On These Galaxies I Tread Chapter 3: Carry the Dead, a star wars fanfic

Carry the Dead

Summary: Vader's children were never born. They were still in their mother's belly, the rot ready to set in. But, it doesn't have to be that way. No. No. Sidious knows of another way. "Something soulless can easily be brought back to this world with the right vessel." (Aka: Evil sea-horse murder dad carries his kids to fruition and reestablishes an old connection.)

...

go to sleep little babe

your momma's gone away and your daddy's gonna stay

didn't leave nobody but the baby

…

Anakin's rebirth into Vader had been one of blood, sweat, and tears. He had even wailed like a newborn when the deed had been done, crushing all the droids and equipment around him in the medical theatre. It had hurt to live … especially when he had been presented with Padme's cold form on a slab hours later.

Perhaps Sidious had thought it a gift or a favor to collect the body of his wife so that Vader may have it. But, more than likely, it had merely been a taunt. A way of showing that instead of his children being born: Vader had been reborn instead. A penance for living, he had taken their little lights instead.

"I am sorry, my apprentice. There was nothing that could be done for her when we finally arrived. The jeti had left her on the landing platform where she had ... fell. She was already gone," he had said, Vader unable to look away from the swell of her belly. His children hadn't even gotten to take one breath and were now rotting away inside her.

Beside himself and the ache of his new form, the young Sith Lord forced himself to move forward, a hand placed on top of her stomach.

"It is unfortunate," continued Darth Sidious, his false sympathy grating to Vader's audios. "If we had been fast enough, perhaps we could have at least saved the children. They may have been far enough along."

Somehow, Vader controlled himself enough not to destroy everything in the room, his hand rubbing back and forth on that stomach like he had done mere days ago before Order 66 and the fall of the Republic. In the back of his mind, he could still hear Padme singing to their unborn children. He had thought the song sad the first time he had heard the lullaby's lyrics. Now, he'd give anything to hear her sing it again.

"Then again … animating flesh is not too terrible a task for a fully realized Sith Lord," continued Sidious, his eyes seeming to observe the swell of Padme's stomach a little differently. "It doesn't have the complexity as, say, bringing back a soul."

There was a moment of silence before he added, "It is said that a child gains its soul with its first breath. I suppose these little ones never got one … a shame."

Vader felt his other hand tighten into a fist, his rage rising to the surface.

"But," continued Sidious as if gaining an epiphany, "something soulless can easily be brought back to this world with the right vessel."

Beside himself, his head rising with deep-seated interest, Vader finally spoke, hating the sound of his vocal modulator, "A vessel? What kind of vessel?"

Humming, shuffling closer to the woman's body, his own hands now floating over the swollen body, the Sith Lord smiled, staring at his reflection in Vader's chest piece before he spoke, "A vessel … void of light. Your children are dead, Darth Vader. The normal laws of nature will refuse them, but the Dark Side cares not for such stipulations and can even circumvent such arbitrary rules."

Leaning forward, his grin nearly splitting the lower half of his face in half, Sidious asked, "Tell me Vader: how much are you willing to give for the chance of saving your children? How much blood will you spill? How much of your body will you sacrifice to watch them take their first breath?"

There wasn't much to think about as far as Vader was concerned. If he couldn't have Padme, he at least wanted their children. It was a simple response in the end, "... Everything."

"Good. Good," said his Master, a dense glee coming off the man as he reached for a laser scalpel on a nearby tray before handing it directly to his apprentice, "But first things first, we must cut them out."

…

go to sleep little babe

everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn

didn't leave nobody but the baby

…

Padme's blood was still on his gloves as he was strapped onto a surgical table. It was the same one where he had been stuffed into the suit, where he had been forced back to life. It, apparently, was too delicate of a ritual for Vader to be put under. He had to be awake for it so he could call on the Force. He needed to saturate his body with the Dark Side so that it may absorb into the two little fetuses as they were sewn into his body, right under what remained of his stomach and intestines.

