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Title: The Sith Lord and the Scientist Section A - Part 1
Author: Maia (maia@bastcastle.org)
Rating: mostly PG-13 and a part of two chapters NC-17
Characters: Vader, OFC, a few other OC’s
Category: AU, Adventure, Romance, some Angst.

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this, and he doesn’t belong to me. Darn.

Summary: What happens when a certain Sith Lord finds himself stranded on Earth with only a stubborn scientist to help him get back to the Empire?

The Sith Lord and the Scientist

Earth, Solar System, Thurs. Feb 8.

Thursday afternoon before the start of the university’s mid-semester break, and I am sitting in my office, staring out the window, watching my colleagues leave for the week. I am the only person here with no one to go home to and my small apartment is on site, so I have volunteered, as usual, to babysit the radio telescopes for the next ten days. My work is my life, but there are times I wish that a little adventure or excitement beyond the discovery of the occasional new pulsar would creep in.

I let my eyes roam around my office, cataloging the various bits and pieces hanging on the walls as I go. My survey stops at the wall facing me. Two Bachelor’s, one Master’s, two Doctorates. Twelve years in university plus five pieces of parchment equals one lonely thirty-something academic who really needs to get a life. Or do something. Or go somewhere. Or meet someone.

I let out a snort at that last thought. As if anyone would be interested in me, a woman who is too tall, too thin, with a chin and nose which don’t fit her face, and unruly hair pulled back in a severe braid. I am no classical beauty by any measure and have long known this.

Or maybe I should just stop feeling sorry for myself. If Michael could see me he would be busy scolding me in that irritating manner of his. I look over at the photos on the wall. My fun-loving older brother dominates many of them. We were inseparable as children but he’s been dead for almost three years now. And I miss him. I miss his teasing, his sharp wit, and that odd sense of him always being there in the back of my mind. I even miss him making me look foolish in the salle when we would fence together. Michael the graceful one; Maia the clutz.

I stare at an old, faded picture of my friends from university sitting on my desk. We are all scattered, the ones who are still alive, that is. School and university hold few fond memories for me. The label of ‘child genius’ was nothing but a burden for me to live with. I was as alone and isolated then as I am now. But in the past it was the other students who avoided me - today I am the one who avoids everyone else. If you don’t reach out, you can’t be hurt; a lesson I learned long ago.

But sometimes, like today, the loneliness of my situation haunts me.

I shut my eyes for a moment and force myself back to what I need to do. As the only person here, I will have my hands full if there are any problems.

Time to get to work. I pick up a pencil and start working out the co-ordinates I need to observe tonight. While I could let the computers do this, I prefer to solve the equations by hand. My mathematical ability is both my gift and curse; the one thing that truly sets me apart from everyone else. And the one thing I have always been singled out for. Calculations finished, I drop the pencil back in the mug with the others. No more time to wool-gather. There are things to be done.

Suppressing a sigh, I start the downloads from the main frame to the computers that drive the seven linked ‘scopes in the synthesis array. It is a tedious process, and even though Murray spent his sabbatical designing a new set of chips for processing data, the hardware they are tied to is forty years old and extremely cantankerous. Space science has never been a funding priority of our government. Only quick thinking, cutting every cost imaginable, and public outcry have kept the observatory open.

I finally finish transferring the instructions for tonight’s measurements, and start the programs. Not trusting the computers to report back accurately, I look out the window to check that all seven dishes are moving in tandem. So far, so good. As they lock in place and the platforms begin to move the mobile ‘scopes into position along the railtrack, my laptop starts beeping in alarm. Number two has jammed. Again. Now I do let out a sigh and shove my glasses up from where they have slipped down my nose. Good thing I decided to check the system out while the sun is still up. Number two is just about the farthest ‘scope away and has always been a problem. There is no help for it - I am going to have to play mechanic.

Five minutes later I am tossing my laptop and a set of tools into the truck. Heading to the north, I drive almost two miles to reach ‘scope number two. When I arrive, I unlock the platform’s drive room and plug in my computer into the drive system, hoping the problem is a simple one. No such luck today, I discover. One of the bearings has collapsed and I will have to replace it, a job which will take several hours. So much for having some time to myself to read the latest issues of Astrobiology and Nature. I drive back, past the central office building to the junkyard. The seven linked ‘scopes have been cobbled together out of old decommissioned military equipment, and the bits left over from the four discarded dishes are scattered outside the workshop which also serves as a storage shed. A few minutes digging through storage bins produces the required bearing, and I make the return trip back to dish number two.

Several hours later I am covered in grease and becoming rather frustrated. No amount of pushing, pulling, or threatening has snapped the bearing into place. In disgust I give it a good hard kick, and hear the blessed click of it going in exactly where it is supposed to. I will have to remember to tease Jeff next week about his theory that anything can be fixed with an appropriately placed boot. Knowing I am running out of time, I hurriedly replace the housings and cover plates I have had to remove and make a quick retreat back to the research center. There should be just enough time to get the programming started and not lose any observation time.

I race into the computer room and activate the program I had downloaded earlier. Crossing my fingers, I duck out of the copper caged room and watch as all seven scopes move in tandem and the mobile ones slowly roll into position. Number two behaves itself and I let out the breath I had been holding. Good. Now there is just “old faithful,” the ancient 30 meter wide dish, to get going. No one is scheduled on it this week since the team from Aricebo canceled, so I have ten full nights of super-nova remnant hunting all to myself. Grinning happily, I head upstairs to the old control room and feed in the first sets of co-ordinates I had selected earlier in the day. On cue, the large ‘scope moves into position without a hitch, and I give the ancient computer banks a pat. Closing the perforated copper door after me, I head back to my office.

After spending an hour flipping through Nature, I decide to check on the synthesis array. There is no point in running it all night if number two has jammed again. I step outside and run my eyes along the rail line. Everything looks okay and the computers inside are humming away happily, so I shut off all the facility’s external floodlights except the ones on old faithful. I will be hand programming co-ordinates tonight and need to make sure that the dish responds properly.

Fri. Feb. 9.

It is just after midnight when I notice the peculiar readings coming off of the large telescope. Oh, no, not again. Some idiot has just ruined all of tonight’s observations. I close my eyes and curse. The observatory is isolated on purpose, located in a wide, circular valley high in the mountains, and shielded from electronic interferences. Our own computers are kept in copper cages and all wiring is shielded to prevent signals from leaking out to cause havoc. We are also in a strictly enforced no vehicles or aircraft zone after dusk or before dawn. I know that any cars are blocked twenty miles away at the security gates which my co-workers would have closed when they left this afternoon. That leaves aircraft. Probably some hotshot local on a dare or lost out of towner. I toy briefly with calling my father’s uncle to ask him to send someone out from the nearby military base to scare the fool, but decide it can wait until morning. Sam, my great uncle, will have access to any flight plans and tracking so he will have no trouble locating the culprit.

Then I hear the scream of over-stressed engines and see the source of my annoyance whip past the large telescope. Whatever the craft is, from the brief look I got and the way it moved, it is definitely not from around here. The pilot comes around again, and I wonder what on Earth he is up to. There are no windows on the east side of the building, the direction he has headed in, so I will need to go outside to have a look. By the time I have turned on all the floodlights and made my way outside, the engines have fallen silent. Now I really am becoming concerned since I may have a downed air craft on my hands.

I run around the building and stop in amazement at what I see. There is a TIE fighter like those in Star Wars parked in the middle of the lawn. My brain refuses to believe what my eyes are seeing, so I close them for a few seconds. When I reopen them, the TIE is still there, and this is no ordinary fighter if memory serves me. Okay, professor, time to sit down for a minute or two and think about this. Having solid ground under me helps. At least I won’t fall down now. I prop my chin on one hand and stare at the ship. Alright, let’s be logical about this. Number one, something screwed up the radiowave readings and you know it had to be airborne. Number two, you saw whatever it was fly by the old telescope and no Earthly craft is capable of moving like that. Number three, you know it landed behind the research center. Number four, it is sitting right there in front of you. Number five, either I am hallucinating, having a breakdown, or there really is a TIE fighter parked over there.

A smooth baritone voice addresses me from the shadows thrown by the TIE’s panels.

‘I hope you are not planning to spend the entire night sitting there staring at my ship.’

I recognize that voice. Well, silly, I remind myself, who else could be the pilot for this particular TIE? More important, what is he doing here? I carefully consider the possible explanations. This could be an elaborate joke or hoax, but I don’t think so. Sam occasionally lets slip what they are working on, and nothing comparable to this fighter exists on Earth, even at the concept stage. Best approach, I decide, is to assume this really is who I think it is and go from there. If it is a lark, then someone will just get a good laugh at my expense. Well, Maia, you did wish for some excitement in your life, and here it is.

‘What brings Darth Vader to the single planet which is farthest from the bright center of the universe?’

Somehow I keep my voice absolutely steady, with no trace of fear in it. Lecturing is a bit like acting, and I have become very good at both in the last decade.

‘Engine trouble,’ he admits as he steps from the shadows and heads straight for me.

I scramble to my feet and wait. When he is a meter or two away from me, he stops. Somehow, I understand that I am being measured against some standard known only to him. I meet his gaze calmly, without flinching, refusing to let him intimidate me. The Sith Lord does not stay motionless long, but proceeds to circle me like a cat stalking a mouse. Suddenly he grabs my arm and pulls me against his chest.

‘I cannot sense you in the Force,’ he hisses, ‘your thoughts are hidden from me. It is as if you do not exist.’

Putting up a fight will make the situation worse, I quickly realize, so I stay calm, offer the only explanation I have, and hope he accepts it.

‘There are no midichlorians on this world, or in me, and you can’t sense what doesn’t exist. Feel free to check my blood if you don’t believe me.’

My arm is released, and after the Dark Lord considers my words, he replies, ‘I have no choice for the moment but to believe you.’

I continue to stare at him. Darth Vader is standing right in front of me and I have no idea what I am supposed to do with him.

‘Since no one else has joined us, you must be alone,’ he observes.

I nod in response. No point in lying about that. He would find out the truth quickly enough anyway.

‘It’s the university’s mid-semester break. Everyone has left for the week except me,’ I admit.

‘Your name?’ he asks next.

‘It’s Maia,’ I tell him.

‘Just Maia? No titles?’

I give my head a shake. ‘We are pretty relaxed around here and hearing “Professor” and “Doctor” all day just makes me feel old. Some of my students insist on being more formal, but I would prefer that you are not.’

‘Maìá,’ he speaks my name with a peculiar accent, and I like the sound of his voice when he says it. ‘The ancient Sith goddess of battles and warriors.’

Somehow I stop myself from replying to that.

‘I have made several erroneous assumptions, then,’ he states when I stay silent. ‘From the outside this appears to be an Imperial deep-space communications site.’

I guess he wants to know what we do here, so I do my best to explain, ‘The only connection we have with the military is the decades old junk they gave us to work with. We are a research facility, Lord Vader, one which specializes in the location of things like pulsars, black holes, super novae, and the like using radiowaves.’ I pause a moment, then wryly add, ‘If you are looking for a way to call home, it’s not here.’

‘And where is “here”?’

How am I to answer this one? I don’t know where he has come from or why he is here.

‘Maia,’ the Sith Lord prompts and from the sound of his voice I had better give him some sort of answer.

My brain works away at what I should tell him. When I still don’t reply, I feel a warning brush against my throat. In response, I simply slow my breathing and remain calm.

‘You don’t need to do that,’ I scold a little. ‘I am trying to think.’

‘You are extraordinarily impertinent. I will be addressed properly. And you will answer my questions and do exactly as you are told,’ Vader warns, shaking a finger in front of my nose as he does.

Chastised, I decide that co-operating with him, at least until I know what is going on, might be the wisest thing to do. I nod my agreement. The light touch becomes slightly stronger, then fades.

‘Our location?’ he prods.

I’ll give him the technical description, I decide, ‘Gaea, Solar system, on the edge of the Orion arm.’

‘Not a system or a designation I am familiar with,’ he muses aloud. ‘Perhaps in the Outer Rim? Or Unknown Regions?’

Before he can question me further on this, I have one of my odd moments of complete clarity. There is something I need to do, and do it fast, or I am going to have a real mess to deal with. Without thinking, I grab him by the hand and try to pull him along after me.

When he refuses to budge, I explain, ‘We have to hurry. Your fighter has been tracked by NORAD and if I don’t do something immediately, our military will be after you.’

His fingers crush mine. I let out a hiss at the pain. That was a stupid thing for me to do.

‘You don’t understand,’ I say through the agony he is inflicting on me. ‘We might be isolated and in the middle of nowhere, but we do know about the Empire and no one is going to be happy that you are here.’

‘And exactly what do you intend to do about that?’ he asks.

‘Go to my office, make a phone call, and buy you enough time to make your repairs,’ I admit. ‘My uncle heads up Strategic Air Command. He’ll believe what I tell him.’

‘No tricks,’ Vader warns, tightening his hold on my hand in emphasis.

