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The Sith Lord and the Scientist Section A - Part 2

Sun. Feb. 11.

The light from the window wakes me before the Sith Lord, who must be deeply asleep, judging from the slowed sound of his regulated breathing. He must have changed the programmed pattern when he came to bed last night. The next thing I realize is that his left hand, which I had held to the center of my chest, has slipped down and is now firmly cupped around my right breast, and there is nothing I can do about it. Moving it would probably startle him, and the warning he gave me about the consequences of doing so is still fresh in my mind. Next time, I scold myself, leave his hand at your waist. Resigned to being thoroughly embarrassed when he does wake, I start to consider what needs to be done today. There is still another set of components to replace in his ship, and I need to know the total volume and ratios of the different gases for the blend required by the fighter’s engines, as well as figure out how to transfer the mix into whatever his TIE uses to hold it. Both tasks could take a good portion of the day. I also have to juggle the observation schedule to make up for the two evenings which have been lost. And he still hasn’t come up with the promised dancing lessons.

I hear a change in his breathing as he wakes. The increase in his respiration rate over-rides the automatic system and Vader seems to fight with it for a few seconds before allowing the set pattern of slow breaths to reassert itself. At about the same time, I guess, he realizes exactly where his hand has come to rest. We are both silent, frozen in place for a moment.

He speaks before I can, ‘My Lady, my apologies for being forward. It was, I assure you, not intentional.’ His hand is withdrawn to drape around my waist as he says this.

‘No offense taken, my Lord,’ I reply, keeping my tone light.

No reason to make a fuss about it and make the situation more uncomfortable than it is. It’s a good thing he can’t see my face, though, since it has gone several shades of red.

‘The temperature plunged last night, so there is no point in trying to work on my fighter until it warms up in the afternoon,’ the Sith Lord observes, ‘and while I would enjoy staying in bed and sleeping with you for a bit longer, I need your help with a medical matter.’

Does he realize what he just said, I wonder, or is that phrase without a sexual meaning in the Empire? I am not going to ask, I decide. Explaining what his words meant if the latter is true would be far too embarrassing.

Instead, I turn myself in his arms to face him and ask, ‘Are you ill? I might be able to do something for you if it is simple since I have had some basic training as a paramedic.’

‘Electrolyte imbalance,’ he admits, rolling over onto his back. His respiration is quickly reset to its normal rate when he pulls his arm from under my head and trips one of the buttons on his chest panel with a quick touch. ‘Two days in my fighter and two here without being able to see to my daily needs have resulted in dehydration. I do not want it to grow worse, but I cannot easily remedy the problem myself.’

‘It will be almost two more days here and then whatever your return trip requires before you can be properly treated, if you don’t look after this. Not a good idea, my Lord, to put it off until then.’ I scold him a little bit. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I have brought what you need from my fighter and left it in your kitchen. Once you are ready, I can coach you through the procedure.’

The Sith Lord pushes himself up into a sitting position and looks over at me. I remain lounging on my side, leaning on one arm with my hair falling everywhere, watching his every move. Unfortunately, my hair is going to take a bit of work today since sleeping with it loose produces snarls. I must be quite the wild and disheveled sight to him. He continues to stare and I wonder what it is that he sees.

‘Is something wrong?’ I finally work up the nerve to ask.

‘It is unfortunate you hide your eyes behind those glass lenses,’ he states.

‘Necessary evil. I am blind without my glasses,’ I admit. ‘The lenses in my eyes can be repaired with surgery but not the retinas. I will be completely blind within the next twenty years. It’s a curse in my family, a side effect of the same genetic defect which produces the high number of geniuses. I am fortunate that I don’t have some of the more serious problems which can go with it.’

‘Like?’ the Dark Lord prompts, curious.

‘Connective tissue which doesn’t function properly. At the very worst the walls of the major arteries break down with time and eventually aneurism. I do have problems regulating my body temperature and can get chilled easily if I am not careful.’ I don’t see any point in giving him the proper medical name, Marfan’s syndrome, since it is probably called something else where he is from.

‘Most of these problems can be remedied with the medical knowledge in the Empire,’ the Sith Lord reveals.

‘That is there, this is here,’ I remind him, ‘and you need to have your own medical problem looked after.’ I push myself up to sit beside him. ‘Give me a few minutes to get organized and dressed, and then I will do my best to help.’

Vader leaves the bedroom before I do, taking up his customary place in my living room. He picks up the photo album and resumes flipping through it. I quickly get dressed and sit down on the couch next to him, taking my time working out the knots in my hair. When I am finished, I pull it back and tie it into a ponytail to keep it out of the way. Breakfast next, I think. On the kitchen table are the medical items the Sith Lord had retrieved from his TIE. The Empire’s equivalent of an electrolyte solution in a drip bag, I guess, and the tubing needed to run it into a vein. A small box contains the needles and other necessities for setting up an i.v.

I mentally review the procedures for getting an i.v. started. Raise a vein somewhere and slide the needle into it. Now I see what his problem is. So much of his body is cybernetic that he can’t easily reach the places where a needle could go in. The upper part of his right arm should be intact, if memory serves, and I might find a suitable vein there. Best to let him tell me where to look though. Breakfast can wait, I decide, Vader needs to be seen to first. I head back to my bedroom and put on a sweater. There is nothing worse than a cold i.v., so I tuck the bag inside my clothes to bring it up to body temperature. The rest of the equipment, I carry into the living room with me and set it on the coffee table.

‘I have been trained to set up an i.v. so I should be able to do this for you,’ I tell the Sith Lord. ‘What I don’t know is where it can be put and how I am supposed to get through your armor to do it.’

‘Upper right arm,’ he swiftly answers, ‘and I can remove some of my body armor without any trouble. Only the helmet and mask must remain sealed.’

Well, that answered more questions than the one I just posed. No more need for idle speculations about what he can and can’t do if he wants to.

‘We should get started then,’ I decide.

Vader wastes no time, and I watch quietly as he works. His cape is unhooked, and both gloves pulled off and set aside. Next he removes the pauldrons from both his shoulders and his upper chest protection is lifted away. He hands each of these to me and I lay them on the table. The armor is lighter than I expect, probably some sort of specialized material, I guess. With a touch, the shoulder seam of his quilted leather body armor opens and he pulls the sleeve off. I place it next to the other things he has removed and watch as he rolls up the sleeve of the fabric bodysuit he is wearing next to his skin.

He sits in the chair now, calmly waiting for me to proceed. I rise to my feet and step to his side, taking a quick look at his arm as I do so. The join between flesh and cybernetics is obvious. No attempt has been made to match the color of the latter with that of his pale skin. Get a hold of yourself, Maia, think of this as another one of your mother’s tests and you’ll be fine. Making sure my hands are warm, I reach out and gently touch his upper arm. There is no excess here, only powerful muscles created by years of training and practice. The vein I need should be on the underside, near the top, so I run my fingers along, tracing where it lies just under the surface. While I could try to run the needle in with just a tourniquet, I decide that adding some heat will make things easier.

‘I’ll be right back,’ I tell him as I head for the bathroom.

A minute later I have the heating pad dug out of the linen closet and wrapped around the Sith Lord’s arm. Five minutes later, and I have removed the heat and popped the vein up with a rubber tie around his arm. It takes two tries to get the needle in, and he doesn’t make a sound or flinch during my missed attempt. While his arm was warming up, I had connected the tubing and run some of the electrolyte through to remove air bubbles, so I now finish hooking it up to the needle and pull off the tie around his arm. Carefully regulating the flow to keep the vein from collapsing, I leave the drip bag tucked inside my sweater and wait for it to drain.

Strangely, the Dark Lord has remained silent while I work, that is until the fluid starts running into his vein. He turns to look up at me then, tipping his head to one side as he does so.

‘You have far better manners than most medical professionals I have had to deal with,’ he states. ‘They usually ramble on about nothing just to hear the sound of their own voice, or insist on giving me a rundown of what I already know. And none of them has ever bothered to take the chill off anything which has been pumped into me.’

‘My mother would be appalled if I behaved in such a manner,’ I tell him. ‘I must apologize for missing on my first try though.’

‘Your hands were shaking,’ Vader notes with amusement, ‘a common problem where I am concerned. No harm done. Now let me see your left hand.’

I hold my injured hand out to him, and he unwraps the dressing he had bound in it the previous day. The punctures from the cactus are visible as red circles against my skin, but there is no infection or pain associated with them. He gently runs a finger over the wounds, checking for heat, I assume, and his touch sends a shiver through me. Stop that Maia, I scold myself, remember what you decided last night. Luckily the Sith Lord does not notice the effect he is having on me.

‘Leave it uncovered for now,’ he advises, ‘it is healing well.’

My hand is released from his, and I check the drip bag. Another minute or two and it should be drained. When it is, I let the last bit of fluid run down and remove the tubing from the needle. I set this aside, pick up a gauze square and hold it hard against his arm as I pull the needle out. To keep a bruise from forming, I continue to keep a firm and steady pressure against his skin for several minutes. Satisfied that I have done everything I can for him, I step away to let him know that I am finished.

Before I am out of reach, he catches my right hand, gives it a quick squeeze and says, ‘Thank you.’

I cover my surprise at his action with an automatic reply, ‘You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can do?’

‘Not at the moment. You need to find some appropriate music to dance to, that is, if you still want me to teach you. And go put on a gown,’ he orders, ‘What you are wearing is not suitable.’

As he reaches for his armor to start replacing it, I make a hasty retreat into my bedroom. I am glad I will have a few minutes to compose myself. Maia, I scold myself, as I dig the gown I wore yesterday out of the closet, get a grip before you make a total fool of yourself. You are not some silly schoolgirl, but a grown woman. Resolve restored, I change into the blue dress and return to the living room.

Vader is busy pulling on his gloves, and mindful of his last instructions, I set about going through my cd collection. I have a rather odd selection of things; mostly Baroque and other classical composers, a few folk artists and the occasional rock band courtesy of my brothers who think I need to broaden my musical tastes. There is not much that one could really dance to other than the Strauss waltzes. Well, I suppose if there is anything I would prefer to learn, a waltz would be it. With a simple three step pattern I can’t mess up too much.

Tossing the cd into the stereo, I hit play and wait for the Dark Lord’s reaction, telling him, ‘This is the only music I have which they might play at the party.’

He seems to listen intently for a minute or so, then nods, and states, ‘Simple three step dance. You should have no trouble learning it, but there is no room in here to teach it to you.’

‘No problem, we can use the Visitor’s Center,’ I decide.

I pop out the disk and drop it back into its case. There is a door leading from my kitchen into the room explaining how radiowaves are used to map the universe, so I lead us through it. My goal is the larger open space downstairs where the reception desk is, so I leave the Sith Lord who is looking at the various photos on the walls.

***

As I look about, I see a series of educational displays. This must be where they bring people to explain what they do here. This room obviously shows how the telescopes work. I hear Maia go downstairs and follow after her.

I stop partway down and see exactly what I need.

There is a large three dimensional galactic map in the center of this place.

I may be able to leave this planet after all. If I had known this existed, I would have had her bring me in here two days ago.

Now I just need to have her point out where we are on it.

I make my way down the steps to the railing surrounding the exhibit. The red mark must be where this system is, but its location makes no sense whatsoever.

It’s in the wrong galaxy.

Which is in the center of the display when the one we are in is off to one side.

This makes absolutely no sense.

I walk around the map, checking it from several angles.

No, I am seeing things correctly.

This system must be shown in the wrong place, then.

Deliberately shown in the wrong place.

She’s been lying to me.

My temper explodes.

***

I load the Strauss cd into one of the stereos used for guided tours, but before I can hit play, I am grabbed by my arm and dragged to where the large 3-d model of our galaxy and those near it is set up.

‘What is going on here?’ Vader demands. ‘This display you have is incorrect. Where are we on it?’

Oh damn. From the cold sound of his voice, he is in full Sith Lord and military commander mode now. How am I going to explain this to him? Taking him in here with all the stellar maps was the worst thing I could have done. Tell the truth, I remind myself, show him where we are and maybe he will figure out where he came from and settle down.

