Chapter Text
Darth Vader stalked down the halls of the Senate building with the air of someone who would grant no mercy to anyone who got in his way.
He hated the Senate— he hated politicians and bills and votes and all forms of governmental affairs. He had since he was a child and all he knew of politics was that slavery was supposedly outlawed by the government but if he poked and prodded his skinny leg hard enough, he could feel something small and metal.
Today was even worse though, because every which way he looked, Darth Vader saw nothing but reminders of his past.
It had been two years to the day since the fall of the Republic, since the decimation of the Jedi by his own hand. To the public, the day was celebrated as the rise of their glorious and mighty Empire. There were parades in the streets, speeches made by every Imperial Officer who thought themselves important that were broadcast on all official channels, parties and banquets held in honor of the Emperor himself.
The entire galaxy celebrated the worst day of Darth Vader’s life. The day he would never forgive himself for.
Inside the Senate building wasn’t any better. Despite the celebrations to be had, there were still debates to mediate and votes to sit in on. There were no days off within the Empire, not for the lowliest slave or even the Emperor’s right hand. (Not that there was really any difference between the two.)
Even if all he had to do was stand there and listen to all those pathetic bureaucrats argue about absolutely nothing of importance, it still grated on him. They should really do away with the entire Senate– what was the point of it all if his Master held all the power in the galaxy anyways? He wasn’t even here today, the beloved Emperor was busy preparing his annual speech. Did his Master just revel in feeling Darth Vader’s hatred spiking every time someone opened their mouth only for the most unintelligent noises to fall from it?
Truthfully, he would not put that past Darth Sidious. The idea that his Master would be so spiteful and cruel was not surprising in the least but it still made Darth Vader burn with such violent anger that the lights within the hallway flickered. Someone behind him muffled a fearful shriek in reaction. While he normally would feel some satisfaction at how he could make people so terrified, today was different.
Darth Vader did not have the patience nor desire to find whatever little amount of restraint he held within himself. He needed to find an outlet for the building rage lest he end up murdering half the Senate. He needed somewhere quiet, somewhere he could let out his emotions, somewhere familiar—
Darth Vader swiftly turned, making his way down a hallway he had once gone many times before. He knew the perfect spot, one that would be empty where he could finally get some quiet. He knew it was a sign of his own weakness that he chose this room above all others, that Sidious would surely punish him for it; but what his Master didn’t know of wouldn’t hurt him. At least, not immediately.
He locked the door behind him as he stepped into the office. The lights were off, the only light coming from the window behind the desk. The room was not the same as it had been the last time he had been there. The view was eerily familiar, but there were new chairs. A new rug. A new humidifier on the desk that had definitely not been there before.
The Sith Lord leaned his weight on the metal desk, his shoulders shaking in pent up anguish. He had no choice but to breathe evenly, his respirator doing all the work for him. It was just enough to hold himself together. If he had control of his own breaths, surely he would’ve lost his mind by now.
Darth Vader closed his eyes under his mask and focused on his breathing. He collected most of his grief, his sorrow, his pain on one inhale and forcefully removed it from himself on the next exhale. They did not dissipate into the Force but instead blanketed the room. The emotions hung in the air, expanding until it felt as if he were suffocating on them.
Good, he could almost hear his Master purr. Let your suffering fuel you, let your emotions press down on you until you are either crushed beneath them or you grow even stronger—
Something whimpered behind him.
Darth Vader stood up tall and slowly turned. A human child was sitting against the far wall, curled up into a ball with her face pressing against her knees. He could see that she was afraid, with her trembling body and muffled whimpers, but he could not sense her fear through the Force.
He tilted his head. Curious.
With minimal effort, Darth Vader gathered his emotions back inside of him. The effect was instantaneous— the girl relaxed and gave a tiny, relieved sigh. Still, he could not sense her emotions. It was as if someone had taught the child how to shield her mind as tightly as possible.
“Child,” He spoke, and the girl flinched. She looked up, staring at him with wide and wet eyes. “Why are you here?”
