After this Force-rippling event, Vader had been picked up by a specialized droid and unceremoniously stripped and dropped into his low-grade Bacta tank (which he was certain most of the Bacta had died or turned septic) before being decanted too early and shoved into his pressure egg. (It was an egg-shaped hyperbaric chamber filled with a blinding white light... Sidious, you bastard son of a slimy Hutt and a random, sentient brothel biosludge.)

There was nothing to be healed; actually, he felt… better. Not a hundred percent—his prosthetics were still a clunky, unupgradable mess of cheap stock parts. His flesh still alternated between uncomfortable numbness and a burning pain that never left, and sometimes he felt like the suit's ability to make him breathe was more of a detriment than a help…

But... he felt... mentally better? Certainly spiritually cleaner, but rather raw... like staying in the sonic for too long—sort of kriffing raw. It was rather novel for Vaderkin, this clean, fresh feeling of forgiveness and hope. He could even imagine the clean linen smell from this forgiveness...

Perhaps Krishna smelled like... no, Krishna, the supreme personality of Godhead, the Source of the Force, must smell like fresh, water-washed laundry dried over one of the many flower fields of Naboo, by a lake filled with a thousand different types of lotuses and other water flowers.

But... this did not change the fact that he was now considered a traitor to the Empire, on top of being a criminal for most of the galactic sector, or a prime piece of bounty for any bounty hunter stupid enough to dare try... or rather, opportunistic.

On top of that... the Dark Brood had done something to his stormtroopers; the clones now felt... freer in the Force, clearer. And rather familiar. Which should not be possible, not at the rate Vader went through them on a daily basis.

All to free those poor souls from the pain of their unwanted sins. But those who somehow survived most certainly had a mythosaur-sized amount of bones to pick against the scourge of the galaxy.

And then there was Darth Sidious, his… Master.

Darth Sidious. Some would call him disloyal for turning coat so quickly; those sleemos didn't have a life-changing talk with a real-life, planet-eating, eyeball-bleeding, Dark-birthing Angel of sweet mercy like he did.

Shuniya-Hara's darkness… was sweet and comfortable. It soothed Vader… Anakin more than anything the Emperor had deigned to offer him for his pain. And yet, it wasn't weak. No… no, Shuniya's darkness felt lighter than the light side, sweeter, kinder… and oh so darker.