‘This system is located here, on the edge of this spiral arm,’ I tell him, pointing to where Earth is marked on the map.

‘Impossible. There is no possible way I could have traveled across intergalactic space.’ His hand clamps down harder, and he gives me a shake. ‘Tell me the truth, Maia, where is this system?’

‘That is the truth,’ I insist, ‘whether you want to believe it or not.’

My arm starts to hurt as he twists me around to face him and I am going to have a nasty bruise as a result. Obviously he did not like my answer.

‘You have one last chance to tell me what I want to know, Maia, and if you lie to me again then I will force it out of you,’ the Sith Lord threatens. The pressure increases on my arm again and he caresses my cheek with his other hand as he adds, ‘And I know exactly what I need to do to make you give me the location.’

Is he really threatening to do what I think he is? He can’t be serious, can he? Or is he just trying to give me a good scare? At a loss for words, I simply stare at him. When I continue to remain silent, Vader drags me through the Visitor’s Center, up the stairs, and back to my apartment. Once there, I am thrown onto my bed and pinned in place by a hand pressing down on my shoulder.

‘You leave me no choice then,’ he warns, ‘and I will have to extract the information the hard way.’

My mind finally starts working again and I get myself under control, so I quietly ask, ‘Why won’t you believe me? I have no reason to lie about this, and the displays have been there for years. When have I had the time to change them to try and deceive you?’

‘Travel between galaxies is not possible,’ he coldly states. ‘This system must be somewhere in the galaxy nearest the one you pointed to on your map, the galaxy which you know is the correct one. Now tell me the truth. Where is this system?’

‘Exactly where I showed you it was,’ I calmly tell him. ‘Since you don’t believe me, why don’t you check your fighter’s nav-computer?’

In response to my challenge, the Dark Lord takes the lightsaber from his belt and ignites it. I stare at him, wondering if this is another tactic to get an answer, but refuse to let any of the panic I am starting to feel show on my face.

When I try to sit up, he shoves me down again, points a finger at me, and warns, ‘Stay put and don’t even think of trying to run away or escape.’

He leaves the bedroom next, fusing the door handle with his ‘saber after he exits. I hear the blade shut-off followed by the outside door closing.

***

I drag her by the arm up the stairs and back into her bedroom, throwing her onto the bed once I get there. If she won’t co-operate, I will force the information out of her. I will tie her in place and do as I please with her.

I will get the truth from her and I intend to thoroughly enjoy myself while doing so.

I repeat the threats I made beside the galactic map. She doesn’t change her answer and if anything becomes more defiant, more determined to have me believe her lies. Then she challenges me.

She dares to challenge me?

Very well, then, I will go and check the co-ordinates from my nav-computer against her map.

But I will make sure she can’t disappear on me while I am gone.

I leave her in the bedroom, lit lightsaber in my hand, and fuse the door closed. As I exit her quarters, I rip the communication box from the wall. There will be no escape or rescue for her.

***

I stay frozen in place for only a few seconds, then I am off the bed and trying to get the door to open. No such luck. The mechanism is melted together. My next stop is the window, but my fear of heights prevents me from climbing out and jumping down to the ground below. Trapped, I have no choice but to wait for Vader’s return and hope he is going to be more reasonable about this. If not, I am afraid I am going to be on the receiving end of one of his infamous interrogations. And, I admit to myself, probably of a far more intimate nature than what Princess Leia went through on the Death Star given what he was implying he would do to me.

Since I don’t know how long he is going to leave me locked in here, I decide to plan what to do when he gets back while I have the chance. If he continues to be unreasonable, there is not much I can do other than endure it. Not a happy prospect. I know appearances can carry strength and symbolism, so I pull the chair over to one side, facing the door. He is not going to find me cowering on the bed, no way. One of my more elaborate medieval gowns is similar to a costume Padme wore, and I quickly change into it. Perhaps he will recognize the style, perhaps not, but anything which gives me some sort of advantage will help. My hair, which is a mess from him shaking me about, takes a bit of work, but I manage to get it semi-respectable looking. The slightest touch of make-up and I am ready.

Settling myself into the chair to wait, I take a few minutes to examine myself in the dresser mirror. Not bad, I guess, even if I do have the patented family nose and chin. There is not much I can do about how pale I am, or the glasses since my contact lenses are in the bathroom. Using the same techniques I use at conferences to quiet my nerves before I have to give talks in front of large groups, I simply wait patiently for the Sith Lord to return.

***

I make my way to my TIE, my fury increasing with each step.

Maia lied to me. Lied to me for two days.

I should have known better than to trust what she said, should have forced an answer from her when I first landed. How she must have laughed behind my back at how easy it was to deceive me.

What a fool I was to believe everything she told me.

I do not like being played for a fool.

I climb the ladder to the platform and lower myself into my ship. With a touch the nav-computer readings come up. Transferring them to my datapad, I begin to work out where they would be if they were correct.

The resulting answer is impossible.

I repeat the calculations three more times. And receive the same set of co-ordinates.

Very well, I will go and check this against her map.

The bedroom door is still fused shut when I enter her apartment, and there is not a sound coming from behind it. Good. Maia has not escaped from her impromptu cell. Hopefully she has realized it is better to answer me truthfully and cease her lies and defiance. If she co-operates when I come back, I might be lenient on her. If not, I will do what I must to her.

I eye the galactic map a second time. If I take the distances as scaled down, but accurate, the co-ordinates I have from galactic center would put me ... there.

No.

That’s not possible. Can’t be possible.

I am exactly where she said we are.

Across intergalactic space.

In another galaxy.

I stand motionless, staring at the map for many minutes, trying to reconcile what I know with where I am. My nav-computer isn’t malfunctioning after all - repeating my plotting gives the same location.

I turn about. I will see if my prisoner has an explanation for this.

***

About an hour later I hear him open the front door, and walk through the apartment into the Visitor’s Center. Checking on what he discovered from the nav-computer is my educated guess. A while after that, I hear him come back. The sound of his lightsaber and smell of melting metal tells me that I am about to discover whether or not he has decided to believe me. I take a few deep breaths and fold my hands in my lap. Then the door swings open and I am calmly gazing at Darth Vader, who stands in the bedroom entrance, staring at me in return.

He stays silent, fixed in place, looking at me for several long minutes, then steps forward into the room. I am stalked, circled, much the way he did the first time I met him. Finally he grabs my arm. I try to yank it away, but my resistance is pointless, and I am once again dragged along, this time back to the galactic map in the Visitor’s Center. Another set of bruises to deal with, I note to myself.

‘Explain,’ he orders, releasing my arm and shoving me hard into the railing around the exhibit.

‘Explain what?’ I ask, confused.

‘This,’ he says, indicating the Andromeda galaxy, ‘is where I am from, yet,’ pointing to the Milky Way, ‘I find myself here.’

‘Well, don’t look at me,’ I tell him. ‘I am no expert on hyperspace navigation. Maybe you just took a weird detour.’

‘Not possible,’ the Sith Lord flatly states. ‘There are only a few phenomena which could cause a large enough distortion to have this radical an effect, and any of those would have destroyed my fighter.’

‘If you don’t know, then I can assure you, I most certainly don’t.’ I take a deep breath, and ask, ‘Can you get home?’

Please say yes, I pray. Being permanently stuck with a Sith Lord to look after will definitely be a problem.

‘By back-tracking, yes,’ he reveals, ‘but a return journey would be unadvisable.’

‘Good, because I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you were stuck here!’ I say recklessly. I have had enough of being dragged about and now both my arms are bruised.

‘Impertinent, impudent, insolent, stubborn, temperamental ...’ he growls taking a step towards me with each word as I back away from him.

‘.... and I could say the same for you!’ I break in, throwing all caution to the wind. ‘I didn’t ask for you to drop into my life, create havoc, and drag me about, but at least I am trying to help you which is more than anyone else would do!’

With that I race around the 3-d map and fly out of the emergency exit at the back of the Visitor’s Center. Once outside I pick up the skirts of my gown and run, heading as far away from the Sith Lord as I can get.

***

The door slams shut in my face as she flees from me.

For a moment my anger prompts me to go after her, so I open the door and watch her run past the various telescopes, skirts in hand, as fast as she can manage. Maia won’t get very far. I can follow at a more leisurely pace and drag her back later. She will be easier to handle and less able to resist me once she has exhausted herself with her mad, headlong flight.

I close the door again, look at the galactic map a fourth time, and weigh my position.

She wasn’t lying to me after all. And it probably never occurred to her to take me in here because I didn’t tell her I was lost. Everything she has done has been to aid, not hinder or harm me, and she just admitted that no one else on this world would do that.

And she had the courage to stand up to me, despite what it might cost her, when she knew I was wrong. I can only admire her for that. I have encountered very few beings who have ever been brave enough to confront me like that.

Brave, stubborn, defiant little goddess. How much like your namesake you are. Ancient myths state that she is as difficult to control as you are. And as passionate in her convictions.

I give my head a shake.

Maia stood up to me. Justifiably put me in my place. Even after I hurt her, threatened her, planned to do far worse to her.

And despite everything I did to her, not once was she afraid of me.

You have passed your third trial my fearless little goddess.

There is only one more thing left to test.

***

I flee to the end of the synthesis array before my lungs give out and sit down on the end rail to catch my breath. There is no sign of ensuing pursuit, so I try to get a hold of myself.

Stupid, Maia, really stupid, I tell myself. Now you have probably riled him up to no end. But, I argue back, I doubt that anyone has stood up to him like that in years. Then why do I feel like crying? Stress relief, the technical side of my mind drags out, and you have been under enough of that the last few days to break most people. I decide to make a quick review of my feelings for him, and discover, to my shock, that I am still attracted to, still in love with, the man. With that thought, finally, completely overwhelmed by it all, I do burst into tears.

Eventually I cry myself into exhaustion and slide to the ground, using the rail as a back support. I haven’t had a bout like that in years - not since I was burned in fact - but I guess I needed it. Too tired to move, I decide to just stay where I am for a while. There has been no sign of Vader at all so I doubt he has figured out where I am, not that I want him to find me anyway. To occupy my mind, I start counting the birds flying overhead. At some point I slide into a doze, and then sleep.

When I am jostled awake, I find myself wrapped in a black cloak, being carried in the Dark Lord’s arms along the synthesis array back to the observatory. I struggle for a moment, but he only tightens his grip on me.

‘Stop that, Maia,’ he warns, ‘you have given yourself a rather bad chill by falling asleep in the cold. I need to get you inside and warmed up before any damage occurs.’

‘Put me down,’ I try to order. ‘I am not going to be dragged about any longer.’

‘That,’ he admits, ‘was a mistake.’

His admission surprises me. I stop fighting to get out of his embrace and quietly consider his words. A mistake? He is willing to own up that he behaved badly? Time to have a quick think. Vader reacted the way I would expect him to, I guess, and it must have been quite a shock to discover that he was nowhere near where he thought he was. Since he is Force blind, he had no way to know I was telling the truth. No wonder he was so determined to drag it out of me - he didn’t want to accept what I was telling him because in his view it was an impossibility. Much the same as his being here was to me at first.

‘You have grown rather quiet,’ he observes. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Impossibilities,’ I softly tell him.

We are back at the parking lot now, and I am carried into my apartment and set down on the bed. The Sith Lord pulls off his gloves, and checks my body temperature by setting one hand on my forehead and slipping the other down the back of my dress. His metal hands feel warm against my skin.

‘You are badly chilled, but not hypothermic,’ he announces, then orders, ‘Out of the gown and into bed. I will join you in a few minutes.’

Once he is out of the room, I hastily comply, putting a nightgown on before pulling the sheets over me. Body heat, I know, is the quick treatment for being chilled, and while I would prefer to have a hot bath instead, I decide it’s not worth arguing with him about it.

When he returns, he tosses his cloak over the bed as an extra blanket and I am taken into his arms as he has done on the previous two nights. He is careful to hold me as close as he can, and his body temperature seems a bit higher, too. Warm, it feels nice and warm next to him, and I start to drift off again.

He gives me a shake, scolding, ‘Stay awake and talk to me.’

‘Why are you so warm?’ I blurt out. Good one, Maia. Stupid question to ask.