She blinked at him silently and for a moment Darth Vader thought she may be too young for speech. Then she looked to the floor, almost bashful.
“Ran ‘way.” She mumbled into her knees.
“And why did you run?”
“Too loud.”
“What was too loud?”
“Ummm…” She shifted around, pondering the question. He realized that the girl couldn’t have been older than two, perhaps three standard. “It’s a secret.”
“A secret.” He repeated. She looked up at him again and gave a decisive nod, as serious as a toddler could be.
Weighing his options, Darth Vader knelt before her. She obviously had to be strong with the Force if her guardians tried so desperately to hide her from him. She also seemed to hold no fear of him, despite his appearance being in the nightmares of most children her age.
She could be a great asset to him, with such a young and pliable mind. Already, he was imagining her growing into a vicious and deadly Inquisitor— possibly one of the greatest he would ever train. Yes, he could use her.
“I also have a secret,” He told her. She tilted her head at this, curious and hungry for any ounce of knowledge just as any child. “Do you wish to know what it is?”
“Yes!” She gasped.
“Very well,” Darth Vader hummed, almost amused by her eagerness. Then, with more care than he would admit to, he reached out to her within the Force. The girl gasped again, tensing up as he so easily broke past her mental shielding.
You’re like me, you’re like me, you’re like me—
He pressed on, making an effort to not crush her fragile and underdeveloped mind. He could finally sense her emotions and read into her thoughts like this. The girl was scared but trying very hard to be brave because Papa always told her to be brave and Mama said not to let her fear control her but he was cold so cold not like Fulcrum she was warm bright soft why was it so cold go away go away—
With hardly a thought as to why he cared so much, Darth Vader tightened his own mental shields, purposefully keeping the dark from leaking through. The girl relaxed again, no longer subconsciously trying to push him out, and he continued on.
“What is your name?” He asked her through the Force. “Where are you from?”
Instead of answering directly, her mind brought the answer to him. A memory floated up from beneath her stream of consciousness. It was more of an imprint of a memory than a clear remembrance.
“My daughter, Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan,” Bail Organa said as he introduced her to a group of important-looking adults.
Of course, she would be Organa’s child. Senator Organa had always been a Jedi sympathizer— it was no wonder that he would attempt to keep his daughter’s strength in the Force a secret. Darth Vader would take immense pleasure in personally stealing her away from him.
Then, the memory faded, and a new one surfaced. This one was far hazier, it must have been from farther back when the Princess’s mind was even more incomplete.
“— it is too strong in her, I’m afraid she may be too much like her birth father—” Queen Organa, he recognized, whispered as she stroked her daughter’s hair. The daughter she thought to be asleep, but was teetering just on the edge of it.
“Don’t say that, please,” Senator Organa begged his wife. “How could you ever say that?”
“He was once a good man—” The memory sputtered out as the Princess slipped into unconsciousness.
Birth father? She was adopted, then. And the Organas were afraid of their daughter’s power, too. It was smart of them to be afraid.
“Do you remember your birth parents?”
He felt her shudder underneath the weight he pressed into her, urging her mind to give him the answer. He was curious, very curious, and the girl was so willing to give him the answers to his questions.
The answer that came this time was almost unintelligible. It was worn from time, and more of the Princess recalling herself remembering it rather than the original memory itself.
A painting. It was a painting, hung with care within the halls of the Alderaan palace. All the girl could see was the painting, but a voice spoke in her ear as she gazed upon it.
“She was very beautiful,” An infuriatingly familiar voice whispered. “And very brave. Your birth mother loved you so much, Leia. So very much.”
The girl had not recognized the kind-looking woman in the painting. She didn’t remember who had held her and whispered these things to her. She had been too young, her mind too underdeveloped.
But Darth Vader would never forget his former Padawan’s voice, or his wife’s smile.
***
“Are you going to kill me, Vader?”
“Yes.”
***
The office was one of Vader’s favorite places. It was right up there with the lake house on Naboo and the cockpit of his personal ship. There was hardly any other place in the Galaxy that helped ease his chronic aches and pains like that room. Some days were only bearable with the knowledge that he would soon be stepping into that office at the end of them.