But… more blue and more playful. It was time in its inexorable ability to destroy everything and aloofness to it all. Yet it felt personal too, like a friend long to say about the hyper-personal Force, golden, hyper-sentient, and loving? It was a painful type of love only those who strive for the living could understand. And Shuniya himself was everything Vader—Anakin—dreamed a father would be. He was patient yet did not shy away from the hard lessons, nor did he linger on Anakin's mistakes, in essence forcing the Fallen Jedi to move forward despite the sins that dragged him knew what he did wrong; he knew that his attachment to Padmé and Palpatine's enabling were inevitable, but he still had a choice. Perhaps Darth Sidious had messed with his brain, docking his intelligence and stunting Anakin to the level of a caterwauling child, or perhaps Anakin never grew up and matured. But what happened happened, and while it was tempting to pick at those particular wounds to feed the dark side, Vader—no, Anakin—could not, would not fall back into his previous bad habits.
He'd kriffed up. He'd majorly kriffed up; the whole galaxy was suffering from it. But as Shuniya had said, if even he and countless other demons had gained the forgiveness of God after their own nasty deeds, then why could Anakin not also gain His mercy?
Sri Krishna Chaitanya Mahaprabhu was divine mercy incarnate, and even His avatar as Lord Rama also gave shelter to a rapist… not that the rapist took it, for Ravana was meant to die by his arrows. But the point still stood, especially if one considered the mercy Gaura bestowed upon Jagai and Madhai. Those two, who were repeated offenders and the reincarnations of the first two demons, became saints after surrendering to nititananda.
Ah, but Anakin sucked at telling stories, but the point was, he had hope; he just had to stop sinning and worship God with the chanting of the holy name. And thus, he did…
He also destroyed the old contaminated Bacta tank and, with whatever credits he'd managed to tuck away from the Emperor's greedy hands, ordered a new top-of-the-line tank for himself… then two more for the medical bay. If he was to move away from the demoniac side (the bad dark side, as Shuniya said), then better he start by being… well, nicer to his troops and stop crushing their windpipes as if they were stress balls. A tall order, but Anakin wasn't alone in this endeavor.
So, there he was, in his hyperbaric chamber, chanting the name and meditating on the sound vibration. "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare, Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare." He recited on a strand of rubberized beads—108 of them. While he still struggled with his mind and intrusive thoughts, it was still better than meditating on God's impersonal aspect, basically nothing, for hours on end. It stirred up more trauma than Anakin had expected, but Shuniya had assured his mentee that this was completely normal. Purification wasn't exactly pleasant, but in bhakti, whatever starts bitterly will end in sweetness. And boy, was Vader's purification bitter; it reminded him of some nasty tea Kenobi would guzzle down like a thirsty Hutt when given the chance.
…But he had to go on; he had to move away from his past, to let it die as he had let Anakin die, killed him… No…
"Anakin, you may have destroyed yourself once, but this mantra has revived you," he heard Shuniya-Hara through their bond. "You weren't an adult yet, and you had to face death, destruction, and hopelessness. You lost your mother; you were tricked into believing your wife would die in childbirth."
"She did die… and I did assault her."
"Chronic lack of sleep would make anyone an irrational mess, dear heart."