‘I can adjust the temperature of my body armor as needed,’ the Sith Lord admits.

‘Oh,’ is my short reply. So that’s why the cold on Hoth didn’t affect him. I consider what to ask next, and my curiosity gets the better of me. ‘Does it bother you to not be able to sense the Force? What is it like?’

‘Full of questions, aren’t you?’ he replies.

‘I’m a scientist. I am supposed to ask questions,’ I tell him. ‘You don’t have to answer.’

‘Your curiosity will be the death of you,’ the Sith Lord warns, ‘Learn to rein it in before it does so.’

My stubborn streak rears its head. ‘You told me to ask you a question and you never answered it.’

‘Yes, and I never said I would answer it, now did I?’ he calmly states.

Frustrated with my lack of success, I lay silent in his arms, considering what to do next. He’s amusing himself by toying with me, and I don’t like it very much. Time for another tactic, and perhaps a dangerous one because I don’t know where it could lead. At least he won’t be expecting it.

‘Why don’t you stay here with me? You don’t have to go back. My mother can figure out how to look after whatever your requirements are,’ I offer, ‘and my father and uncle would be more than happy to find you something to do with your expertise. Maybe you could even be Sam’s replacement so he can finally retire.’ I feel him stiffen in surprise, so I keep going, ‘If you’d rather have a university position, I could probably come up with something there too. Or, your technical knowledge would be worth a fortune in private industry.’

The Dark Lord remains silent at my offer, thinking about it, I assume. Good. About time I turned the tables on him.

‘Not possible,’ he finally answers.

‘Why not?’ I am not going to let him be evasive this time.

‘My master would never allow it, for one, and I find the absence of the Force extremely disturbing. To live the rest of my life with that... No, not possible,’ he firmly concludes. ‘Don’t question me on this again.’

Rats. Back to square one. At least I now know that not sensing the Force is bothering him far more than he is letting on. Time to try something different. Before I lose my nerve, I take my hand and lay it over the one he has on my waist. He makes no move to stop me, so I brush my fingers over the top of his glove. Still no response. I lace my fingers in his and pull his hand tighter around my waist. Better. Vader squeezes my hand in return, an action which surprises me. Is he flirting again, I wonder?

We are both silent for a few minutes, then he pulls his hand out of mine and uses his other, which is resting on my shoulder, to pull off his glove. His bare hand touches my face, then is set on my chest, before returning to my stomach.

‘Your core body temperature is still low,’ he informs me, ‘so you need to stay here with me for a while longer. Once you are warmed up, you should eat and then I will teach you how to dance.’

‘Since you won’t answer my questions, could you tell me a story instead?’ I suggest.

‘What?’ is his startled response.

‘Tell me about a planet you’ve been to or what your childhood was like,’ I prompt. ‘You know, a story. I told you enough of them yesterday when you were looking through my picture collection.’

***

A story? She wants to hear a story? About me?

If it keeps her quiet for a while, then I will give her one.

‘Oh, very well, then,’ I concede, ‘if that’s what it takes to keep you from asking any more impertinent questions.’

I hesitate for a few minutes, thinking, trying to come up with something suitable.

‘Are you going to tell me one or not?’ she prods.

‘Yes,’ I reply, a bit irritated at her insistence, ‘now be quiet and I’ll tell you about another time I was stranded somewhere.’

‘It was many years ago, about four years after the end of the Clone Wars, in fact...

I let my memories pull me in, remembering those events which happened on Talasea. The version I will tell Maia will be edited, of course. There are some things she does not need to know, like how I systematically had every single inhabitant of that world’s farming colony killed for harboring a Jedi.

‘I had been hunting a fugitive Jedi Knight,’ I tell her. ‘He had fled from system to system, always managing to elude me somehow. Always one step ahead.

‘At last I tracked him to Talasea, a planet in the Morobe system with a large farming colony. This time I did not tell anyone where I was headed, nor take anyone with me, for I was certain someone was passing intelligence on my movements to him. In hindsight that would prove to be a mistake.

‘He knew I was coming for him, so to draw me away from his hosts, he met me in space, above one of the uninhabited island continents. We wove in and out of the atmosphere of that fog wrapped planet with our fighters, sometimes he chased me, sometimes I, him. Eventually one of us was going to have a lucky shot connect. Unfortunately, in desperation, he finally decided to meet me head on. Both our fighters were crippled from the blasts we fired at one another.

‘My ship spiraled as the stabilizers blew and I fought to keep it from spinning completely out of control. He was in no better shape than I, so I followed him down to the surface. I plowed into the ground not too far from where he crashed into a thicket.

‘The impact threw me forward into my fighter’s control panel. The twisted and crumpled frame of the cockpit collapsed on top of me, and I was pinned in place by that and the shaft of metal which had broken free and pierced my shoulder. I knew I didn’t have much time before he would come looking for me, if he had survived, that is, so I shoved the debris off of myself with the Force and pulled the cracked rod from my body.

‘It was only a short distance to where his ship had hit the earth and disintegrated. He was hanging from the harness, still strapped in place, already dead, so I did not have to do any more than check to make sure of that. I walked back to my fighter to deal with my injury. Only after I had bound it up did I discover that my homing beacon was damaged and unusable. When I returned to the site of his crash, I found that there was nothing of any use I could salvage from it.

‘I had no way to call for help, no way to let anyone know I was there, and no one knew where I was. The continent I was on was uninhabited, with no settlements or even an emergency station I could go to and send a message from.

‘I was stranded.

‘Talasea is a cold, damp world, Maia, and although it is forested with kaha trees, and covered with bright blue oceans and islands, it is not a very pleasant place to be stuck - as I was soon to find out.

‘Once I was sure I had no means of communication, I spent what little remained of the afternoon making myself a shelter from parts of my ship and getting a fire going since it was the rainy season and a heavy downpour had started. By the time I was finished, my robes were soaked, my armor was damp, and I was beginning to feel the cold despite my attempts to adjust the temperature settings on it. I needed that fire. I also did not know what predators might be lurking and wanted to be prepared for any possible attack.

‘It was a good thing I was ready.

‘I was sitting by my fire trying to dry out and warm up, while I was busy deciding what my best course of action would be, when I heard the cries of animals under attack in the distance. There was silence for almost an hour after that. Then the avian creatures in the trees near me started, took to the air. That’s when I knew that something was approaching me, so I reached out with the Force to find out what it was. There were a large number of very frightened animals heading in my direction. But I didn’t really need to use the Force to tell me I was in trouble. I could hear the pounding hooves and sounds of panicking banthas quite clearly now.

‘Whatever was pursuing them, it was driving them right at me.

‘A herd of stampeding banthas is an impressive sight, Maia, one I saw only once as a child on Tatooine. Those ones, though, were tame, while these were feral, descendants of animals brought in by the colonists centuries ago. There was no point in trying to divert them since they would only attack in response. I did the only thing I could - got out of their way as fast as I could manage. Just before they burst into the clearing I was camped in, I leapt up into one of the kaha trees and hung onto the trunk for dear life while they stormed through, ruining my shelter and stamping out the fire.

‘I was not at all pleased by this development.

‘Once they were well away from the area, I jumped to the ground and surveyed the damage. It didn’t take long to gather up some more wood and relight the fire, but much of what I had used to build a roof to sit under had been destroyed. Somehow I cobbled something together and resumed my place.

‘I was wet, cold, frustrated, and wondering what I was going to do about the situation.

‘Then I sensed another animal heading in my direction. I was not going to lose the results of my efforts a second time, so I ignited my lightsaber and stood there, waiting for whatever it was to appear.

‘It was an injured rycrit. The poor thing was in bad shape, limping and crying in pain, so I dispatched it immediately, and dragged it to the side of the clearing so I wouldn’t have to look at it.

‘A few minutes after that I had another visitor.

I pause a moment, remembering that encounter. Maia stirs in my arms, obviously wanting me to continue.

‘He was dirty, shabby, and needed a haircut, bath, and new clothes in the worst way. The uniform he was wearing was in rags, and from the long unkempt hair and beard he must have been living without any access to civilized facilities for quite some time. We stared at one another, both too surprised to say anything.

‘My dinner,’ he finally said to me, ‘What did you do with it?’

‘I guessed he meant the poor creature I had killed, so I pointed to where I had left it. He ignored me for a minute, and went to check that I hadn’t taken any of it for myself, I suppose. Not that I would have eaten any of it even if I could have. I was never that fond of rycrit and this one was old, tough, and stringy looking.

‘The entire time he was examining the carcass, I observed him. He was wearing the tattered remains of a commando’s dress uniform with a battered Lieutenant’s rank bar still visible on it. Every move he made was calculated, controlled, wary. Whoever this was, he was a trained warrior and quite the survivor, judging from how long he must have lived on his own.

‘I decided to find out who he was and how he had ended up in the same predicament I was now in myself.

‘Rank, name, and posting, soldier,’ I ordered from him.

‘He stiffened in response, but automatically replied, ‘Lieutenant Thirsk of the Courageous, my Lord.’

‘I recognized the name of the ship, of course. It had disappeared in this quadrant the year before. Thirsk, though, was unfamiliar to me, but from his reply, he knew who I was.

‘And how did you come to be here?’ I asked.

‘Thirsk’s answer did not surprise me. A freak accident exiting hyperspace had destroyed the frigate he was on. The rescue pod he had been in crashed onto a beach along the nearby coast during a storm. Two other crewmen survived their rough landing, but died shortly after; one of an infection from his wounds, the other from the bite of a poisonous lizard. Only the Lieutenant had been cautious and clever enough to survive.

‘And he was just as stranded as I was.

‘We spent the evening sitting by my fire, Thirsk roasting his dinner on a stick over the flames while we discussed what we might do to escape. I knew my limits - there was only so much time before I would be in trouble for I had nothing I could use to sustain myself with.

‘I now carry enough medical supplies in my TIE and personal shuttle that it is not as great a concern, Maia,’ I tell her when she stiffens a little, obviously worried about me. ‘I learned that lesson from this particular adventure.’

‘Thirsk suggested we go to the tree house he had built for himself. It would be safer there, above the forest floor, and I would be able to look through what little he had salvaged from the pod. I bundled up what might be useful from my ship and followed him. The walk took us back along the path of destruction the banthas had made in their panic, one he admitted he had inadvertently caused while hunting the rycrit.

‘We came out on a hill overlooking the ocean. It was a most impressive sight. A reef protected the bay from the waves, but with the storm which was now approaching, the water was being driven over that barrier in large waves by the wind, up and onto the beach. Lightening was starting to flash around us, so we hurried to Thirsk’s treetop shelter.

‘It was an ... interesting experience climbing up the vine ladder in that storm,’ I wryly admit, ‘and the little room he had built between the large branches was not designed to hold two. Our quarters were cramped and uncomfortable, but they were dry and I was still a bit wet, so I didn’t complain about it at the time. Anything was better than being out in that storm.’

‘The following morning, I spent my time tinkering with the homing device from my ship, using pieces from the ruined one he had recovered from the pod to repair what damage I could. Thirsk volunteered to comb the beach for anything else that might be of use since the storm had substantially moved things around.

‘By noon he brought back a number of bits, all of them useless. We needed one essential component to make the beacon work.

‘For two more days we searched that beach, looking, hoping to find it. It wasn’t until I used my lightsaber to deal with a few of the local venomous lizards that it occurred to me that the solution had been at my side all along.

‘I dismantled my ‘saber pulled the component out that was missing, and sent out the necessary signal immediately. A water skiff from the settlement came to retrieve us the next day.

‘Thirsk still reminds me of my forgetfulness from time to time. I think he still resents the two extra days he had to eat that tough old rycrit because of it.’

***

I listen intently as he recounts his yarn, recording every word in my memory. When I have the chance, I decide, I will type it into my computer so I don’t forget any of it. As he tells me about his close calls, I flinch. He could so easily have died several times, yet he puts no more emphasis on those incidents than any other part of his tale. The second time I cringe, he slips his hand over mine, and moves both of them to rest just below my collarbones, holding me tighter against his chest. Curious that, his reaction to mine. Something to puzzle out later.

