Fortress Vader

Eleven - Métier

Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can actually be considerate.
Year 1, month 8

———————

Vader

I haven't heard her sing in a kriffing month. I'm tense, and I want to hear her sing.

I usually leave her droid's live feed on in the background as I work. But now, I find myself irked by her silence. The other girl tries to talk to her sometimes, but her sentences are short. She doesn't talk to the droid, and she doesn't fucking sing.

I tried listening to music but it pissed me off, imagining the galaxy out there, going on as if nothing has changed. They still play songs they did three years ago, ones I heard on the station the clones listened to.

She's unhappy, I know. She sings when she's happy, or at least content. Even though I've been off planet since that day, she's wound up and frustrated.

Relatable. The more time passes, the more irritable I become.

Then, the idea comes to me quickly, easily. It likely won't give me instant gratification, but if it gives her something to enjoy, perhaps she'll sing again. Maybe she'll smile at Martel's jokes and talk to Annie at night.

And maybe I won't feel like I'm going absolutely fucking insane.

———

Kat
A couple weeks later

"Hey boss," Letty's voice comes out. I look up from the spot on my desk I've been staring at. The way my neck protests makes me wonder how long I've been lost in my mind.

"There's a heavy crate for you. The delivery droid said it was to go to your sleeping quarters."

"How do you know it's heavy?" I ask in an unprofessional mumble, slowly rising to my feet. My body feels so heavy all the time. Movement takes so much effort. I just want to sleep, but it eludes me.

"Stars, the droid dropped it to your bed and I thought it would snap from the weight."

"Hmm." None of my shipments have ever been delivered to my room.

I feel a spark of curiosity...but I'm burnt out. "Thanks, Letty," I mutter before turning back to my desk. She clearly wants to ask if I'm okay, but knows she won't get anywhere with it. Some days are just harder than others and she seems to respect that.

An hour rolls by, and I sign off on my report and stare blankly at the door. I do not want to sleep. I do, but I don't want this night to be the night I see Vader again. It's been a while, as he's been off planet, but I saw him return today. I am immensely curious about the package, however, which might be the only reason I finally climb to my feet and work my way toward my chambers.

Sure enough, there's a large crate on my bed. Seems it could've gone on the floor, but what do I know? I shrug off my jacket and drop it on the floor.

I'll pick it up later. And the towel from the night before. And my socks.

Snapping the latch, it hisses open and before I see what's in it, I smell it. Only two things I know of smell like that: libraries and...

"Books?" I mumble into my silent room. I cock my head. I haven't held a real book in...gods, I don't know. A decade, maybe. They usually came on datacards or the HoloNet; people usually only purchased physical books for collections. My parents had a small 'library' as I called it, but it was no more than a closet really.

But here, there are at least twenty or thirty books. None of them look like they've been read before, the pages neat and flat. I catch sight of my father's name on one, which rips me from my thoughts.