Darth Vader stood frozen in disbelief.
He successfully escaped a cell, overpowered numerous guards, and guided a mildly infirm prisoner into a stolen ship and subsequently evaded pursuing craft and went into hyperspace.
An accomplished pilot.
Claimed to be the son of Darth Vader.
Almost forlornly, he stretched out his Force sense as far as he could, to no avail. Luke was, of course, long gone.
There was a long moment of silence.
Vader's aide spoke, "You should have executed him immediately for daring to say such a thing!"
Doctor Kast spoke up nervously, "I assure you, my Lord, there was no disrespect intended to you. These kinds of mental disorders provide useful information about other psychiatric aberrations. The subject would have been disposed of at the proper time…"
Vader almost snarled at the words "disposed of", but shook it off. It was not important now.
"Doctor," he snapped suddenly, causing everyone else to flinch, "Did you record your initial examination of this so called Palisti?"
Kast, if possible, looked even more anxious. "Yes, my Lord. I also have a written report of my initial thoughts on the subject. If you are curious, I can send them to your aide…"
"No, I want to see the recording, immediately."
Kast opened his mouth as if to protest, then thought better of it. He padded miserably off to a nearby terminal and quickly brought up the file in question. Fearfully, he started the recording.
Darth Vader stepped forward eagerly, every iota of his being focused on the screen.
Kast looked down. He was a dead man now, no doubt about it. He groaned inwardly, his mind going back to the interview in question. He devoutly wished that he had never laid eyes on the man known as Kamton Palisti.
46 hours earlier
High security patient room in main psychiatric hospital in Pentz, capitol city of Champala
Preliminary analysis of the patient known as Kamton Palisti by Doctor Solon Kast
Dr. Kast stepped confidently into the room and thoughtfully considered his patient. Palisti, or whoever he was, was sitting on a large padded chair with arms and legs secured. Kast had deliberately ordered the patient be restrained a full hour earlier, as he had found most men were loquacious after being strapped to a chair, alone, for a period of time.
Palisti did not disappoint.
"Who are you, and what am I doing here? Why have you got me strapped to this chair like some kind of criminal? What's going on?"
Palisti did not immediately answer, but instead proceeded to a nearby storage cube and began removing sensors. These, when attached to various points on the patient's body, would provide biofeedback which would enable him to know when the patient was lying.
As he placed the sensors on the patient's forehead, neck, and arms, he looked at Palisti carefully. He was not particularly tall for a human, but was obviously in good physical condition. His hair was short and very dark, rather at odds with his blue eyes. He was young, probably in his early 20's, but had some minor scarring on his face. His hands-well, this was interesting. His left hand was calloused as would be expected for an individual who worked manual labor. His right hand…
For the first time, Kast spoke to his patient, "Your right hand is a prosthetic!"
Palisti looked straight into his eyes, "That is not important."
Kast considered this, then repeated, "That is not important."
Kast turned around and moved to the window. His brain felt suddenly rather foggy. What was he doing? Oh yes, checking this patient for Malintis Syndrome.
He took a deep breath, and turned back to the patient, who was gazing at him watchfully.
Kast pulled a chair over and sat down next to the terminal. He would of course record this for analysis later, but it was helpful to monitor the truth detection to help him in his questioning of the subject.
"What is your name?" he asked the subject, without looking at him.
"Kamton Palisti. What's yours? " 'Palisti' replied.
Kast nodded slightly. The detector indicated this was a lie.
He turned and stared at the man (he would think of him as Palisti, for now) directly, "I am Doctor Kast. And I need you to tell me your real name."
Palisti shook his head.
"My name is Kamton Palisti," he repeatedly doggedly.
Kast sighed. He was a busy man and he could sense this patient was going to be difficult. He stood up and retrieved a syringe from another storage cube. He injected the truth drug into the patient's arm. (At least the patient didn't resist. That indicated some rationality.)
Kast went back to the terminal and entered in some more descriptive information about the patient. (There was something about his hand, wasn't there? No, that wasn't important.)
After five minutes, he turned back to the patient.
"What is your name?" Kast asked.
There was a pause, and then the patient shook his head, "I can't tell you my name."