Well, Anakin could not argue with that. Nevertheless, this was his wake-up call. Anakin didn't look forward to fixing this mess; he'd never had to face any consequences, after all. But a chosen of God had to do what a chosen of God had to do.
And once again, he wasn't alone in this. For astonishingly, he wasn't the only one who'd woken up. Most of the 501st were still with him; some hated him, he knew that. But most were still willing to help him out… despite Vader's love for crushing windpipes. There were also his commanders and pilots…
"You were never alone, Anakin."
"No… I was led to believe it was me against the universe, that I always had to fight for my place in the world, that everyone was jealous of me and my power…"
"The best lies are always based on some truth… and Sidious knew that."
Anakin huffed as he rubbed his face, the leather of his gloves stinking of blood, death, and burnt flesh. Yes, he could still smell; it was the one sense Sidious had mercifully restored to endlessly torment Anakin, knowing that his pawn got migraines easily.
"I need new hands."
"You need a new body, love." Shuniya-Hara chimed with a smirk. "But in all honesty, it would be better if you were to regain your spiritual form. God knows it's miserable here, and you can always mess even worse in the next lifetime."
Anakin nodded as much as his neck would allow. Yes, he'd gone long enough in this world; 'Anakin' wasn't his first body, neither was 'Darth Vader,' and boy, the pain and suffering he went through in this lifetime was enough for him.
"So, Master, you were telling me how to get out of this world and to… what was the name of this planet?"
"Goloka-Vrindavan, or Krishna Loka. Its other side is called Goloka Mayapur. And no, you can't reach this place even with the best and most advanced drives and motors; it's outside this material universe, beyond the impersonal Viraga, the spiritual Mount Kailash. What to say about the seven universal coverings? Those who are covered with the material covering and their false ego can't reach this place."
"Which is why this purification, the Harinama process, has been given to us."
A wave of loving affection swept over Anakin's heart. "Yes, absolutely. In this age of Kali, the age of darkness, hatred, and quarrel, the only way to reawaken our dormant love for God and our eternal identity is through the chanting of this sixteen-syllable mantra… but since no one wants to stop their false enjoyment, very few are even willing to take it, even jokingly."
"Master, I take this mantra… Kriff, meditating never felt this good." The scourge of the galaxy smiled as he leaned back in his uncomfortable seat. "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare, Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare…" He shivered, feeling whatever hair he still had stand on end and bliss flood him. "This… this is good… why did the Jedi not teach us how to meditate like that?! I would've been more than willing to spend hours in the Room of a Thousand Fountains if I had something to anchor my mind down!"
"Ah, my dearest shishya, that's because those Jedi are impersonalists. They meditate on the impersonal energy of the Lord… or something they think is the impersonal divine cosmic force."
Anakin's eyes flew wide open as he sat straighter, ignoring the pain and the tearing skin of his back. "What? Master, what do you mean? Isn't the Force Krishna's energy?" he spoke out loud, his raspy voice sounding sacrilegious in his hyperbaric chamber.
"Yes, it started like that, but my Lord's energy is not so weak as to be affected by something so lowly as beskar and other such disruptors… ah, but listen to me ramble. Listen, Anakin, I have to go, it's my turn to cook for Krishna tonight. But to make a long explanation shorter, the Force is divine in nature, and everything, hence, if one would be able to block her, then she would be no better than some lower, mundane energy."