‘No tricks,’ I promise.

‘Go then,’ he orders, releasing my hand as he does so, ‘take me to your office.’

I waste no time in doing so, shaking my abused hand back to life as I walk. At least he didn’t break any bones. The interior of the research center is a maze of corridors and small offices, so I make sure that I take the most direct route.

‘Welcome to my messy second home, my Lord,’ I say as we reach my office, ‘have a seat. This might take a while.’

I have to shift a pile of journals off a chair and onto the floor to make a place for him, but he remains standing, arms across his chest. Definitely stubborn, I observe, as I flip through the rolodex and select the card I need. The phone is on the floor somewhere so I pull on the cord to identify its location. Time for an office clean-up, I think.

‘My Lord, we don’t have a reliable visual communication system yet,’ I explain, ‘only audio. I am going to use the speaker phone, so you can hear what Sam says, but you will need to be quiet because anything you say, they will hear. I will get you as much time as I can, but I am not going to promise you anything.’

There is no way to tell, but I can imagine an eyebrow of his going up at my comments.

I dial Sam’s secure line at NORAD and wait for the clicking which tells me my call has gone through before it starts ringing. His aide, Peter, answers and I ask for Sam before turning the speaker function on.

A few seconds later, his voice booms over the phone line, ‘How is that favorite professor of mine? Found any new black holes lately? Or maybe had one arrive in your own backyard? I assume you are calling about that fast moving object we tracked heading in your direction. Should have impacted pretty close to the observatory.’

‘Not a black hole, uncle,’ I pause, not really wanting to lie to him, ‘but a meteorite. I was planning on having a quick look in the morning.’ I am committed to my story now.

‘Want a few more sets of eyes? I could send a research crew up to help if you like,’ Sam offers.

Nope, that’s the last thing I want.

‘No, its mid-semester break and everything is shut up for the next week,’ I try putting him off. ‘There’s just me here to hold the fort and with the technical problems I have had today with telescope number two, I don’t think I will have the time to look at the impact site in detail until the staff are back. Maybe in ten days or so when David, my meteorite expert, is in and can supervise your troops?’

‘Sure about that? I have a team which could be there in two or three days,’ he offers.

I can almost hear the gears turning in Sam’s head. He is pretty good at knowing when I am up to something.

I glance at the calendar. It is early Friday morning. Monday has been decreed a holiday this year in honor of some dead politician. His men could be here on Saturday. I have no choice other than to compromise or he will act on his suspicions.

‘How about letting them have the weekend and Monday with their families?’ I suggest. ‘The meteorite isn’t going anywhere, and if I know David, he will be in the minute he knows about it. I won’t tell him until Monday night though or his wife will be furious. She has some romantic weekend planned.’

‘Very well,’ Sam acquiesces, ‘Tuesday it is. Anything else I can do for you?’

‘Not at the moment, no, though I would appreciate it if you kept things quiet about this for a while. I’d rather not have a bunch of meteorite chasers on my hands before I can have a look myself. Make sure you say hello from me to Lucy and your grandkids.’

My uncle’s easy laughter fills the room. ‘Yes, I can do that. Don’t forget you promised us a visit. Well, I won’t keep you from your work. Stay out of trouble now.’

He signs off and I cut the connection on my end.

I look up at the stranded Sith Lord and tell him, ‘I have just bought you four days, my Lord, so I hope you can get your fighter fixed in that time or we are both in for it.’

He makes no reply other than a nod and steps out of my office, heading unerringly back to his TIE. I can’t help being a little annoyed. At the very least he could have said thank you. With a sigh, I wander up to the computer room to shut the system down. It’s expensive to use and after Vader’s arrival, there is no point in running it all night.

I wiggle my bruised fingers while I debate for a few minutes what I should do next. He didn’t ask me to go with him to his ship, so maybe wandering outside for another look right away isn’t the best idea. Still, my scientific curiosity is in overdrive. Maybe I’ll quickly program a few co-ordinates into the old ‘scope and then go have another look at his ship. Perhaps he’ll be in a better mood and more talkative once he’s had a chance to figure out what’s wrong with it, too.

***

I leave Maia at her desk while I run my errand, glancing into various offices and labs as I pass them. From the look of things, this is a rather primitive planet. When I reach my destination, the panels at the bottom of the stairway, I stop. The larger one, judging from the shielding, is for power; the smaller, then, must be for communications. I open the latter, examine the wiring inside and disconnect the main line. Until I know more, I will not risk Maia making any unsupervised calls.

My next stop is my TIE. Contrary to what I told her, the engines are undamaged. It is the readings from the nav computer which do not make any sense. And I do not want her to know I am lost.

I rest my hand against the angled panel and debate my next move. This was supposed to be a simple, easy two hour jump from Fondor to Teyr in the nearby system of Surric.

Simple. Easy.

With my experience, I should know that those usually translate into complicated and difficult. Now I am temporarily stranded who knows where with a stubborn scientist and little contact with the Force.

Reaching out with my senses, I find that nothing has changed. The Force is almost nonexistent here - only traces, wisps spin around me, and I suspect those are generated by my own body. It is like peering into a deep, inky pool and seeing my own faint reflection looking back at me.

With a gesture, I lift a pebble and send it flying across the lawn. It does not go very far before falling to the ground. A second attempt with more power behind it goes a bit farther. So, I may be able to do more than I suspected. I will have to experiment with this later.

The sounds of something very large moving draws my attention, so I retrace my steps around the building and look upwards as the large dish rotates on its base. To be still using radiowaves for galactic mapping ... they must not have access to interstellar craft then, yet she knows who I am. Curious.

I turn about and tip my head up. She’s at the window, watching me observe her. With a wave of her hand, she retreats from my sight. Even after two lessons from me she is still impertinent, and what is more unusual, completely fearless.

For a moment, I consider my options. I need answers and there is only Maia here to supply them. She has been helpful thus far so there may be no reason to resort to anything more than careful questioning. And if not, there are other ways to extract the information I want.

***

The telescope obligingly moves into position and, as I look through the window, I can also see that I am not the only one watching it turn. Vader is standing outside, below me, gazing upward at the dish. He seems to sense my eyes on him and shifts his attention to me. I give a quick wave and step back from the window. That was fast. His TIE must be in fairly good shape then.

I decide to go see what I can do to help with the repairs.

He meets me halfway down the stairwell and from his position on it, we are at eye level. I look at the lenses of his mask, trying to see his eyes through them, but from this distance, there is only my own reflection to be seen in them. Rats. I want to know if they really are bright blue.

‘Is there something I can do to help fix your ship?’ I ask, then, to avoid more trouble, tack on, ‘My Lord.’

From his silence, he’s thinking about that, deciding what to tell me.

‘That depends,’ he admits, ‘on whether or not I can get the components I need and the gas mix which is required to restart the ion engines.’

‘There is a machining and tool shop out back with all kinds of junk in it and I can probably get raw materials for you if they are not too exotic,’ I offer, ‘We will have to go to my lab at the university to deal with the gas mix. If I know what the elements and compounds are, and they aren’t in stock at the university, I can have stuff brought in. Synthesizing compounds from scratch will be trickier, but still possible.’

‘You would do this for me?’ is his measured response.

‘I would help anyone in the same situation,’ I admit with a slight shrug. ‘You just happen to be the one who landed in my backyard.’

I look past him, to the doorway and add, ‘It’s going to be dawn in a few hours, my Lord, and we need to get your ship under cover or camouflaged somehow. While the observatory is a no-fly zone at night, we do get the occasional fly-over during the day, and with this being a holiday weekend, there could be more flights than normal.’

We make our way out of the building and around to where he has parked the TIE. I spend a few minutes walking around it, getting a good close-up view. He must have jumped to the ground from the top of the cock-pit when he first landed, before I came outside to have a look.

The entire time I am looking at his ship, Vader watches me, and he finally comments, ‘From your scrutiny, I have to assume that there is nothing like my TIE on your world.’

‘No,’ I admit, ‘our aircraft can only navigate in atmosphere, and the few space-faring ships we do have are designed purely for research. The farthest a manned ship has ever gone is to our moon. Faster than light craft are not available to us.’

‘Yet you are aware of the Empire and know who I am,’ the Sith Lord notes, curiosity in his voice.

Blast. This conversation is going in a direction I need to avoid. I have no idea when he is in the Star Wars timeline, and I had better not let him have any clue just how much I do know, which is considerable. Thankfully he can’t read or sense my thoughts with the Force or I would really be in trouble. Alright, time to derail this line of inquiry. ‘We might not be space-faring, but we have been visited by others who are.’

I don’t give him a chance to reply, but head straight for the workshop and junkyard. There should be some tarps and netting in storage that can be tossed over the TIE.

‘My Lord, let’s see what we can find to cover your fighter with,’ I call over my shoulder.

I unlock the workshop and yank the doors open. It is just as cluttered as when I had been inside it the previous afternoon. Heading to the very back corner, I start to systematically search the storage racks. Every time I find something which might be useful, I toss it onto the floor. The Dark Lord has followed me into the building and watches my progress with some interest.

When I finish ransacking the shelves, I ask, ‘Is that going to be enough to cover it with, my Lord, or is more required?’

‘That should be adequate, but I am not sure how you intend to drape them over my ship,’ Vader comments.

‘Can’t you just toss the tarps over top of it?’ I ask. There is something he is not telling me, and I suspect I know what it is. ‘Is there a problem with this?’

The Sith Lord does not respond to my queries. Finally, I give up on waiting for answers and start to drag a tarp out the door and to his ship. He steps in front of me to bar my progress, taking the tarp from me and adding several others to the pile before carrying them out to the TIE himself. Pleased that I have his help with this, I gather up the next batch and set to work. It takes about ten minutes to move all of the tarps and nets I had found out to the fighter. The next chore is to get them in position over top of it.

The TIE’s solar panels are about 5m high and the top of the cockpit about 4m off the ground. There is no way I can physically throw the tarps to that height due to their weight, so I wait patiently for Vader to do so with the Force.

When he makes no move to do as I expect him to, and I have stood there for several minutes, I ask the obvious question, ‘You can’t really feel the Force or use it here, can you?’

His head snaps around and he stares at me.

Now that I have his attention, I bravely continue, ‘There are no midichlorians on this world, or in this system even, except yours.’

The Sith Lord takes a few menacing steps towards me after I expose his weakness, but I refuse to feel threatened by him. I merely cross my arms over my chest and comment, ‘There’s no point in trying to intimidate me, Lord Vader, because Force or no Force, I am not the least bit frightened of you.’

‘That,’ he confirms, ‘has been apparent from the minute I met you.’

‘And?’ I prompt.

***

I consider how to answer this most infuriating woman. While it is embarrassing to be seen as weak and much faster to simply use the Force to cover my TIE, I do not want to reveal that advantage unless I must.

‘You are correct about my ... problem,’ I finally decide to admit.

‘So we do things the hard way, my Lord,’ she tells me, waving her hand towards the side of the building. ‘There’s a ladder or two in the shed, and a set of scaffold components piled next to the workshop.’

My eyes follow the direction she is pointing in. Metal frames with braces have been neatly stacked where indicated. Two levels of these should be sufficient to reach the top of my TIE. I walk over to have a closer look. They do not appear to be too heavy, so I lift one and carry it over to my fighter.

By the time I have the pieces for the first tier in place, Maia has retrieved a bucket and a few implements from the workshop. I pick one up and examine it.

‘It’s a wrench,’ she volunteers as she sorts through the metal bolts in the pail. The ones which fit the frame, she sets aside.

I give the tumbler an experimental spin. The design is simple yet efficient and practical. At least there is an engineer somewhere on this planet who appreciates a well-made tool. After a few minutes of examining the other tools she had selected, I realize that Maia is standing by the first bracket, waiting for me to finish.

‘The upper one, first,’ I decide, indicating the required metal brace.

She keeps the frame in position while I tighten one of the bolts which will hold the two pieces together. Time for me to start asking questions.

‘This planet,’ I ask, ‘what is its governing body?’

She looks puzzled for a second, then answers. ‘The United Nations - sort of.’

‘It either is, or isn’t,’ I scold, ‘so which is it?’

I take the next bolt from her fingers while I wait for her reply.

‘It really depends on your point of view, my Lord,’ she tells me, sounding a bit like my old master. ‘In some things, yes, they can create laws every national government who is a member is supposed to follow. But enforcing compliance with those rules is another thing entirely.’

They don’t have a cohesive, unified planetary government.

‘And where we are?’

‘Nationally?’ She wants clarification.

‘Yes,’ I respond as I finish with the second bolt.

‘Two houses of representatives: one elected, one appointed. The government is headed by a Prime Minister who is the leader of the party with the majority of seats in the former,’ Maia promptly answers.

‘Elsewhere?’

‘Depends where you are,’ she admits. ‘There is everything from democracies similar to ours, to constitutional monarchies and military dictatorships.’