Kast was impressed. Very few patients could resist the truth drug. He could try physical 'encouragement', but that probably wasn't necessary.
"Why can't you tell me?" he said, deliberately speaking in a soothing tone.
There was a long pause, while Palisti looked around the room.
Finally, he said softly, "If I tell you, he'll find me."
Palisti hid a smile. Now they were getting somewhere.
"Who will find you?" he continued in a tone suited for small children and timid narglatch cubs.
There was again a long pause.
"Do you promise you won't tell him?"
Palisti responded soothingly, "I won't tell anyone. I'm a doctor, and I'm here to care for you. There is nothing to fear."
Kast closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Finally, he spoke quickly, "My father. My father will find me if I tell you my name."
Kast hid a pleased smile. Step one completed.
"I promise you I won't tell your father," he continued, "Nor do you need to be afraid. He can't find you here and even if he did, I would not allow him to remove you from this facility while you still need care."
The patient (prisoner) gave a harsh chuckle.
"You couldn't stop him. He has more power than you can imagine and he'd tear this planet apart to find me."
Kast turned back to the terminal to allow his face time to smooth into neutral calmness. This was very interesting.
He typed a few notes into the terminal, then turned back deliberately.
"So you and your father are on poor terms?" he probed delicately.
Palisti looked down, a look of pain crossing his face.
"You could say that," he said softly.
"What is the source of the problem?" Kast continued.
Palisti looked straight at him.
"Why do you care? What does this have to do anything? Why are you asking me these questions? Do you think I'm crazy or something? My father is powerful and he's after me. I can't be found here by him."
Kast had had enough, "Who is your father?"
Palisti looked away. The long silence stretched for 2 long minutes.
Kast sighed, "Very well. We'll have to pull all your biological data and put it out on the medical and intelligence sites. We'll likely have your true name within 24 hours. You will not be allowed to leave before that. If indeed your father is as powerful as you say he is, you can expect him shortly after we establish your identity."
He stood up as if to leave, and the prisoner sat up and shifted frantically, straining against his bonds.
"No, don't do that!"
Kast stepped close and grabbed his prisoner's chin, forcing it up, "Then tell me your father's name. Now."
Another few seconds, and Palisti's eyes shifted down to avoid Kast's glare.
Then, "Darth Vader," he murmured.
Kast actually gasped. He had long schooled himself not to react to the most insane remarks of his patients, but this was one of the most surprising he'd ever heard.
"Lord Darth Vader is your father?" he restated carefully.
"Yes, he is," Palisti said intently, "And he wants to throw me in a cell, or he might even decide to just kill me. You won't tell him, will you?"
"No, I won't tell him," Kast responded automatically. He moved back over to the terminal. The truth monitors showed that the patient was telling the truth! Or his version of the truth, anyway. He glanced again at Palisti. This young man really, profoundly believed that Darth Vader was his father! He was filled with a sudden jolt of professional glee. This case would be the bulwark of his chapter on Malintis Sydrome.
Or perhaps not. He really couldn't mention Vader, could he? He didn't know much about the Dark Lord of the Sith, but everyone knew he was…touchy. He probably wouldn't appreciate his name being linked in any way with an insane migrant. Well, he'd just have to disguise the situation.
For now, he needed more information.
He turned back to Palisti.
"So, if Darth Vader is your father, who is your mother?"
Palisti looked down, "I don't have any idea. I was raised by a couple of farmers who said they didn't know who she was. I hope he loved her, but it seems more likely it was a fling. Hard to imagine him actually loving someone, isn't it?"
Yes, it was, Kast thought. How had this man come up with this bizarre scenario? Yes, this was symptomatic of Malintis, but why Vader? Why not someone with a more pleasant reputation? Obviously Palisti feared Vader. Was that the key?
"So, did you grow up with your father?" Kast asked carefully.
"No, of course not!" Palisti said with a disdainful look, "I told you that I was raised by a couple of farmers, and not wealthy ones. I called them my aunt and uncle, but I don't know if we were actually related. They are dead now. "
"But they told you Darth Vader was your father?" Kast persevered.
"No, they told me he was a navigator on a spice freighter who died before I was born! Obviously they just made up a story to placate my interest about him."