"So... what is this... False force the Jedi and the Siths tap into?"

"Ah this... I'll leave it up to you to discover." Vaderkin could hear the other being Grin at the other side of their connection. "But to return to the subject of meditation: When you tried to meditate on something vague, formless, and impersonal, you get bored and then do something else. it simpley isn't part of our divine nature to be attracted to some Void, there had to be somehting that will catch our attention, that will...attract you." And now, Anakin could hear the wink.
"Yes! So I wasn't wrong; meditating on the Force really is boring!" he sent, feeling vindicated over his hatred for jedi meditation.
Anakin was rewarded by his spiritual master's laughter. "Yes, absolutely! So, I have to fly. You may still contact me whenever you need, Anakin, and I will gladly be there for you. Harbol."
"Hare Krishna, Master." Anakin bid the angel goodbye, feeling lighter and refreshed after this enlightening conversation.
Needless to say, whatever 'conversations' he had with Darth Sidious ended more like a soliloquy that rendered Vader sitting with a wrath fanned by envy, fear, and pain. While Kenobi just… it just frustrated him.
But then, Kenobi… Ah, his feelings about his old master had evolved from pure, brain-boiling ire to some very, very complicated feelings that he'd rather leave in the back of his needle-filled helmet to stew and decay… perhaps fermentation would make it clearer?
But no, now was not the time to stew in his anger, an anger fueled by fear and Palpatine. Now was the time to move on, to let Vader die, and to rise back from Anakin's smoldering ashes…
"Shuniya-Hara Prabhu… what am I supposed to do now?" he asked his master over their master/student bond, sending as many mental apologies as he could, fearing some harsh punishment for not being more proactive.
There was so much to do… and yet nothing that Vader could do.
He felt like he'd found his true path, and yet still felt horribly lost.
"Chanting Hare Krishna is a good first part; better yet would be to chant 64 rounds, but… I know you are too passionate at the moment to sit still for eight hours." The Angel of God said with no little amount of amusement, and Anakin shuddered.
No, he wasn't ready yet.
"So you have to serve Sri-Krishna-Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. And you do that by sharing the Holy Name. You know the mantra I gave you?"
"Yes, Master." Anakin said as his mask descended, the pain from the numerous needles an afterthought, after so long.
"Well, there you go! Recite it, chant it, and teach people how to do the same: chant, dance, follow the four regulative principles, and offer all the food to my own Master, Srila Prabhupada, here' this is how he looked like." Shuniya-Hara Prabhu truly was fired up, whomever was this...Shaved head man whit a wide, bliss filled eyes, bright, shinny brown eyes filled whit joy and love and skin the color of bronze and the same tuning fork mark that adorned his Master's prefered form was, sharing him made his Master even more blissful...