Part of him might have marveled at the fact that there had been two little lives inside his wife, but he still couldn't blink away the images of shifting her organs to the side so he could find her womb. Sidious had told him not to nick the organ if possible. A piece of the mother had to remain.

Darth Sidious then took the womb and the two shapes inside away from Vader, even though the man wanted to do nothing more than hold them to his chest and sob. His Master had taken them from his grasp and then muttered about getting Vader prepped for surgery. They didn't want the rot to set in.

"The patient is ready," announced one of the droids as it leaned over Vader, the light on its helm blinding the man.

"Good. Very good," came Sidious's voice somewhere in the corner. He had his back to his apprentice and was at a small table in the shadows. He was doing something to the fetuses. Something … wrong. Vader could feel the Force shift. It was not pleased. Not pleased at all. This was not the way.

"Start to cut. I am nearly done here."

And Vader felt every cut after that, every incision, drugs being pumped into his body to keep him alive and awake. The assisting med-droid had even flashed a light into the young man's eyes every few minutes to make sure he was still conscious despite being cut open. The ex-jedi swore he could feel his organs being pushed up and out of the way, making way … so that his children could be placed inside him.

Vader was sure he was sinking into madness by the time Sidious had headed over to the operation table, to Vader's open abdomen. His Master was even smiling as he handed the hexed fleshy lump off to the droids, the man adding, "Will them alive, my apprentice. Stuff so much of the force into them that they have no choice but to live. Then, with your blood, feed them. Feed them until they are ready to burst out of you."

Darth Vader could not recall if he screamed as his children were sewn into him, darkness and pain seemingly the only thread that kept them inside.

...

you're a sweet little babe

honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop

gonna bring a bottle to the baby

…

For days after, Vader was sure that his body was going to go into septic shock, the bodies of his children rotting inside him. Some sick part of his head would have been fine with that. If his children could not live, he didn't want to be part of this galaxy anymore.

After a month and a half of having his children sewn into him, part of Vader wondered if it had even happened. Perhaps it had been one of his many fever dreams lately as he adjusted to his ruined body.

It was only when he went to his Master and asked when the children were meant to come that he confirmed it had really happened. After all, he didn't want to be out on the field and have to have them cut out while blasters fired overhead. It wasn't like he could birth them the traditional way after all.

Sidious had merely chuckled at his question, putting his hands onto Vader's gut before humming and stating like an old nurse mother: that children will come when they may. Vader had then been waved away like a first-time mother.

Later, in his hyperbolic chamber, he stripped down enough so that he could see the scars and symbols carved into his stomach. He placed his hand there, uncertain if he should be happy or not for the confirmation that his children were sewn inside him.

In the end, he hadn't the time to dwell on it. There were whispers of remaining Separatist sects and localized rebellions popping up everywhere with the rise of the New Republic. They needed to be put down with a heavy hand so the 501st Legion would be heading out tomorrow.

...

don't you weep pretty babe

she's long gone with her red shoes on

gonna need another loving babe

…

Vader had nearly been sent to his knees when he felt something shift inside him. Instead, he placed a hand on one of the control consoles while he stood there on the command deck. If the petty officer at the controls noticed the action, he kept his face forward and on his job. Even when Vader's metallic hand slowly started to crush the metal under his prosthetic, the poor recruit kept his eyes forward … though Vader could sense his curiosity, fear, and the nagging urge to stare.

In fact, as the metal started to squeal and crumble under his hands, everyone on deck was somehow resisting the urge to stare.

He didn't know if he should be insulted or thankful when finally an officer came up to his side, distracting him from the feel of his internal organs being shifted around and batted at.

"My Lord … the ground reports just came in," said one of the officers as he stepped up next to him. "Would you like to review it on the deck or in your private quarters?"

Vader was almost impressed by the man's clandestine phrasing. He might have to keep an eye out for him. Firmus Piett was his name, he believed. It had only been a few months since the Republic had fallen and already Vader could sense the power struggles. He needed men to keep in his corner: loyal, professional, and perfectly composed preferably.