They are completely fragmented politically. And probably incapable of working as a unit against an external threat. From that perspective, this planet would be simple to bring under the Empire’s control.

‘Social structure?’

Maia is quiet a moment. I move to the next brace and accept the bolt she hands to me.

‘That also depends on where you are, my Lord,’ she finally replies.

‘Here, then,’ I narrow the area, ‘tell me about the current social issues here.’

‘Poverty, homelessness, crime, employment, access to medical care and education,’ she lists, ‘but I think those are concerns everywhere.’

‘The Empire is no different in those respects,’ I reveal. ‘Tell me the specifics.’

I move to the second bracket and lift it from the ground. Maia steadies it and elaborates on each of the issues she listed while I anchor the two braces to it. There is little difference in the worries of the average person here and those in the Empire.

‘And other issues? What is currently in the news media?’ I ask.

She stops to think about that.

‘There was a large earthquake not long ago, but at the moment most of the international papers are filled with reports on the war.’

This is the perfect opening.

‘A war your country is involved in?’

She tries not to laugh as she shakes her head, ‘No, my Lord, our military force is very small. The politicians see it as mostly for show, peace keeping, and search and rescue operations. If they could be rid of it entirely to save money, I suspect they would do so.’

I pounce, throwing her own words back at her, ‘Yet your uncle is a man of some importance, and you were quite concerned your military would be after me.’

‘My Lord, we will need to get the ladders and planks for the scaffold’s platform before adding the next set of brackets,’ she tries to avoid answering my question by diverting my attention.

‘Maia,’ I coldly warn.

‘He’s a decorated war hero and superb tactician. Of course he’s important,’ she replies as she drags a ladder out of the shed.

My tone was enough to extract a bit more information, but not what I wanted or needed. She is still attempting to distract me. I take the ladder from her hands and set it aside. I will give her one more chance to co-operate. However, if an interrogation is required, then that is what I will do.

‘What is NORAD?’ I ask, leaving no doubt in my voice that she had better answer truthfully.

There is flash of something across her face, not fear but concern, which is quickly hidden.

‘North American Aerospace Defense Command,’ she defines.

‘And?...’ I lead her into a further explanation.

‘They are responsible for monitoring the airspace over this continent and reacting to any threats,’ she rather reluctantly reveals. ‘Darth Vader would certainly be seen as one.’

‘And your uncle is in control of it,’ I add.

‘Not entirely,’ another reluctant admission from her. ‘He handles tracking and threat evaluation. They act on his advice.’

And he will no doubt be furious with her when he finds out she lied to him - and she lied to him to protect me. Why?

‘Strength,’ I state, brushing my previous thoughts away in my rush to get answers. ‘Technology. Numbers of troops and fighters. I know you have no interstellar ships which would be a threat, but you will tell me what you know of your world’s military, Maia.’

I can see the war she is fighting with herself. She must make a choice now - either to tell me what I want to know or face whatever I might do to get it from her. Her eyes drop from my mask to the ground. Maia has given in to me.

‘I don’t know anything about numbers of troops or vehicles,’ she divulges, ‘but I can tell you about our technology...’

For the next hour we finish setting up the scaffold and I continue my interrogation. When she co-operates and gives me the answers I want, I relax a bit to encourage her to continue. Any time she becomes evasive, I remind her of the consequences with a change in my tone of voice and body language. Using my reputation is an effective tactic which has worked on prisoners before, and there is no need to resort to anything more with her.

Nor do I find myself wanting to.

She drags one of the folded tarps over to the base of the ladder and looks expectantly at me. It will be my task, then, to transport them from the ground to the upper platform and toss them over my ship. I take the first one from her hands and start to climb. When it is in place, I see her waiting for me to go back down for the second one.

‘It will be faster if you bring them up to me,’ I suggest, ‘while I position them.’

Maia goes a bit pale and stares at the ladder before finally setting a hand on it. I wait patiently for her to slowly make her way up.

‘It’s rickety,’ she explains when she reaches the top.

While she goes to retrieve the next one, I silently remove one of the rope ties from the tarp she has brought me and secure the top of the ladder to the wooden plank it is resting against. There is no sense in risking a fall, and from her descriptions of their technology, I would be in trouble if my armor’s life support systems were damaged.

It takes all six of the large tarps to adequately cover my fighter.

When the last is in place, I open the cockpit and lower myself into it to run a series of diagnostics. The nav computer is still returning readings which do not make any sense. I ignore that for the moment and start the detailed checks on the engines. These will take fifteen minutes and I need that time to think.

The computer beeps. The back-up systems for the ion drive are operating a hair below my standards. I can pull those out, tune them up and still be able to leave without them, if need be. They will be my ‘damaged’ engines, then.

I tip my head up and see Maia peering down at me. She’s curious and full of questions but I have not let her ask a single one and I know she is frustrated because of that.

I return my eyes to the screen in front of me. Maia has been useful, if stubborn and reluctant to supply details on their military. Not surprising, that, considering who I am. Her impudence is annoying, but I can break her of that easily enough. On the positive side, she is clever and has done nothing to hinder me.

And she is still completely unafraid of me.

I have not yet decided what I am going to do with her.

***

Vader has spent the last fifteen minutes running tests with his ship’s computer to determine exactly what the problems are, and I have been watching him through the access hatch. When he is finally satisfied with what he has found, dawn is peering over the mountains and I am not only tired, but covered with dust and cobwebs from digging around in the workshop. Time to go and do something else for a while.

‘You mentioned a gas mix for the engines, my Lord. I need to know exactly what is required so I can order things in. If I contact the suppliers this morning, they will deliver on Monday and I can blend the gases together for you in my university lab that afternoon. Let’s go to my office and sort this out.’ With that, I head off to my messy second home. As we make our way there, I chatter away. ‘I suspect the chemical notation we each use is different, but the Periodic Table should be the same so I will just have you mark off what elements you need based on their position on it and go from there.’

My office is in the same state of disarray that I left it in, so I pull the element chart off the wall and head across the hall to the coffee room. Vader follows me and takes a chair while I hurry about the room. Whoever was in here last left the table covered with mugs and newspapers, so I spend a few minutes tidying things up. I also start a pot of tea brewing because I have been awake for almost twenty-four hours and the lack of sleep is starting to take its toll. Caffeine is a must if I am going to stay on my feet and coherent. Once the table is dry, I lay the chart out on it and hand the Sith Lord a marker.

‘Please flag the elements and let me know if there are any specific isotopes that you need,’ I ask him.

He quickly complies with my request, adding his own notations in Aurabesh as he does so. By the time he is finished, my tea is ready, but I set it aside for the time being.

I retrieve a notebook from my office and list the elements which are circled. Most should be in stock at the university already if any old isotopic mix will work. Several are actually stored in my lab because they are used as carrier gases in the equipment I use to analyze minerals. So far, so good.

‘My Lord, are there any of these where the isotopes are critical?’ I need this information from him. ‘Almost all of what you have indicated is either in my lab or available on campus somewhere if the atomic masses are not important.’

‘The only element where that matters is this one,’ he tells me, pointing to hydrogen, ‘the engines use this with a mass of 2 rather than 1.’

‘Deuterium,’ I identify the isotope. ‘We use it combined with oxygen to form heavy water. It’s used in that compound to moderate nuclear reactions. It could be tricky to obtain it as an elemental gas. I will have to get on-line and see what’s available.’

Something begins to nag at the back of my mind. I sit back in my chair, worrying away at it for a few minutes. Finally, my tired brain drags it out of my memory.

‘One of my chemistry colleagues has been working with deuterium gas,’ I tell him, ‘but I don’t know exactly what he has been up to. I might have to send an e-mail to him and see.’

I pick-up the notebook and head back to my office, the Dark Lord close behind me. He moves to stand beside my chair and I shift a pile of marked mid-terms out of the way to make room for him. It takes a few minutes to fire up my laptop and log-on to the university mainframe. The Sith Lord watches me, obviously curious about what I am doing, but doesn’t ask any questions. Calling up an inventory reveals that all but the deuterium and neon gases are on campus. I try to send in a work order to have the tanks which are not in my lab moved into it and find that it requires a number of different forms. The electronic paperwork is starting to irritate me.

Vader notices my frustration, and asks, ‘Problems?’

‘No, my Lord,’ I grumble, ‘just the usual nonsense. Life is short, forms are long. Bureaucracy reigns supreme. Never leave something simple to paper pushers or they will have you spend more time filling in blanks than it takes to actually do what you are requesting.’

‘The Empire is no different,’ he reveals.

‘Why am I not surprised?’I reply, as the last work request finally goes through.

Next I shift to the internet and fill in an on-line order for a tank of neon, making sure to flag it as a rush delivery for Monday. The last chore is the deuterium gas. A quick web search produces a number of suppliers, but not one with any on hand for immediate shipping. Frustrated by my lack of success, I finally call up my colleague’s webpage to see what he has been working on. I start to smile. Nigel has been busy stockpiling exactly what we need for a project he is working on in the Nuclear Magnetic Resonance lab. There should be plenty stored in there. Question is, how am I going to get my hands on it? Somehow I don’t think he will just let me walk off with it, so I am going to have to break into his lab and steal it.

‘From the look on your face, I assume you have found the last gas which is required?’ the Sith Lord enquires.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ I confirm, still grinning, ‘and lots of it. The only problem is that I am going to have to steal it out of the lab which is next door to mine. I will need some time to figure out what will be the best way to get in there.’

Now it is time to go and fetch the tea I had brewed earlier, so I push myself to my feet and return to the coffee room. By the time I have poured out a mug’s worth, my lack of sleep has caught up with me, and I am leaning against the table using my hands to steady myself.

‘You are exhausted,’ the Dark Lord observes from the doorway.

I raise an eyebrow and let myself fall backwards into a chair.

‘This past week was full of mid-term exams, my Lord. Between marking those, dealing with panicking students who didn’t bother studying or showing up for classes, running this place without my assistant who is off sick, and trying to get a bit of research done, I have lost a fair amount of sleep,’ I admit. ‘As a graduate student, I guess I could get away with it, but not anymore.’

Do I ever feel old, I suddenly realize, and I am being an atrocious host as well.

‘Look, I don’t have any idea what you need to look after yourself, so if there is anything I can get for you,’ I offer, ‘just ask and I will do my best.’

‘I can manage for several days, if I must, without any problems,’ he replies, ‘but you need to get some sleep before you collapse.’

‘Can’t yet,’ I decide. ‘I have to know what else is required to fix your ship. If there is anything that has to be ordered in, it must be done immediately. So, tell me, my Lord, what do you need?’

‘Not much, actually, access to tools mostly. I can cannibalize part of the back-up systems in the TIE, but I need wire made of this metal if the connections are to work properly.’ The Sith Lord reaches over and circles platinum with the marker on the periodic table.

‘This enough?’ I ask, pulling off the only ring I am wearing and tossing it to him. He easily catches it, and turns the ring to where he can see the crest on it. ‘A signet ring from the university I graduated from,’ I tell him. ‘Replaceable. Go ahead and do what you need to it. If you require more, I can always swipe one of the platinum crucibles out of the high temperature lab at the university, but that requires a trip into the city.’

‘Sufficient,’ he concludes, tucking the ring away somewhere.

‘My Lord, there are tools and machining equipment out in the workshop where the tarps were stored. I haven’t locked it so you can get started right away if you like. If you don’t find what you need in there, it might be in one of the labs in this building, so just ask.’ My mug is finally empty, but I resist pouring myself more. ‘Before I go collapse in my apartment, I had better show you where it is.’

I manage to get to my feet without swaying too much, and add my mug to the pile in the sink.

The small apartment I call home is on the second floor of the Visitor’s Center building. Somehow I make it down the stairs, across the parking lot and to its door without falling asleep on my feet. I punch in the security code, making sure I leave the system deactivated, and wave the Dark Lord in ahead of me. I follow Vader through the entryway into the living room and switch the lights on. Unlike my office, I actually keep my home fairly tidy. There is just no space for clutter to build up in it. Everything is where it should be and thankfully all of my Star Wars related junk is packed away in the bedroom closet or I would be in trouble trying to explain it.

‘Living room,’ I identify, ‘kitchen is to the right, bath next to it, bedroom on the left. The door is unlocked, so if you need me for something just come in and wake me up. Feel free to have a nap in here yourself, if you need one. I will be up in eight hours or so to get the telescopes set up for tonight’s observations.’

I am tired enough that I am beginning to babble and sway a bit, and the Sith Lord has obviously noticed because he places a hand on my back and steers me to the couch.

‘It will take most of the day for me to pull the components out of the back-up systems,’ he admits, ‘so I should have no reason to disturb your rest. Go to sleep.’

There is something behind his last words; they are almost a command, and I find my eyes closing despite attempts to keep them open. Finally I give up.

***

She was exhausted enough that despite her strong willed temperament my suggestion worked. So, I can use voice manipulation. This could be most useful to me.