The large aquariums within cast a beautiful glow on the room as the sun set behind the mountains and the light dimmed. The fish within the tanks were of every shape, size, and color and were utterly mesmerizing once one’s attention was drawn to them. Sometimes you simply could not look away.
Not Vader, of course. He was above being distracted by such things. But watching tiny hands press against the duraglass and bright, brown eyes widen in awe was just as attention-stealing for him as the fish were to others.
“Look!” Leia pointed at a special-looking fish. “Daddy, look!”
“I’m looking, Princess.” Vader told her, adjusting his grip on her so she could more comfortably stand on his thighs to get a better look. “Very nice.”
The breeze coming in from the opened window was refreshing on the scarred skin of his face and head. This office was the only other place he allowed himself to remove the helmet other than in the comfort of his own ship. A nasal cannula was more irritating to deal with, constantly needing to be shifted with every movement and rubbing against his sensitive skin until it felt raw.
It was more than worth it, however, just to be able to look at his daughter with his own eyes; to allow her to grow up knowing her father’s real face and hearing his real voice.
“Papa, do you see it?” Leia twisted her whole body around to look behind Vader.
(But Vader was not Leia’s only father.)
“Yes, love.” Organa agreed from his seat in the lounge area of his office. He was staring at a datapad intently, and Vader could sense that he wasn’t reading the document on it but more so debating with himself silently.
He had been doing that frequently as of late. Whatever Organa was mulling over was definitely nothing that Vader cared about, so he ignored the feeling of man’s internal arguments. It was, however, quickly becoming frustrating due to how often Organa seemed to forget to pull his mental shields up around Vader.
He had very foolishly begun to feel safe enough around Vader to let his guard down. Yes, Vader had been trying to earn his trust for several years now, but not like this. Not if it meant they would become friendly in such a way. Vader was not here to make friends.
(When they had first negotiated this arrangement, Organa’s mental shields were like durasteel walls welded together. Even if that meant very little in the face of Vader’s might, it was impressive for a Force-null being to have such a secure mind. It also entirely explained how Organa had already begun forming the Rebellion right underneath his and Sidious’s noses.)
“You didn’t look,” Leia pouted at the Senator. Vader kept his eyes on her as he hid his smile from Organa. The other man had earned a lot of Vader’s trust and respect, however begrudging it was, but he hadn’t earned that level of vulnerability from him.
“I did look,” Organa argued back, still not looking up. “It’s a very beautiful fish.”
Leia scowled, obviously deeply offended by her adoptive father’s inattention to the very special fish. She instead turned her dangerous doe eyes to her birth father. Vader blinked back at her, already willing to follow whatever order she gave.
Being very careful and gentle— doing it exactly as she had been taught because she is an exceedingly brilliant and talented young girl— Leia brushed against Vader’s mind using the Force. She was asking him for something, but the details were muffled behind Vader’s own shields. Curious, he cautiously allowed her to slip by them and show him what she wanted.
Vader turned the idea she pressed into his hands over in his mind as amusement radiated through him. Instead of giving any kind answer to Leia, Vader just smirked and subtly lifted two fingers up. Then, he jerked them sharply to the side.
Startled, Organa gasped and flinched as his datapad flew out of his hands. Leia broke out into a wide grin as it soared across the room and right into her grasp. She met Vader’s gaze, all mischief and scheming.
(His daughter looked so much like his angel that it made him ache, sometimes.)
Once he had recovered from the shock, Organa raised a single brow at the two of them. The expression was probably meant to be stern but was softened by the smile on his lips, and the amusement and fondness being cast into the Force strong enough that most sensitives in a 50-meter radius could feel it.
It made Vader uncomfortable, how much of those feelings were directed towards him as well. But it was something he could endure and would continue to in order to watch his daughter grow up happy and safe and light .
Above all else, Vader never wanted the coldness of the dark to touch the natural brightness Leia carried. She was like the roar of an ion engine, a steady burning light that she had so much control over already. Fulcrum had done a great job teaching her, even if she had done so in order to better hide his daughter from him.
