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There were many things that could irritate Darth Vader. Failure from incompetent generals, any modicum of success from the Rebellion, and the lingering reminders of his past that remained in the Force. The brief glimpses of- of Padme, of Shmi Skywalker, even the charming smile of Obi-Wan Kenobi-were enough to make him kill several Stormtroopers without thinking about it. That had already happened twice today. It was up to his crew to decide if it would happen again.
The Devastator was comprised of one long, gray hallway with several rooms branching off of it. His quarters were secluded near the back- the Rebels did like to fire at the front- and in that bare room was where he would receive messages from his Master. He reveled in the frightened thoughts of his soldiers as he marched past. One soldier, clad in all black, nearly jumped back when Vader passed him. He felt in the Force that Sidious wanted to speak with him. He heard the faint crack of the glass of the deck’s window. Vader already knew what their conversation was going to be about.
“Master,” he said. The sound of his prosthetics grinding as he knelt echoed throughout his private chamber. “I have crushed uprisings on Taris, Ryloth, and Corellia. The Rebellion is falling apart.”
“I am aware, my apprentice,” Sidious’s smiled sickly. Dark tendrils of the Force twisted in the air as the Emperor continued to speak. “You have been quite successful in putting down this Rebellion. However, plots against my-” he paused, examining Vader from above, “- our Empire- still remain. There are reports of plans of another attack on Empire Day. I want you to stop it.”
“Of course, Master,” he said. He drunk the power his pain gave him. It hurt to kneel in front of Sidious, to speak when his metal mask pulled tightly against his skin, but he knew it made him stronger. His spies had already informed him of the plans on Empire Day, but he still had to please his Master. “I will kill these Rebels. I will not allow more uprisings.”
“I am glad to hear that, Lord Vader.” The Emperor narrowed his yellow eyes. “This plan is on Naboo. The Rebels plan to blockade the location where Senator Padme Amidala is buried.”
“I understand.”
He didn’t feel anything at the mention of her name. There was no more anger than what already burned in the Force around him; no more pain than what Vader felt every time the respirator forced air into his burnt lungs. That name meant nothing to him. That name was only a memory only as powerful as smoke or mist.
“Good.” The Emperor smiled again, his crooked and deformed teeth flashing through the hologram. Part of Vader was pleased his Master was scarred as well; it would not please him to always look upon the face of the kindly Chancellor Palpatine. “I am disgusted by these Rebels. Senator Amidala was dear to me; I knew her since she was a girl. To disgrace her memory, to turn it into a symbol of violence...it is reprehensible, isn’t it, Lord Vader?”
“Yes.”
The Emperor shook his head. The hologram flickered as the Darkness in the Force sharpened like a blade. “They will say I am responsible for her death. That I took the life of my own protegee. You must stop these lies from spreading, my apprentice, and take out these Rebels. I won’t have my Empire believe I am capable of such things.”
The echo of the respirator was the only sound he heard. The memories were back. Padme bringing her hand to her throat, gasping for air. Padme, in her wedding gown, swearing to be only his (a promise she would break, as he thought of Kenobi’s smile.) Padme, her face both downcast and excited as she told him the news that would change his life.
Something wonderful has happened. Ani….I’m pregnant.
“You could never do such a thing, Master,” he said evenly. “Only a Jedi would be capable of such treachery.”
“Ensure the galaxy is aware of this fact. Destroy those Rebels, Lord Vader. Make sure they do not desecrate the memory of Senator Amidala, a woman slain by the Jedi.”
“Of course, Master.” (Padme, in her nightgown, laughing as he kissed her neck. Padme, quietly reading parenting books in preparation for a child that would never be born. Padme, in a beautiful gown, dead as his mother, dead as every person he slaughtered in her name.)
“I wish you well, Lord Vader.” The hologram flickered for the last time. “Do not fail.”
He slowly rose from the ground after the Emperor’s image vanished. The Dark Side flowed through him, cleansing him of weakness and memories. There would be no Rebels left alive on Naboo. The Dark Side flared with joy at the image of dead Rebels, killed so thoroughly even their ghosts wouldn’t be able to speak her name.
It would be done. There was no other option. There were only two things left in the room: Vader and his rage. Both would be satisfied.
“Lord Vader?”
He heard the door to his chambers slide open. A soldier- the same one that jumped away from him earlier- slowly walked inside, his eyes skirting away from Vader as he approached. He had a holopad in his hand and a frown on his face.
“My Lord,” the boy swallowed. Vader was about to kill him out of impatience, but he held back. “Governor Tarkin sent a message about a revolt on Lothal. He wants you to assist him.”
Most other soldiers would give a sharp salute and leave the room as fast as possible. The boy, however, remained still. Vader saw on the markings of his uniform that he was a pilot. He was short, with a tiny nose and wavy hair that didn’t follow Imperial standards. “I-”
“Leave.” Vader didn’t have any patience for soldiers that didn’t obey orders. The boy’s eyes widened, and Vader raised his hand to snap his neck.