I move to where I can examine her more closely. Those lenses she wears over her eyes do her no favors. Without them, she would look much better. And how her hair is braided back does not suit her at all. I wonder if she does that deliberately.

Pulling my left glove off, I extend my hand and rest it against her temple. I cannot touch her mind from a distance, so perhaps direct contact might work. Instantly, I yank it back, surprised by what I find. Her mind is hidden from me behind a glass-like barrier. Any attempts to get in slide off of it.

No midichlorians in me, she had said. I know now she was telling the truth about that.

I return my hand to her temple and send my senses around her mind once more. Something grabs at me, so I draw my hand back again, preventing it from taking hold. Curious. And most unusual.

She was once bonded to someone and that tie was suddenly severed. The paths in her mind are intact, if empty, and will pull in anyone she has strong feelings for. I give her a measuring look. Obviously she has strong feelings of some sort for me, so it would be most unwise to try touching her mind again. The next time I might not escape as easily.

I replace my glove and go to my fighter, leaving Maia to sleep for a while. She will be unable to help me if she is exhausted.

The workshop is a mess. Disgusted, I survey the cluttered workbench. How can anyone be expected to work in this disaster area? My hands automatically begin returning the various tools to their places marked on the wall and in the storage chest. They are of no use to me anyway. Once the bench is clear, I go to my fighter.

It takes several minutes to retrieve the tool kit I keep on board and remove the access panels. I know every detail of my TIE’s engines, having designed them myself. With a finger, I trace the systems I need to remove. This should be a simple task and the Devastator’s techs have been meticulous in keeping everything clean and in order. They know I would accept no less from them. I select the hydrospanner I need and set to work.

When both systems have been laid out on the bench, I start disassembling them into their individual components. Partway through my chore, I stop and stare at the energy damper in my hands. Life always seems simpler when I am fixing something. All my problems narrow down into the task in front of me and I can ignore the rest of the universe for a time.

I set the damper down and consider my situation.

Maia’s technical description of where I am is completely unfamiliar to me and this system is not listed in my TIE’s databank. I am completely lost and cannot use the malfunctioning nav computer or the Force to guide me back.

I hold my breath as realization hits.

I may be permanently stranded on this Force-forsaken world.

My respirator forces an inhalation.

And if I am? What life is there here for a Sith Lord who cannot use the Force? A Commander with no soldiers? A man who will be a curiosity, alone, more isolated than in the Empire, even?

I shut my eyes and touch the Force within myself, asking it to show me what my future might hold. A myriad of paths appear, some lead to death or imprisonment, others to a life on this world ... but alone, alone, always alone.

Am I to be forever cursed with living my life alone?

I clench my left hand and look at it. Obi-wan saw to that. First he took my angel from me, then he destroyed my life. My limbs are not my own - I am forever crippled, forced to wear this armor outside my meditation pod or special quarters, horribly burned, scarred... I cannot bear to look at myself, so how can I expect someone else to? What woman would want to touch me? Would want me to touch her?

I hurl the hydrospanner in my hand across the workshop. It makes a satisfying crash against the wall.

It isn’t fair, but life isn’t fair. Has never been fair.

After a few minutes, I retrieve the hydrospanner and return to dismantling the drive system. Life is so much easier when I am working.

***

When I wake up in the middle of the afternoon, six hours later, I discover that I am still on the couch with my head on the armrest, and have a cramp in my neck because of it. Falling asleep in that position was a mistake. At least he didn’t pack me into the bedroom. I find the idea of anyone getting that close to me and him, in particular, embarrassing to say the least. Despite the strong urge to go crawl into bed and sleep longer, I have to get up and mobile. Well then, time for a hot bath to ease the pain in my neck so I haul myself off the couch and head to the tub.

While there is nothing better than a hot soak, I can’t stay in the water all day, so wrapping my hair in a towel and myself in a long robe, I head to the kitchen to brew some tea and scare up something to eat. A few minutes later I let my hair fall out of the towel and down my back so it can dry. I will braid it up later, I decide, there is no need to hurry.

The mountains around the observatory prevent any radio or television signals from reaching my apartment, so for entertainment, I usually toss a cd or two on instead. Handel, I decide, Rinaldo, second act, and Solomon, third act. Even though I like Baroque opera, today I remove the vocal track from the playback and just listen to the orchestral accompaniment. When the first cd reaches Almirena’s aria, a favorite of mine, I give in and sing along with the music as I putter about the kitchen. This is something I have not done much of in years, and my voice unfortunately shows it. Who cares, I think, I feel content today, happier than I have been in a long time, and there are no critics around to spoil things.

Then I head into the living room and discover that I have had an audience after all. The Sith Lord has probably been there for a while, too, given that he is seated in the most comfortable chair in the place with his feet propped up on the coffee table. We stare at one another for a long moment.

Finally, I ask, ‘Just how long have you been there?’

‘Long enough,’ he answers, ‘to hear someone who sounds better than most of the so called divas I have had to endure listening to at the Opera House on Imperial Center.’

My mouth drops open and I quickly shut it. Flattery now? From him? I give him an odd look.

‘You, my Lord, must be joking,’ I decide.

‘Of course I am joking,’ he scolds. ‘You are in desperate need of practice.’

‘Not that it would help much, anyway,’ I quietly admit. ‘My brother used to compare my voice with two squalling cats, tails tied together and thrown over a fence. The audience would fling stuff at me if I ever went on stage.’

I know I can’t sing very well - I just do so in private to amuse myself. Or to torture my family as Michael would often tell me.

‘No,’ he agrees, ‘you could never succeed on stage, but there is an honest quality in your voice which their more synthetic ones lack.’

Darth Vader, opera critic? Somehow this just doesn’t fit my image of the man.

‘Thank you, my Lord,’ I say while trying to figure out what he is up to now. Finally my curiosity wins and I decide to see if he will let any more information out, so I ask, ‘When would you have the time to go to the theater? I thought you spent all your time chasing rebels.’

‘The Emperor on occasion attends opening nights, and usually insists I accompany him if I am on planet. Why, I don’t know,’ he admits.

I wander over to the couch and take a seat next to his chair, setting my mug of tea down in front of me. Maybe Palpatine likes to torture his apprentice by forcing him to listen to opera. It’s rather obvious that the Sith Lord doesn’t like it.

Since he seems to be in a conversational mood, I venture, ‘Is the music similar to what I have playing?’

‘The language you used is not familiar to me, nor is the musical style,’ he reveals. ‘What is currently in fashion in the Empire tends to be less sophisticated, loud, high, rather crude in comparison. I prefer what you have selected.’

More like Italian operas of the last two centuries, than the earlier Baroque ones, from his description. While I try to think of how to answer him, I reach over for my tea. My robe slips briefly and I yank it back too late to prevent him from seeing my feet and lower legs.

‘Maia,’ he quietly notes, ‘you have been badly burned. What happened?’

I shut my eyes. This is something I don’t like to talk about or remember, but from the interrogation about the state of our military while covering up his TIE, I know that he will persist in questioning me until he has an answer. To my surprise, his hand gently brushes across my cheek, and I let out the breath I have been holding in. If anyone is capable of understanding this, it is him.

‘It happened fifteen years ago when I was a graduate student. I was working in a lab preparing powdered rock samples for analysis. Some of the minerals will only dissolve in boiling acids of various types so I was dealing with some very nasty stuff. It was late in the afternoon and one of the other students had been in earlier in the day to refill the bottles I was using. He put perchloric and hydrochloric acids into the wrong containers, and I mixed my solutions without knowing what he had done. Everything was fine until I went to check on how the samples were progressing. Lifting the protective panel on the fume hood caused just enough difference in temperature to trigger a reaction and several of the larger beakers exploded.’

My hands are shaking a bit now, so I carefully set the mug back on the table to avoid spilling it. Once I am a bit more steady, I continue. ‘The glass door protected my face, and my lab coat most of the rest of me, but the boiling acid splattered it and ran down over the lower part of my legs and feet. The backs of my hands were also coated. I ran to the emergency shower to try and wash it off. I wasn’t quick enough though, to prevent myself from being scarred and suffering nerve damage. Luckily my hands healed without much visible evidence of what happened. It was months before I could walk without pain...’ I let my voice drift off into silence.

The pain had been excruciating, both at the time of the burn and after, but I had never once screamed or cried out, had stoically suffered through it, never allowing myself to show anyone how it affected me. “Ice Maiden” they had named me after that and so I remain.

The Sith Lord waits patiently for me to finish, and after a minute or two, I do so, ‘Later, much later, I found out that the other student knew exactly what he had done. Everyone claimed it was an accident, that he had been taking drugs which affected his judgement. I knew better, but could never prove it. He was the department’s darling who could do no wrong. I was the upstart child genius who threatened his position. They never even gave him a slap on the wrist for what he did.’

***

I see the scars on her feet despite her quick move to hide them and know she has been badly burned.

Scarred. Burned.

Much like my own injuries. I wonder if she will tell me what happened.

‘Maia,’ I quietly say, ‘you have been badly burned. What happened?’

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her discomfort is painfully apparent.

I understand this. If someone asked me the same question, my reaction would be similar, but deadlier. When she remains silent, I brush her cheek with my hand, letting her know by my touch that I know what I am asking her to relive and to also encourage an answer.

As I listen to the story she tells, my anger builds.

Someone did this to her? Deliberately? Because they were jealous of her abilities? And they never paid for what they did?

Just as Obi-wan had done to me. Except he finally did pay, on the Death Star, at my hands.

I understand. Oh, I understand all too well what happened to her. And why.

She moves to flee to her bedroom, to isolation and safety, but I am faster. I step into her path, stopping her retreat with my body.

There is nothing I can do to erase her memories, but there is one thing I can do.

Am willing to do.

Just this once.

And only for her.

I wrap my arms around her, sweeping my cloak around her back. She stays there, in my embrace, trembling in reaction to the terrible pain I just made her relive. Pain so very much like my own.

‘I understand,’ I tell her. ‘I understand what it is to be singled out as gifted, special. In the Jedi temple, as a child, as a padawan, they held me up to an impossibly high standard - one no one, not even myself, could ever hope to meet. I was supposed to be their ‘Chosen One’ who was the perfect Jedi. In reality I was just a boy with an unusual talent.’

Maia is still shivering, but I know she has heard every word I said.

‘They didn’t even want to accept me at first. I was too old, too attached, too strong and too dangerous to be trained. It wasn’t until they realized they couldn’t afford to let me go my own way that they reluctantly assigned me to a master. A master who saw me as a burden to be borne. A master who held me back out of jealousy.’

She is quieter now, silent, listening intently to me.

‘And eventually, when I found someone who would give me the training the Jedi refused to, my old master turned on me. Fought with me. Left me for dead. Condemned me to live my life trapped in this armor. So you see, Maia, I know what someone’s jealousy can drive them to do.’

Not exactly the truth, but she doesn’t need to hear that.

‘I understand,’ I repeat.

‘Thank you,’ she whispers in return and starts to pull away.

I tighten my hold on her. This is the first time I have held someone in almost two decades, and I am curious if she will voluntarily remain where she is.

‘Stay,’ I offer, ‘for as long as you need to.’

To my shock, she does.

***

Part of my mind is having a fit, warning me to run away, but I don’t care. This is the first time anyone outside of my family and two dearest friends has shown more than a passing concern for what happened to me, and I know he does understand, having gone through far worse himself. Hesitating for only a few seconds, I let my hands slip, from where they are caught between my chest and his, to down and around his waist, just above his belt. I rest my cheek against his shoulder, feeling the soft material of his robes against my skin. He shifts his arms and balance in response to my actions, and the steady sound of his breathing soothes me. I realize that I am quite content to stay exactly where I am. There is security here and a sense of rightness, belonging, which puzzles me.

To my surprise, I find myself beginning to drift off, still sleep deprived. Wake up, I scold myself, falling asleep in Darth Vader’s arms is not going to look very good, now is it? I hear him chuckle, as he realizes that I am dozing off, and before I can protest, I am carefully picked up and carried into my bedroom. After he sets me down on the bed, my glasses are lifted from my face and put aside on the night table.

As he pulls the covers back over me, he comments, ‘I had hoped to get some sleep myself, but it can wait. You obviously need it more than I do.’

I catch his hand to stop him from leaving.

‘You are probably just as exhausted as I am,’ I observe, ‘and there’s room for two. I don’t steal blankets, and I think we are both old enough to act like adults. Get in, and don’t argue about it either.’

The Dark Lord stares at me for a long moment, then laughs quietly, before teasing, ‘I won’t then since you are determined to have me in your bed.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ I retort, ‘and you know it.’

This just makes him laugh louder. Frustrated now, I hurl a pillow, which he easily avoids, in his direction.

‘You are such a brat,’ I grumble into my pillow as I pull the covers up over my head. Thankfully, he doesn’t hear my last comment.

I hear the sound of fabric being tossed aside and guess he has taken off his cloak and thrown it somewhere. Curious, I peer out from under the sheets and see the Sith Lord standing at the opposite side of my bed.