Doctor Kast considered quickly. This was at least symptomatic – a young man, orphaned, raised in what sounded like dreary circumstances. Obviously, at some point he had a break with reality and his psyche came up with Vader as a more exciting father, though again, why Vader? And why the persecution complex?
Kast looked again at the truth monitors. Everything was checking out. So far, this patient was telling what he believed to be true, except for his name.
He decided to do a quick test. He held up 2 fingers.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" he demanded.
Palisti looked at him incredulously, "Why are you asking me that? This is a waste of time!"
Kast sighed, "Listen, the longer you delay answering my questions, the longer it will take to process you and get you out of here. So just cooperate."
"2," Palisti replied sullenly.
"All right, this time, when I hold up my fingers, deliberately choose the wrong answer. So if I hold up 3, say 1 or 5 or something. Do you understand?"
The patient seemed moderately intelligent, but any man who imagined Darth Vader to be his father was obviously short a few power cells.
"I understand," Palisti huffed indignantly.
Kast held up 4 fingers.
"2," Palisti said resignedly.
Kast looked over at the truth monitor. The latter reply showed a clear lie, the former reply was the truth. So the truth monitor was indeed working. Wonderful.
"So, who told you Lord Vader is your father?" Kast continued.
Again, a painfully long pause. Finally Palisti said, "He did."
Kast blinked. The patient thought he had actually communicated directly with Lord Vader? Fascinating!
"And when was this?"
"About a year ago," Palisti said quietly.
"So how did it happen that you and he met? He is, as you said, a powerful man. Did he invite you to visit him?"
Kast kept a close eye on the truth sensor. Usually a patient with Malintis would show some uncertainty during close questioning like this. Most individuals knew subconsciously that their internal life story was false, though their conscious mind would reject the actual truth because the real truth was too painful for them to bear.
Palisti again looked pained, "He was … hosting…I guess you could say, some friends of mine. I was invited to come as well, and we talked then."
The truth monitor seemed a bit confused about this statement. It seemed to show both truth and falsehood in that statement. Likely a sign of Palisti's subconscious rejection of the story.
"So when you met, he told you he was your father…"
"No, first we fought. I loathed everything about him at the time. I didn't know he was my father. I hated his policies and his actions and everything he did. I had no idea…"
The patient's biometrics showed increased heart rate at this point.
Kast was delighted that he had cancelled all his appointments for the day. Palisti was the mental patient equivalent of finding tydirium ore in a dust heap. He apparently had successfully combined something (Hatred of authority, perhaps? What was that adoptive uncle like?) with his father hunger. Amazing.
"But eventually he told you that you were his son, is that correct?" Kast asked.
Again, Palisti looked away.
"Yes," he finally said in a subdued tone.
"And what did your…father…want you to do?"
Palisti sighed, "Oh, you know, join him. Work for him. Whatever you want to call it. Leave my misdirected life and do something grand and purposeful with my existence."
Kast lifted an eyebrow, "And what did you say?"
Palisti looked down and said quietly, "I said no."
"And why did you do that? He is, as you said, a powerful man – and a rich one. Why would you deny the opportunity to take your place at his side?"
Kast kept his gaze focused intently on his patient. This line of questioning likely would cause some kind of mental breakdown, as the obvious inconsistencies of the patient's internal story would eventually prove more than the insane mind could justify.
Palisti surprised him by looking surprised, "Are you serious? The man is a brutal tyrant. As far as I can tell, he hates or despises almost everyone and everything. He is responsible for the death of millions – not just his enemies but his own subordinates. He kills his own men, often for minor infractions. Everyone is terrified of him, including me. I knew that the only thing to do was to get as far away from him as possible, so I did."
Kast raised his eyebrows, "If your father is Darth Vader, I would think he wouldn't allow you to leave. How did you 'get away'?"
Palisti stared straight into his eyes, "That is not important."
Kast nodded in agreement, "That is not important."
It really wasn't important. Obviously any obdurate son of a truly powerful man, a man like Vader, would not be allowed to "get away." But he should focus on the psychiatrically interesting mixture of fear, longing, and hatred mixed up in this deranged young man.
And it was odd, in some ways, that he was deranged. He looked and spoke quite normally.
Fascinating!
