Looky here! An update!
Chapter 2
"Now entering Cell Block 47A, Maximum Security."
The smooth artificial voice offers little in the way of assurance to the lone Republic officer as he continues deeper into the stronghold. Heart pounding, he can only mange a shaky smile of relief at the sight of further help in the form of Republic Guardsmen, each armed to the teeth in anticipation of fulfilling their next duty.
Transferring the Galaxy's most feared and dangerous being halfway across the galaxy.
"Commander Dallows," the lead figure tips his head respectfully, duty-chipped armor glinting in the sterile light of the hallway as the small squad falls into step around the slight form of the officer, "I take it you are the one carrying orders for His Lordship's removal?"
"That I am," the short officer nods before meeting the eyes of his taller counterpart and extending a datapad, Aurebesh characters shining brightly as they relay instructions for containment and transport of the prisoner.
"Kriff," the guardsman breathes, shaking his head and passing the pad back, "You're sure this is enough to contain him, Dallows? Six X-Wings, and an armored transport? The Dark Lord has destroyed more with just a thought."
Smiling sadly, the young officer offers a weak shrug in return, remembering all too well the atrocities committed by the one they had orders to protect.
"Do try to keep your mens' morale up, my friend. I have faith in Jedi Skywalker's abilities."
"Approaching Cell Block D6, Key Card required." The artificial and unseen voice cuts through the muttered conversation, blocking their path with several scarlet ray shields.
Nodding in response to the voice, the burly Captain drops a hand to one of the containers adorning his sturdy belt at his hip before removing the required key from it and waving the thin card over a sensor, granting them access to the truly dangerous levels of the Citadel.
"I still don't trust any of those weird monks..." He mutters, looking at the slight Dallows, ray shields vanishing with an almost ominous hiss.
I'll never understand what he sees in Jedi...
Mulling on the thought, the Captain almost fails to detect the drop in air temperature as a great black door comes into view at the end of the hallway. The small group freezes in their tracks, cold shivers running up their spines in a momentarily crippling wave of apprehension at the sight of burnished black panels. Looking almost to be edged with a malevolent frost amidst the heat of the Citadel, the mere sight of the door serves to unsettle all within range of its frozen aura.
"Good Hell..." A younger guardsman mutters, eyes widening at the sight before them. One could almost see the thought of 'What have I gotten myself into?' Running across his features, clean shaven face shining with clinging moisture from the mixture of oppressive heat at his back, and deathly cold wafting from the chamber beyond. Around him, several others could be heard swallowing thickly in realization of the true caliber of their high priority assignment.
A moment of silence passes...
Two...
Three.
The air laden with unspoken tension, it is the officer that finally speaks up.
"Alright, Gentlemen... How about we get this done and over with? Captain, if you please... Open the door."
Dipping his head solemnly, the head guardsman approaches the console on the wall, and slowly, deliberately, he lays his palm on the scanner.
In the midst of the deathly silence, the sound of the great door's unsealing is akin to a thunderclap, storm continuing to churn as the panels slide open, revealing the frozen darkness beyond. Taking a tentative step forward, the small officer is almost immediately swallowed by the seemingly sentient shadows, an icy mist roiling out from the doorway in his wake. Before a single further move could be made by the accompanying squad, however; the portal slammed shut with finality… As if sealing the gates of Hell behind the damned.
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
In this world of frozen solitude… I am completely alone… Mind, body and soul as my breath rattles throughout the chamber.
Sheathed in thick leather and cybernetics, I am well protected from the cold that seeps to the very core of everything else within this place. It is in this state, they had thought to keep me dormant.
If only they knew how little I cared anymore…
Suddenly, a shaft of brilliant light slices through the darkness, and to my surprise… A slight figure enters, cold mists wafting about his ankles with the slamming of the great door behind him.
"Lord Vader," the man enunciates, tension underlying his tone as he comes to a stop before me. Eyes sliding up the thick durasteel sarcophagus that bound me from the 'chin' of my mask all the way to the floor, the officer swallows quietly, meeting my shaded gaze. Parting his lips with the slightest of sounds, he continues: "You have been chartered for transfer by order of Chief of State, Mon Mothma, for probationary hearings regarding your life sentence."
Regarding him silently, I dip my head in understanding. And almost… In permission, to the slight figure. Answering with a curt nod, brilliant light bathes him once again, a small contingent of guardsmen filing in seamlessly and united at his back.
"As of now, we are heading to the Galactic Core…" The Commander explains, now emboldened by the force behind him, "You would be best off not causing trouble."
"Why, Commander," I begin, tipping my head almost teasingly as the guards activate repulsorlifts in my container, causing it to rotate backwards, levitating a meter or so off the ground. "You believe me capable of anything, bound like this?"
I wouldn't put it past him. The thought ripples to my attention from the Commander as the contingent passes through the icy doorway, their unit surrounding the durasteel container on all sides in a seamless escort.
The passage from my cell into the central hallway is akin to the difference between night and day. Warm air washes over us all, contesting the freezing eminence from my pod the further we trek.