He unhooks his lightsaber and sets it on the table next to the bed before glancing over at me and asking, ‘I trust your offer is still open?’

Rather than reply verbally and get teased some more, I reach over and pull back the covers on the other side of the bed.

‘I assume that’s a yes,’ he adds as he lays down beside me, adjusting his pillow to allow for his helmet.

Maia, my conscience warns, you are getting into dangerous waters here, watch yourself. Oh, I talk back to myself, it’s not like he can do anything with his armor on. Or can he? None of the books or movies ever mentioned anything about the Sith Lord’s personal life, so I am completely in the dark here. Careful then, you might discover more than you can handle. Better be cautious here.

‘I have not shared a bed in years,’ he tells me, ‘and my reflexes are such that I could easily hurt you if I am startled. Since you are determined to have me here, I will either have to consciously disable my defenses, which I would rather not do, or hold you in my arms where I can’t do you injury before I am awake and aware.’

I guess I don’t have much choice here other than to go sleep on the couch, but I am beginning to wonder exactly what he is up to. His behavior this afternoon has been, well, different than what I had expected. I wonder, can his disconnection from the Force have something to do with it? A puzzle to worry away at tomorrow I decide.

‘What do you want me to do?’ I finally ask.

‘Turn on your side facing away from me and I will do the rest,’ he instructs.

I quickly comply, giving the tie on my robe a tug to make sure it will stay on, and wait. A minute later, I am pulled backwards into the Sith Lord’s chest and held tightly to him, one arm wrapped securely around my waist, and the other under my head and folded across my chest, with the upper part of his arm acting as my pillow.

‘Comfortable?’ he checks, accepting my nod as a yes, ‘Good, we should both get some sleep now.’

I listen to his regulated breathing like I did earlier and let the sound of it lull me into drowsiness. At some point, my dream filled mind hears him quietly comment to himself, ‘Maìá, my little goddess,’ but like most things I dream, I have no memory of it when I wake.

The telephone is ringing. Blast it all. I open my eyes and find that I am still wrapped in Vader’s arms. Remembering his warning, I am careful not to move and disturb him. A quick look at the clock reveals that we both have slept five hours into the late evening. So much for the observations tonight - I am now two days behind schedule. Rather than answer the phone, I just let it ring.

‘Shouldn’t you do something about that?’ he asks before I can stop him, sleep still clouding his speech.

‘I left it in voice activated mode,’ I whisper to the Sith Lord.

‘Maia?’ Nigel answers over the phone line, in his thick Australian accent. ‘Is that you? You weren’t in your office or any of the labs at the university, and there seems to be something wrong with the line into the observatory. Are you all right? And who on Earth do you have with you?’

‘I’m fine Nigel, just decided to get a bit more sleep,’ I tell him. ‘One of my friends, a researcher from CERN is visiting me. Now, what do you want?’

As soon as my words are out, I know I am in trouble. My chemistry colleague is the world’s biggest snoop and gossip.

‘Sleep or something else?’ he slyly comments. ‘Has the Ice Maiden finally found someone to melt her frozen heart?’

Furious at his implication, all I can do is snap, ‘That’s none of your business!’

‘I must be right if I am getting that sort of reaction out of you!’ Nigel gleefully observes.

‘Who are you talking to?’ the Dark Lord breaks in.

‘One of my exceedingly annoying colleagues from the university,’ I tell him, then direct at Nigel, ‘one who had better shut-up about my personal life if he knows what’s good for him!’

‘What personal life?’ Nigel needles, ‘everyone knows you have never had one - until now that is!’

‘Either you tell me what you want Nigel, or I am going to cut the connection,’ I threaten.

‘You never replied to the invite for the Alumni and Faculty party on Monday,’ he whines in reply. ‘Everyone else is going to be there, so are you going to show up or not?’

Party. I had completely forgotten about that.

‘Well, Maia,’ Nigel prompts, ‘we all want to see what you will come up with this year.’

I still remain silent, wondering what he is going on about.

‘Oh, come on, Maia, surely you haven’t forgotten it’s the Winter Costume Ball?’ Nigel divulges, sounding a touch frustrated with me.

‘Actually, I had,’ I admit. This is going to solve the problem of how to get the Sith Lord on campus. Perfect! ‘Well, I suppose...’ I start to answer.

‘Good, I’ll see you there. Any hints on what you will be wearing?’Nigel asks, fishing about for information.

I turn myself over to face Vader, who is now leaning on one arm with his other still draped over my waist.

‘How would you like to go to a costume party?’ I ask him, keeping my voice below where the microphone will pick it up. ‘It’s the perfect way to get you on campus without anyone making a fuss about it. We can go into the lab and mix the gases before or after, your choice.’

‘Go to a costume party? As who?’ he asks, puzzled.

‘Yourself of course, my Lord,’ I tell him. ‘Everyone knows who you are and no one would ever believe you are here anyway, so it is the perfect cover. I just have to come up with something for myself which will fit with you theme-wise. Maybe I should dress as one of your officers.’

Raising his voice so that Nigel can hear, the Sith Lord states, ‘Maia and I will be attending as Lord and Lady Vader.’

What did he say? Is he nuts? I can’t believe what I have just heard.

‘I knew it!’ Nigel chortles happily. ‘Maia has finally found herself a boyfriend!’

I bury my face in my hands. This is rapidly becoming a disaster.

‘No,’ I moan miserably. ‘Oh, no, I can’t believe this is happening to me.’

‘Just wait until I tell ...’ Nigel starts, but I cut him off with, ‘If you say one word to anyone, Nigel, you will regret it!’

Still laughing, Nigel continues, ‘....everyone! I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you two were doing. See you on Monday!’

He hangs up then, and I am left thinking rather murderous thoughts at both him and the Sith Lord beside me.

‘Do you have any idea how much trouble you have just created for me?’ I ask, dismayed, ‘Nigel is the worst gossip at the university. I am never going to live this down!’

‘He seemed determined to put me in the role of your mate and it will be easier to explain my presence if I am, so why not play along with it?’ the Dark Lord logically concludes.

Why not? I ask myself, then disclose, ‘Because he will enjoy repeating what just happened for the next six months until something else more entertaining comes along! The fact that he thinks he interrupted something will only make it worse.’

‘Which will also ensure that anyone we encounter at the university will not question why I am there with you,’ he cooly states. ‘You are becoming far too distressed over this.’

I am obviously not going to win this argument.

‘Fine, then,’ I concede, ‘but I hope you know how to dance, my Lord, because I don’t.’

‘Dance? Surely you don’t expect me to do that?’ he incredulously asks.

‘Since you have decided to play my boyfriend,’ I remind him, ‘you will have to dance with me at least once or people will notice.’

I can tell he is not particularly happy with this notion, so I tease him a little, ‘Worried about that, are you? Just be glad that for the first hour or so the music will be of the ballroom type, with simple set patterns and steps. Later on in the evening they will have the loud obnoxious stuff the kids prefer.’

‘Very well, then. I will teach you what I know tomorrow,’ the Sith Lord offers, not the least bit perturbed. ‘Now it is late and I am still tired, so if you want to stay here with me, you know what you need to do.’

‘Yes, dear,’ I tease as I turn back onto my other side, pulling his arm tight around my waist as I do so.

Once I am settled, my head back on his arm, the Dark Lord takes his hand from my waist and runs one finger down the side of my face.

‘Impertinent child,’ he calls me with a touch of amusement in his voice, before returning his hand to its former position.

We are both asleep within minutes.

Sat. Feb. 10.

Light is shining through the window onto my face, so I know it is just after dawn in the early morning. I am still held tightly to the Sith Lord’s chest and there is no indication from him that he is awake yet. It is nice and warm next to him, and I feel secure and content in his arms. I wonder if this is what it would always be like, then yank my mind away from this thought. Dangerous, Maia, don’t go there. You have been happy being alone and by yourself, no need to invite trouble into your life. Don’t forget he is leaving on Monday, and probably will never think of you again once his fighter is off the ground. But I can allow myself to daydream a little bit, I decide. What would it be like to be his wife, his Lady? If the Empire’s military is similar to those on Earth, I would be left behind at his castle, by myself, for months at a time. A lonely existence, I conclude, and a dangerous one given the intrigues of the nearby court. Then there is the Emperor to deal with. No, better to not even consider what it might be like. I will have three more days to learn about him, so I will enjoy his company as much as I can. I smile a little to myself as I remember he has promised to teach me how to dance. Now that will be interesting.

‘You are awake, aren’t you?’ the Dark Lord notes, sounding not quite conscious himself. ‘And have been deep in thought if I am not mistaken. What about?’

‘You don’t know?’ I ask.

‘Of course not. I can’t touch your mind, only observe your physical reactions,’ he answers, sounding a bit irked at my forgetfulness. ‘I would not have asked if I already knew.’

How to answer this? I don’t think he would be too impressed if I disclosed my private musings about being his wife, so I decide to tease him instead.

‘Dancing lessons,’ I tell him.

His response is to tighten his grip on my waist and pull me around to face him.

‘That’s not all, I suspect. I expect to be told the truth when I ask a question, so out with it.’

‘Why? I doubt that my silly daydreams would be of any interest to you.’

Careful Maia, I warn myself, or you will be in trouble here.

‘Tell me anyway,’ he insists, and I feel his hand move from my waist to rest on my hip.

The other arm, which had been under my head now is folded across my back, his hand touching my arm. I am still held in place, I realize, and had better say something before he gets angry with me.

‘I was wondering about life in the Empire, my Lord, that’s all,’ I confess.

Close enough to the truth, I hope, to escape further questioning.

‘You are only telling me half-truths, Maia, and I am sure I know what the rest is,’ he snaps, sounding irritated. ‘If you must speculate about my personal affairs, either be honest with me about it or desist in it altogether.’

***

Impudent, insufferable woman, I think angrily as I shove her away. If I wasn’t in a position where I needed her help to leave this miserable planet, I would do something to permanently fix her insolence.

I grab my lightsaber from the table, my cloak from the back of the chair and storm out before I do something I regret, letting the external door slam closed after me.

I keep walking away from the observatory until I reach a ridge overlooking a dry lake bed. The white salts gleam in the bright morning light. With a gesture, I lift a rock and hurl it from my vantage point towards the lake below. It goes no farther than the pebble did the day before. Frustrated, I repeat my experiment, letting my anger fuel my use of the Force. There is little change in the results. Light side or dark - it makes no difference here in what I can do.

I let my hand drop and brood a little. If I am to leave this place, I must find out where this system is, and Maia is the only means I have to uncover this information.

With the Force I angrily toss another stone away.

I can’t read their script, have no idea how their society really functions, and the only person I know is a stubborn scientist.

A fourth stone makes its way to the lake bed below.

You really need to evaluate your situation, I remind myself, before you do anything else as foolish as what you did yesterday.

What was I thinking?

You weren’t thinking, I scold myself. You acted on impulse and let your weaker emotions get the better of you. And you know that always gets you into trouble.

Boyfriend she called me in jest. That was a stupid mistake, putting myself into that role, even if it is only a pretense for some party. And what I did earlier was even more foolish, but after so many years without any personal contact it felt good to just hold someone - to hold her, to comfort her. And she stayed. She didn’t struggle, didn’t fight to get away from me. Even when I gave her the option of leaving, she didn’t.

She stayed.

Then she invited me into her bed, and let me hold her through the night, trusting me completely. She slept soundly in my arms, never waking, never stirring, never showing any sign that my presence disturbed her. It was like she belonged there, beside me, like she had always been there, like she should always be there ...

I cut that thought off.

Maia is not Padme. I will never be able to replace my angel. Never have a female companion, never have the family I wanted. There is no point in even considering such a relationship.

I need her help, nothing more.

I send another rock flying down towards the lake.

Then why do I feel like I am lying to myself?

***

That was just brilliant Maia, I chide myself, get him angry at you. I sit up in bed and pull my knees into my chest. Time to have another thinking session. Was he really annoyed at me, I wonder, or upset with himself instead? That statement about not sharing a bed in years suggests that he has not let anyone get as physically close to him as I have been in a long, long time. Perhaps not since before Padme’s death even? And that scene with Nigel - he actually put himself into a boyfriend’s role willingly, without any qualms at all. If he is starting to emotionally put me into Padme’s place, then he is not going to have an easy time dealing with those feelings, and I will have to tell him .... Nope, Maia, you really, really don’t want to go there. That sort of relationship is out of the question and the last thing you want to deal with is a Sith Lord in the midst of an emotional crisis.

Well, his behavior has certainly not been consistent with what one would expect based on the movies and books. Vader has actually been, well, more human and like a real person, likeable to a certain extent, even. That’s your own bias, I admit to myself, you have always been rather fond of him and able to relate to his complex character and personality. And how much of his behavior is affected by the Force? If he has no connection to it, then perhaps the dark side has less of a hold on him. It must certainly be driving him to distraction to not be able to feel or use it.