(He did not blame her. She had wanted to keep Leia safe. He could never fault her for protecting his child. It had been the most logical thing to do, even if he had at first burned with fury over Fulcrum’s interference.)
Vader stood silently after Leia bolted off his lap, Organa chasing after her. He tried to swipe the ‘pad away from her with a lunge over one of the couches, but Leia most definitely had inherited Vader’s reflexes. She ducked just a half-second before and Organa missed her by just a fingertip.
The Senator had overestimated himself however, and ended up tilting the entire piece of furniture over with his momentum. With another startled yelp, both the man and the sofa crashed backwards onto the floor.
Leia, of course, came out unscathed and stuck her tongue out playfully at both of her fathers. Her laughter faded behind her as she took her chance to bolt out of the room with the datapad still in hand.
“She is expecting a chase,” Vader pointed out to the man still on the floor.
“I know,” Organa groaned and rubbed at his head where it had hit the floor as he pulled himself up. “Unfortunately, she is going to have to settle for hide and seek.”
Vader watched him struggle against his aging joints. All in all, he did not especially envy those who couldn’t manually oil their limbs when they began to creak and get stuck. It was simply more efficient.
“Only five years old and I can’t keep up with her,” Organa sighed, straightening out his tunic.
“It is only going to get worse from here,” Vader informed him helpfully. “If she is anything like I was as a child, she will be finding herself in many dangerous and high-stakes situations very soon.”
“Ha! … That was a joke, right?”
Vader only stared. The Senator looked aghast. Vader felt satisfied by the man’s fretting for a few different reasons.
“Aldera save us.” He rubbed at his forehead, exhaling heavily. “I’m going to have to ask Obi-Wan for advice on how to raise a Skywalker.”
The room plunged several degrees cooler within seconds.
Vader turned away from Organa without barely a moment of hesitation. He grabbed his helmet from where it sat on a nearby table and pulled the cannula from his nose before securing the mask in place.
Vader took immense pleasure in how the Senator carefully adjusted his collar and attempted to clear his throat when the sound of his respirator filled the echoing silence between them. To his credit, it seemed that he had realized his mistakes instantly. Unfortunately, he lacked the wisdom to not reopen his mouth until Vader had left the room.
“I know where he is,” Organa told him. “Kenobi, I mean.”
Vader’s fists tightened as he tried to push the idea of how satisfying it would be to hear the snap of someone’s neck, to feel the living Force drain from the corpse. He forced his shoulders to relax on his next exhale and stalked his way toward the exit.
Organa cleared his throat again, causing Vader to pause only steps away from his target. “I could tell you where,” He offered.
“…Is that it?” The vocal modulator within the helmet removed all nuance and tone from his voice, turning his words into a deep bass that settled heavy like stone in the chests of others.
“…Pardon me?”
Vader turned his head, glancing over his shoulder. “Is that what you have been agonizing over for so long? Whether or not you should trust me with Kenobi’s location?”
“Well— yes. I thought that you… might want to see him.”
He could have laughed . “You thought wrong, Senator.”
“Why?” Organa demanded. When Vader didn’t answer immediately, he went on. “Why not at least talk to him?”
“Why should I?” Vader refuted, patience wearing alarmingly thin. “Tell me.”
“To find closure, or to seek an apology? You were his Padawan, surely that must mean something .”
Vader spun on his heel, cloak billowing behind him as he marched right up to Organa. He towered over the man, making sure that the Senator felt only a sliver of the hatred he felt for Kenobi that burned like ice inside of Vader’s veins. Organa looked frightened, just for a second, before he frowned and set his jaw in defiance.
“Anakin Skywalker was the Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin Skywalker is dead .” Vader told him firmly, almost growling out the words. “I will not repeat myself again. You would do well to remember.”
“We will have to agree to disagree on that point.” Organa scowled at him, both brave and foolish.
“If you continue to have doubts about the death of Skywalker, why don’t you just ask Kenobi yourself?”
“You aren’t even curious about what he could offer you?”
