Fortress Vader

Six - Conundrum

If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the Sith Lord.
Year 1, month 6

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Eventually, I clean up the med kit and bundle up the soiled cloth. I make it all as neat as I can before I gather up my tool kit and return to my cave system. Of course, it doesn't look or feel like a cave, but I always know I'm underground. There's something intriguing to me about conducting security in a basement.

I'm never hot, though, and that is enough of a reason to not desire to leave the building.

When the lift opens to reveal my familiar level, I sigh, relaxing a fraction. The yellow-eyed man has not stepped foot down there other than that one time; it is safe.

"Annie," I call out when I return my tools to their spot.

The droid works her way toward me, beeping about how she kept watch while I was gone. She cheered me up—but I'm not sure cheering up is what I need this time. I do not feel sad or angry, I feel restless and a bit confused.

So instead of going to bed, I clean. The floor is always silent, and usually, it doesn't bother me. But everything echoes in the huge space, so I start humming. Father used to get onto me for humming because it attracted attention, but there is no one's attention to attract. I clean the lab, and once I move to the kitchen area, I feel more grounded. I laugh when Annie asks me why I cleaned an unused lab.

"It should be used," I say absentmindedly. "It's an excellent lab. It might be nice to have some coworkers, ya think?" I flutter around as I talk, and she makes beeps of agreement. "Then again, I'm used to being alone. Except you," I quickly correct. "Maybe I wouldn't get along with other people." My droid says something encouraging, and I laugh again. It isn't my usual chuckles either; I fall into giggles, pleased when she makes a sound mimicking me.

"You're right, Annie. It doesn't matter if I get along with them if it means I can complete a full sleep cycle. Checking the feeds every hour is rather exhausting, isn't it?" I giggle further—probably because of my irregular sleep.

I pick up my humming again, but still feeling oddly light, the words to the songs begin to escape, and soon I'm singing. It isn't a loud, belting tune, and I'm not sure if I even sing the right words. But Annie is a good audience, sometimes beeping a melody with me, as if she is singing too.

Once the kitchen is clean, I smile at her and ask if she will check the perimeter and the skies in an hour, then return to my room to snag some sleep.

It is not a restful sleep.

I think I'm asleep, but it is the type of sleep where you wake up, and you're sure you never actually fell asleep to begin with. The air feels charged, like if I rub my legs together, the static will create sparks.

I think I am awake. But I can't move. My sleepy brain simply chalks it up to being too tired and tries to shut back down.

My eyes fling open. No, something is wrong. I'm on my back, a position I've never been able to fall asleep in. Still, I can't move.

The only sound is my breathing, but somehow, I know I'm not alone.

At that thought, a shadow on the ceiling moves. My eyes flick to the right, my neck allowing a slight turn. And I see him. Or it. I don't know what it is, but I know it.

The same black mask that I thought I had imagined, covering what I assume is a face, and the long, black cloak. My body twitches in fear, and I want to run. I still feel like I'm asleep, in a way, like I must be dreaming.