"Yes, send the reports to my quarters. Have no one disturb me," said Vader, somehow forcing his spine straight.

He didn't know how he made his way back to his quarters and into the hyperbolic chamber without stumbling, but somehow he had.

Taking his chest armor off for the first time in a month, knowing a bacta treatment would likely have to follow, Vader tried to ignore the grotesque sight of his lower extremities and the scarring there. Instead, he stared at the bump that had formed … right under the large surgical scar.

Even as the med droids roared to life around him for treatment, Vader found a strange sound escaping his throat as he ran his metallic hand over his stomach. With his scarred lungs, it was a pathetic sound, but he had no tear ducts to cry so he'd sob instead.

His Master had come through on this one thing … he'd have his children.

Too bad he still had no idea when they would be due since it had been months and they had finally just moved. The med-droids were no help either since they kept diagnosing them as a tumor. Unsurprising since they weren't exactly normal children anymore. He could feel it in the Force ... the Dark Side specifically since the Living Force seemed unwilling to answer.

Quietly, he wondered how that would affect to forming fetuses. Darth Sidious hadn't responded to the query and Vader was starting to wonder if the man even knew. This was probably all some kind of sick experiment for his Master.

Despite suspecting this, Vader found he cared very little, as long as it was fruitful in the end.

...

go to sleep little babe

you and me and the devil makes three

don't need no other lovin' babe

...

'Children will come when they may,' his charbroiled ass!

Of course, they couldn't wait for the end of the campaign. They couldn't even wait for him to be back on the battle cruiser! No. They had to decide that they wanted out right now, in the middle of a ground assault, laser fire whizzing overhead.

Yes, this was the perfect moment to greet the world!

He could already tell that his children were going to live up to the Skywalker name and be complete terrors. Obi-Wan was probably somewhere laughing right now.

Grunting, unable to take another contraction, Vader went down behind a large piece of dura-cement, his back crashing heavily against the remnants of a building.

Small gods, this wasn't happening right here. He had set up a birthing station on the ship since the children would have to be cut out. He had even been mentally preparing himself for the pain and his possible death since he had taken his children inside himself. Apparently, he hadn't set up enough contingency plans.

"Sir, are you alright?!" questioned one of the ground troopers as he ducked behind the huge slab with Vader. He then had the audacity to try and push his commander into a better sitting position so he could look for wounds. Vader would have crushed the man's windpipe for that act alone if it wasn't taking all of his willpower not to ball up into the fetal position and wait for what remained of his internal organs to rupture. His children had barely moved these last few months but now they seemed bound and determined to kick their way out.

Kriff … that was his kidney they just kicked.

"I don't see any wounds. Sir, where were you hit?" asked the trooper, his voice squeaking and revealing just how young he was.

Shifting so he was leaning more heavily on the dura-cement slab, wishing he could control his breathing as another wave of pain went through him, Vader realized this poor recruit was the only help he had right now. The kid wasn't even one of the 501st original clones: he was just some conscript that was way in over his head.

"The children are coming," finally rasped Vader, hating how feeble he sounded even with the voice modulator.

He could feel the trooper's confusion and shock in the Force, the young man thinking he had misheard, "W-what? Children? What children?"

Grabbing the collar of the trooper's armor, dragging him in close even as another contraction rippled through his form, Vader hissed, "Give me your vibroblade ... and get a m-medic … this is happening here."

Fumbling for the vibroblade he kept strapped to his thigh, the man handed it to Darth Vader. He didn't even get to question why his commander needed it when Vader literally had a lightsaber at his disposal. The trooper nearly whimpered when he watched the ex-jedi start to cut into his own chest armor. Thankfully, not deep enough to gut himself, but it was deep enough to start and cut away the bottom half of his chest armor. The recruit had no idea why he would do that, make himself more vulnerable in the middle of a battlefield, but soon the mauled armor was being thrown to the side so one of those black gloves could cup a swollen abdomen.