When he falls silent, it takes me a few seconds to realize that Vader has finished his story. Wondering if he will tell me more, I ask, ‘And what happened next?’

‘That’s another story for another day. Now, let me see how you are faring.’ He repeats his check of my temperature, then tells me, ‘You have warmed up quite sufficiently. Time to get up. After your lesson, we need to finish the last of the repairs to my TIE.’

I am left to myself immediately after he says this, and debate which gown to put on. The blue one from yesterday and this morning, or the red one I wore to confront him earlier today? Blue, I decide, will be much safer. Once dressed, I head for the kitchen, noting that the Sith Lord has returned to the Visitor’s Center for another look around. Tired of sandwiches and wanting something warm, I settle for a mug of soup which I quickly drain.

Next, I am off to track down my dance instructor. I find him standing by the map display, deep in thought. My shoes click against the floor as I go down the stairs, so I know he is aware of me, although he gives no sign he is. Stopping a few meters behind the Dark Lord, I decide to do something rather reckless, even for me. Careful that my steps are still audible, I walk up to him and slide my arms around his waist from behind, much as he had done with me on the roof last night. There is a break in his breathing as I do so, a surprised inhalation, and I wait to see if he will move to shake me off. Instead, he turns in my arms and I find myself wrapped in a crushing embrace, one of his arms around my waist, the other resting along my spine with his hand holding my head against his shoulder. A moment later, he loosens his hold on me, still keeping his arms as they were.

***

I hear Maia’s footsteps stop, pause behind me. They resume, draw nearer. She is very close to me now.

Then I feel her hands touch my sides, slide around my waist. Her cheek rests against my shoulder blade and I can feel her body heat against my back. She has wrapped both her arms around me and is holding me to herself.

I breathe in a gasp.

Forgiveness. From her.

I never expected her to do this.

Not after what I did to her.

I spin about in her arms, hold her far tighter to myself than she held me.

Little goddess, what a mate you will be for me.

But now I must prepare her for her last test. I loosen my grip and begin to speak.

***

‘Maìá,’ he begins, then lapses into a language I don’t understand.

Is this what spoken Sith sounds like? There are harsh consonants but also beautiful syllables, like the ones he uses in my name. Entranced, I commit every word to memory, even though I have no idea what it means. When he finishes, the Sith Lord repeats a set of four phrases several times, ending with my name each time, then waits, obviously expecting me to do something. Taking a wild guess that he is apologizing to me, I assume he expects me to repeat the same phrases ending with his name, so I do so, but with a few misplaced accents and mistakes in the vowels due to my lack of familiarity with the language. When I am finished, I feel him go rigid in my arms, and know that whatever I just said was not what he expected to hear.

***

I finish laying the paths in her mind that I will need for her last challenge, weaving them from the words I speak. She will be susceptible to whatever suggestion I decide to use.

There is only one more thing to say.

I repeat it carefully several times, making sure she will remember it accurately later. This is important. My master will ask her if I did this, said this to her.

When I finish, she repeats my own words back to me, completing them with my name, not hers.

I stiffen in shock.

She does not know the implications, understand the consequences, of what she has so very foolishly just done.

And I am afraid to tell her what they are lest I lose her as a result.

***

‘Maìá, do you know what you have just done?’ he asks me, shocked.

Since I haven’t the slightest clue, I simply shake my head against his shoulder.

‘Accepted your apology?’ I guess.

‘No, something else entirely,’ Vader flatly states, back in control of himself.

‘What exactly did I just do?’ My curiosity is in overdrive. I must have said something pretty outrageous for it to have prompted the reaction from him that it did.

‘Thoroughly mangled what I said, completely changing the meaning of it,’ he tells me. ‘Be thankful I choose not to act on what you have sworn and that there are no witnesses.’

The Dark Lord still hasn’t told me what the fuss is about.

Alright, I’ll try and get it out of him another way, so I ask, ‘What if I told you I wanted you to act on it?’

There is another break in his breathing, quickly controlled.

‘You don’t even know what you just swore to me, what the consequences are,’ he scolds, ‘so why are you foolishly asking me to act on it?’

‘Then tell me!’ I blurt out since I am beginning to get frustrated by his evasive answers. ‘I want to know!’

‘Since you insist, then. You offered your heart, your body, your life, your soul, to me, Maìá,’ he divulges. ‘You changed several words, and instead of using your name, you used mine instead. Now, do you still want me to accept your pledge, your oath?’

Since I am held firmly in his arms it is impossible for him to see my face, but my surprise must be evident to him from my physical reaction. Well, Maia, I think, now what are you going to say? Do you want to be bound, body and soul, to Darth Vader? Well, I do love the man and from his behavior, there is probably something on his side too, even though he will never admit it. But he will be gone tomorrow and there is no way I can go with him. Surely there is no harm in giving him this oath since he is leaving? A gesture of friendship, that is all my words will be.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ I answer, ‘I do.’

The Sith Lord’s hand, which he had started to run through my hair, stops abruptly, and he uses it to tip my face to where he can look at me. I have surprised him again, I guess, so I wait quietly for his response.

‘You are offering yourself freely, willingly, and without any conditions?’ he asks, and I can hear amazement in his voice.

I confirm with a nod.

‘You do realize, Maìá, that from the moment I accept your words, you are bound, sworn to me and me alone,’ he explains, ‘on this world or anywhere else. The pledge you just gave me is permanent, binding. There will be no way to release you from it. Your life will be mine. You will be mine.’

‘Yes, my Lord, I understand,’ I affirm, sounding more certain of myself than I am.

‘Then I accept your offer, your pledge to me, my Lady,’ he decides, ‘even though I cannot properly act on it here.’

There is the slightest hint of regret in his voice, and I wonder exactly what he means by ‘acting on it’. Pleased he has accepted my oath, unintentional as it was, I happily set my head against his shoulder. Vader has left the temperature turned up on his armor and it is warm here in his arms. I am allowed only a few minutes more in his embrace, though, before he gently pulls my arms from around his waist.

‘You have warmed up again and it is time for your lesson. Go play the music you selected earlier,’ he tells me.

Darn. He would remember why we are here. I stay standing close to him, hoping he will wrap me in his arms again, but I am firmly pushed away.

‘Part of your oath includes obedience, Maia. Do as you are told,’ the Sith Lord orders.

No choice is left to me, so I quickly comply, and the familiar sounds of Strauss fill the air. When I return to the map room, Vader has removed and draped his cloak over the railing and is working out the steps to a waltz. I watch him intently as he repeats the pattern in time to the music, dancing with an invisible partner. He’s actually very good, I quickly realize. Now there’s something I would never have anticipated. Knowing he will expect me to join him, I pay careful attention to where he is putting his feet and the order of the steps. It looks simple enough, but this is me we’re dealing with. All I can hope is that I don’t step on his feet or trip up too many times.

He beckons me over and takes me by the hand as he instructs, ‘Maia, I will walk you through the steps a few times beside me. That way you can learn the pattern first without having to deal with what I will be doing.’

It proves to be a wise decision. Ten minutes later, I finally have the pattern memorized and can manage it without having to think too much about what I am doing. I must admit that he does have patience, despite his famous protests to the contrary. Anyone else would have given up on me as totally hopeless by now.

The waltz which is playing draws to an end, and Vader pulls me into a proper dance hold. We wait for the next piece to start, and when it does, I find myself easily following his lead across the floor. Somehow he knows when I am going to misstep and turns my potential fumbles into a pivot or spin. Cool. Dancing with him is going to be great fun. I let myself relax, and enjoy just moving about the room in his arms.

‘You have been rather quiet,’ the Dark Lord notes.

‘No choice,’ I reply, ‘if I don’t concentrate on where my feet are, I’ll step on you.’

‘Unlikely. I can anticipate what you will do and compensate for it.’ I miss a beat as he says this, and he effortlessly turns me to cover it. ‘See,’ he affirms, ‘no problem.’

As the music ends, he spins me about and finishes the waltz on one knee in front of me, my hands held in his. I stare at him in surprise, not sure what to do next.

‘Another dance, my Lady?’ he asks.

‘I would be honored, my Lord.’ No way I am going to turn this opportunity down.

He retrieves his cloak from the railing and tosses it around his shoulders. Then I am back in his arms as another waltz starts. It’s different with his cloak swirling about us, and I suspect that my black dress with the full skirt will also billow out in the same fashion. We are going to be quite the sight at the party, I happily think to myself. As he prepares to finish up, I take the lead from him, and instead of the Sith Lord kneeling on the floor, I am.

‘Another dance, my Lord?’ I ask.

He laughs a little, then answers, ‘One more, then to work. We both have a great deal to do today.’

The third waltz ends all too soon, and we are heading back to my apartment. Vader leaves me to change into more practical clothes, and goes to his TIE. Once dressed, I spend an hour setting up the observations for tonight and then join him in the workshop. As before, he has a number of parts set out on the work bench, but I am more concerned with how the gas mix will be transferred from an Earth manufactured storage tank to whatever is used on his fighter. While he works away piecing things together, I rummage through a box of high pressure valves, regulators, hoses, and couplers. It takes me about half an hour to assemble a representative selection of the various connectors, and I lay what I have found beside the components that the Sith Lord is busy working on. I will sort out which ones will be of use once I have finished helping him with his own task.

Time passes quickly, and the second set of repaired components is installed in the TIE. I explain the potential problems attaching the pressurized gas tank to the Dark Lord, who has already given the problem some thought. He looks through the bits and pieces I have laid out, selects a few, and takes them to the fighter to see which ones might be suitable. Fortunately, there is one regulator which fits the piping in his ship, and it is easy to change the threading to match with the tools I have available. The last task is to sort out what the relative ratios of the gases are, so we go to my office, which is considerably warmer than the workshop, to do so.

While the kettle is heating for my tea, I retrieve the notebook I used the other day from my office. The element chart is still on the table, so I use it to indicate which gases I am talking about as I go through the last task of the day. By the time I am satisfied that I know exactly what I need to do in my lab tomorrow, my tea is ready and I am hungry and tired.

Something else must be done, my brain nags - e-mail, I realize with a start. I haven’t sent in our party profiles and unless I want a mess on my hands I had better do it. With a sigh, I wander back to my office, Sith Lord trailing behind. The lap-top is still on and logged into the system, so I call up my e-mail and look for the message I need. Now is also the time to explain the rules of the party to my date.

‘The costume party we are going to has a set of very specific rules,’ I start, ‘rules everyone has to follow, even Nigel, though he will do his best to push the limits. I will try and make sure I stay with you as much as I can to prevent trouble.’ Yes, Maia, leaving him on his own, especially if certain questions are asked could be dangerous, if not a disaster.

‘And these rules are?’ he asks.

I do my best to carefully explain the rules, hoping I can prevent any incidents by making him understand how to behave.

‘First rule: Everyone has to stay in character. For you, be yourself. For me, I have to act however your wife would, discuss topics she would know about and so on. This rule usually gets relaxed quite quickly as the evening goes on and faculty start to talk shop. There tends to be a few people dressed as mythical beings and other oddities, so don’t be too surprised by who or what might turn up. Some of the students can get very creative.’

‘Second rule: Diplomatic immunity applies to everyone. If someone shows up pretending to be a Jedi, you can’t go challenging them to a duel and you must be civilized. I suspect Nigel will try exactly this stunt just to provoke you since I am his current target of choice. Ignore him, or maybe give him a good scare, but don’t do anything rash and don’t hurt him.’

‘Third rule: We can put limits on what can be asked or discussed, so if you would rather not be bothered about the latest fleet movements, or recent battles you have been in, I can send a message detailing appropriate topics of conversation. It might be a good idea to disconnect the powercell in your lightsaber, too, because you might be subjected to the odd show and tell session.’

‘Questions?’ I finish.

‘Similar rules apply to some of the formal costume fetes on Imperial Center,’ Vader reveals, ‘though few would dare to dress as a Jedi. I think I can keep within your rules, but I will not tolerate any rudeness to you from your colleague, nor will I put up with impertinent questions from anyone.’

‘Except me?’ I tease.

‘In public, no,’ he firmly replies. ‘You will behave in an appropriate manner then.’

