Darth Vader's Private Quarters
Star Destroyer Devastator
In orbit around Mimban
4 months after the destruction of the Death Star
Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, stared out of the windows at space, beautiful, empty space, which separated him from the rather ugly brown swamp planet turning below him. He hoped that he never had to return to that mud pit in his life, though it was all too likely he would.
Mimban was a major source of hyperbarides, and thus of importance to the Galactic Empire. Unfortunately, many of the locals did not respect the power of the Emperor, and Vader had been sent to deal with the upstarts, and not for the first time. Really, it was quite tedious, especially as a random bomb had broken through his concentration while he was wreaking havoc during battle, which in turn had resulted in substantial damage to his right prosthetic leg.
It was a comparatively minor issue, but his personal med droid had informed him that repairs would take a full hour because it was imperative that the relays connect properly to his remaining broken flesh. Vader had reports to read, of course – he always had reports, especially now. His master, Emperor Palpatine, senior Sith Lord, was still very peeved over the destruction of the Death Star over Yavin IV a few months previously. Palpatine had punished Vader directly using Force Lightning, which had been agonizing, and then piled tiresome tasks on the junior Sith, including, incredibly enough, determining how much nerf meat was needed to supply the men and aliens working at the Kuat shipyards, which was just stupid.
Vader glanced to his tidy desk, on which lay a holopad containing the nerf meat report. He could grab the holopad with the Force and study the problem while his leg was being worked on by his droid, but he didn't feel like it.
At all.
Since his stomach was a wreck, he couldn't eat the nerf meat! Why should he have to think about it?
Anyway.
He would far rather think about...
Think about...
He looked around carefully, though he knew he was entirely alone except for his med droid. He had swept his quarters for listening devices this morning. He could safely say...
"I have a son."
His scarred lips stretched into a smile and he repeated his words a little louder.
"I have a son."
It had been three weeks since the bounty hunter Boba Fett had returned from Tatooine with incredible news. The Force-strong pilot who had destroyed the Death Star was Vader's son, Luke Skywalker. The child, thought to be lost with his mother nineteen years before, was alive and kicking and blowing up space stations, like his father before him.
Vader had even met the boy, had seen him with his own damaged eyes, on Cymoon when the rebels had attempted to destroy the Imperials weapons factory. He had come horrifically close to destroying the youth but had stayed his hand when he realized the unknown carried Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber.
The boy – Luke – had succeeded in retrieving the saber and escaping with his Rebel friends. Vader could only be glad; he would have killed his child and grieved it for the rest of his cursed life.
Instead...
He sighed in contentment at the very thought; a boy was walking the skies with the blood of Padme and Vader singing in his veins. And the child was strong in the Force; he had sensed that brilliant presence during the trench run on the Death Star. He had been within seconds of blowing up his son's X-wing when the Millennium Falcon blasted him off the young man's tail.
Again, he could only be thankful. He should give Han Solo, the captain of the Millennium Falcon, a reward of some sort, like a nice thank you card. Except the man was a menace, so probably he wouldn't.
Probably.
He glanced around again with surprising unease for a Sith Lord who was second in command of the entire galaxy. He needed to talk to someone about this wondrous miracle, and there was only one being he really trusted. Again, he reminded himself that there were no listening devices.
"B8CDO," he said suddenly.
The med droid paused in its careful movements and turned its mechanical head toward the Sith Lord.
"Yes, Lord Vader?" it inquired in a mellifluous tone. "How may I serve you?"
"5CH3290KIO." Vader intoned, even as he reached out with the Force to move a small switch in the droid's innards.
The med droid froze for a full five seconds, then tilted its blocky chin up a little.
"Good evening, Lord Vader," the droid intoned in a deeper voice. "Would you care to talk about dissecting Obi-Wan Kenobi into numerous pieces?"
Vader blinked behind his helmet in surprise. Had it really been that long?
"When did we last speak, BeeEight?" he demanded.
There was a soft whirring sound and the droid replied, "It has been 216 standard days, 8 standard hours, 32 standard minutes, since we last spoke."
Vader blinked again. A long time, then!