“Believe me, Senator Organa,” Vader said slowly and clearly, making sure that Organa knew he meant every word. “Kenobi has nothing that I would ever want from him.”
***
“Bogano.”
Trilla scrunched her nose up. “Bogano?”
Cere nodded. “It has to be there. I’m sure of it.”
“Really.” Trilla leveled a look at the former Jedi, one that quite obviously said she did not believe her.
“What?” Cere frowned, searching her ex-Padawan’s expression. “What’s wrong with Bogano?”
“Well, it’s not on any of the Mantis’s starmaps, for one.” Greez turned in his pilot’s seat, kicking his legs out to stretch them. “I’d be flying in blind.”
“No, it wouldn’t be on any. Master Cordova discovered it before the Purge.”
“But you know where it is?”
“I do,”
“Know where what is?” Cal interjected as he came up from behind them, carefully keeping his distance from Trilla.
“Bogano, apparently,” Trilla drawled, either not noticing or not caring about Cal’s weariness of her.
“Bogano?” The kid squinted, looking back to Cere in question.
“It’s a planet my Master found, and it’s home to an ancient vault. It has to be where the holocron is.”
“Right,” Trilla crossed her arms, sinking back in her own seat. “If the vault even exists, that is.”
Cere cocked out a hip as she raised an eyebrow at Trilla. “What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be more excited about this mission.”
“What is there to be excited about?” The young woman asked— because she was a woman now, and no longer the youngling Cere had first met in the Temple all those years ago.
“We’re on the way to rebuilding the Jedi Order! We’re Seekers again.” Cere smiled at the thought, something deep in her feeling satisfied. “I really thought you’d be happy. I specifically asked for you to come on this mission, you know.”
Sneering, Trilla sunk down in her seat further. Her hair fell in front of one of her eyes, the dark strands brittle and thin. “Forgive me if I am not jumping for joy at the idea of handing over even more Force-sensitive children to our new glorious Emperor .”
Something cold and hungry spiked through Cere’s chest and it made her flinch as if she’d be hit physically. Her eyes fell to the floor as she focused on suppressing that iciness, that rage— it scared her that the dark still so easily came to her.
( Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to— )
(Cere felt like she was her own self-fulfilling prophecy a lot, these days.)
While Cere was distracted with her own struggle to release her emotions into the Force, Cal spoke up.
“You don’t trust Vader,” He looked directly at Trilla while he said it, not asking a question. “You don’t really believe in his sudden change of heart.”
Trilla barked out a single laugh, the sound of it echoing against the metal hull of the Mantis . “And you do? Do you actually believe that a Sith could suddenly turn away from the pull of the dark side?”
Cal frowned. “I… don’t know.” He admitted, shifting in place.
She straightened up, leaning forward on her knees as she met Cal’s eyes firmly. “I have lived and breathed nothing but the dark for years. I know what I’m talking about when I say that you cannot ever truly come back from that path.”
Cere’s fists clenched on their own and she kept her gaze to the floor. The air shifted around. Cal very tactfully did not look to Cere, but Trilla did not grant her old Master the same mercy. She felt her eyes burn into her. It was a contrast against the cold that swirled in her stomach.
The Mantis shuddered suddenly, something behind Cere’s navel lurching as they fell out of hyperspace. Looking to the front of the ship, Cere watched Alderaan rush into view below them behind the transparisteel of the cockpit window.
“Sorry to break up your, uh, philosophy debate, but we’re here.” Greez called to them from his pilot’s seat.
Trilla stood swiftly and gracefully, picking up her lightsaber as she did. Cere watched her, trying to pick out any familiar mannerisms from her body language. But once Trilla’s Inquisitor mask was on it was as if Cere was looking at a stranger.
The second they landed and the door to the ship hissed open, Trilla was gone. She marched her way through the hangar, ignoring all else. Cal and Cere watched her go, standing together.
“If it means anything,” Cal started, voice quiet and almost nervous. Cere looked to the kid, watching him carefully. “I think it’s possible to come back from the dark side. Maybe not for a Sith Lord, but…”
Cere heard the unspoken as loud and clear as if he had said it through the Force. But maybe you can.