The bliss never truly end, did it?
"... but that's so… simple and painless, Master. Should I not suffer more for my sins?" Vader asked as he carefully got up on his ridiculously clunky legs, careful not to fall over again.
"No, my dear. While your karmic wheel is still spinning, it is slowing down. I'm sure your path to redemption won't be an easy one, not after what you did. No one's path of redemption is easy, so Krishna made his path of bhakti easy and painless to follow. Besides, the moment you took his Holy Name, all your sins were exonerated. If you were to die at this moment, you would take birth on Bhu-mandala to a family of Vaishnavas, and at best, by Mahaprabhu's mercy, you would be elevated to the Vaikuntha planets outside this miserable material universe."
Treacherous, fearsome hope dared to bloom in Vader's charred heart…
There was hope for him.
"I only have to share Krishna's name and…" he could not finish his phrase; the Holy Name of the Godly source of all coming out of his vocoder sounded blasphemous and wrong. Beside, Shinuya had politely blocked his connection,certainly, he loath to be late to feed God his sacrificial food.
This… was something else he had to fix.
"I have so much to do, and yet so little time. O, Most Merciful source, give me more time," Anakin prayed as he stalked out of his rooms. His now clear mind churning with even more information than Sidious had ever deigned to give him.
It was refreshing and overwhelming, but by God, Vader was ready…
He was ready for this.
The corridors on his Lady were spotless and free from anything that could trip him. So, of course, Vaderkin (it was a dumb name that explained Vaderkin's opinion about himself) tripped on nothing on his way to the ship's dedicated workshop, passing by oodles of clones and other subordinates, all more fearful and hateful than the last at the menacing sight of Darth Vader.
This was usually the only thing pleasurable to the tortured cyborg, but now…
He had tasted true pleasure, swam in the waves of pure, divine love, and faced his own darkness. So to feel the Force filled with fear and hatred toward him was like entering a dusty sonic that had been cranked up to its highest possible setting and overclocked.
Vader… hated something else now…
Now, he always hated this… but he had been a Sith, meaning that he loved what he hated the most…
Shuniya-Hara had explained to his student/servant (not a slave, never a slave) that people with liver disease could not taste the sweetness of sugar; to them, it was bitter. So obviously, one of the cures for jaundice was to feed the afflicted ungodly amounts of sugar candies until they started tasting sweetness again.
Or how people suffering from snakebite could not taste the bitterness of neem leaves until they were cured.
Well, Shuniya cured Vaderkin of Darth Sidious' poison, and the poor shred of a man realized just how stomach-churningly bitter his sustenance was.
Never. Again.
And thus, not quite knowing how to make his troops less fearful and hateful of him, Vaderkin chose to take the faster, more treacherous route, the one where he would inexplicably trip and fall at random places, always out of people's eyesight and his lift-drones' range. Meaning that the most fearsome man in the galaxy had to scramble back to his feet like a drunk, malformed offspring of an AT-AT and an Eopie.
The one thing this corridor had, touch, were cameras…
Yes, he knew everything about The Executor was meant to pile on him pain, humiliation, and rage—all to strengthen his link to the dark side.
Honestly, Vader had been sick of this rather quickly, but Sidious was a powerful foe, both subtle and gross, and Vader, despite the binary-sun-supernova level of rage that burned in the blast furnace of his hollowed-out chest, had yet to come close to defeating the monstrous man—a demon, Shuniya had called him.
But now, now that he'd chosen that path back home, back to Godhead…
Some would call it loser talk, and Vaderkin would happily tell them that he was the biggest, most terrifying loser in the galaxy.
So yes, Darth Sidious wasn't his problem anymore, until the Emperor made himself one.
Nevertheless, Vaderkin still had to maneuver his life-suit up and not—
"Kriff!"
Slide down the wall and back on his ass… his slippery metallic sole once again proving to be a hindrance.
So, for now, Darth Vader, scourge of the galaxy, elected to remain seated until someone passed by or he tried again later.
Honestly, he deserved the humiliation; the slave elected to see this as Krishna's punishment for the amount of time he'd kneecapped people for the heck of it, robbing them of their knees… "God… I'm such a sleemo…" Vader thought with regrets.
But… he still had hope. Shuniya-Hara had promised, no, vowed over and over, on his very life, that Mahaprabhu would not shun Sidious' puppet.
It was… a painful hope for the hopeless man, a rope within reach to drag him out of the hole he'd dug himself.
But… after years and years of despair and lies, Vader saw this rope as a noose…
He sighed, as much as he could, considering that his suit wasn't built for that. He would wait for a bit, at least until the sharp pain in his stumps returned to be the familiar dull ache, losing track of time as he 'enjoyed his time on the floor, trying not to let his mind ruin it for him.
That is, until after an undisclosed amount of time (his suit was so poorly made, it couldn't tell time), a presence made itself known in the Force.