“The Jedi didn’t kill Padme Amidala!” The pilot shouted, then gasped, covering his mouth. “I- My Lord, I’m sorry.”
Vader closed the door with a flick of his wrist. For the boy, the only light in the room would be the red that flickered from his chest and mask. “And what ,” he said, lifting the boy off the ground, wanting him to feel panic before the choking began. “Do you know about her death?”
“She-” Vader tightened the boy’s throat. “She was my mother!”
Ani... I’m pregnant.
The boy’s nose was like Padme’s. He had her height, but Vader saw the ghost of Anakin Skywalker in the curve of his jaw and mouth. He now felt what he’d missed before- the glowing power of the boy in the Force. The pilot in front of him was a star, radiating with emotion and Light.
The Force, both the overwhelming Dark and the faint hints of Light, confirmed the boy’s statement. It rang with delight at the proclamation of the truth. The boy-the pilot-was his son .
“That’s impossible,” he said, his mind not processing the truth. “I killed her.”
The pilot- his son- took a step back. “She died giving birth to me, okay! You didn’t kill her. The Jedi didn’t either. I don’t know why the Emperor told you that, but he’s lying.”
His son was a pilot. Did he enjoy the exhilaration of flying, as Anakin Skywalker once did?
“What is your name?”
His son continued to back away. Vader held out his hand and used the Force to hold his son in place. “Tell me.”
“Luke Skywalker, my Lord,” his son said. “My mother was the one who named me. She couldn’t have been killed by you or anyone else. I wouldn’t be here if she was.”
Luke. That was the name Padme insisted on. She had been confident they were having a son, but the Force had told Vader that he would have a daughter. She’d rolled her eyes at his predictions ( Motherly intuition tells you more than the Force, Anakin ). Now the proof was in front of him that she was right.
“Skywalker.” The name felt foreign to his ears. “Who raised you? Where were you born? Why are you here, on my ship?”
Luke glared. “I don’t have to tell you any of that, my Lord. No offense.”
Vader lifted him off the ground once again, though only by an inch. The boy struggled against the invisible chains that kept him in his father’s grasp. “I’m from Tatooine. Why do you care so much about my mother? I-” Luke looked down at the floor. “I could feel how upset you were when the Emperor mentioned her death.”
“Who raised you?”
“Why is any of this important-?”
“Young Skywalker-”
“I was raised by some moisture farmers. And an old wizard named Ben Kenobi. They’re all dead now. The plague took them out a few years ago.”
Kenobi . His former master had left him to burn, had stolen his wife, and now had stolen his child. Sixteen years- Luke was sixteen years old- was what Vader had been robbed of. Years of raising his son, of teaching him the ways of the Force, of training him to help his father destroy the Rebellion and rule the galaxy. Sixteen years.
“How long have you been stationed here?”
“Here?” Luke scrunched his nose (just like his mother had.) “Today is my first day, my Lord. I graduated from the Academy two months ago.”
“And they sent you here?” he said dryly.
His son shrugged. “I made some enemies at school, my Lord. Particularly in places I shouldn’t have.”
Vader didn’t know whether to kill or promote the man that had sent his son to him. He pushed the thought aside as he said, “You will remain by my side, young Skywalker. There are not many people who can survive calling the Emperor a liar.”
“Oh,” Luke murmured. “I guess I did do that.” He shrugged, but Vader could sense his son’s worry in the Force.
“You did a great service by informing me of the true nature of Amidala’s death. I will inform the Emperor of this.”
“That’s not necessary, Lord Vader.”
“It is.” Vader could feel the beginnings of a Force bond between himself and his son. No, it wasn’t the beginnings, he realized. The bond that had existed since he discovered Padme was pregnant was reignited. The Force was looping around their souls, tying their strings of fate together. This was how it should’ve been: Father and son, never to be separated.
“Come, child. You will tell me everything you know about your parents.”
“I’m not a child! I’m sixteen!” The Force did not agree with that statement, and neither did Vader. He gestured, and the door to another section of his quarters opened. Luke frowned but started to walk inside.
He had a son. There were three things in his quarters: Vader, his son, and the link between them that would grow every second they spent together. He would finally right the wrongs Kenobi had done to his child. He felt the Force cry in delight at the father reuniting with his son. The Dark crooned with pleasure, sensing in Luke the potential for a powerful Sith.
And unbeknownst to Vader, the Light shined with power for the first time in years. It was the Light inside Luke, and it was the small fragments that existed inside Vader’s soul. It was the Light Anakin Skywalker had felt when he whispered promises to his unborn child, swearing to them that he would always protect them, would never fail them like he did his mother. It was the Light Padme felt even as life left her body. It was the Light Sidious was blind to.
It was the Light that would save the galaxy, and save father and son as well.