She cleared her throat and nodded to him. “Thank you, Cal.”
Cal smiled at her. She put a hand on his shoulder in gratitude and turned to face the open ship door. “Have you ever been to Alderaan before?” She asked, startling him with the swift subject change.
“Uh—“ He blinked, caught off guard. “No, I haven’t.”
“Perfect. Then I have the honor of giving you the tour.” Cere gestured to the door. Cal tilted his head, then made his way down the ramp and onto the landing platform.
Cere heard Cal’s sharp intake of breath as he absorbed the view before him and smiled before following after him.
***
The room hushed the second that Vader stepped into it.
Inside were most of the people involved in this particular mission. Some clones, a few of the CCs, sat next to each other in full armor as they waited for the meeting to begin.
Only a few of the handful of surviving Jedi they had managed to lure out of hiding sat in a half-circle around the mission board. Many were just former Padawans that Vader had never met before, or formerly part of his Inquisitor squad, but there were a select few recognizable faces. Vader avoided them and pulled the Force closer to him— almost like one would wrap a cloak around themselves— in order to better hide his presence within it. All of the Force-users within the Rebellion were either uneasy or downright terrified of him.
All except for one.
Fulcrum was early, as always. She was the only one who didn’t go quiet or look at him after his entrance, conversing in low tones with Commander Rex. The clone himself spared a single indifferent glance to Vader but focused only on Fulcrum for the most part.
(It seemed that Rex was in one of his better moods today if he wasn’t giving Vader a death glare for even daring to stand in the same room as Fulcrum.)
Vader moved to take his usual spot near the front with Fulcrum, standing silently as he could. This meeting was important, he could feel it in the Force. A credit in the air that was ready to fall.
“Emperor Vader,” Fulcrum acknowledged him neutrally when she finished speaking to the Commander. She did not look at him, instead focusing on looking through her datapad.
“Agent Fulcrum,” He inclined his head politely.
“How’s Leia?” She asked, a safe topic for them. Usually, making small talk about Leia was the only way to prevent themselves from devolving into another argument. Fulcrum liked to goad him into them, but she was probably pressed for time today.
“She is making great strides in her schooling,” Vader told her, something like pride filling his chest. “And she continues to run Senator Organa ragged.”
Fulcrum smiled at that. It was rare that Vader could do anything but make her frown. The sight was refreshing and soothing despite himself.
“Well, if she’s anything like her father,” She actually looked at him, now, her tone teasing and familiar. “We should be expecting her to be a right little terror.”
Once, Vader might have gone along with her banter. He may have pretended to take offense and teased her back. Laughter had come easy back then and sometimes he wished it still did. He often felt like he could slip back into that behavior again, like putting on an old shirt that didn’t fit anymore and pretending it did, just for the comfort of it. It was tempting to pretend that he could go back to how it used to be.
Vader knew that giving into these urges would only cause Fulcrum more grief and heartbreak. She still refused to see the truth, still didn’t understand that her old master was dead and gone. No matter what Vader did or said, she still looked at him like she was just waiting for Vader to start acting like him again. As if it was only a matter of time or patience— as if she could actually bring the dead back to life.
But that was impossible. No one can bring the dead back to life. One cannot stop death, not even with the power of the dark side. It was a lesson Vader learned the hardest way, and he only hoped Fulcrum would accept this fact far sooner than he had.
Luckily, Vader was saved from being forced to make Fulcrum scowl at him again.
“My Lord,” The Second Sister greeted him as she entered, bowing at the waist.
Every time Vader saw the Second Sister, he could always feel the anger and hatred that burned inside of her like a fire. Once, it had been hatred for her Master for giving her up. Anger at the world for being unfair. Now, all of that was directed at only Vader himself. Now, he felt how badly she wanted him dead. He sensed how she ached to take the lightsaber he had given to her and drive it through his heart with her own hands. Vader did not take offense, but nor did he relish in it. She was right to want him dead. It was only natural. He said nothing to her, only watched her rise and avoid looking at him.
