.

His Master... the chilling thought set his teeth on edge. The fresh cuts and bruises along his flesh arm burned and throbbed within his sleeve, the pain dredging up the agonizing memories of his most recent torture. Vader rubbed his arm through the suit, then moved to lean the bulk of his bodyweight against the wall. His heart began to race, as memories flashed before his eyes:

The purple serum. His master violently slamming his hand down on his arm. The broken cabinet. And the shards of red glass from the holocrons he'd smashed when he'd fallen to the floor.

And again... there was Obi-wan.

Pain screamed inside his head, as he again fought to remember what had transpired at the palace. Because now he knew... simply by the fact he could no longer remember... that something big must have happened. His Master had done this before, erased some small piece of his memory because it had ultimately affected his plans somehow. Although, unlike before, Vader now had his own secrets. And the thought that his Master may have successfully uncovered said secrets, made him even the more angry. Because, his secrets were not about insignificant little things, like "finding the key to immortality", or "creating a dyad", or even the ridiculous single-minded pursuit of "total galactic domination". No. His secrets were far, far more important than any of that.

His secrets were about his family. And if those two precious and innocent little secrets got out...

Vader's fury skyrocketed, and a sharp burning stab suddenly lanced at his abdomen inside the suit. He growled and grabbed for his ribs. The burning pain grew stronger, then stronger. And with each racing beat of his heart, he felt the toxic‐serum spread into his bloodstream, then pump mercilessly around and throughout the rest of his entire body.

And all he could do was endure it.

Bracing his hand to the wall, Vader gradually staggered up the corridor; his vision blurring, his focus growing darker and darker by the second. In the distance, he heard a pair of voices echo from up the passage. Then, panicked, he pushed himself harder, felt along the cladded wall for a door or room to disappear into while he regained his strength. He couldn't be seen to be showing signs of weakness aboard his own star destroyer, not now, not with the Inquisitors temporarily stationed on board. The voices grew louder, closer. And after three more staggered steps, he stopped, felt his gloved fingers hit the raised edges of a security panel. Mustering his focus, Vader felt for the keypad, then used the Force to help him enter–in his own personal code-clearance.

The blast door slid open, and he quickly stumbled inside and secured it behind him.

The very instant the door closed, a gurgled cough sounded from somewhere at Vader's back, and he turned around. Only to see the broken body of the former Zabrak Master—Eeth Koth—bound and tied to a chair in the middle of the interrogation room. The filthy Zabrak groaned and coughed again, then raised his ugly horned-head to stare at him.

"I was wondering... when you would come back to finish the job," Eeth Koth croaked, pausing to spit a glob of blood from his mouth.

Drawing deeply on the Force, Vader used its power to push from the wall and straighten to his full height. "You should think yourself lucky... Master Koth," he growled, clenching his teeth. "If it were up to me—I would have taken your horned-head—and left your broken corpse to wither and rot in that cave—back on Kashyyyk."

Koth laughed, then choked on his own spittle. "You... have such a way with words, Lord Vader," he taunted. "One could almost be fooled, into believing there was a human being inside that helmet."

Vader cocked his head and glowered at the restrained Zabrak, the sound of his own breathing suddenly too loud inside his helmet. Anger painted his vision red, and without thinking he thrust his hand forward, seized hold of the Zabrak's neck with the Force... and squeezed.

"You... Dare mock me, Jedi?" Vader roared, his extended hand trembling with rage. "When Iam what stands between you—and death. Perhaps, I should go find your wife–Mira–instead. Maybe then, your wit will not be so quick."

A strangled scream tore from the Zabrak's mouth, and Vader sneered victoriously inside the mask, knowing full well that he'd won. He held the former Jedi's neck a moment longer, then released his hold, and watched him sputter as the rush of oxygen flooded back down his crushed throat.

Vader went to taunt Eeth Koth again, when a sudden beeping sound abruptly rang from his wrist-com. He turned his back to the Jedi, raised his gauntleted wrist to check the call sign, then tapped at his comm to accept. "Yes, Grand Inquisitor. What is it?"

"Lord Vader. We are awaiting you in the conference room as instructed," the Grand Inquisitor said. "Unless, of course, you would prefer to reschedule our briefing to a later date."

Clenching his teeth again, he growled into his comm. "No. That will not be necessary. I will be at the conference room—momentarily." Then, without so much as sparing the Zabrak a second glance, he strode for the door, left the interrogation room, and went to attend to the assembled Inquisitors.