I knew that was coming from his etiquette lesson the other day. Rats. Time to fill in the forms notifying the dance committee that we will be there, and who as. Mine is simple enough, but I take my time filling in his. I am careful to note that the only topics which can be discussed are related to the first of the old movies. Hopefully this will limit the number of potentially embarrassing questions.

‘Are there any topics you would like people to talk to you about?’ I ask. ‘I have to put something down. What about ship or engine design?’ Nice neutral topic, I think to myself.

‘Acceptable,’ he agrees.

E-mail finished, I hit send and check my inbox for anything else that might need looking after right away. A few students asking when their mid-terms will be handed back, reminders of committee meetings, the odd junk mail, but nothing to really worry about. Tomorrow morning I will have to check the list of who will be at the party and who they are dressed as. Screening it will help avoid problems later in the day.

Satisfied that there is no more I can do, we leave my office to return to my apartment for the evening. A quick supper, and I am ready to go to bed. Morning will come all too soon, and tomorrow will be a very busy day. The Sith Lord is sitting in what I now think of as his chair, quietly watching me tidy up the kitchen. This will be his last night here with me, and I am already beginning to miss him. I finish my tasks and slip into the bedroom to change.

‘Maia,’ he calls after me, ‘I wish to meditate for a while. Go to sleep and I will be in later.’

I shut the door, change into a nightgown and curl up in bed. He has not done this before, but three days or more without any contact with the Force other than what is in his own body must be driving him crazy. Perhaps he just wants to settle and quiet his mind. At some point I drift off to sleep, noting that he has still not come to bed.

***

I watch her go, shutting the door after herself.

A choice. I have a choice to make now.

I get up out of the chair and pace for a few minutes.

I stop by the bedroom door, hand stretched towards the handle. After standing there for a few minutes without making a decision, I return to the chair and stare at the door.

Maia stayed in my arms.

She showed no fear.

She has been loyal to me at every turn.

And she forgave me.

Me!

She forgave me.

I unhook my cloak, letting it fall away from my shoulders, toss my gloves on the table in front of me, allow myself to slide into a trance, and begin to build the illusion.

My choice is made. I know what I am going to do.

***

Minutes or hours later, I wake as I hear the door open, and look up to see who is there. It is not Vader, but another man dressed in black robes. Surprised, I push myself into a sitting position and just stare at him. He is a head taller than I am, neither young nor old, with a handsome face and blondish brown hair. His piercing blue eyes hold me in place.

‘Who,’ I ask, ‘are you?’

He makes no reply, closes the door after himself and walks over to the bed to sit down beside me. I watch him nervously. Where is the Sith Lord? Surely he hasn’t let this stranger wander in without trying to stop him. Get a grip, Maia, talk to him and maybe you will find out what is going on.

‘You didn’t answer my question, so who are you?’ I try again.

‘I think you know,’ he answers. I recognize his voice of course, but this is impossible. What has he done with his armor? My confusion must have shown on my face because he continues, ‘Consider this to be a projection of what I would look like without my injuries.’

Now I really am bewildered. Dreaming. I must be having a rather vivid dream. Given my wild emotional swings the last two days, I guess I should have expected something like this to happen.

‘I’m dreaming this, aren’t I?’ I ask him. ‘You can’t be real.’

‘If you would prefer to think of it that way, then do so,’ he tells me, with amusement in his voice.

Well, if this is a dream, then there shouldn’t be any substance to him. I reach over to touch his face, and my fingers brush against warm flesh. Startled, I begin to yank my hand back, but he catches it in his own, brings it to his mouth and kisses me on the palm. Well, Maia, this is turning out to be quite the dream. He keeps a hold of my hand and pulls me into his chest with his other. Both of his hands move to cup my face, and I make no attempt to resist him. I am far too surprised to do anything at the moment.

‘I want you,’ he tells me, before setting his lips to my own.

His kiss is gentle, sweet, and I try to respond in kind. Since this is only a dream, I decide, I am going to enjoy it fully. Sliding down from my face, his hands brush against my body.

‘Your nightdress is in the way,’ he comments, ‘let me take it off of you.’

My face blushes in embarrassment, but I put up no fight when he pulls the nightgown up and over my head, dropping it on the floor once it is off. Definitely the most vivid dream I have ever had.

He touches my breasts, runs his fingers across my stomach, pulls me in closer to his chest, then eases me onto my back, resting himself on one elbow, his other arm draped over top of me. I watch him look at me, wondering what he is going to do next.

‘You are a beautiful woman, Maia,’ he says, letting his eyes roam over my body and face. His scrutiny bothers me, so I pull one of the sheets up. ‘Shy, aren’t you?’ he observes with a quiet chuckle. ‘Shall I do something about that?’

His hands slip under the cover, and he lightly runs them over my body, caresses my legs, arms, chest, before returning to stroke my hair and face. I like his touch, the way it feels against my skin. The sheet gradually slides down with his movements and his mouth and lips trace paths down my throat to my breasts. Weird flutterings appear in my stomach, and I don’t know if I like the sensation or not. They increase as he continues to caress me, so I try to stop him with a touch to his cheek.

‘I don’t like the way my stomach feels,’ I tell him. ‘There are weird sensations in it.’

‘That’s what you are supposed to feel when I touch you,’ he answers, as he moves his lips down to my stomach. His hands move farther down still, touching me where I do not want him to go, but when I try to pull him away, my hands are held firmly in place.

‘I want you, Maia, and you are mine. Don’t resist me,’ he warns.

His fingers are gentle as he caresses me there, and I gradually relax a little. He has done nothing to harm me, and it does feel good. For a dream, this is certainly the best one I have ever had. I feel him withdraw his hand, and he sits up to remove his belt, boots, and robes, throwing them aside to join my nightgown on the floor. Nice body, I think to myself, lots of muscles and no excess weight anywhere. Too shy to give him the same scrutiny he did me, I content myself with looking at his chest and arms.

‘Are you ready for me?’ he asks, and I instinctively know what he intends to do.

He can’t be serious, can he? Dream, Maia, I remind myself, no reason to panic here. Let my dream lover do what he wants. I’ll never experience it for real so why not? My answer is to pull him to me and kiss his mouth.

He moves from my side, tosses the covers off, then pushes my knees apart, shifts them up, and kneels between them. A short moment and he has positioned himself. I feel a pressure between my legs, a stretching and brief sting as he tries to push in, followed by his surprised withdrawal at the resistance, and then a deep, hard thrust which forces me open. I can’t prevent myself from crying out in pain at his entrance. That hurt, I think to myself, hopefully it wouldn’t really be that bad.

Stopping instantly, he stays motionless within me, obviously shocked by my cry.

‘Maia?’ he asks, ‘you were untouched, a virgin?’

‘Yes,’ I whisper to him.

‘Kreth,’ he curses. ‘I had no idea.’

He starts to pull out of me, and I decide that I do not want him to.

‘Please, make me yours, just this once,’ I beg him, knowing I will never have another dream as vivid, as real as this one, knowing that I want only him and no other to ever touch me this way. ‘I want you, and only you, to ever do this.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks, brushing a hand down my face. ‘I will be gentle and quick with you, but even so, there will still be some pain.’

‘I don’t care. I love you and I want you to do it,’ I tell him, sure that the worst is already over.

He answers my request by moving gently, carefully within me. I let my body rock in rhythm to what he does, and what pain there is quickly fades. His control is exquisite and when he finds the right position, the precise spot, I find myself gasping, my stomach full of butterflies and odd sensations. Does it ever feel good to have him in me. He pulls me into his arms and I wrap my own around him. Every second seems to stretch into an eternity and I am pushed towards an edge, then tipped over it. Muscles move inside me, and I am clinging to him, calling out to him to never let it stop. I shudder beneath him as it ends, and he changes his pattern, thrusts quickly, deeply into me for only a moment. I feel him quiver and with two more sharp movements, he himself is sated, satisfied, collapsed across my body.

He covers my face with light, gentle kisses now, making me laugh at his silliness.

‘I enjoyed that,’ he tells me, ‘and I know you did, too.’

I feel his weight shift off of me as he takes me in his arms, resting one hand on my stomach. Pain, I ache where he tore me inside. He looks in my face, sees my attempts to hide my hurt, and gently kisses me once again.

‘Time to repair what I just did to you,’ he quietly says to me. ‘In another time and place, Maia, I will make you mine in a more appropriate manner.’

His hand moves down, to rest over where I hurt, and a low heat radiates out from it, the pain disappears.

‘Stay with me, please, my love, don’t leave me,’ I beg him, wanting to prolong this dream as long as I can.

In answer, he holds me secure in his embrace, stroking my hair until I grow drowsy again, and speaking soft words in Sith to me as he does. When he sees that I am almost asleep, he brushes a hand over my stomach, then holds it still and looks down at it with a surprised expression on his face. A small, satisfied smile appears next, then he returns his hand to resume caressing my face.

‘My love, my little wife,’ he finally tells me, ‘I must go now, but I won’t ever leave you.’

He moves from the bed then, dresses in his robes, and bends over me.

‘A dream, Maia, I am only a dream,’ he whispers in my ear, an oddly compelling tone in his voice. Then he lightly kisses my lips and slips out the door. My mind slides deeper into sleep at his departure.

I hear the Sith Lord’s slowed regulated breathing when he finally joins me. He tosses the covers onto us from where they have been carelessly thrown and gently shifts me from where I am laying sprawled across the bed, over and into his arms. I happily let him draw me to him.

My fuzzy brain wakes a little, so I tell him, ‘I had the strangest dream, and you were in it.’

‘Was I really?’ he replies, and I hear amusement and, to my great surprise, a touch of something else, something completely unexpected in his voice.

‘Sleep now, Maia,’ he softly tells me, in that odd tone of voice, ‘it was only a dream.’

Mon. Feb. 12.

***

It’s morning and she is still sleeping soundly in my arms. I shift a little, pulling myself back so I can look at her, but she does not stir. Today I will spoil her, I decide. I will indulge her in every way I can since I will soon be unable to do so.

‘Sleep, Maia,’ I whisper in her ear when her eyelids flutter at my movements. ‘You are just having a dream. Sleep.’

I pull off my left glove. I want to touch her again. Touch her with nothing between us once more.

Her skin is so soft, so delicate, I observe as I run the fingers of my hand down her side. I trace the curve of her breasts, both small, firm like they were last night, then move lower, brush across her waist, up along her side, noting the deep indent between hip and ribcage. She is too thin but that will soon change. Lower I go, to the skin above her knees, inside her legs. Softer still, here. Higher again, between her thighs. I slide my hand up to where I can feel the stickiness, the evidence and aftermath of what we did last night.

She has bled. And much more than I would have expected. I sit up beside her now, slide the covers down. Her maiden’s blood mixed with my semen has soaked the sheets, covered her thighs, clotted among her pubic hairs.

I hurt her badly last night. Tore her open with my carelessness, my haste, my impatience. She should have been taken her first time with gentleness, with care, with tenderness, as if she was the most precious of all my possessions, like the treasure she is.

And I should have known she was a virgin. The signs were all there for me to read.

If only I had done so.

But it felt good to be within her, to gently, slowly make love to her. To feel human again, to be a man claiming what is rightfully his. And she was so very responsive to my touch, so very passionate.

She called my name, called me lover at the height of her passion. Asked me to never let it stop. Demanded I never stop making love to her.

And after, she wanted me to stay. Didn’t want me to go.

I set my hand on her stomach, look within, marvel at what I see.

My son.

My heir.

So strong in the Force I can easily find him even now.

I move my hand to her face, touch her cheek.

Maia told me she loves me.

She loves me!

‘Beloved goddess,’ I call her, ‘my precious little wife. I will never leave you. Could never leave you. Do you know that?’

Maia stirs at my words. I want to stay, to hold her, to speak words of love to her. But it would be best if I left her to wake alone. She will be embarrassed to find herself nude, and upset at the blood I spilled.

She will remember last night when I need her to, but for now I will reinforce my words to her.

‘Maia, last night was a dream, nothing more. Only a dream,’ I tell her.

Then I replace my glove, toss the covers back over her, and go to practice ‘saber forms for a while.

Lady Vader needs her rest.