And Vaderkin, of course, reacted predictably.
He forced a grab on whomever had stumbled upon his vulnerable form, lifting them off the ground…
Then he realized it was Princess Leia… and her sharing his dead daughter's name was not a good enough basis to crush her windpipe…
He dropped her quickly, feeling shame and letting himself feel this shame.
Perhaps he should clear his mind and release his once coveted negative emotions to the Force, essentially giving Krishna his sorrow, rage, anger, and anxiety.
Krishna was the source, meaning he should be able to handle a twice-zombified Krayt dragon's plasma flames.
And thus, he did, focusing his mind in a prayerful mood, going as far as to fold his palms. Thanking the supreme personality of Godhead, the Cause of all Causes for his true second chance and his teacher, then, after the lackluster prayer of thanks, emptied his bags.
Rude much?
Yes, but also, if Shuniya-Hara Das was to be believed, it was also something Sri-Krishna wanted and longed for for all eternity.
And so he spoke to the source in a way he'd once spoken to Padmé and Palpatine, freely, with no filters and no agenda, just letting his emotions go and flow. He told The Supreme and absolute...
Here's the revised version with corrections and improvements for clarity and flow:
Here's a polished version of your passage:
He poured out his heart to the Source of the Force, expressing his fears and dejection, revealing how, despite assurances to the contrary, hope and redemption felt as unattainable as kissing his children and his wife. Essentially, Vaderkin laid bare his soul to the Divine, even going so far as to request a hug, a comforting embrace for one who had made the galaxy scream in anguish.
So absorbed in his prayer—more like spilling his sad, pitiful guts for the Divine to see—that he didn't notice someone had sneaked up on him. As a reflex, trained for survival, Vader reacted. He lashed out with the Force, violently.
It was only when he realized that, as a practitioner of Bhakti (which was totally different from being a Jedi or a Sith—especially a Sith), he wasn't supposed to do that. Especially not to the Princess, the very person he'd insisted his crew treat as an esteemed guest.
And who messed it up? Anakin, of course. Impulsive, uncontrollable Anakin.
He felt his self-hatred feed the dark side, intensifying his power. But no, he wasn't a darksider. Shuniya-Hara had warned him heavily against hatred. Hatred stemmed from envy, kindled by comparisons with others and the belief that one could have done better.
"Anakin." His master's voice sliced through the chaos, sharp enough to snap Vaderkin out of his spiraling thoughts and back to the present.
The present being: facing the blaster Princess Leia had taken from who-knows-where, and a very irate, very much alive princess.
Behind his mask, Vaderkin smiled. At least she was alive.
"Princess…" he trailed off, then decided to drop his filter. "My apologies, Princess Organa. I reacted poorly."
"Oh, you don't say?" she replied dryly, and the black-clad man couldn't help but admire her. Still, the rasp in her voice worried him.
"One does not live as long as I have, against all odds, by being weak… but no more." He snapped more to himself than to Princess Leia. Why did she carry the name of his deceased daughter? Was it a sign? "I… I need help."
The admission, spoken lamely and quietly through his vocoder, felt more damning than the scream of a dying creature.
"You… need help," Princess Leia stated flatly.
"I need… help for many things." The Emperor's sundered fist admitted this truth, stripping away his pride and exposing his vulnerability. He expected no kindness from her. How could she offer it? Her home had been leveraged for her knowledge, her crew killed before her eyes, tortured by Vader's personal torture droid.
She had a blaster, and he knew his life-support system was as fragile as flimsy board. The sound of his artificial breathing filled the nearly abandoned corridor as he braced himself for the pain that would surely come.
He was a Sith Lord; no one escaped the hatred they rightfully earned, especially not Darth Vader.
Then he heard the princess huff and shift her blaster. He braced for a bold fight, his instincts kicking in to avoid killing the resistance leader. Let her have it. Let her relish the glory of killing Vader. May God forgive him for his sins; he was a weak man.
Then Leia, the princess of Alderaan—a tiny woman who barely reached five feet—slid under Vader's right arm and, with a grunt, managed to lift the hulking, durasteel giant off the ground and back to his feet faster than Vader thought possible.
"Oh Force…" she grunted, while Vaderkin propped himself up against the wall, getting used to the pain in his stumps as his outdated balancing software recalibrated.
It was all for his benefit, after all; the Dark Side thrived on darker emotions—pain, fear, frustration, and pure spite. A deep, guttural growl rumbled in Vader's chest before a hacking cough overtook him.
He hated this. God, he hated this so much—which was, in a way, the whole point. But now, after tasting the unconditional love freely given by Shuniya-Hara and Bhagavan, Vader knew he could no longer tolerate hate. Hatred, lust, and fear… such a caustic cocktail.
Let me know if you need any more adjustments!

