Fortress Vader

Three - Adjudicate

As you move outside of your comfort zone, what was once frightening ends up being the very thing you should've feared most.
Year 1

——————

Despite all of my defenses, somehow, someone got in. A few weeks after the visitor, I'm returning to the center after working out—a habit I now force myself to do every day, ever since running back to base that day—when I see someone sitting at my computer.

I freeze, registering at the same time that it is the man with yellow eyes. He appears to be in the same outfit I'd seen torn around him, only new—black trousers and a thick black tunic that covers all of his skin except his face—though his back is to me.

"I heard you approach, so no need to try to back away," he says just as I'm beginning to debate that very thought.

"How did you get in here?"

He hums a deep, throaty sound. "I'm basically a ghost, Kitten." My eyes widen at the name and for a moment, my mouth just hangs open.

I clear my throat, feeling anxious and confused. "My name is Angel," I say in a voice barely above a whisper.

"And I told you I'm not calling you that," he snaps. His head turns slightly, revealing his face and the long scar across an eye. Then it jerks to the chair beside him. "Sit," he orders.

My heart jumps into my throat, but the command is so final that I don't hesitate to follow it. I'm shaking by the time I sit, and I can feel the heat from him. A ghost wouldn't be warm, I think.

He points to the droid data pulled up. "Impressive," he says in a way that sounds as far from a compliment as possible. Then he gestures at my setup. "Not many people could do all this with scrap." I cannot look at him. I'm barely even breathing. I make no noise, do not move a muscle. In my peripherals, I see his chest moving with each inhale and exhale. A ghost would not breathe.

"My master would like to offer you a job."

I cock my head at him before I can stop it and see he is already looking at me. I do not want to meet his eyes, but I do, and my stomach twists. They are as unusual and terrifying as I remember.

"Would it get me off this planet?" I whisper. Father isn't coming back, I know. It's been a year.

"No," he says with no remorse, no hesitation. I blink once, twice, then shut my eyes tightly.

I do want a job. I want a purpose other than to survive.

"What is it?"

"It doesn't matter. You have six more months of rations, tops." I snap my eyes to him with a fleeting flair of anger. How does he know that? He doesn't flinch or bat an eye, simply keeps talking. "But you'd be lucky to make it that long. The planet's natural predators are growing without the Separatist presence to keep their numbers down. Your holdout will be overrun, eventually."

My breathing is fast and erratic because he's right. I estimate I have five months left before something will give, whether it be starvation or suicide, I don't know which would come first. I certainly don't think I'd allow myself to die the slow painful death of starvation.

He just stares as if willing to wait all day for me to respond. I see no indication he is impatient or looking down on me. He simply...stares.

"I don't want to be a slave," I admit, my mind flashing to the slaves building something nearby. Still, I cannot find my voice, my words just a breath.

He snorts and finally looks away. "We're all slaves. But you're not going to be. I told you, it's a job."

"Can I bring my droid?" I ask after another full minute of silence. His eyes remain on my surveillance screens.