***

When I wake, Vader is gone from my side. Tossing back the covers, I am shocked to discover that I am nude, my nightgown in a heap on the floor. Whoa, Maia, that must have been some vivid dream for you to strip that off. No wonder he left early - he was probably pretty embarrassed to come to bed and find you without a stitch of clothing on. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and hiss in pain. What on Earth is going on? It’s the wrong time of the month for that, but a quick check reveals blood on the sheets and streaking my thighs anyway. Damn. The stress of the last few days has my hormones out of whack too. No wonder I had that bizarre dream last night. There is no help for it though, I guess. With a sigh, I wrap my robe around me and head to the bathroom.

The Sith Lord is not in my apartment, so I guess he is trying to give me some space this morning. Since we don’t need to be at the university until the late afternoon, I have a leisurely bath, and take my time rolling my hair up in twists. I plan on going all out for this party, and there is just enough curl left in my last spiral perm to produce some nice ringlets if I leave my hair twisted up for most of the day. Finished with my hair, I wrap a bright scarf around it to hide the curlers. It will be mid-afternoon before my hair is dry and ready to unroll.

I grab a quick breakfast and decide to go looking for the Dark Lord. He is not in the Visitor’s Center, but I do catch a glimpse of him in the parking lot through its front doors. Hurrying outside to see what he is up to, I discover that he is busy with his lightsaber, obviously running through an intricate pattern of set moves. Totally cool, I think, as I happily seat myself at one of the picnic tables, chin propped on hands, to watch him with my expert eyes. He seems unaware that I am there; his concentration is completely focused on what he is doing. When he finishes the form I found him in the middle of, he stops and looks over at me.

‘You are well this morning, my Lady?’ he asks me.

What a peculiar question, I think. Maybe he has decided I was ill last night since he found me in bed naked. Or maybe he realizes that ... Nope, Maia, he can’t be that nosy about what your body is doing or what you were dreaming about last night.

‘I am fine, my Lord. I slept well,’ is my neutral answer. Let him read what he wants into it. ‘Don’t stop your practice on my account. I like watching you run through ‘saber forms.’

‘Then I shall continue, my Lady, since it will please you,’ the Sith Lord replies.

With a graceful bow in my direction, he starts another form. He’s in a rather co-operative and congenial mood today. I wonder what has brought this on? Well, Maia, better enjoy it while it lasts. With a sigh, I settle in, and for the next hour, he runs through various styles and techniques, some which I recognize while others are new to me, finally finishing with a form containing a series of rapid spins and quick changes in the direction of both his body and blade. Difficult, I realize, very difficult. I know only a few swordsmen on Earth who could manage that, and to make it look that easy, wow. My older brother, perhaps, might have eventually approached Vader’s skill level, though not his speed, had Michael not been killed. As he ends, I start clapping, and the Dark Lord acknowledges my appreciation with another bow.

Shutting off his ‘saber, he joins me at the table. His breathing has been set faster, I note, to compensate for the exercise. For a long moment we sit in silence, and I am content just to stay near him. Then the wind starts to pick up, and I rub my hands over my arms to keep warm.

‘We should go inside, my Lady,’ he states, ‘I do not want you to become chilled again.’

He rises from his seat, and offers me his hand, which I take without hesitation. Once I am on my feet though, he slides an arm around my waist, and guides me back to the apartment with it. Possessive, I note as we enter the living room, he is being very possessive of me both in gesture and use of the formal address, just like a real boyfriend would. He must be practicing for the party. Well, I will respond in kind then to make it easy for him.

***

‘My Lord,’ Maia asks, ‘Is there anything you want me to do for you, anything at all? We have a few hours yet before leaving.’

As she speaks, her arms slip around my waist, her head tips up to look into my mask.

She has just offered everything to me.

Freely. Willingly.

Should I tell her what I want from her? Tell her what she is to me? The pattern of my breathing breaks with my inhalation at the possibilities.

But it is too soon. I cannot let her have any hints. Not here. Not yet.

I bring my hands up, set them around her face, say nothing at all for a time, simply look at her. Look at this woman who is my wife though she does not know it.

‘Want, my Lady?’ I quietly admit, ‘Yes. Have, now that is another issue.’

My hands slide down to her waist, then wrap around her back as I pull her firmly against my body. I want to hold her and she is willing. She responds with a happy sigh and snuggles up to me, rests her forehead against my chest armor above the control panel.

‘You like it when I hold you, don’t you?’ I ask.

She just nods an affirmative. Obviously I am correct about this.

It has been so very long since I have held someone I loved, held my Padme, my lost angel. My voice becomes slightly wistful with my next words to her.

‘Such a simple gesture to make, and yet you are the first in many years who is quite content just to stay in my arms. And also the only person I know who would even consider doing it now. Fearless, my Lady, you are completely fearless.’

Maia merely smiles at my observations and doesn’t reply. She must think I am trying to get rid of her. Her silence amuses me so I allow myself to laugh a little at it.

‘Quiet? Surely the impertinent one must have some question or another?’ I tease.

She stays silent, knowing I am trying to get her to talk, to give myself a reason to push her away.

‘Stubborn, too, aren’t you?’ I observe when she refuses to answer.

Her only reply is to pull me closer. I wait, but she still says nothing.

‘Very well. Stay where you are, then,’ I concede, ‘since you are determined to remain.’

If she wants to be held, then I will indulge her in this simple thing.

Maia sighs happily again and I feel her slight weight lean into my chest. I shift my balance in response and brush my hand down her back. There is no silky hair for me to touch today. It is bound up and covered with a scarf, so she must have something special planned for this party of hers.

After about ten minutes, she asks, ‘My Lord, there are still a number of hours to fill. What would you like to do with them?’

I consider how to answer this. There are many things we could do, but they can wait. At the moment, I want to know if her singing really is as bad as I think it is.

‘Sing for me, my Lady,’ I tell her, ‘I want to hear your voice again.’

***

He wants me to sing? Seriously? Well, Maia, you did ask him what he wanted to do. I release my grip around his waist, but the Dark Lord is slower, almost reluctant to let me go. An observation I file away for later.

Now, I need to figure out what to sing for him. Retrieving the folder with my Baroque cd’s, I start to flip through it. Handel is a definite possibility. Broschi, more tricky - I would have to leave off most of the ornaments. My voice is in no shape to handle them. Finally I settle on three pieces. Handel’s V’adoro pupille from Julius Caesar, Broschi’s Ombra fedele anch’io from Idaspe, and Porpora’s Or la nube procellosa. It’s a good thing I will be singing in Italian, since I don’t know how he might react to Cleopatra’s love song.

Vader seats himself in his chair, and I drop the selected cd’s into the stereo. Starting with the simplest piece, I spend the next half-hour singing for him. Luckily I finish without my voice breaking or any blatant mistakes.

He thankfully makes no comment until I am done, then notes, ‘You really must spend more time practicing.’

‘No criticism from the peanut gallery,’ I warn, ‘I haven’t sung any of these pieces in almost a decade.’

‘Peanut gallery?’

I start laughing. Better explain what I meant.

‘Years ago, the cheapest seats in theaters, where the most notorious heckling came from, were called that. When the performance was really bad, they would throw peanuts at the stage.’

From the tip of his head, the Sith Lord is still puzzled, so I go to the kitchen and take a bag of peanuts from the cupboard. Making sure he can’t see what I am up to, I select a few from it, whip around, and toss them at him. He reacts instantly, snatching them out of the air, then throwing them back at me. Two narrowly miss, but one catches me on the arm. Ouch. The fourth one, he examines carefully. I carry the bag back to the living room, drop onto the couch, and dump a few more out on the coffee table.

‘Peanuts,’ I say, breaking the shell off of one and eating it. ‘Almost all theaters ban them now. Makes too much of a mess, and performers today won’t put up with dodging them. Maybe you should take this bag back with you and aim them at one of those divas you were complaining about.’ I am teasing him, and somehow manage to keep my voice perfectly even, flat, as I do, much the way he has done with me on occasion.

***

Throw peanuts at those divas in the Opera House?

It takes me a moment to realize that she is teasing me. Then I start laughing at the ridiculous images my mind produces of singers dodging my missiles.

Maia is unexpectedly silent, staring at me. She did not expect this reaction to her comments.

‘You, my Lady,’ I finally scold her, ‘are not only impudent and impertinent, but incorrigible as well!’

She begins to laugh along with me, enjoying herself.

How relaxed she is with me now, how free in her words and body language. This is as it should be, as it will be. I do not want my wife to fear me.

‘Somehow,’ she tells me, ‘I can’t see that the Emperor would be too impressed if you actually followed my advice, especially if your target was a singer he liked.’

True, I admit to myself, but Palpatine goes more for appearances than for the singing.

‘Then I shall be careful that he doesn’t catch me,’ I slyly reply.

From the look on her face Maia can’t decide if I am being serious, or not. And I have given her no way to tell from my voice. She picks up her bag of peanuts, twists it shut, and hands it to me.

‘Go ahead and take them with you,’ she offers. ‘They might come in handy some day.’

I don’t know what I might do with them, but I take the bag from her hand anyway, transfer it to my other one, and catch hold of the hand she had just used to offer them to me. Time to do something else for a while and I feel like going outside.

‘Shall we go for a walk, my Lady?’ I ask.

Maia answers, ‘Yes, ’ and disappears into her bedroom, reappearing with a knee-length tunic over what she had on. Her green cloak and black ankle boots go on next, and then she is ready to go.

We make a quick stop at my TIE, and I stow the peanuts away in the small compartment where I keep my tool kit, humoring her. The wind has dropped again, the air is still, the sky clear. Tonight should be the same if the forecast she read to me the other day was accurate. For now, the temperature is probably cool, not cold, bearable for a short walk, but it would not be wise to spend hours outside.

Rather than head south to the dry lake, we walk to the north, along the synthesis array, towards a draw in the east.

Maia tells me that a creek runs there during the Spring melt and run-off. In the Winter, what little water that is available should become a rather spectacular frozen waterfall.

I don’t object as she steers me along the path to where it is.

Finally we reach our destination, and I follow her over to one of the large flat-topped boulders which will serve as our seat. Before she can sit down, I step beside her. From what she told me the other day she needs to stay warm, and I don’t want to risk her becoming chilled in case it affects our child. I wrap my arm and cloak around her from behind, and then pull her backwards to sit next to me on the rock.

‘I do not want you to grow cold, my Lady,’ I justify my actions, ‘and we should not stay too long.’

***

‘Thank you, my Lord,’ I reply, pulling his cloak around myself. I don’t want to get cold, either.

I let myself lean against him, surprised by his fussing, but content to simply be where I am. He’s going to be gone soon, and I want to spend every minute I can with him, with the man I now know I love with all my heart. A part of my mind wonders again what it would be like to be his wife, his Lady. If my strange dream was at all accurate, it would hurt at first, but he would be a most gentle and considerate lover after that, one who could perhaps help me get over my fear of being touched, of being made love to. I let out a mental sigh. Unfortunately, I will never know if this would be the case. Well, Maia, I remind myself, you will get to play his wife in public for a few hours tonight, so enjoy it while you can.

Casting a sideways glimpse at the Dark Lord, I decide to flirt a little bit. Why not? The worst he could do is shove me away and storm off somewhere. I run a finger down from where his cloak is hooked to his armor, along the life support panel to his waist, then follow his belt around to his back. As I do this, I shift myself to half-face him before slipping my other hand around his back and resting my head on his chest. No response from him at all for a few seconds, then he wraps both his arms about me and pulls me in close.

‘My Lord, I would stay here with thee forever,’ I venture, hoping he will play along with me.

‘My Lady, I would keep thee in my arms for all eternity,’ he offers back.

Good, he’s willing to play the game of courtly love, and it sounds like he knows the rules and language patterns, too. This should be fun.

I take my right hand from where it is against his back and bring it to rest on his chest beside my face. He responds by mirroring my move with his left, but lays his own hand over mine instead of resting on my body.

‘Thou who art my most beloved wife,’ he states next.

What? He’s just broken the Medieval rule which forbids this sort of jesting between spouses. Maybe the guidelines are different where he comes from, so I will just go along with what he does instead. I guess he has also decided to act as if I am his wife, already following the role-playing criteria for tonight even though the party is still hours away. Well, I can do that, too.