Here's a revised version of your text, focusing on clarity, grammar, and flow while keeping the original voice and intent:
"You." Princess Leia panted. "You're kriffing heavy… are you even human?"
"... I'm at least half-human, or I was before Obi-Wan Kenobi cut off my limbs." Vaderkin didn't know why he revealed that to her, but it felt… like the will of the Force.
Behind his mask, Vaderkin closed his burning eyes. The Force, this divine power, was speaking to him again after twenty years. He didn't deserve such mercy.
"Kenobi!" Leia sputtered, the Force filling with a mix of surprise, disgust, and familiarity.
"Do you know of… this man?"
"He saved me when I was young," she revealed. "I got kidnapped by one of your forces, and Old Ben rescued me. I owe him my life."
Bright, uncontrollable anger roared to life in Vaderkin's heart, the Force turning violent as the dark side beckoned him with its siren song. But no… he'd made a vow. The path of Bhakti was one of self-control; the emperor of all the senses was the mind and emotions. So, despite his previous lessons in Sithhood, Vaderkin forced his anger into submission and chased away the false promises of the dark side.
When he returned to her, Leia was holding on to a support beam, looking as pale as Shuniya-Hara Das, who was sending Vader his approval through the Force. His control wasn't perfect… but he would learn.
"My apologies—"
"No, don't be," Leia said shakily as she nervously readjusted her clothes—a white turtleneck over one of the rare female officer's trousers available. She had to tie them around her delicate ankles lest they dragged on the floor. "You… you know another side of Old Ben."
"He used to be my teacher," he revealed. "I was once a Jedi, a long, long time ago. He was tasked to train me to be a proper Jedi… I failed."
The admission of his failure, his shame… God above, what was it with his emotions today? Why was he so talkative, of all people, to the rebel princess?
It must be the will of the Force. So Vaderkin let it be. He was done fighting her.
"And he tried to kill you for your failure?" Leia asked dubiously.
"Jedi are the natural enemy… He… Leia, I am a monster. I was the one who exterminated all the crechilings and the non-fighters of Coruscant." Vader—Anakin—admitted this time, facing his shame and horror head-on, without hiding behind hatred and fear.
"Why didn't he kill you?" Princess Leia asked with horror.
"Oh, he tried… he almost did."
"But—"
"But he couldn't do it. The perfect Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was tasked to kill me, failed his own mission because he… he was too attached to me, whom he'd raised."
"So… Ben left you to burn on the lava banks of Mustafar."
Vaderkin couldn't answer; his whole body shook with pure betrayal. He tried to release those emotions in the Force, but—
"Vaderkin, my spiritual son, what you're feeling right now is valid. Kenobi failed as his warrior task and left you to suffer, like the weak materialist he is, bereft of all intelligence and controlled by the illusion of pleasure and so-called love. Yamaraja would have been kinder; he would have provided a body with regenerating limbs… hmm." Shuniya hummed. "I wonder… yes, I feel it wasn't your time yet. Being a prophesied being, dharmic logic is usually thrown out the window for reasons, like what happened on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. Despite what the universe may think, dearest Shishya, you were still chosen by Maa-Durga for a reason—a reason that may become clear later, but not right now. Just know that, while I will never approve of what you did in the past, the fate Kenobi cursed you with is even worse."
"I received what I deserved. I cannot change what happened, nor can I fully blame him. My old master… made mistakes, just as I have. You told me to forgive myself for my gross missteps and move toward the divine light, toward Gauranga. I believe… I should do the same with Kenobi… but not right now," Vader amended quickly.
It was odd how easy it was to say those words, to let go of some of his burning hatred for that hypocrite. But it was easier now, knowing that his perfect master had made a mistake.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi is less of a Jedi than I thought," Princess Leia muttered darkly, her mixed feelings dangerously skirting the dark side. "He did save my life but—"
"Princess," Vader snapped as he felt his guru's gentle hold release him. "You are barely stepping into adulthood. Trust me when I say that it's never black or white. Good people can do horrible things; bad people can be heroes… and this fallen Jedi can take a few steps toward God."
Huh… he felt some humor there, some levity to brighten his gloomy life! Perhaps this was a sign of slight progress?
No, better not to get his hopes up too hastily. Princess Leia grumbled under her breath, and knowing that the current conversation was over, Vader stalked away from his main objective. Perhaps he could ask one of his clone troopers to get what he needed?
Nah, most troopers wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a sonic screwdriver and a wrench, even if their lives depended on it. Either that, or they had fooled everyone with their so-called incompetence. Perhaps the old 501st were fighting against Lord Vader and his masters in their own way—never giving up the fight despite having no true free will?
Eventually, Vader passed a group of clone troopers and gently scanned their minds for any signs of defiance. The group of five stumbled in pain and cowered away from the dark, looming figure of Vaderkin, who had found what he was looking for.
"You… are not giving your best." His statement sounded like a death knell to his men. "You… are actively fighting against your programming." The white-clad clones remained rooted, and Vaderkin had to check with the Force whether they were dying or not. No, they were fine—merely enduring fear stoically as they awaited death.