"You said that Darth Vader hates everyone and everything," he said, changing the subject slightly, "So do you think he hates you?"
Palisti's hands clenched, and then relaxed, "I don't think he hates me, no. I think he despises me. Hatred, to me, sounds like the sort of thing between equals. I'm certainly not his equal. As far as I can tell, I'm a 25 year old mistake and a disappointment, since the life I live is far from what he expects. In his eyes, I'm a regrettable disgrace. But I suppose at some level, he feels obligated to deal with me, at least to avoid further embarrassment."
"Is that why you think he hasn't publicly claimed you as his son?" Kast continued.
Palisti's lips twisted bitterly, "Claim me? Of course he wouldn't do that. He has a reputation to consider, doesn't he? He's the second most powerful man in the galaxy. He's not going to admit to having fathered a failure like me. I don't know who my mother was, but it seems obvious that her well being wasn't nearly as important to him as his own thirst for power and position in the Galactic Empire. And the Emperor – Vader answers to him, and I'm sure the Emperor wouldn't be pleased if his second-in-command was publicly tied with someone like…me."
Kast nodded with fake sympathy, then turned to add some notes to his record. This was, at least, classic Malintis. The patient was coming up with a reasonable explanation for the fact that Darth Vader, the second most powerful individual in the galaxy, was known to have no children. If human children were even possible. He knew relatively little about Vader, and it wasn't clear there was even a human in that armor.
"Do you hate your … father?" Kast continued curiously. He would guess the answer was yes, as it seemed more and more likely that Palisti was projecting his hatred for the "uncle" who raised him (now a dead uncle, according to the patient) onto the broad and intimidating shoulders of Lord Darth Vader. Curious, but somewhat explainable.
Palisti leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment.
"No," he finally replied, "I hate what he does, I hate the choices he's made. But do I hate him? Of course not. I have always wanted to know my father, to be with him. I love him because he's my father. I always will love him."
The patient opened his eyes again and his mouth twisted slightly, "But I have to face the reality that there won't be any happy ending for me. I refuse to work with a tyrant, and he isn't likely to pay attention to the pathetic longings of a rebellious son. I guess that's just life, isn't it, Doctor? So I hide from him. Thus far, he hasn't found me but every day I wonder when he'll discover where I am."
Kast couldn't suppress a smile of delight. Palisti was indeed the patient (prisoner) of the decade. The strange moral platitudes mixed with a clear desire for a powerful father figure mixed with an underlying longing for importance through the patient's belief that one of the galaxy's most powerful figures was pursuing him.
The smile, though, seemed to trigger something in Palisti.
"Why are you smiling?" he suddenly demanded, "You said you'd let me go if I told you about my father. Aren't you going to let me go?"
Doctor Kast looked at the biomonitors. The truth drug was wearing off, and he had enough information from Palisti to write 2 or 3 research reports. Not that he would think of releasing the man.
He pushed a button, and 2 large and burly orderlies entered the room a minute later.
"Doctor?" one of them said.
Kast gestured at Palisti, "Escort the patient to Building Z for further examination. I will send the appropriate codes to your security badges."
Palisti's eyes widened, "But you said…"
Kast interrupted soothingly, "You still need further treatment, Palisti. I assure you, no harm will come to you and when you are mentally stabilized, we will release you. I am an experienced doctor, so you must trust me when I say that you aren't well enough to leave the hospital."
This did not placate Palisti. As soon as he was released from the restraints, he made a dive for the door. While this was not surprising, his subsequent struggle with the experienced orderlies was. Palisti was not tall, but he was amazingly strong and quickly landed such powerful punches that one of the orderlies was sent reeling.
Kast frantically hit the security button, and a minute later, six security men charged through the door. The room was full of seething, cursing men and two more men were thrown to the floor by the patient before they finally managed to restrain him enough to inject a hypospray into his neck. The patient struggled a few more moments before slumping, unconscious, to the floor.
Doctor Kast took a deep breath and straightened his clothing.
"Thank you," he said to the security officers.
Then he looked at the orderlies, "Take the patient to the highest security area of Building Z. I'll send the necessary security protocol to the guards there."
With a slight shake of his head, Doctor Kast turned off the recorder and left the room.