‘Mine husband, mine own dearest love,’ I answer in kind. Now what? There are not too many more places we can go with this flirtation.

‘Thou who art my Lady, my love, mine soul’s other half,’ he replies, ‘thou art mine.’

Oh. Well. Let’s see what happens when I get a little bolder.

‘I love thee, my Lord, mine soul’s other half,’ I tell him, moving my hand up from under his to brush the cheek of his mask before stating, ‘I am thine.’

‘Shall I take thee back with me, my beloved? Would thou be this Sith Lord’s Lady?’ he asks, as he caresses my cheek then catches my hand in his own and returns them both to where they had been laying against his chest.

I did have to be forward with him, now didn’t I? So what does he mean? Back where? To the observatory? And have I just been propositioned or proposed to? No way to tell from his ambiguous choice of words, but it most certainly must be the former. I tip my head to look up at his mask, not sure what to say next. Vader responds by gazing down at me, and the silent seconds stretch into minutes while we stare at one another. He wants an answer, I finally realize, and I have no idea what to tell him.

‘Beloved,’ I finally say, ‘what dost thou want to hear from me?’

His hands move to hold my face while he still quietly looks into my eyes. He is not going to give me any hints at all about what he wants to hear from me.

***

I ask my questions of her and wait.

Will she answer now, when there is no illusion, no manipulation, as she did last night?

Will she confess her love for me, give her consent?

I give her no indication of what I want to hear from her, and wait, hoping to hear what I need to, yet fearing the negative, her rejection.

And then she tells me what I so desperately want her to say.

***

I shut my eyes and consider what to do. Well, Maia, what would you want? To be his lover, his Lady, or not? The Sith Lord will be gone tonight, and I love him. This will be my one and only opportunity to ever have him this way. I make my decision, ignoring my fears and reservations. If he wants to take me back to my apartment and make love to me for the next few hours, I vow I will let him do so.

‘Yes, my Lord, my beloved, my answers are yes,’ I quietly admit to him.

I feel his hands leave my face to move around to my back. Once they are there, he pulls me in tight to his chest and says nothing for a considerable time. It’s warm next to him, but the cold air is starting to have an effect on me regardless and I shiver a bit before I can stop myself.

‘If you are getting chilled, then we have spent too much time here, and must hurry back,’ he decides, breaking out of the speech pattern we had been using. ‘There are a few things I want to do still, and one of them requires your participation.’

My participation? Oh. I start blushing. So I was right that he was propositioning me. My reaction produces a chuckle and he lightly runs a finger down my cheek before moving his hand to my waist and helping me to my feet.

‘It was just a flirtation, Maia, not what you are obviously thinking,’ Vader tells me, sounding a touch amused, as he pushes himself off the rock.

That makes me go even redder with embarrassment. Well, I should have known better than to fall for that sort of teasing. I take a few steps backwards to get out of his way, hook my heel on a rock and start to fall. He lets out a quiet laugh, catches my hand, stopping my fall, and pulls me back into his arms.

‘You are more than a bit clumsy at times,’ he observes.

I nod my head which is now buried in his shoulder. There is no way I am going to say anything which might embarrass myself further. Well, at least he hasn’t made any more comments about my foolish assumption or the color of my face. After a few minutes, he pulls away from my embrace, slides a possessive arm around me again and I am carefully guided back towards the observatory.

***

She doesn’t shrug off my touch, but accepts my guidance, my arm around her.

I don’t want her to stumble or fall.

I see her curious glances, her puzzled looks as she tries to work out what I might be up to.

Little goddess, your face reveals far more than you think it does. You are an open book to me that way. I do not need the Force to tell what you are thinking.

You are wondering if I meant my words to you, if I am serious or not, or just teasing you.

You will find out the truth soon enough.

***

While we walk, I start thinking about what he had said. Even if he was just flirting, why did he ask those questions? And why was he so amused when I assumed he wanted to make love to me? As we go along, I cast surreptitious glances at him. When I add this to some of the things he has said and done in the previous days, there is only one conclusion I can make. He has been amusing himself by flirting with me, deliberately leading me on, and when I finally break down and admit that I want him, he treats it all like a game. That’s a mean trick to play on someone who loves him. If he knew how I really felt for him, would he treat me this way? Well, I will play his game along with him, but I won’t fall for another set-up like what he just used.

Once back at the research building, the Dark Lord heads inside and steers me unerringly to my office. What is he up to now, I wonder. We step through the door, and he waves me into my own chair while he claims the one I cleared for him on Friday for himself.

‘I need to document my time here,’ Vader admits. ‘Not for my own records, but in case the Emperor ever questions why I have been out of communication range for almost two weeks.’

I nod in response. This does not surprise me at all. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ I volunteer.

‘Yes,’ he confirms, ‘I need you to witness my statement, but you will have to learn how to write your Sith name in order to do so.’

Write in Sith? This sounds pretty cool. I open a drawer and pull out some note paper and pens. Vader picks up the paper, folds it and riffs it through he fingers, then shakes his head. Obviously it doesn’t meet his requirements.

‘Do you have anything heavier or for more formal documents?’ he asks.

This requires a bit of a think. There was some rag paper left over from my dissertations. The problem will be finding it. I get out of my chair and yank open the filing cabinet. A thorough search produces twenty or thirty sheets of the heavy, parchment-like paper. Returning to my chair, I hand him the stack, then dig out my set of fountain pens. If he wants to be formal, may as well do it properly.

I show the Sith Lord how to best hold the pens, and he quickly writes something in a flowing, cursive script. He turns the page to face me, hands me the pen and I know that is my turn to copy what he just did. Since I had carefully watched the order of the strokes, I have a good idea how to repeat it. My first attempt looks fine to me, but Vader shakes his head. Alright, I’ll try it again then.

While I continue to try and meet whatever standard he has, the Dark Lord begins quickly writing in Aurabesh on one of the other sheets. He has nice, neat handwriting, I decide, when I glance over at what he is doing. After finishing two sheets, he puts his own name in Sith at the bottom, folds the pages, and sets them aside, using one of my numerous ‘pet’ rocks to keep them folded flat. A second set of documents follow. Duplicate copies, I assume, until I see him continue past two pages with this one.

Once he adds his name to the most recently finished page, Vader looks over at my latest attempt at my own name in Sith.

‘Suitable,’ he decides, then orders, ‘write it here, at the bottom of my statement,’ pointing to a spot on the bottom of the sheet next to his own.

I quickly oblige, then look carefully at the Aurabesh text, wondering what he wrote about me and wishing I could read it. For a second or two I consider asking about it, then decide not to. He probably won’t tell me what’s in it in detail anyway. Vader takes the page from my hand, folds it with the other sheets he just finished and stacks those on top of the ones he had previously set aside. While I debate what I should do next, the Sith Lord starts sketching out blueprints. Well, he is obviously doing something important, so I will check my e-mail until he is finished.

My inbox has a number of messages marked urgent so I start with the oldest and work forward. Mostly stuff that could wait, I eventually decide. Today’s mail though is more useful. The guest list is out for the party, so I open the attachment and start looking. In typical fashion, the organizers have only sent out the names which apply to the costumes people will be wearing just to avoid spoiling any surprises. Not helpful at all, I conclude as I work my way through. There are a number of military titled characters, along with nobles and names obviously derived from science fiction. Blast it all, for the most part I have no idea who could be friend or foe, problem or no.

I glance over at the Sith Lord. Should I tell him that going to the party might not be such a good idea? Better be honest with him, I decide. He might think it quite odd if I cancel this now without an explanation.

‘My Lord,’ I start, then wait for him to look up at me.

‘My Lady,’ he acknowledges, setting the pen down, ‘What is it?’

‘The guest list for the party is out, but I don’t recognize most of the names,’ I admit. ‘There might be some faculty pretending to be rebels because Mon Mothma is on it. It might not be wise to go, especially since I have no idea what Nigel could be up to.’

‘A few of your friends playing at being rebels doesn’t concern me, Maia, and I told you before I would take care of that irritating colleague of yours if need be. Don’t worry about this,’ Vader reassures me. ‘I intend to fully enjoy the evening with you.’

He picks up the pen again and resumes his drawing. I wish I had some of his confidence about this. Something tells me that tonight is probably not going to unfold as either of us expects it to.

With a sigh, I return my attention to my e-mail. Oddly there has been nothing for the last few days from my two mischievous friends in the Anthropology Department. Scrolling down and back a ways, I find a quick note from Rick and open it. One of his graduate students has infected his computer with a virus. Again. No more messages from him until it’s fixed. Well, Rick and Bill will be at the party, no doubt, and in some sort of matched costumes, too. I hide a smile. It should be very interesting to see how the Sith Lord reacts to my oldest and dearest friends.

My next worry is transport. Now there is a problem. My car is not reliable at the moment and I can’t risk a breakdown, not when Vader will be with me. There is Marcus’ Porsche which is stored in the shed next to the workshop. I pull open the top drawer of my desk. The keys are right where I left them, and Marcus did say I should drive it a bit while he is away. Somehow I don’t think he intended me to take it outside of the observatory’s boundaries, though. Well, he is in Germany and I am here, so I’ll tell him when he gets back that I borrowed his car for a longer trip.

I take a look at the time. About two hours are left before we should go and I need to gather up my dress and small make-up bag from my apartment, too. The Dark Lord is still occupied with his drafting, but there is no need for him to go with me on this errand. He can stay and work until I am ready to go.

‘My Lord,’ I say to get his attention again.

The pen is set down while he waits for me to continue.

‘I will need some time to gather up what I will be taking with me. You can stay here and work while I do that. When I am ready, I will come in and get you,’ I tell him.

‘As you wish, my Lady,’ he replies, ‘I will come look for you if I finish before you return.’

His attention is back on whatever he is drafting, so I pocket the Porsche keys and head to my apartment. It should only take a few minutes to get what I need. What I really want is some time alone to think about what happened on our hike.

The make-up bag with my contacts is right where I left it in the bathroom, and a rummage in my closet produces a cover for my dress. It takes a few minutes to find the black, flat leather shoes and the fitted black belt that I want, so I toss those in with my silk gown. My old foil rolls out onto the floor as I dig about on the closet floor for my jewelry box. Good thing the Sith Lord hasn’t seen that, I decide, as I grab the beat-up old blade and stuff it out of sight again. There is no way I would ever want to go up against him, not even for practice. I finally find the box in question, pull out the necklace and earrings that I want, and put them in with my make-up. Everything I plan on taking, I set out on the end of the couch. Time for a short think and rest now, before I go and collect my date for tonight.

I pull off what I wore for the hike and wrap my robe around me. This afternoon we will be in the lab and I will put a set of work clothes on just before I leave my apartment. Curling up on the bed, I start to think about the day’s events thus far. Why is the Sith Lord acting the way he is? Possessive, he is being very possessive of me, and the way he has been flirting with me - he has been very forward with me today. If I didn’t know better, I would suspect that he is genuinely interested in me and not just playing a game. Well, this is a puzzle to work away at later and I have about an hour left for a nap. I set the alarm and let myself drift.

A few minutes later, I wake with a start, and open my eyes to see two bright blue ones an inch or two from my own. He’s back again; my dream lover is back. We stare at one another for a minute, then he moves nearer and his lips touch my own. I reach up and pull him in closer, then give a tug and haul him over and onto the bed.

‘Playful are you?’ he asks me.

I smile and tackle him, pinning him beneath me on the bed. My turn, I think, as I kiss him myself. He parts his lips to mine and I hesitate, not sure what to do next. When he lightly brushes my lips with his tongue, I decide to follow his lead and open my mouth to him. Sure enough, he proceeds to kiss me in a way I have never experienced before now. This is just a bit too much for me, and I try to get away, but he stops me by holding my face to his. When I am finally released, I pull away from him, and make a move to escape off the bed. I definitely do not like being kissed like that. He grabs me next and holds me down.

‘Stop that,’ he commands, ‘You are mine, Maia, and I want you.’

He tries to kiss me again and I twist my head aside, refusing to let him.

