Fortress Vader

Thirty-one - Dereliction

Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me undying loyalty.
Year 7

———

Vader

I do not turn on AN13's feed. When home, I don't visit her at night, call on her, or communicate with her in any way.

Each day, her report comes through. It is the only piece of her I allow myself, and even those seem to be slowly growing shorter. With every word she leaves out, my chest gets tighter. She does not send messages to her Anakin, though she is likely still analyzing my mods. Maybe it is pride that holds her back. I don't know.

If Palpatine notices the darkness growing within me, he chooses not to comment on it. I still go home, roughly once a month, and give him no reason to think Kitten isn't still working with me on my cybernetics. Most people would never notice my brooding.

But inside, there is...chaos.

How else am I to put it?

Some days, the anguish tears at me like the talons of a fyrnock. This isn't too abnormal. The loss of my mother was the start of a lifetime of suffering. I just hadn't realized that staying away from Kitten would be another deep wound in my heart and soul. If it is proof of their existence, it only makes me angrier.

Anger. Rage. A blinding, hot fury that burns on the edges of my vision. If I'm not close to being sick from the anguish, then I'm more than likely consumed by the anger.

Sometimes though, there is an undeniable essence of...fear. It is the emotion I work to squash when it shows its face, but the longer I go without laying eyes on her, the more the fleeting moments occur.

Like when I speak to my master, and every breath I'm waiting for him to ask about her. Every time the quiet ping goes off, alerting me to her daily report. Days where my thoughts seem to have more of a hold on me, they'll drift to the dangers Kat faces simply by caring for me. And if I allow myself to play out scenarios, it is fear that often accompanies the mental journey.

Little by little, I withdraw further into myself. And whatever mercy I have left is shed like a cloak.

Darth Vader has been fully unleashed. My enemies have grown quiet with the realization; my allies finally see me for the threat that I am. Even the insufferable Grand Moff Tarkin seems to be giving me space. I still really hate that guy.

This is why, when the newly promoted Admiral Thrawn requests my presence on his flagship, the Chimaera, I'm almost excited to agree. It's sure to be a favor he wants of me, something the military elite has been cautious to ask of me as of late. I suppose they don't want my rage aboard their Destroyers. Thrawn either wants a lot of people dead very quickly, or he has some boring but ultimately important political issue.

Knowing Thrawn, it is very likely the latter.

In pure Thrawn form, he greets me at the ramp of my ship. It's smack in the middle of the night, so though the hangar isn't empty, it is quieter than one usually is. I take in the tall, stiff, blue admiral and the shorter human aid standing next to him.

"My lord," Thrawn says in his cool voice, his waist bending in a bow. "Thank you for coming. Welcome aboard."

Admiral Thrawn. His mind is orderly, and it doesn't surprise me that his flagship is just as so. He is cunning and calm, and I still do not know his intentions. He used my name to get Palpatine's ear when he came to the Empire, though he couldn't have known just how big of a name he was dropping, how much I meant to him.

I feel no ill will toward the unusual alien, I just don't believe he would choose the Emperor over his home.

I choose not to say anything. It's something I've learned working for the Empire: Silence is always the better option. It intimidates, but it also keeps my cards close. So, I simply nod.