This tantrum, though, what was behind it? Surely not concern over my idle speculations and daydreams. Perhaps he found himself getting a little too close, a bit too attached and it scared him? I roll this thought around my brain. Darth Vader, afraid to admit he likes or might be friends with someone? Based on my limited knowledge of the man’s psychology, this sounds and feels right. He doesn’t let anyone get too close to him, and I don’t ever recall reading about someone he might call ‘friend’. So, problem identified. Now, what are you going to do about it? Go and track him down, I decide, and apologize. Then see what he does and go from there.

I hop off the bed and open up my closet. While I tend to wear casual clothes at work, and business suits to lectures, this I think, requires something a bit more formal. Time to see what might be usable for the party on Monday as well. Digging through the rack produces my Jedi knight outfit, which I quickly bury in the back, out of sight, and several medieval gowns I have worn to SCA events and Renaissance Faires. I toss the simple blue one onto the bed. With a belt, it will do for my purposes today. The other ones I have found quickly join it. Since I have no idea what ‘Lady Vader’ might wear, I will let the Sith Lord pick something out.

A few minutes later, I am dressed in the blue gown, wrapped in my deep green cloak and heading out the door to find the Dark Lord. He is not with his fighter or anywhere in the observatory complex. I start to scan the horizon with my eyes, and finally spot him to the south, standing on the ridge overlooking the dry lake, with his back to me. It is a fair distance to hike, so I set off immediately, pacing myself so that I won’t be winded when I arrive. I also try to form a formal apology in my head. The last hundred meters, I am careful to stomp on a few twigs. Creeping up on him is probably a very bad idea.

‘You are making enough noise, Professor, to alert just about anyone to your presence,’ he comments, keeping his back to me, his thumbs hooked into his belt.

‘Intentionally, yes,’ I admit. ‘Sneaking up on you is probably not a wise thing to do, my Lord.’

Formal mode, need to do this on his terms, I remind myself, as I draw alongside of him and look outwards, following his gaze. The wind catches both our cloaks, swirling the fabric around us. There are small dust devils of dried salts being blown across the dry lake. This time of year there is no water, no birds, nothing alive in the valley where the observatory is located except sage brush and the odd cactus.

‘Indeed not, as the few who have tried have unfortunately discovered,’ Vader replies. ‘So, doctor, what brings you out here?’

‘An apology, my Lord,’ I begin, ‘an apology for being less than truthful with you.’

Please don’t let him press me for details. Having to admit what I was thinking will be embarrassing to say the least. I keep my eyes on the lake, my face calm.

‘And are you prepared to be honest now?’ he asks.

He would ask that. Blast. No help for it though.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ I quietly decide.

‘Then tell me what you were thinking this morning,’ he prompts.

Be honest, tell him the truth, I remind myself, even if you feel stupid afterwards.

‘I have always been alone, my Lord, and it was odd waking up wrapped in your arms. So, I started wondering what life as your wife would be like, if we would be separated when you were on your flagship,’ I admit. ‘What the Imperial court and life on Coruscant are like. Foolish things. That’s all.’

The Sith Lord is silent for a long time after my admission, and I start to wonder if he is ever going to speak to me again.

***

She wants to know what life would be like as my wife?

Of all the things she could have confessed to, this one I would never have expected. So she must be telling the truth. Now, how do I answer her?

I turn a little and study her face. She is trying to conceal her discomfort with what she just disclosed. With great caution, I reach my senses out towards her, only to confirm what I had already found. Force help me. I was right about her strong feelings for me.

This is a most unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome, development.

I shift my attention back to the lake while I debate what to do.

My eyes glance back at her again. Maia is plain featured, but not unpleasantly so. She is more than clever enough to be my match in the intellectual arena, and I could live with her attempts at singing if I had to. The only real problems are her stubbornness and impertinence. And with time I can train both of those out of her.

I stare out at the lake again.

I wanted a mate and it appears I have found someone who might be suitable, and more importantly, willing, in the most unlikely of places. It will be good to have a companion I can live with if I am forced to spend the rest of my life here.

But in this, I must not make a mistake, so I will test her, I decide. I cannot touch her mind so she will have to prove her fearlessness, loyalty, and love for me in other ways. There is no time to waste with this. I will begin my challenges for her immediately.

Right now, though, she needs an answer.

***

Finally, he turns to look at me and says, ‘Perhaps not so foolish.’

With that he spins on his heel and heads back to the observatory, leaving me standing there, feeling totally lost. What the hell did he mean by that? Somehow I don’t think he is going to elaborate on that remark, and I know I am not going to ask for clarification.

With a sigh I turn to follow him. He has a decent head start and is moving far quicker than I can keep up with. I try to pick up my own pace, and end up with my feet caught in the long skirt of the gown I am wearing. Before I can untangle myself, I am falling. Throwing my hands out to catch myself, I land on my knees, with my left hand slammed into a cactus patch. Blast it all, I think as I push myself back onto my heels, that hurt. I carefully examine my hand. There is a large prickly pear stuck firmly into it with a dozen or so spikes driven deep into my palm. I will need to get back to my apartment and look after this quickly.

First step, get up. I shift the skirt out of the way with my uninjured hand and try to get to my feet, but I am too shaky to make it on my first attempt. Get a hold of yourself, Maia, I tell myself, it’s just a little cactus. By the time I am ready for a second try, the Sith Lord has walked back to where I am sitting on the ground and has dropped to one knee in front of me.

‘What have you done to yourself?’ he asks.

‘Cactus,’ I answer, holding my hurt hand out to him. ‘Have to get the spikes out before my hand festers from the poison.’

Before I can stop him, he grabs my arm with his left hand and rips the cactus off with his right. I let out a hiss at the pain before I can control myself, and try to yank my hand away. There are still half a dozen spikes left in it and the ones he did remove have left large bleeding holes.

‘The spikes are barbed,’ I tell him, ‘you have to use pliers or they break off, and I really don’t want to cut my hand open to get them out.’

He releases my hand in response and pulls off his right glove. Prosthetic hand my memory prompts. My hand is now held securely in his left while he pulls the remaining spikes out of it with his right. I stoically bear the pain as he works, determined not to let out a sound.

‘Your pain control is impressive for someone with no training or access to the Force,’ he notes as he yanks a barb out.

He’s trying to distract me from what he is doing with small talk.

‘I have had lots of opportunity to practice, trust me,’ I admit.

‘Explain,’ the Dark Lord orders.

‘Children are cruel to those who are different,’ I calmly state. ‘I learned very quickly that any reaction at all just made it go on longer. Even if I am badly injured I can control my responses, but it makes other people uncomfortable. They expect you to scream when you dislocate your shoulder and break bones...’

‘Or burn yourself badly?’ he breaks in. Another spike is removed while he speaks.

‘That too. I never let on how much that hurt,’ I admit. ‘Not at the time nor during the four months it took the burns to heal. The other students started calling me the Ice Maiden after that.’

‘The same title your colleague used?’ he questions as he pulls out a third needle.

Best to be honest about the nickname I hate so much, I decide.

‘Yes, but for different reasons. I don’t let anyone get close to me, and I trust very few people. Experience has taught me to be wary,’ I disclose. ‘Nigel is convinced that if he finds the right person he could change that. You would not believe the number of his friends he has tried to set me up with, without any success. I refused to meet any of them. He is probably rather irked that you have decided to be my boyfriend.’

He waits until I am finished, then the last spike is pulled, and my hand is a bleeding mess. I try to take it from the Sith Lord, but he holds it tight and comments, ‘Given your personality and what you have just told me, I find it amazing that you have not only offered to help me, but actually trusted me enough to let me into your bed.’

‘That’s different,’ I blurt out.

Oops Maia. Another blunder to deal with.

‘How so?’ he questions.

Truth? I had better tell him enough of it to prevent another blow up.

‘You have a reputation for being honorable, my Lord, having a personal code you stick to. I know you won’t break that as long as I stay within it myself. And I trust you,’ I admit.

He makes no immediate response to my disclosure, but studies the wounds in my hand instead.

‘Trust, Maia,’ he finally states, ‘can be a dangerous thing if misplaced.’

The Sith Lord rises to his feet, pulling me up with him. My hand is still held in his, and I use the contact to steady myself a bit.

‘You are in shock from your injury,’ he observes, ‘and the poison needs to be bled out and quickly. There is something in my fighter’s medkit which should do the trick if I can get you there before the blood clots too much.’

To my surprise, I find myself being lead along, my uninjured hand in his, at a fairly rapid pace back to the observatory and his TIE. Content to let him do this, I keep a tight hold on his hand and concentrate on not tripping on my skirt a second time. When I start to stumble, he pulls me back with his hand, preventing another fall. All too soon we are at our destination. He stops at the base of the scaffold and retrieves a bottle of something from a metal box he takes out of his ship. My hand is held firmly when he pours the contents over it and rubs the solution into my wounds. Whatever it is burns. I try to yank my hand back, but he merely tightens his grip. The punctures are bleeding profusely now.

‘Let the anti-coagulant do its work,’ Vader advises, ‘I know it burns, but there is no help for that.’

For several minutes we stand there while my hand drips blood onto the grass between us. The entire time he keeps a gentle hold on it, waiting for some signal unknown to me that it has bled enough. I try to keep my face composed, but slip up at some point. The Sith Lord notices, and distracts me with a run down on what remains to be done to repair his ship.

‘Mostly reassembling the damaged systems with the replacement components I removed yesterday,’ he finally concludes.

‘Is there something I can do to help?’ I offer. ‘Setting up tonight’s observations will not take long, and then I will be free to do whatever will be of use to you.’

‘You should be more careful how you phrase things,’ the Sith Lord scolds. ‘Say exactly what you mean, nothing that can be misconstrued. In the Imperial Court, what you just told me would get you into a great deal of trouble.’

I stare at him in surprise. Say what? Where did that come from?

‘Maia, you were wondering what life on Coruscant would be like,’ Vader reminds me. ‘And I can think of a number of ways you could be useful to me both here and back there.’

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I can’t stop myself from asking, ‘Like what?’

‘Do you really want to know, curious one?’ he teases. ‘It will be easier to repair the drive system with an extra set of hands, and yours are small enough to do the more delicate tasks faster than I can. Your mathematical gift would make you a priceless addition to my research team, and with some training, you could act as one of my more specialized agents, or a personal aide to me of some sort where your analytical skills would be put to use. But I have only one real role for you to fill and it is not for you to know what it is. Now, the poison should be gone and I need to get the bleeding stopped.’

The evasive part of his answer raises my curiosity several notches, but I know better than to push my luck and enquire further. Instead I wait and watch what the Sith Lord does next.

He releases my hand and selects another bottle from the medkit, this time soaking some gauze with its contents. My hand is gently wiped with the cloth to remove the blood, and the contents of yet another container, this time some sort of salve are worked into the punctures. The bleeding stops almost immediately and my hand goes numb.

‘Combination antibiotic, blood stopper and topical anaesthetic,’ the Dark Lord notes, ‘has a high bacta content as well to speed healing. Your hand should be fine in two or three days.’

A few minutes later, my hand is expertly wrapped and the medkit stowed back in the TIE.

‘You are very good at that,’ I compliment, examining the finished dressing. ‘My mother would be impressed. Most of the med-students she has to put up with are rather hopeless at binding up wounds.’

‘I have had plenty of practice,’ he admits, sounding a touch amused, before asking, ‘Your mother is a doctor?’

‘She runs the regional trauma center. Med-students from the coast sometimes intern with her. A few of them return once their studies are finished, but most go to the larger cities.’ Since he seems interested in my family, I let out a bit more information. ‘My father is an engineer. He has some gift for mathematics, but nothing like mine. Most of the time he is busy designing engines for heavy equipment and the military. My youngest brother is also an engineer, and the other one a fighter pilot. Jamie might actually fly over today since his squadron is supposed to be putting on a precision flying demonstration somewhere on the coast tomorrow. If they have time in transit they often rehearse here. I could call the base at Cold Lake and find out, if you’re interested.’

‘Giving out too much information is also dangerous,’ he states flatly.

I give him an annoyed look.

‘Well, it’s not like you are going to do anything with what I just told you.’

‘Perhaps, but you are far too trusting.’ the Dark Lord still keeps his voice even, and it finally occurs to me that I am probably being teased once again.

‘I could say the same for you then, for trusting me,’ I tease him, turning the tables for the first time.

Careful Maia, you are going to create some more problems for yourself.

His response is to pull me into his chest and hold me there with one of his arms wrapped behind my back. Before I can react, he runs a finger down the side of my face, then rests the end of it on the tip of my nose for a few seconds.

‘You are far too impertinent and impudent for your own good,’ he observes, ‘habits you need to divest yourself of before they get you into more trouble than you can handle.’

I try to keep my expression neutral, but my mind is running at top speed and I am beginning to panic. Maia, say something fast and it had better get you out of this.

‘Yes, my Lord, I will try to behave myself,’ I capitulate, resorting to formal mode once again.