"This would explain your atrocious marksmanship on the field."
"Sir—" One stepped forward, and Vaderkin stopped him with a raised hand.
"Good work."
"Sir?" The stormtrooper asked, confusion filling the Force, and Vader… Oh, was this how Master Yoda felt when he caught a youngling using their natural talent to break the rules? A wave of sorrow and nostalgia threatened to crush Vaderkin. 'Oh Krishna, what have I done?'
"You are the first to know: I am rejecting the path of the Sith. Yet I shall not return to the side of the Jedi. There is a third side, the side of Bhakti." Vader took a few steps forward, letting his cape swirl dramatically behind him. "I will soon announce this fact shipwide. I do not know who is loyal to me or to Darth Sidious." He turned to face the clones. "I do not deserve your mercy; God knows I've been a horrible general to you all. But… if you—"
Vader shook his head. "No. While your free will has been removed, I will strive to figure out how to free as many of your kind as I can before someone manages to get rid of me. Dismissed." With that, the shadow of the galaxy stomped away back to his quarters. He had a silent mutiny to plan.
As he 'painfully' sat down at his desk and began to write the topics he wanted to address, he heard and felt someone—Leia and the same clones he had spoken to in the hallway. They spoke for a bit, dropped something outside Vaderkin's door, and left.
Huh… The Force felt decidedly free from hatred and loathing, at least nothing aimed at Vader. Which, by itself, was rather odd. Every single stormtrooper deeply loathed their general. Even the lightest of Force sensitives could know that if they learned to listen a little.
But no, those stormtroopers, marked with the foggy buzz of their chip, were free from their usual emotional cocktail. Huh…
The other person had been Princess Leia. While she was grumpy, testy, and… pitying Vader (he deserved this pity, as much as he hated to admit it; he didn't deserve more than that, if he was being truthful), she still disliked the Shadow of the Empire. She had moved beyond this hatred. The Force around him was getting lighter.
'Hmm… it seems the princess has some latent Force sensitivity,' Vader thought as his hand came to rest on his lightsaber, about to storm out and rid the galaxy of—
"No!" The scourge of all Jedi-kind recoiled. No, he had chosen another path—the path of incandescent light, the path of golden mercy. Not the path of blood, not if he could help it.
Yes, he felt that the Jedi had ruined his life—from taking him away from his mother and ignoring his pleas for help, to dismissing his prophetic dreams. It wasn't merely grief that had triggered the then-Jedi's fall; it was years of frustration with the so-called perfected Jedi.
He could forgive the younger ones. Hell, he could (begrudgingly and a tad reluctantly) forgive Obi-Wan Ken
obi, for there were times it was clear he wanted to do more. But Master Yoda and Mace Windu? No… those were the grand masters, the elders—those who should have known better. They were supposed to have most of the answers, and failing that, the wisdom needed to soothe Anakin's heart.
But no, it all sounded like lame platitudes. They truly believed that everything was the Force and that death ultimately meant returning to a homogeneous, impersonal mass without pleasure and pain. Perhaps they had been unbalanced, but not in the way either the Jedi or the Sith understood. Perhaps Maya, the Source, the Mother of Everything, was tired of the two factions' useless fight and the Jedi's impersonal view of everything and sent Anakin to… clean her house.
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Hell, the illusory potency only had to send Darth Bane to get rid of all the Sith, keeping only two at all times.
Darth Vader shook his head. Who was he to decipher the will of the Source? So instead of pondering the greater design of the supreme being and his galactic soap opera, Vaderkin stepped outside his hab suite to see what the princess and his clones had done outside, only to freeze at the sight.
In front of his door was a pair of hover carts filled to the brim with tools, spools of wire, and… junk! High-grade junk Anakin had only dreamed of being able to even touch!
There were droid parts (yes!), spaceship parts small enough to be carted, and brand-new materials. But most importantly… it felt like forgiveness—a little nudge forward from the Source and its… her Source.
Vader sighed as he felt the phantom shock from his… his…
From Darth Sidious. Darth Sidious needed a weapon with no downtime, a man frustrated and spent, unable to feel anything but pain and rage. Anakin had taken refuge in tinkering with whatever he could find; it was his shelter when everything became too much. And Darth Sidious had painfully turned this fun little escape into another form of torture.
It would take time for Vaderkin to accept his old hobby again as a fun pastime. But this… this was a good step in the right direction.
Through the transcendental bond between him and his Vaishnava master, Vader felt Shuniya's pride and pleasure, along with a pat on his head. He had to grab onto the holocart as an overwhelming wave of positive feelings flooded his senses.
Vader returned to his quarters, ordering his troops not to touch his cart. Then he sat down with his head in his hands—not weeping…
No, Darth Vader did not weep…
But Vaderkin did.

tried Chat GPT to edit this behemoth. it worked perfectly well.. until you realized that It I now can't ad space between my paragraph, turning this into a wall of text.

I know, I hate it too.

So, I'm looking for an editor, a beta reader... guys, I have this huge backlogged I need help. also, to those who keep asking me for commission. no, I'm not paying for NFTs, if my stories inspire you so much, just draw you pictures and send them to me. but I'm not paying, and it's a no.

Hare Krishna.