The Second Sister turned to give a firm nod of respect to Fulcrum. “Commander Tano.”
“Trilla,” Fulcrum returned the gesture. “It’s good to see you. Where’s—?”
As if on cue, Master Junda arrived with the newest of Jedi survivors on her heels. Vader vaguely remembered seeing Kestis around the Temple, always on the heels of his Master, Jaro Tapal. The teenager had been doing the same thing ever since he arrived within the palace complex with his new Master, but this time he had been taking care to avoid crossing paths with Vader.
Kestis and Junda were greeted by most in the room, unlike how Vader and the Second Sister had been ignored. Kestis looked nervously at the clones, obviously still unused to the de-chipped men that were now friendly with the Jedi, and kept close to Junda. He waved at Fulcrum, who smiled back.
“Everyone here, then?” Rex swept a look across the room, taking note of all in attendance as he straightened into a parade rest.
“All set, Commander,” Junda said, taking her place at the front with him and Fulcrum. Kestis took a seat instead of joining her. The Second Sister made her way to her usual spot.
“Alright, eyes front!” The clones in the room startled at this and immediately shifted to give their full attention. Everyone else followed suit more slowly. “Commander Tano will lead the meeting today.”
“Listen up,” Fulcrum addressed the room as she stepped forward. “I have a few things to make clear before we go forward. Nothing talked about in this room today can ever leave this room. This is extremely sensitive information, the entire fate of the Republic and the Jedi rests upon everyone keeping their mouths shut. Am I understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” The clones all responded together. Everyone else nodded their affirmatives.
“Good. Now, Master Junda here can tell us exactly why this meeting is so important. Cere, if you will…?”
Junda stepped up and produced a datapad. She plugged it into the holotable and the image of a planet flickered into view.
“This,” She said. “Is Bogano. It is an entirely isolated planet in the Outer Rim. No one else knows that it even exists except me— and now everyone in this room.
“My Master, Eno Cordova, discovered it near the end of the Clone Wars. Around the same time, he had a vision of sorts and believed the future of the Jedi was in danger. So, with the help of Master Nu, he took a holocron with a list of every known Force-sensitive child in the Galaxy and hid it. He told no one where he hid it, but I believe it is inside of the ancient vault on Bogano.”
“We’re taking a team to Bogano in a few days.” Fulcrum continued. “Master Junda will be leading the expedition to unlock the vault and recover the holocron. After it is safely in our protection, we will officially begin construction of a new Jedi Temple here on Alderaan.”
Murmurs spread across the room as everyone looked to each other. They all understood the gravity of what was at stake. Vader could sense the apprehension, the determination, and the hope swelling in all of them as they all took in this information.
“What are we waiting for?” Someone said— a survivor of the attack on the Temple. They had a scar across their face from when Vader had once struck them down and left them to die.
“We can rebuild the Order!” Another said.
“We cannot rush blindly in,” Master Plo Koon spoke.
Everyone turned to listen to the former Councillor. Their faith in the so-called wisdom of the Jedi Council was somehow still undismayed despite how it was the Council who had allowed Darth Sidious to rise to power right under all of their noses, who had turned Padawans into child soldiers, and who deemed emotion and attachments to be weaknesses instead of strengths.
Vader recollected himself. Now was not the time to be bitter and angry towards the Jedi. He could do that in his free time.
“Master Plo is right,” Fulcrum said. “We don’t even know how to open the vault.”
“It won’t be easy,” Junda told them. “This is going to take weeks, maybe even months. Master Cordova wouldn’t have taken the risk of the Sith getting their hands on it.”
Vader didn’t miss how several eyes glanced over to him nervously. Fulcrum noticed the same thing and glared them all down in his defense. It was unnecessary and confusing but Vader was used to the girl’s behavior towards him. Some days Fulcrum could barely stand to look at him; she often found any and every excuse she could just to argue and fight with him, but still bared her teeth if anyone so much as looked at him wrong.
“Now, while we—“ Fulcrum tried to keep going, but was interrupted near instantly.