Vader could feel the trooper's shock as well as a new type of terror. The young man had no idea what to do. So, stumbling, the man barked, "I'll get a medic! J-just hold it in."

Growling in pain, wondering how a young dolt like that had ended up in the 501st Legion, Vader tightened his grip and grit his teeth, feeling bile in the back of his throat. If that little fool didn't come back or couldn't find a medic: he was going to have to do this himself. He didn't want to leave his children alone with the likes of Darth Sidious, but he'd burn this world to the ground if only for them to live … he'd even die without a second thought.

Thankfully, his thoughts now dwelling on how best to cut so he could stay conscious long enough to get his children out, the dolt came through. He nearly stabbed the conscript as he stumbled back around the dura-cement slab, but surprisingly he was dragging a medic with him.

Thankfully, unlike the fumbling young stormtrooper, the medic was only flabbergasted long enough to stare in awe before getting to his side and taking the vibroblade.

"My Lord, what are you doing on the battlefield pregnant?! You should have never been this close to the front lines in your condition or even on active service," chided the medic, a flood of nostalgia and loss flowing through Vader. Was that Kix? No one else would dare speak to him like that. Oh Force, it was Kix. He had lost a fair amount of his men at the end of the Republic, and then he was put into this suit. He hadn't told any of the clones left who he had been. Anakin was dead, but since it had to be someone to deliver his children: he was glad it was Kix.

Maybe if he survived this … he'd hand-pick some of his old clones and let them know who he had been. He needed someone in his corner. Maybe they could even help with the children; to guard and protect -

A gurgled scream escaped Vader. It felt like something had ruptured

Grabbing Kix by the arm, knowing he was running out of time, Vader found himself almost begging, "Get my … c-children … out a-alive, Kix. Y-your going to … have t-to … c-cut them out."

And with that, another wail escaped Vader, the little lights in his belly flickering in terror. They knew something was wrong. They knew that they couldn't get out and that they were going to die if their father didn't do something right now.

Taking a moment to collect himself, probably wondering how Vader had known his name, Kix acted.

"Alright, kriff, this has to be done now, right here," growled the medic before barking at the terrified trooper knelt on Vader's opposite side. "Trooper, you are going to have to do what I say to the letter. Hopefully, you don't mind the sight of blood."

"What?" croaked the young man.

"Alright, there is a small surgical blade in my medpack. Get it out and remove your gloves up to your vambraces. There are disinfectant packs. Clean the blade and your hands up to your elbows," said the medic, already pulling his own gloves and vambraces off. Kix already knew what needed to be done.

Darth Vader barely got through another contraction when he finally felt the scarred skin of his stomach being cleaned quickly, the medic muttering that that armor was a monstrosity before stating calmly, "I don't have the right painkillers for something like this, sir. So, this is going to hurt, but please try to stay conscious until the medevac gets here."

Kix then gave him one more somber nod before he pushed the surgical blade down, blood immediately pooling away from him. Vader didn't know how he did it: remained conscious as his skin was parted and two sets of hands dived into him followed by another terrified set. His insides were on fire even as he felt the Force flow and ebb, willing him to die and to live at the same time.

He wasn't sure if he screamed or begged or sobbed as his children were pulled from his bloody bowels. All he knew was that when they came out … they cried. It was the most beautiful sound in the entire galaxy.

And with that, he let go, his vision fading to black. He wasn't needed here anymore.

...

go to sleep little babe

come lay bones on the alabaster stones

and be my everlovin baby

...

Vader woke up in the medical bay. The main medical bay from the look of it and not his personal one. Not one of his med-droids was in sight, though he was blessedly in a decontamination room, a mask over his face and sheets of bacta placed all over his body. Apparently, he still had pending treatments if they hadn't deemed him ready to dunk into a bacta tank.