YAVIN 4: MASSASSI HEADQUARTERS: MED-CENTRE

Ferus and Caleb led Padmé and Ahsoka into the base's medical facility. The theatre was surprisingly more advanced than Padmé had expected. There were eight specialised cubicles built into the main wall, and ten more beds rowed up in the centre, each with their own computerised medical monitors and breathing devices. Droids and medical staff shuffled between the different supply cabinets and stations, checking inventory levels and tending to the two patients presently in their care.

Padmé glanced between the two patients. One, a young Zabrak woman, who appeared to be heavily pregnant. And the other, a young dark-haired boy—not more than nineteen years old—with bandages wrapped around his forehead. She stared curiously at the pregnant Zabrak, noticed the pallid tone of the woman's skin, and the sunken crevices surrounding her unusually steep cheekbones. There was a young girl asleep on the bed beside her—roughly six years of age, with a beautiful head of thick, curly black hair. And Padmé caught herself wondering if this Zabrak was the pregnant wife of the Jedi Bail had previously been telling her about.

"Are you alright, Padmé?" Ahsoka whispered, interrupting her thoughts. "You don't seem yourself."

Warily looking to the togruta, Padmé frowned then returned her attention to the Zabrak. "Sometimes, people are forced to change who they are in order to compete with their surroundings, Ahsoka," Padmé said, her voice little-more than a whisper and being careful to choose her words wisely. "What may not seem usual to you, is perhaps normal to everyone else."

The young togruta grabbed for Padmé's arm and roughly pulled her to a stop. "Only, I know you, Padmé," Ahsoka insisted, still keeping her voice low. "And this..." —She gestured a hand toward Padmé's dark outfit, briefly paused and hesitated over her swollen stomach, then raised a discerning brow— "And I know... this isn't you. Something happened to you, didn't it? You didn't die as everyone believed after your funeral. But there was... something else..." Ahsoka let her words trail off, and Padmé felt the same tingling feeling she usually experienced whenever Anakin had reached out with the Force toward their unborn child.

Scowling, Padmé aggressively slapped the togruta's Force-sensitive hand away from her small bump. "Leave it alone, Ahsoka," she hissed, making her stern warning abundantly clear. "I already told you... Circumstances change. Things change. Even people... change."

Ahsoka frowned, folded her arms, then half-turned away and huffed. "I know you're hiding something, Padmé... and you can't hide it forever."

Knowing she had to stop this before someone else noticed, Padmé closed the distance between her and the togruta, then leaned-in close to stare determinedly into her accusing blue eyes. "Perhaps... the reason I am fighting so hard to hide this from you, Ahsoka..." she whispered between gritted teeth, "Is because... It must remain hidden. From everyone. Until the time is right."

The togruta suffocated a gasp, but made no attempt to respond.

And, with that, Padmé straightened, deliberately brushed her palms down the front of her ebony cloak... then turned away; needing to distance herself from the all-seeing eyes of her Sith husband's former Jedi padawan. No sooner had she taken two steps toward her oblivious Jedi tour-guides, then she stopped and turned around, hearing a familiar male voice call out to her from the distance.

"Padmé, they told me I could find you in here."

"Bail..." Padmé said, briefly meeting Ahsoka's questioning gaze, then shifting her attention to the Alderaanian steadily crossing the medical facility behind her. "I take it you're finished with your urgent meeting with High Command then?"

The Viceroy stopped alongside Ahsoka, and quietly chuckled. "Yes, I am. Well, for now at least." He looked between her and Ahsoka, seemed to pick up on the sudden tension between them and folded his arms. "By the way, that reminds me. Padmé, your Captain contacted the Command centre earlier, and I advised her that she could bring the rest of your team inside. Apparently one of your handmaidens is injured and needs medical attention."

Padmé nodded graciously to the Viceroy. "Thank you for doing that, Bail. I was about to contact them myself."

"Of course, m'lady." He looked between her and Ahsoka again, seemed to try and assess the current climate, then continued. "Now, if you and Ahsoka aren't too busy—there is someone here I would like you to meet."

"Actually... I think I might sit this one out," Ahsoka said, shooting a cautious glance to Padmé over her shoulder. "Rex and I have been through quite a lot lately, and I thought it would be nice for us to go for a walk and catch up. You know... without needing to look over our shoulders all the time."

Bail nodded. "I understand exactly what you mean. But don't forget about dinner tonight—you aren't getting off the hook that easily."

Ahsoka laughed and shook her head. "I wouldn't dream of it. Now, if you'll both please excuse me. I have—"

"Ahsoka, wait..." Padmé quickly interrupted before she could finish, feeling guilty for the way she had spoken to her before. "About... what I said earlier... I'm—"

The togruta smiled knowingly then put her gauntleted hand up to silence her. "I know... it's alright Padmé. When you're ready to talk... Well, you know where to find me."