Darn, I like being able to tease him, if only a little.

‘Better,’ the Sith Lord comments, but he doesn’t release me. ‘If you are going to play at being my wife, even for a few hours at some party, I expect you to act in an appropriate manner.’

‘That, my Lord, was your idea, not mine,’ I remind him.

I am not going to let him forget this fact. No way. My plans were to dress as an Imperial officer, and I even have the admiral’s uniform in my closet.

‘It seemed the logical thing to do at the time, perhaps not the wisest, though, in hindsight.’ There is a wistful undertone in his voice as he says this. Looking down at me, he adds, ‘So, I will have to teach you not only how to dance, but how my wife would behave in public.’

Etiquette lessons? I am getting in way over my head now. Time to derail this before his decides I need lessons in anything else.

‘Are you sure that’s necessary?’ I ask, hoping he will just drop the idea. ‘No one here will know the difference.’

‘I would know,’ Vader acknowledges, then emphasizes, ‘my Lady.’

Formal mode. I had forgotten. Well, if he is going to insist, I had better go along with it.

‘Apologies, my Lord, I will be more careful to address you correctly in the future,’ I concede.

My concession is accepted and I am released from the odd embrace he has held me in.

‘You need to eat something, my Lady,’ he tells me, switching subjects, ‘and your gown is certainly not suited for helping me with the repairs to my ship.’

Obviously he is not going to let up on the lesson in proper behavior. I start to move away, to head back to my apartment, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

‘You will walk on my left side, and I will slow my pace to match yours,’ he directs as he steps to stand at my right.

My right hand is caught by his right, tucked under his left, and set to rest on his left forearm. Nodding my understanding to him, we walk to my home together.

On the way, he continues his instructions, ‘In public, my wife would only be allowed this much physical contact unless I initiate something further. I will not tolerate any undue familiarity from you, even if it is customary on this world.’

I flinch inwardly at this. What does he think I am going to do? Throw myself at him? Honestly. I steal a sideways glance at him. Well, it was nice being carried to bed last night and I did like waking up with his arms wrapped around me. I yank my mind away from those thoughts. Stop that Maia, I warn myself, or you will get yourself in trouble again.

‘Your mind is wandering, pay attention,’ the Sith Lord scolds.

‘Yes, my Lord, I will restrain myself in public,’ I promise.

Not that I have ever done anything untoward in private either. Every touch and embrace has been initiated by him, not me. I file this observation away as something to think about when I have a few minutes to myself.

Once at my apartment, he removes my hand from his arm, and I follow him inside. He settles himself back into the comfortable chair and watches me head into the kitchen. The light on the answering machine is flashing so I hit playback to see who has called. Two hang-ups and a couple messages including one from Jamie, so I turn up the volume and play the one my brother left.

‘Hi sis! Found anything interesting in outer space this month? I mailed your birthday present last week so it should be there by now. Consider it a very belated one from last year or an early one for this year. I have some leave time next month so watch for me! Me and the ‘birds will be heading your way this afternoon. Watch for us at fourteen hundred. Commander wants to try a few new moves out, so you should have a good show. Gotta run and prep for the trip. Bye!’

I can’t stop myself from laughing at his crazy enthusiasm. My brother the nutty test pilot. I love him dearly, but he is always forgetting something or another. One time he forgot when his university exams were and turned up two days early. The Sith Lord must be wondering what I am laughing at, so I decide to translate and pass on my brother’s news. Formal mode, I remind myself.

‘My Lord, the Snowbirds will be here in about four hours,’ I tell him. ‘My brother will be flying in the number six position. They will rehearse for an hour or so before continuing to the coast for a precision flying demonstration.’

‘Snowbirds?’ he asks.

‘Our military’s elite squadron, my Lord. Only the very best qualify for the available positions, and the competition for those is intense,’ I explain.

I walk over to the cabinet beside the television and pull out one of my photo albums. It takes me a few minutes to find the pages I want, but when I do, I hand him the book.

‘This is my brother, my Lord,’ I say as I point to Jamie in his dress uniform, ‘and this is his new CF-18 fighter,’ as I flip to the next page with him in his flight suit beside his new jet. The facing page shows the squadron in flight, with nine of the planes in a diamond formation. ‘For precision flying they use modified CT-114 trainers instead of their tactical fighters. In this photo the wing tips are less than a meter apart. The ‘birds are famous for close maneuvers, and a few of them have died in crashes when their timing was off and their wings made contact.’

‘There are similar elite teams in the Imperial military, though few specialize in atmospheric flying,’ Vader tells me.

I head back into the kitchen to play the last message. It’s from Nigel. Blast, I think, what does he want now? Hitting play again, I hope it is just a reminder about the party in two days.

‘Hi Maia. Just want to remind you about the party so you don’t forget again. Remember everyone is supposed to stay in character until midnight! How are you and ‘Lord Vader’ getting along? Everyone I mentioned our conversation from the other night to is dying to meet your new boyfriend. Just make sure he doesn’t crash the party with a squad of stormtroopers. See you on Monday!’

I must have been making some rather interesting noises because the Sith Lord is staring at me from his chair in the living room.

‘Problems?’ he inquires, completely calm, though he must have heard what Nigel said.

‘Nigel,’ I growl, ‘has to be the most annoying, infuriating person I have ever known. He goes out of his way to deliberately provoke people and thanks to last night, I happen to be his target of choice right now.’

‘Ignore him. He is not worthy of your anger,’ the Dark Lord advises. ‘If he persists in being a nuisance at this party we are going to, I can deal with him for you. I would not put up with my wife being harassed or insulted and the same will apply to you.’

I wonder what he might do to my irritating colleague, but decide that asking is probably not a smart thing to do. There is no need to put any ideas into the Sith Lord’s head about what might be an appropriate response to Nigel’s teasing. With a frustrated sigh, I start the tea kettle boiling and set about making myself something to eat. By the time the tea is brewed, I have made up a couple of sandwiches and pulled a bag of carrot sticks out of the fridge. After tossing my lunch on a plate, and pouring myself a large mug of tea, I carry it all into the living room and plunk myself down on the couch.

Vader has been entertaining himself by flipping through my large photo album, I note. Luckily there are few incriminating photos in it. Now if I had given him the one with the sci-fi convention pics, I would be in trouble. Unfortunately, he does find one of the harder to explain shots.

‘Maia, is this you?’ he asks.

The photo he has selected is an old one from when I was a child. I am sitting in the cockpit of a military jet with a silly grin on my face.

‘Yes,’ I admit, ‘that’s me. I was about ten, I think, and uncle Sam, my grandfather’s brother, was with his old fighter squadron at the big military air show. He decided to pull rank and take me up in one of the F-14's. They had to wrap the flight suit with tape to make it fit me and pile a couple of cushions on the seat so I could get a good look out of the cockpit. His superior officer was not amused when he found out about it, but Sam only got a slap on the wrist for it.’

‘Any officer of mine who did something similar would be demoted or discharged,’ the Sith Lord flatly states.

I start laughing, then decide it would be a wise idea to clarify what I find so funny.

‘Sam’s only superior officer was and is the President of the country neighboring this one. My uncle is a military and tactical genius, far too valuable to lose, and he has always known this. That’s why he could get away with a stunt like taking me up in the fighter. He is quite elderly now, but they can’t afford to let him retire because he’s irreplaceable. You heard him talking to me yesterday.’

‘And this person here, who is this?’ he asks, flipping to another page in the album. ‘He could almost be your twin.’

‘Michael, my older brother,’ I sadly state. ‘He was killed in a plane crash a few years ago. They never did recover his body.’ I turn the page over. The photo I show him now is my brother and grandfather training in the salle at my grandparent’s house. ‘Michael trained with my grandfather in various fencing and blade techniques. He was exceptionally good at it, good enough to qualify for the national team at sixteen years old and win the World Championships the same year.’

We work our way through some of the photo album, and I begin to wonder why the Dark Lord has taken such an interest in my background. Surely not just to amuse himself? Then again, how often does he sit down with someone and have a conversation like this? At least he is not insisting on being formal anymore and if anything has allowed himself to become completely relaxed with me. I take a look at the clock. Hours have passed without either of us noticing. My brother’s squadron will be here soon, and I need to get out of this dress.

The Sith Lord must have noticed my glance at the wall because he shuts the album and sets it on the table.

‘Your brother will be here soon,’ he comments, mirroring my own thoughts.

‘Yes,’ I confirm, ‘and I should do several things before he is, one of which requires your help.’

With that I head into my bedroom and pick up the medieval gowns from the bed. I carry them back into the living room and lay them over the back of the couch.

‘I don’t have a huge wardrobe, and I have no idea what would be appropriate for ‘Lady Vader,’ I admit, ‘so I need you to either pick something out or describe what you want me to wear in enough detail that I can put it together.’

‘Black, floor length, preferably sleeveless, but since you don’t have any indicators of rank, that’s not important,’ he quickly describes, ‘the fabric should be rich and flowing. Cut is not critical, but I would not allow my wife to dress like a courtesan.’

Well, that disqualifies everything I have dragged out based on color alone.

‘Just a minute, I’ll go have another look in my closet,’ I tell him.

There was a black underdress from a medieval costume I wore a few times, but it is designed to have a surcoat overtop. I would need his help to get laced into it and deal with the blasted buttons on the sleeves. Rummaging about produces the item I am searching for. Pleased that I have actually found it, I carry it into the living room and hook the hanger on the top of the bedroom door.

I give the gown a critical look. It is tightly fitted through the bodice and sleeves, with a full circle skirt and made from an extremely fine grade silk. How unfortunate that he wants me to wear black, I think, my red-gold hair, blue eyes, and pale complection don’t go well with colors that are too dark. I always wore this dress with a rich brown surcoat over top. While I have been examining my find, Vader has made his way to my side. He reaches out and touches the fabric, then rolls it in his fingers.

‘Mothsilk?’ he asks, incredulously, ‘And of the highest grade, too. Do you have any idea what this is worth?’

‘No,’ I admit, ‘my aunt brought the material from China, from the small town where they weave it, and I made the dress from it. She never told me what it cost.’

I wonder if Earth silk is the same as this mothsilk stuff, but I am not going to let him know this, not a chance.

The Sith Lord turns to look at me and reveals, ‘Maia, the price of first grade mothsilk is high enough that very few can afford a gown with as much fabric in it as this one.’

How does he know this? Padme’s wardrobe, of course, the logical part of my brain kicks in. She might have had something made of a similar material.

‘Could you afford to buy something like it?’ I ask, being a bit nosy.

‘Of course, though I have had no need to until n ...’ He stops his sentence abruptly.

Vader has let something slip there, disclosing more information in that statement than he might have wanted to. I file it away for future consideration.

‘Then it would be suitable?’ I prompt, hoping he is satisfied with it.

‘Perfectly so,’ he confirms.

‘Good. Just remember I will require your help to get into it,’ I warn, ‘I can’t reach the laces in back, and the buttons are hard to manage on my own.’

Dress issue settled, I return it and the others to the closet and shut my bedroom door. Time to change into more practical clothes. A pair of jeans and flannel shirt later and I am ready to go and do some work. When I step back into the living room, the Sith Lord is gone, and I can hear the roar of jet engines overhead. Jamie’s here! I think happily as I grab a jacket and run out the door and into the parking lot.

The Dark Lord is standing in the shadow of the research building, trying to be inconspicuous, I guess.

I scoot over to him and offer, ‘There’s a much better view from the roof of the building.’

Without waiting for a reply, I hurry inside and race up the stairwell. Once at the top, I wait for Vader to join me before opening the door and heading to the picnic table in the middle of the roof. The shaded area near the stairwell entrance is just large enough for him to stand in, but when he tries to stop there, I grab his hand instead and pull him over to the table to sit down beside me. Too surprised by my action to protest, he complies.

‘They can’t see us unless they fly upside down at a much lower speed and elevation than they are at,’ I tell him, ‘so there’s no need to hide, and the formations require all their concentration anyway. They have no time to look even if they want to.’

For the next hour or so we are entertained by our own private air show. I comment on the formations and maneuvers I recognize, and the Sith Lord adds his own observations as to how simple or difficult they are and whether or not the fighters he is familiar with could manage them. When the planes form up into a final diamond pattern, I know they are going to leave. As they round the east end of the valley, one of the jets separates from the formation, slows down and flies directly over us, rocking his wings back and forth as he goes before speeding up to rejoin his squadron as they head west and towards the coast.

‘Your brother, I assume?’ Vader asks.

‘Yes, and he will probably get a good dressing down from his commander for breaking formation, not that it ever stops him,’ I reveal. ‘He always does that if he knows I am here.’

‘He is as impertinent and stubborn as you are,’ he comments.

‘Yes, I guess you could say that,’ I admit, ‘It does run in the family. But at least I remember when his birthday is. Mine is not for another six weeks and he sent me the present for my last one just a few days ago.’