"It has been longer than I realized," he commented. "In the time since I last accessed your secondary brain core, I killed Obi-Wan Kenobi on the Death Star."
The droid, who had returned to working on Vader's leg, turned and looked up in obvious delight. "Congratulations, Lord Vader! That is a wonderful, glorious accomplishment! Did you dip him in lava? Did you dismember him piece by piece as he screamed for mercy? Did you..."
"I cut him in half with my lightsaber," Vader interrupted.
The metal shoulders drooped slightly, "I am sorry, Lord Vader. That must be a disappointment."
Vader frowned behind his mask and nodded his head, "It is most disappointing, especially as I discovered that Kenobi's betrayal ran even deeper than I knew. BeeEight, I have a son!"
The mechanical shifted its entire body and regarded its master with glowing eyes.
"A son, my lord?"
"Yes!"
"A male progeny who is the product of a female human egg and your sperm?"
Well, that was one way to phrase it. An awkward way.
"Yes, she ... he survived my ... my ... my..."
He trailed off. He could not bear to speak of her, not even to a droid.
"Are you pleased to have a son, Lord Vader?"
This perked up the Sith Lord enormously. "I am so very pleased, BeeEight. I am ecstatic!"
"Congratulations, then. Will you be requiring my services in caring for the boy?"
Vader sighed and leaned back against the tilted medical table. "Perhaps in time, yes. For now, my son Luke is fighting on behalf of the Rebel Alliance and is not in my custody."
The droid stared at him in astonishment. "Your son is a Rebel?"
"Yes," the Sith declared, his fists tightening. "Kenobi hid him from me and raised him to believe foolish, idiotic, stupid things about the mighty Empire. I must find him and teach him the truth."
"It is a very large galaxy," B8 pointed out, not very helpfully.
"I will find him. It is Luke's destiny to join me, and we will rule the galaxy as father and son."
B8 returned to rewiring his master's leg again. "Will the Emperor be pleased with that, my lord?"
Vader frowned in exasperation. B8's secondary brain/personality was totally loyal, but the Sith had not worked enough to teach him the finer points of Sith lore and methodology.
"No, of course not. There can only be two Sith: the master and the apprentice. The Emperor must die and the sooner the better."
"Ah. Perhaps you can cut him up while he screams for mercy, or drop him in lava?"
"That ... is a most appealing prospect, in truth. He lied to me. My master lied to me! He told me that the child died in his mother's womb. I have ... I have blamed myself all these years..."
"But in any case," he said more briskly as he shook himself out of his sorrowful reverie, "I will be pleased to kill him in any way possible. It will be most difficult."
"Because Emperor Palpatine is a Sith Lord?"
"That is correct. He also has remarkable precognition and the ability to sense my plans. I fear that when I do attack him, he will be able to counter me with ease."
B8 would, Vader knew, frown if he could. "I confess that I do not understand the Force at all, Master, though I wish to. You are saying that the Emperor will sense your plans to kill him, and take steps to stop you?"
"Precisely," Vader said gloomily. "It is expected for the apprentice Sith to kill his master eventually, but nonetheless, Palpatine will punish me severely if I fail. But I do not wish for my master to know of my son; he might well attempt to capture him and turn him against me."
"A most difficult situation," B8 said politely.
"Yes, it is," Vader agreed mournfully.
/
The Emperor's Throne Room
Imperial Palace
Imperial City
Imperial Center
Three months later
Darth Vader hurt. He was always in pain, more or less, thanks to being left to burn in lava after having his three remaining limbs severed by his former master.
(Curse you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you son of a beer-guzzling Agamarian trash rat!)
Right now, he was hurting because he had been bowing before Palpatine for a full fifteen minutes. The older he got – and it was odd to realize he was only 42 standard years old – he felt it had been an eternity since he had been placed in the suit – in any case, the older he got, the more it hurt to be required to wait on bended knee bowing before his master. Pain was helpful in fueling the Dark Side, of course, but it was also tedious.
Nor could he safely think about the boy...