Having been isolated in that freezer for… For a year now, I suppose? I had almost forgotten what the world looked like without a layer of frost on my lenses. Ice turning to droplets, however, leaves me wishing I could shake my head freely… Lift a hand to wipe my vision clear.. Something to rid myself of the condensation that muddles my restricted view of the world.
With crisp and echoing steps, the Republic Guardsmen are a force to be reckoned with. Powerful and immoveable, they are the image of perfection when one thinks of something to oppose and restrain someone so dangerous as the Dark Lord himself.
They were not beings to be messed with.
Howls and shrieks of derision and aggression from other prisoners on each successive level between the innermost chambers of the Citadel and the transfer bay fall silent at their approach. Feral snarls are reduced to fearful whispers at the sight of the cadre, face of Death itself visible in flashes between the armored bodies, and prison bars to the inmates.
Ever still… Ever neutral… The mask of Lord Vader has always sent one of many messages to those with the misfortune to rest their eyes upon its austere lines.
Death does not wait.
Death does not care.
Death will come when it sees fit, no matter your mortal pleas.
And it was with this message, the Dark Lord quelled their squabbles, silenced their screams and cries for mercy.
Beady eyes glisten from the shadows of the hallway cells, breaths taken sparingly as the most feared being in the known galaxy was escorted past each block on the way out of the Citadel.
Finally, the silent cells are left behind, and the landing pad greets them with heavy artillery and personnel at the ready, orange-suited pilots nestled in their X-Wings and anticipating orders from their leader.
One who just happens to be none other than the Hero of the Rebellion—now known as the New Republic— Luke Skywalker himself.
"Knight Skywalker," Dallows offers a slight not in greeting, offering a firm handshake, "Glad to have you on this mission."
Smiling in return, the young pilot returns the gesture in the floodlights of the landing pad.
"Glad to have been assigned, Commander."
And on that note of agreement, he falls into step beside the Republic officer, observing as the Republic Guardsmen guide the containment unit up a ramp and into the armored transport.
Luke.
At the presence of my son, my heart flutters, sending me to crane my neck, and curse my ebon helm as its iconic shape prevents me from turning enough to meet his gaze.
'Father.'
The soft response to my timid call comes as a surprise, leading my mind back to the last time we had called to one another through the energies of the Force…
Bespin…
'Luke.'
'Father.'
'Son, come with me… It is your destiny.'
Oh, what a fool I'd been..
Sighing to myself in defeat, I shake my head beneath the mask, imperceptible to those on the outside.
'Father… I'm sorry it has to be like this.' Luke's soft mental voice returns, his orange-clad figure only visible to me as the guards turn my container upon entering the shuttle.
Unbidden, two words rise as my reply, ramp raising to cut off our briefly shared look.
'Don't be.'
A deliberate thud marks the sealing of the ship, and with it… That of Darth Vader.
To the eyes of the Republic anyway.
Dropping his gaze, the young Jedi parts ways from the shuttle, wasting no time in clambering aboard his ship.
If only you weren't so stubborn… Shaking his head a final time, the younger Skywalker straps himself into the cockpit, priming engines and preparing for takeoff.
"Rogue Squadron," the smooth voice of Commander Dallows crackles across the comm channel, "This is Black Falcon, we are lifting off now. Stay in formation and stay alert. We may be in Republic space, but considering our cargo… No chances must be taken."
"Copy that, Black Falcon," a chorus of voices responds to the instruction, each member of Rogue Squadron sealing hatches and following the heavy transport without so much as the slightest of pauses in movement. "Rogue Squadron at the ready."
Without show or flair, the convoy of seven rises from the atmosphere, engines shining like scarlet stars amidst the darkness of the broken and sulfurous planet behind them.
Now surrounded by the vacuum of space, Luke moves into his position covering the right flank of the transport. Sparing a glance at it, he considers the great black and silver bulk.
"Sure spent a lot of time thinking of the name, I bet."
Turning away from the utilitarian ship at a chirp of sound, the pilot couldn't help but smile at his snarky droid's comment.
"Come now, Artoo, it's not like they get paid for creativity."
"So?"
Before the young man can respond in turn, Commander Dallows comes on the comm once again.
"Black Falcon to Rogue Squadron, we are preparing for hyperspace jump in five… Four… Three.." The Commander continues, counting down in preparation.
At the vocalizing of 'One' the seven ships vanish from sight, sucked into the cerulean swirl of hyperspace.
It is interesting to note how fast hyperspace travel can feel when bound in durasteel clamps, for it seemed as if we had been traveling mere minutes when things took a most… Peculiar turn.
"Captain, why have we stopped?" The gruff voice of a concerned guardsmen reaches my ears.
"I don't know," the leader shakes his head, slowly standing, "Another jump was not scheduled for another twenty minutes…"
Having reached out into the flow of the Force in curiosity, my eyes widen.
Of all things…
"Excuse me, Gentlemen," I rumble, reminding them of my existence, "But I do believe you may have a predicament awaiting you outside."