Closing his eyes if only to spare them from the bright lights overhead, Vader cursed his luck. Likely the whole 501st Legion now knew he was a cripple instead of an android or some kind of unknown eldritch horror. In fact, since he didn't know half of what he was babbling during the extraction of his children, it was likely most of the remaining clones knew that General Skywalker wasn't as dead as they all thought.

He honestly didn't know how he felt about that. He missed the kinship, but after Order 66 … how many were still loyal to him?

Sinking further into his bacta-bed, feeling the nearly healed wound in his abdomen tug, a sense of panic suddenly caused his heart rate his skyrocket.

Where were his children?! He was sure he remembered hearing them cry. He was certain they had taken their first breathes, welcoming their souls into their bodies. Unless … unless they hadn't made it. Maybe they couldn't truly survive outside of his body without a Force signature to feed off?! Or perhaps they had been taken, some ploy at revenge or a powerplay from his Master!

Vader was just dwelling on how to drag himself out of bed, weak as he was, when the sound of a door sliding open filled the room. Quickly, a form in white slid up next to him and carefully placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him in bed, "Please, sir, you can't move. You're very delicate right now, and you have several surgeries planned before a full-month dip in a bacta tank. Sir, please stop."

Kix's mouth was moving, he was saying something more, but still Vader struggled, his eyes roaming the room in a panic, his voice barely a raspy whisper, "W-where are they? Where are my c-children?"

"General!" finally barked the medic, cutting through the din of Vader's growing panic, the man stalling as he truly stared at the medic. The look in the healer's eyes and the tone in his voice told Vader all he needed to know: Kix knew exactly who Vader had been.

"General … they are fine," finally said Kix, gentling gliding the ex-jedi back into his bed and bacta-sheets. "They're just sleeping. Your health was our primary concern … we didn't even think we'd get you back to the star destroyer alive."

The next words ripped into Vader's heart, the trauma still too raw, "What … what happened to you, sir?"

Closing and opening his eyes, banishing the image of Obi-Wan standing over him as he burned, Vader rasped, "It is not a matter for current discussion. I … I want to see my children."

Kix frowned down at him like he wanted to press the issue, but slowly the clone nodded, stating calmly, "Of course. Let me adjust your bed so you can sit up a bit and then I'll bring them in."

It felt like an eternity for Kix to adjust the med bed and then exit before, finally, he brought in a small hover-bassinet. When the medic popped open the little shield, two little pink faces were revealed to him. They were both so small and had such rosy skin with the silkiest of locks. For a moment he couldn't help but wonder how something so beautiful and wondrous had come from him … a monster.

"Congratulations, sir. You have … birthed … a healthy boy and girl," said Kix awkwardly before smiling and adding, "You can hold them if you want. Carefully though. Those bacta-sheets are for your skin. The suit hasn't been good for its recovery."

Vader ignored the comment about his skin and, instead, he almost begged, "Yes, I want to hold them."

It was a bit awkward, the medic treating him like glass, but finally, his children were in his grasp, cuddled together like two little pill bugs, yawning and whimpering as they tried to decide if they wanted to wake or keep their eyes closed.

Kix, helping to support their little heads, asked gently, "Have you decided on their names, sir?"

Watching the little girl open her eyes, her brother following a moment later, both of them seeing him for the first time. Vader could only stare in awe: their eyes were both gold-tinged like a sith. And he found he didn't care as long as they were alive and healthy.

Smoothy, still enraptured by the perfect little forms, he answered his medic, "Their names are Luke and Leia."

Then, reaching his other hand over, ignoring the ache of his body, Vader melted as a small hand wrapped around one of his metallic fingers. He'd burn the galaxy for these two: his little princess and prince.

XXX

Paw07: The lullaby is Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby from O Brother, Where Art Thou.

Firstly, I have no idea what happened right away after the Republic fell or where the remaining clones were. So, the timeline is fragged in this, and I'm fine with that. All I wanted was for Vader to get some of his clone-bros back and be a sad murder sea-horse dad to his sithy-zombie-babies. ᕕ( ᐛ ) ᕗ