No, he would not. Not in Palpatine's very presence. So far, Vader did not think that his master knew that the destroyer of the Death Star was Luke Skywalker, son of Anakin Skywalker, who became Darth Vader. Or perhaps he did. If there was one thing he knew from 19 years of servitude, it was that Palpatine always had plans within plans, which was how a senator from Naboo had managed to topple a Republic of thousands of generations and replace it with an Empire, of which he was the head.
That, and Palpatine was incredibly powerful in the Dark Side of the Force. Probably mostly that.
Maybe he should think about Quinto grain from the planet Kegan. The Imperial war machine required an incredible amount of food for its sentients, and Quinto grain was not being appropriately utilized...and his master's throne was finally turning around. For the past quarter of an hour, Palpatine had been staring out a gigantic window which showed Imperial City in all its splendor. The Emperor had probably been thinking about torturing tooka kittens or blowing up another planet, both of which were naturally of far higher priority than talking to his second in command.
"Rise, Lord Vader," the Emperor croaked, staring with blazing yellow eyes at his apprentice.
The gigantic Sith rose obediently to his feet, but kept his helmet lowered subserviently. "What is thy bidding, my master?" he intoned meekly.
The Emperor glared at the junior Sith as he rose to his feet and took a few angry steps forward.
"My bidding is what it has been these last seven months, Lord Vader," he snarled angrily. "I wish to know the identity of the sentient who destroyed the Death Star! It has been seven months, seven months! I wonder if you require additional motivation to work harder in uncovering the pilot's identity and bringing him or her into Imperial custody?"
Vader tried and failed to suppress a shudder. Motivation meant Force lightning, which was excruciating for anyone, and especially for a man who was largely made up of mechanical and electronic parts. Of course, his master would never turn the full strength of his electricity on his apprentice for fear of killing him, but even tamped down, Vader was looking at serious agony. Nonetheless, for the sake of his son, he would endure.
"The search continues, my master," he said in a placating tone. "I have spies who..."
"That is not acceptable," Palpatine hissed, taking a few angry, menacing paces closer. "Not accept..."
Abruptly the Sith Master froze in place, his eyes wide. Within three seconds, his eyes rolled up and Palpatine fell to the floor in a heap.
"Master!" Vader cried out in shock, lurching forward. "Master, what is wrong?"
He reached down timidly; the Emperor very much liked his personal space, and Vader was pushing things by getting this close. But his master did look terrible and his Force presence ... his Force presence...
"What have you done to our master?" snarled a voice from behind him. Vader, still crouched on the floor, looked up angrily at the captain of the Royal Guards, dressed in flowing red robes with a red helmet covering his face, who was standing over both Sith Lords, his force pike at the ready.
"I have done nothing!" Vader snapped. "Call for medical support immediately..."
He trailed off as the captain suddenly fell over and his Force signature blinked out. The only reason that he could tell was because the Emperor, because Palpatine, because the senior Sith Lord was...
He did not have time to contemplate the incredible truth. Five more Royal Guards were suddenly upon him, their Force pikes swinging. His red blade was alive and leaping, and he blocked their slashes and sliced and diced until all five were...
On the ground. Some were partially dismembered by his blade and the ones without legs should be only mostly dead...
And they weren't. They were completely dead!
Belatedly, Vader pushed a few buttons to analyze his surroundings. It took a full minute for the data to appear on the left screen in his helmet, but he found himself gasping in surprise at the results. He was surrounded by iocanious gas; an odorless, tasteless vapor which killed men within seconds. He did a quick, foolish check of the seal between his helmet and suit. Quick, because he was afraid. Foolish, because if his seals were not intact, he would be dead already.
He stared down at his dead master. Palpatine was dead. Palpatine was dead!
He stood in silent awe for a full ten seconds, relishing the reality of his freedom from the despot before his self preservation kicked in. Someone had managed to flood the Throne Room with deadly gas and kill Palpatine. Presumably that someone – no, something – was the Rebel Alliance. He needed to clear the area and determine how this had happened. Of course, he was thrilled Palpatine was dead, but they would be coming after him soon enough.
He would be ready. Ready to reign, and rule, and to reclaim his son.
Author Note: A couple of Princess Bride references there... :-)