“If we’re keeping it from the Sith, then why is he here?” Commander Wolffe asked loudly, gesturing towards Vader, unafraid of Fulcrum’s hard stare. Fulcrum crossed her arms as she opened her mouth but it was Rex who took a step forward.
“Wolffe.” Rex warned his brother, voice going low. “Not now.”
“Come on, Rex,” Commander Fox picked up his cup of caf, his tone as bitter as the drink. “He’s only saying what we’re all thinking.”
“He is helping us on our mission to rebuild the Jedi Order,” Fulcrum said, her lekku twitching in irritation. “Just like everyone else in this room.”
“Are you kidding me?” Wolffe stood, scowling. “He’s the reason you even need to rebuild it!”
Vader felt about a third of the room secretly agree with the commander while the other two thirds remained a murky mix of emotions.
“Commander, please.” Plo Koon sighed.
“Stand down, vod.” Cody ordered. “Rex is right, this is not the right time.”
“How can you of all people be defending him?” Wolffe exclaimed. “After what the Sith made you do?”
Cody stood, his expression going dark. Fulcrum and Rex both inhaled sharply and shared a quick glance.
“Don’t.” The Marshall Commander growled out. “Don’t you dare .”
Wolffe’s eye flickered to the tiny barely-there scar on the right side of Cody’s head, the scar that every single clone now shared. All of the Jedi tensed as they were reminded of exactly the role the clones were forced into, and the clones averted their eyes from the Jedi. Cody and Wolffe were staring each other down as the Jedi began eyeing the exits, and Vader knew he could no longer hold a passive role in this if he wanted to prevent a fight from breaking out.
“I am no Sith.” Vader said as he folded his arms behind his back. His vocoded voice echoed within the room and drew the attention of everyone back to him. “I destroyed the last of them when I killed Darth Sidious. I wish to restore the Jedi Order in restitution for my past.”
“How do we know that?” The Second Sister spoke up. She was looking directly at him, the dark side rising like a sun that burned cold. “How do we know you aren’t just going to take the holocron for yourself to make more Inquisitors?”
Yes, he felt her anger and hatred, but now Vader could sense her fear of him. Of what he’s done to her, of what may happen if he got his hands on more children. Her hands began to shake just from daring to question Vader. She expected to be punished severely for it but still raised her chin high in defiance.
“You are smart to not believe me.” Vader told her. “I have lied to and betrayed those who once trusted me with far less at stake.”
“Wow, you really know how to sell yourself.” Rex muttered snarkily.
“ Vader .” Fulcrum hissed. “Shut up. For once in your life, just stop talking.”
Vader stared at her for a second, meeting her glare evenly. Then he took a step back and inclined his head. She sighed and patted him on his arm in silent gratitude for obeying.
Fulcrum pressed a hand to her forehead, rubbing her fingertips at the skin under her headband. “Trilla, Wolffe, I understand your distrust but Vader has done a lot of good for the Jedi so far, and even for the Rebellion as a whole. I trust him, Senator Organa trusts him, and we know that he won’t take the holocron for himself because Vader’s not going to be on this mission.”
“He’s not?” The Second Sister tilted her head.
Vader turned to Fulcrum. “I’m not?”
“No, you’re not.” She looked up at him. “I was just about to get to that part. Can I explain now?”
The Commander squinted at her but sat back down next to his Jedi General, who put a hand on his shoulder. Vader gestured for her to continue.
“Thank you,” Fulcrum sighed again. “As I was saying before, while we’re all going to Bogano to find a way to get the holocron, the Emperor here is going to be on a retrieval mission of his own.”
Vader watched as her demeanor shifted. She went from the logical and experienced Commander to the barely able to keep still Padawan he once knew. She tried very hard to fight back her smile as she shifted on her feet, her building excitement obviously begging to be released.
“We’ve found the location of another surviving member of the Jedi Council,” Fulcrum said, her grin finally spreading across her face, and the room lit up as everyone mirrored her excitement. “We found Master Kenobi.”
Vader really, really hated politicians.