I get up from the picnic table and start for the stairwell. Time to get the telescopes set up, and check that no one has noticed he is here. When I am finished that, I will see what I can do to help with the repairs on the Dark Lord’s TIE. He does not follow me, but seems to be deep in thought about something or another. Rather than disturb his meditations, I quietly close the stairwell door behind me and head for the observatory’s computer room to restart the aborted program from Thursday night.

***

Maia’s gone, off to see to whatever her job requires and make sure no one has detected my presence here. I could have stopped her, continued to question her, but I need time to think without her as a distraction.

Given their antiquated technology and my own experience with flying in atmosphere, I have to admit that her brother’s squadron was impressive. He must be an excellent pilot, and from that and the stories she told me today about her older sibling and other relatives ... It is reassuring to know that any children I have from her stand a good chance of inheriting some of her family’s more desirable traits and abilities. Hopefully they will also have my talent with the Force.

Which will only be of use if I can return to the Empire.

I wonder if anyone has tried to track me yet. Certainly my failure to arrive at Teyr will have prompted some sort of investigation and search.

Or perhaps not.

There are those who would be delighted at my disappearance. Xixor, for example, and Baron Tagge. Members of Fleet Command who see me as too powerful, too dangerous, too uncontrollable. Fools, all of them. They have no idea what a Sith Lord is capable of. What I am capable of.

I let out a sigh.

I need to get back to Fondor. To my new flagship. To my life.

I rise to my feet and walk to the edge of the roof. Clasping my hands behind my back, I watch the seven telescopes move in tandem. Maia is obviously busy.

And what am I to do with her if I can return to the Empire?

She would be as out of place there as I am here.

But she would be with me and she would be mine.

The telescopes stop moving so I resume my seat at the table.

I will continue to test her.

***

The Sith Lord still hasn’t turned up. Worried that he might have locked himself up on the roof, I decide to check there first. David did that once and no one noticed for four hours. When I get to the top of the stairs, I quietly open the door and peer out. Vader is seated where I left him, still appearing to be deep in thought. I debate approaching him for a couple minutes, then decide that I had better make sure he is okay. Wary of startling him, I make sure to crunch a few of the gravel bits underfoot as I walk over to the table to sit down across from him. He takes no notice of my presence, so I get up after a few minutes and wander to the west side of the roof, staying well back from the edge. The sun goes down early this time of year and tonight’s sunset looks to be spectacular.

I hear footsteps approach me, but I keep my eyes looking out across the valley and don’t turn to face him. When his arms slide around my waist from behind, I freeze and it is all I can do not to jump in surprise. How can he move so quietly?

‘Sunrise on Naboo is as beautiful as this sunset is,’ the Sith Lord reminisces. ‘Coruscant is covered with so many artificial lights that there is no true dawn or sunset.’

What am I supposed to say or do? Is he flirting with me?

‘You are very quiet, impertinent one,’ he teases. ‘No comments from you tonight?’

When I am still silent he gently runs the fingers of one hand through my hair. Part of me wants to lean into his hand as he does this, but I restrain myself.

‘You should leave it loose like this,’ he suggests. ‘It looks better this way than braided.’

He must be flirting with me, I decide. Two can play at that game. When his hand is free of my hair, I catch it with my own, kiss the back of his glove and pull it across my chest to rest on my shoulder with my fingers laced in his beneath it. To my surprise, he lets me do this, and takes my free hand in his other one, holding it in his own across my waist. Maia, I remind myself, be careful here, this is getting dangerous. Hopefully he will snap out of this weird mood.

After he holds me wrapped in his arms and says nothing for a considerable time, my nerves finally prompt me to ask, ‘My Lord, what do you want from me?’

‘The most dangerous question of all to ask,’ he states, ‘and one I think you know the answer to already although you will not admit it to yourself as yet. Ask me something else.’

And just what am I supposed to know? Or ask? I don’t like being confused, and this is exactly what I am on several fronts. He is complex and deep, I conclude. There is far more to this man than was ever revealed on screen or in print.

Finally, I venture, ‘You are not as I expected you to be.’

‘That is a statement not a question,’ the Dark Lord scolds, ‘You should know better than to believe what you hear in the media or in traveler’s tales.’

A question for him. Very well, then.

‘This is who you really are, in private, isn’t it?’ I ask, ‘Not the military commander and Sith Lord persona you adopt in public which is so widely known and feared.’

His arms tighten around me, crushing me back against his chest, and I realize that I have hit the target dead on. Now, how is he going to answer me?

‘You have a rare gift for insight,’ Vader tells me, ‘Be careful how you use it.’ He untangles our hands and I am released from his embrace as he steps back from me. ‘I would assume you have finished whatever duties your job requires since you came looking for me. I will meet you at my fighter.’

The Sith Lord whirls about and is off before I can come up with any response to him. Rats. I liked being held, and he didn’t really answer my question either. Irked, I head to his fighter, making a quick stop on the way to turn on the floodlights around the building. We will need them to see what we are doing.

***

She stayed.

Again.

She is here in my arms a second time.

I give in to temptation and touch her unbound hair. It is long, silky, and easily slides through my gloved fingers.

It is her best feature.

How I wish I could rip this mask off and bury my face in it.

I tell her she should leave it loose, and as my wife, my companion, I will insist she does so.

When my hand is free, Maia grabs it, kisses the back of my glove, pulls my arm around her. She’s decided to flirt with me. I know this dance. I take her free hand, lay my arm across her waist, and hold her close.

She doesn’t resist.

But I can feel the tension in her body, the uncertainty. I stay silent, waiting for what she might do.

‘My Lord, what do you want from me?’ she asks at last.

The one question I cannot answer. Dare not answer. For I am not entirely sure what the answer is myself.

I put her off, tell her to ask me something else.

Then she chooses to ask something which surprises me even more than the first question did. My arms pull her hard into my chest. Maia has seen through my protection, my mask. Not the physical one of course, but the disguise I hide my true self behind. Where does her insight come from?

‘You have a rare gift for insight,’ I warn, ‘Be careful how you use it.’

I release her before she can say anything else to unsettle me.

‘I would assume you have finished whatever duties your job requires since you came looking for me,’ I note. ‘I will meet you at my fighter.’

Then I spin on my heel and head to my TIE, fighting to regain my self-control as I go.

Maia has passed her second test, but at the cost of my composure.

When she eventually comes to the workshop, I look up from the components I had been fitting back together and wait for her to join me. She is quiet, thoughtful. From her expression and silence, she’s trying to figure out what I was up to on the roof.

If she only knew.

‘This is the first system which needs to be repaired,’ I tell her.

She nods in response.

‘A few of the tasks will go faster if you do them,’ I admit. ‘So I will coach you as we go along.’

Another nod.

I reach over and tap the screen on the datapad I had retrieved from my TIE. Time for some music I prefer.

Maia jumps as the first track begins to play.

‘What is that?’ she asks.

‘Deeply Religious’ new release,’ I answer as pick up the energy damper and prepare to attach it to the already assembled pieces.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t comment.

I know what she probably thinking, though.

‘Their music is banned,’ I admit as I tighten a connection. ‘I had to obtain this through contacts I have on the black market.’

‘I can see why it’s banned,’ she dryly comments.

I stop what I am doing and look at her.

‘They don’t paint a very nice picture of the Empire,’ Maia observes, ‘and I doubt the Emperor appreciates being mocked.’

I smile at that. The double meaning of the lyrics was quite apparent to her.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ I admit. ‘Nor do I.’

A questioning expression is on her face, so I pick up the datapad and change to another song, one by Red Shift Limit, that I have stored on the sound slug.

As Armored Heartbreak begins to play, I tell her, ‘I saw to it myself that this one was banned,’ then add, ‘Both versions of it.’

I let it play until she flinches at the words, and with a tap or two on the datapad’s keyboard shift to the instrumental section on the data chip.

‘Enough of that,’ I decide. ‘Come here and I will show you what I want you to do.’

There is no hesitation from her, I note as I set a hydrospanner in her hand and adjust how she is holding it. My touch prompts no response, no fear, only a curious look when my fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary.

For someone who is as smart as she is, Maia is not very astute when it come to personal relationships. I think any other woman would know exactly what my intentions are by now, so she is either deliberately playing coy or in complete denial.

I suspect it is the latter.

‘The energy damper needs to be connected here,’ I point to the reassembled section, ‘and to this component here,’ I indicate the next piece to go on. You will use the hydrospanner to keep the damper from rotating while I attach it.’

I really don’t need her help with this, but it will give her something to do while I ask the questions I need answers for.

‘I didn’t see much of this system when I dropped out of hyperspace,’ I admit, ‘just this world’s moon. Describe the other planets for me.’

She does so. In a fair amount of detail, too, adding information as I ask for it. Good. I may be able to determine my location with what she has told me.

The last of the drive system snaps together. I tinker with the adjustments for a while, sometimes getting Maia to help. She never questions what I want her to do and is silent when she isn’t answering me.

‘You have been rather quiet,’ I note.

‘I used to help my father with his projects,’ Maia replies. ‘He preferred that I didn’t talk too much. It was a distraction to him. I assumed you wanted me to do the same.’

‘Thank you,’ I tell her, finally setting the ‘spanner aside. ‘It needs to be reinstalled, something you can’t help me with. You may go now and I will join you in about an hour.’

I watch her head back to her quarters, then quickly replace what I had removed from my TIE.

My next task could take some time.

I settle myself in the cockpit and begin entering data. Yellow star. Four terrestrial planets, third of which is inhabited. Asteroid belt. Four gas giants. Another terrestrial planet. Then moons - numbers around each of the worlds in the system. Any other pertinent information also goes in.

My finger hesitates a moment, then I ask the computer to find a match.

The screen freezes while the databank is searched. Please, I think, let there be something which fits.

Finally four star systems are listed. I call up the file on the first. Midrim world, but they have interstellar ships and are too advanced technologically. The second and third choices I eliminate based on their locations. Both fall firmly within Imperial space. The last entry ....

I hit the control panel with my fist.

No.

No. This one is impossible as well. It is only inhabited by primitive humanoids.

I repeat the search.

Twice.

The same four results appear each time, mocking me.

I close my eyes and let myself slump back in the seat.

Force help me.

I am stuck on an uncharted world, in the middle of nowhere, with no way to ever return.

***

As soon as I am inside, I shut off the telephone just in case Nigel gets the bright idea to call and stir up more mischief. I then have a quick bath to warm up, careful to keep my wrapped up hand out of the water as I do so, dress myself in one of my long flannel nightgowns, and sit up in bed to review the day’s events. Several times, I note, Vader let things slip, and I can’t figure out if he was doing so deliberately or not. Perhaps he is having a bit of fun teasing me? Certainly I would never have expected the amount of physical contact between us. It’s almost as if he can’t stop himself when the opportunity is available. Curious, that. Maybe it is a way to ground himself, a form of compensation for not feeling the Force? I am the largest living thing within kilometers and it may be that his midichlorians are drawn to me, over-riding his normal behavior patterns. Don’t be ridiculous, Maia, I think, that’s nuts. He is probably just having a bit of fun at your expense. The only other explanation is, well, even more unbelievable. Don’t go there at all.

Now to evaluate my own feelings, and I don’t know what they are anymore. One minute he is busy lecturing me on proper behavior, the next flirting with and almost propositioning me. It was wonderful to be held like that on the roof tonight, though. No one has held me like that since I was a small child, and I am actually looking forward to having his warm body next to me tonight. I start in shock and blush scarlet at this thought.

What on Earth is wrong with me?

I give my head a few shakes in denial. No, I scold myself, this is not happening to me, to the one who has always avoided becoming involved with anyone.

Oh, yes, it has happened, Maia, my conscience puts in, and you had better deal with the fact that you have always had some rather strong feelings for him before you really do get into trouble.

Trouble? I retort back at myself. Much too late. I am already there.

Of all the men I could have chosen to fall in love with, to be the first person I ever fall in love with, it would have to be him - Darth Vader, a Sith Lord and an exceptionally dangerous and powerful man.

And after meeting the real person, I find I really do love him, despite who and what he is.

Resigned to my situation, I lay my head on my pillow and wait for the Sith Lord to appear. I make a firm resolution to stop behaving like a teenager with her first crush and start acting like a professional. There is no way I will give him a single hint of what my feelings are. The repercussions could be something I don’t want to even think about. He might just laugh at me and do nothing, but at the worst... steeling myself, I force myself to finish this thought ....at the worst, he might decide to do something about it in ways I am not ready to experience, armor be damned.

My determination to stay awake eventually fails me, and I drift off long before the Dark Lord returns. When he lays down beside me, I rouse a little, but my sleep filled mind barely registers it. I am a touch more awake as he takes me in his arms and gently twists my hair out of the way as he settles my head near his shoulder. I want him to hold me closer than that, my groggy brain decides, so when he returns his hand to my waist, I set my own over top of it and pull it up and to the center of my chest, anchoring his hand in place with mine and pulling him tighter into my back. Better, I think, as I slide into a world of dreams.

Part 2

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