Padmé did her best to smile and respectfully bowed her head. "Thank you, Ahsoka."

When all their goodbyes were done, the togruta soon left the medical facility in the company of the two Jedi, leaving Padmé alone with Senator Bail Organa. The Senator gently put his arm around Padmé's shoulder, and guided her across the theatre to the pregnant Zabrak and small girl currently occupying one of the facility's private cubicles. He stopped just short of the two patients, and turned his back to them in order to address Padmé privately.

"I didn't know who else to ask, Padmé," Bail whispered, his previously warm and cheery expression, now one of concern. "She refuses to eat, suffers from horrific nightmares and screams out constantly during the night." He sighed then glanced over his shoulder to the cubicle. "I haven't exactly got a Jedi healer, or Council member available to consult with about this. And with your... please, forgive me for saying this... more personal experience with carrying a Jedi's children, I thought you might just be able to help her."

Padmé sighed, peered past Bail to the Zabrak in the cubicle, then instinctively clasped her hands over her own growing belly. "She doesn't look very well," she whispered. "What is her name?"

Bail looked to his clasped hands and started to fiddle with his fingers. "Her name is Mira. And she is the wife of the former Zabrak Jedi Council member: Eeth Koth." He looked from his fingers back to the cubicle, smiled adoringly. "And the beautiful young girl you see sleeping beside her, is Tileeni. She's the only Jedi we know, to have survived Darth Vader's rampage on Kashyyyk."

She purposely ignored the Senator's move to strike at her husband. Instead, choosing to place the blame for this youngling's condition back onto her supposed guardians. "But she looks so young, Bail," Padmé said. "How could anyone in their right mind, let a child that young go up against someone like Lord Vader?"

"I asked myself the same question when I saw her, too," said Bail. "But whatever Vader did to her, has done damage. Tileeni is deeply traumatised. She has refused to speak a word to anyone since leaving Kashyyyk."

"Perhaps it's more the experience of battle itself that is to blame," Padmé countered, once again moving to deflect the blame away from Anakin. "Jedi, or not... A child that young should never have been exposed to such violent hostilities. Their minds just aren't equipped to process it." She sighed heavily, then tapped the Viceroy on the arm. "I promise, I will do whatever I can to help them."

STAR DESTROYER EXACTOR: HYPERSPACE

The Inquisitors were restless. Disquiet thronged amidst their ranks. Vader observed them, both with his eyes and through the Force. Unbeknownst to the Inquisitors, he had decided to relocate their base of operations from Coruscant to Dromund Kaas. Close to him. To somewhere, where he could keep a watchful eye on them at all times. His Master had washed his hands of the Inquisitors, no longer interested in the mundane day-to-day operation of their secretive organisation. He had recruited and assembled them—his job was done. The management and training of the Inquisitorious, he'd then left to Vader.

Vader stood statuesque at the head of the conference room. The throb in his head still pounding. The seething magnitude of his anger—a weight so palpable—it hung dark over the Inquisitors like a storm. He listened to them bicker, each one fighting to assert dominance over the other.

"We are being permanently relocated?" the second sister asked, her angered tone poorly veiling her rising confusion. "But, Grand Inquisitor... What about the Emperor?"

Vader turned then. "The Emperor... has wiped his hands of you," he bluntly intoned. "As of now—All communications are to go directly... through me."

"Where are we going, my lord?" the fifth brother asked, the angled form of his dark headgear turned to regard Vader at the head of the long conference table.

"The Inquisitorious is to be relocated to Kaas City. An ancient Sith municipality. Hidden in the Outer-rim," Vader explained. "There... you will monitor for Jedi activity. And report all findings to me."

The Grand Inquisitor moved from his position down the far length of the table, to stand obediently on Vader's right. "All classified information has been transferred in preparation for our arrival," said the Grand Inquisitor. "Including that of the database originally sourced from the Temple Archives. We will eat, train, work, and reside within this new base. Venturing outside the main compound is strictly forbidden."

Vader folded his arms below his chest plate, then issued a stern warning to the group. "Those of whom are caught wandering... will answer to me. Personally." He paused to allow his threat to sink in, and a nervous silence fell over the room; the deafening quiet only interrupted by the distant thrum of the Exactor's hyperdrive, and the constant monotonous rasp of his own breathing.

Relocating the Inquisitorious to Dromund Kaas was risky, he already knew this. But leaving them at the immediate disposal of his Master was potentially far worse. If he could manage to keep them contained within the walls of the Sith Academy on the opposing side of the city, he would be able to keep them close, without risking the exposure of his own plans and family. It also meant, he would then have the ability to monitor their movements... and redirect them if necessary.

Abruptly, a loud chirp from his wrist-com jerked him from his thoughts. He raised his wrist, brought the comm up to his mask to see who was calling...

And froze.

Padmé.

YAVIN 4: MASSASSI HEADQUARTERS: MED-CENTRE

Hiding behind an empty bacta tank, in what appeared to be some kind of isolation chamber she'd found connected to the main medical centre, Padmé held her breath, watching on nervously as the gauntleted wrist-com Anakin had given her continued to ring.

"Come on, Anakin..." Padmé said, as if calling to him out loud would somehow make him answer. "I need to talk to you. Please... Pick–up."

The comm continued to ring... then finally, rang off; failing to make the connection. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel its violent pulse begin to throb within her throat. She needed to settle her nerves. Taking a deep breath, she slumped back against the empty tank and stared at the comm.

There was no doubt Anakin would be upset with her for leaving. She'd known that the very instant she'd gotten out of bed, and slipped from his suite while he was still sleeping. But... was it possible she might have pushed him too far this time? Was this now him refusing to speak to her as a result?

When he was still a Jedi, she'd found ways to skirt around his anger, even managed to diffuse it at times. But now, as a Sith, his emotional outbursts were volatile and unpredictable. And he would often shut-down and disappear behind his anger, making it near-on impossible for her to reach him.

Was that what was happening now? She could try calling him again, but would he even answer?

And worse still, if he did answer... how bad was his reaction going to be?

Thinking she'd heard someone coming, Padmé jerked forward and looked to the door. But it was nothing, just her paranoid mind playing tricks on her. She shook her head, wiped at the tears that had apparently decided to fall down her cheeks, and pushed away from the bacta tank. No. He was her husband. She would call him again. And Force help him if he didn't answer this time. Padmé keyed Anakin's private frequency into the comm... and again, she waited.

Ten agonisingly–long seconds later, he finally answered. And Padmé was greeted by the menacingly silent, full-bodied holo-projection of Darth Vader. Helmet, and all.

"Anakin... Where have you been?" she asked. "I've been calling for ages."

At first he didn't respond. Just stood there and stared at her, his respirator rasping and hissing, his arms tightly folded below that flashing box on his chest.

"Are you alright? Can you hear me?" she asked again. Then wondered if their connection was stable enough for him to even hear what she was saying.

"I heard you," Vaderfinally answered..

The sudden and unexpected chill in his voice caught Padmé off guard. Even through the mask, she could hear he was grinding his teeth. She quickly pushed down her nerves and forced herself to continue. "I've been trying to reach you for ages. Why weren't you answering?"

"What do you want?"

Stunned, Padmé closed her mouth and stared at him. He'd been cold with her before, but not like this. Never like this. "Ani, please... is everything alright? Are you hurt?"

A low rumbling growl echoed from him across the comm, and his posture stiffened before her eyes. "I am not interested in conversation... What do you want?"

A solid ball of dread swelled inside Padmé's stomach at his refusal to answer. She didn't dare ask him again. If she did, he would just hang–up and not answer her calls. No, it was probably best for her to just come straight out with it and ask, before he got tired of waiting.

"This is your last chance. I will not... ask again."

He wouldn't even speak her name. Padmé sucked in a breath, blinked back the tears threatening to fall. "I—I wanted to ask you, about the Jedi you encountered on Kashyyyk."

"What about them?"

Padmé swallowed, and tried not to choke on her next question. "Did you... Kill them?"

Another angered growl echoed over the comm, and she wondered if this was it. Was this the question that would push him into ending their call?

"Why?"

"Well... I was wondering if one of them was a Zabrak."

Anakin obviously had the holo-cam positioned on the floor, because he soon uncrossed his arms then turned his back to her. And for the briefest of moments, she saw him working his fists; slowly and purposefully clenching, then unclenching them at his sides.

"Anakin, please..."

He growled again, but this time it was different. Not quite a threat, but—

"You would know... If you had done as I asked... And returned to my ship." Then, he jerked around, whirled on the holo-cam and went to jab his gloved finger at her. "Instead—You chose the rebellion. You chose Organa. Over. Me."

"No, Ani... please. It's not like that, I swear—"

"Go ask Organa. Perhaps he... can enlighten you."

Tears welled in her eyes at the clear and absolute venom present in his voice, and the sound made her heart leap into her throat. "Ani, No. Wait! Please..." she pleaded. But it was no use. With a flicker of static, his image faded... and he was gone.