‘Stubborn, now, are you?’ he teases. ‘Perhaps I should kiss you somewhere else then.’

‘Not a chance,’ I tell him, annoyed and a bit shocked at what he was implying.

‘No more deep kisses, then,’ he concedes.

I eye him suspiciously. Alright, if he behaves, I will let him kiss me. He sees my change in heart and his lips touch mine again, but he makes no attempt to push my mouth open. His kiss is gentle, sweet, like it was last night, so I wrap my arms around his back and pull him in close to me. When he finally breaks away, he moves and lays down by my side, rests his head on my shoulder and sighs.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask him.

‘I want you, my wife, but cannot have you,’ he admits, ‘not again, not until you have healed.’

‘Wife?’ I question, curious. Why is my dream lover calling me his wife?

‘You are my wife, Maia,’ he tells me, shifting to rest on an elbow, then looking into my face, and gently taking my left hand in his, ‘my wife by ancient Sith ritual. You swore the proper oath to me, I accepted it, and we have consummated the marriage as both law and tradition demand we do.’

‘Your wife?’ I ask, again, bewildered now.

‘Yes,’ he confirms, ‘my wife.’

I stay silent, watching him, and trying to process what he has just told me. His wife? He seems to be completely serious about this.

‘I can’t be,’ I tell him.

This is some bizarre dream, I decide.

‘Yes, you are,’ he says, ‘and there is no point in arguing with me, Maia. You are my wife, by oath and by body. All that remains is to take you back to the Empire with me and have you recognized as my consort.’

‘You can’t do that,’ I argue back. ‘That’s not possible.’

Why am I arguing with someone who exists only in my dreams?

‘So sure are you?’ he teases.

This dream is getting stranger and stranger as it goes along.

‘This is just a weird dream I am having,’ I state, denying everything he has told me. ‘You aren’t real, and I am definitely not your wife.’

That produces a peal of laughter from him and a quick kiss to my forehead.

‘Believe what you like, my stubborn little wife, you will know the truth all too soon,’ he tells me. ‘Now it is time for me to go and for you to sleep for a few minutes.’

He sits up on the bed beside me and looks straight into my eyes.

‘Look in my eyes, Maia,’ he orders.

I can’t pull my gaze away from him, much as I try to.

‘I am just a dream, Maia, only a dream,’ he suggests, using that odd tone of voice. ‘Now, sleep, my love, sleep until I call you.’

Sleep sounds like a good idea, so I close my eyes and let myself dream a bit.

‘Maia, wake up,’ the Sith Lord tells me. ‘We need to leave soon, and you can’t sleep all afternoon.’

I open my eyes and see him sitting beside me on the bed. Oh. How long has he been there? A glance at the clock reveals that the alarm is due to go off in another few minutes. Well, he has good timing at least and I would rather a wake up call from him than the annoying beeping of the alarm clock any day. I reach over and disable the alarm. As I do, I realize that my robe has slipped a bit and that Vader has had the opportunity to look at my chest, if he were so inclined to. Embarrassed, I pull the robe closed and sit up. He makes no comment, nor gives any sign that he had even noticed my slight state of undress. Not that he would anyway, I think to myself. Wearing a mask does have advantages.

Once it is obvious I am not going to fall asleep again the Sith Lord gets off of the bed and goes into the living room, I assume, to wait while I get dressed. What to wear? I settle on a warm pair of light blue pants, a white shirt and my warm sweater with the blue and green geometric patterns. There is a lab coat in at the university, so I leave the spare one here and step into the living room myself.

Vader is in his chair, feet propped up, relaxing. I need to eat so my next stop is the kitchen. Ten minutes later, I have a mug of tea, sandwiches and a few munchies in front of me on the coffee table. My mind is busy while I eat and I cast a few sneaky glances over at my date for the party. Why did I have another dream with him in it? It’s not like I haven’t dreamt of the Sith Lord before, but nothing as vivid, as real as last night or today. Bizarre, I decide. Maybe having him close is affecting my mind.

***

Maia’s trying to be inconspicuous with her looks, but it isn’t working.

‘What’s wrong, Maia?’ I ask.

She ignores my question and concentrates on the drink in her hands. Before she can take another sip, I reach over and take the cup from her with one hand while turning her face towards me with the other.

‘Something is obviously bothering you,’ I note, ‘and I am sure that it has to do with me.’

Maia just stares at me, refusing to answer. Perhaps I should not have used illusion to visit her a second time. It has obviously unsettled her.

‘Well, what is it?’ I prod.

‘You’re leaving tonight,’ she states, hoping to deflect my inquiry.

‘And?’ I prompt.

‘I wish you would stay here with me instead,’ she blurts out.

I release her and sit back in my chair, surprised by what she has said. She wants me to stay here? With her?

This is the second time she has made this offer.

I see her expression change, her eyes shut, the tears threatening. Then one slides down her face and she is off, fleeing from my presence into the kitchen. A door opens, shuts, and I know she has gone into the room with the educational displays to hide.

I let her go, giving her the time alone she needs to deal with her conflicted emotions. She’s been fighting with herself for the last two days, refusing to admit what is so obvious to me. Despite her juvenile behavior, I know her love for me runs very deep and the prospect of losing me is hard for her to deal with. But I can’t tell her the truth just yet. Not when she might refuse to leave with me.

After a few minutes, I get up and see to my needs in the ‘fresher. Her mirror reflects my mask back at me, so I stop and stare a few minutes.

My mask. My prison.

If only I could stay with her here, leave the Empire, leave the darkness, leave behind everything about my life I despise.

But there is no choice for me in this. There is no place for me here. Kenobi saw to that. My life support systems are more advanced than any of their technology.

I can’t stay here.

And neither can she.

She is my wife. She will bear my son. She belongs with me, at my side.

If I am going to keep her, I will have to take her with me: if she is going to keep me, she will have to come with me.

There is no other choice.

Not for me, not for her.

Not for us.

***

Stumbling blindly down the stairs, I decide I don’t care that I am acting half my age and have just made a complete spectacle of myself by running away. I love him and it hurts to know that I will lose him forever tonight. Alone, beside the galactic maps, I let some of my control go and the tears rapidly fall. I am still there when the Sith Lord eventually comes to find me. He says not a word as he wraps me in his arms, just silently holds me until I am able to speak again.

‘It’s not fair,’ I tell him, ‘You can’t stay here, and I can’t go with you.’

‘Your offer, I must be honest, is tempting,’ he admits, ‘but I can’t stay, Maia, even if I wanted to. The medical technology here, from what little I have seen, is probably too primitive to deal with my life support systems.’

‘And I can’t go,’ I concede, ‘you can’t get two in your fighter. There’s not enough room or air.’

He is silent at my statement, and I guess I just told him something totally obvious. Well, he is holding me now so I will take advantage of that. I quietly snuggle in as tight as I can and rest my cheek against the soft material of his robes. His even breathing soothes my nerves a bit.

We need to go, I finally decide after five or ten minutes. I feel calmer after being in his arms, and better now that my foolish, childish crying spell is done with. There will be not be another one today, not until after he has left and I am alone. Love can be undeniably cruel. I shift a bit in his arms to look up at his mask.

‘My Lord, I am ready to go now,’ I quietly tell him, reverting to the formal address again.

***

‘Then, my Lady, we shall go,’ I agree.

I could leave now, there is no reason to go to this party of hers, but I am curious about her world outside of the observatory and this is one way I can see some of it.

And I want her last memories of her home to be pleasant ones.

I guide her back up the stairs to her quarters. She is a touch unsteady, still held by the weeping spell she just let out. Maia is grieving, though she does not realize it, for the homeworld her subconscious mind knows she will lose. For the home I told her I would take her from.

It takes but a moment for her to wash her face, and regain her composure.

She gathers up her dress and make-up bag, throws on a jacket and grabs a bag with all the odds and ends women tend to pack around with them. I take the dress from her and hold it aloft, keeping it clear of the ground as I follow her to our transportation.

Maia stops outside the workshop, in front of a door she has never opened in my presence. I watch her unlock the door, slide it up, revealing some sort of vehicle hidden by a cloth cover.

Do they have ‘speeders here? If they do, then their technology is more advanced than I thought and what she described.

But no, when she pulls the cover off, it reveals a wheeled ‘car’ as she called it. While she stows her bags and the dress, I walk around it, studying the lines and engineering. I wonder how it is powered and controlled, what the engine is like. My fingers itch at the prospect of taking it apart, discovering any secrets which might be hidden there.

‘Porsche 911,’ Maia tells me, when she sees me run a finger along the back, where the engine is, ‘Sportscar. Powered by fossil fuels in an internal combustion engine. Very fast, but I have no intentions of getting caught speeding. It belongs to a colleague who told me I could drive it a bit while he’s out of the country. Hop in and let’s get going.’

Fossil fuels. Internal combustion. How primitive. And ‘fast’ is a relative measure. I doubt this car of hers can go anywhere near the speeds the simplest and slowest air speeders can.

I stand by the door she has opened for me and watch her struggles with the safety harness. This is not going to be easy. Somehow I manage to get in, but my attempts to match her feat and strap myself in are unsuccessful. There is just not enough room to move the way I need to.

Finally Maia decides to do something about it. She releases herself, gets out and comes around to help me. Waving my hands out of the way, she pulls the shoulder harness down first, holds the center plate at my waist and starts snapping the belts in. There is only one thing left to do now.

‘My apologies, my Lord, for being a touch familiar,’ she tells me, as she folds my cloak and robes out of the way and snaps the last belt, the one anchored between my legs into place. ‘Don’t hit the quick release on the harness,’ she warns, ‘because it will be a nuisance to buckle you in again.’

After my efforts to see to it myself, I have to agree with her.

With that, she closes the door, returns to her seat, straps in again and starts the car.

I watch what she does closely, determined to figure out how she is controlling our speed and direction. Maia must have noticed my curiosity because she stops and looks over at me.

‘Would you like a quick driving lesson, my Lord?’ she asks.

‘Of course,’ I confess.

From what I have already seen her do, it looks fairly easy.

‘These two dials, you need to watch,’ she instructs, pointing to two round indicators marked with lines and what must be numbers. ‘This one is for speed, the other one, engine revolutions. You need to shift gears when that one gets close to the red section.’

‘Gearing is a concept I understand,’ I admit.

Maia looks a bit surprised at that, but only nods in answer.

‘You control that with a foot pedal,’ she points to the outermost one on the floor which she has shoved all the way down at the moment, ‘and the gearshift in the center here. There are five forward gears and one for reverse. It’s in first, the lowest forward gear, at the moment.’

She shifts through the different positions, naming them as she goes and showing me how to use the ‘clutch’.

‘Brakes and speed control?’ I ask.

‘This pedal here is for braking,’ she answers, pointing to the one in the center, the one her right foot is on, ‘the other is used to control speed by regulating the amount of fuel to the engine.’

‘And the wheel is for directing it,’ I note, having observed how the car responded to her moving this.

Another nod in answer.

‘May I try driving it?’ I ask.

She’s not sure if that is a good idea or not, judging from the fleeting expressions on her face.

‘I suppose,’ Maia finally decides. ‘You can drive it around the parking lot. We can’t get into too much trouble there.’

It takes a few minutes to swap positions.

I set one hand on the wheel, check that I am sure I am familiar with where everything is, and drop it into gear. It steers easily, responds to the slightest of turns. This is simple enough, so I increase the speed, being sure to shift up a gear when the indicator moves into the red. When I am certain I know what the car can do, I stop and look over at Maia.

‘You’re a quick study,’ she notes, then offers. ‘You could drive it out to the security gates, if you like, since the private road between here and there isn’t patrolled.’

This is an opportunity I won’t pass up. I steer the car onto the paved road and when Maia makes no objections, increase its speed.

‘How fast can it go?’ I ask, curious.

‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘Marcus likes to test it on a racetrack. Any time I have driven it, I have been on public roads where the speed is strictly regulated, and in some places, monitored.’

I think for a few seconds. Why don’t I find out what I can do with it? From what I can see, there’s a fair distance between here and the security gate.

‘Let’s see how fast it can go,’ I decide.

Maia looks over at me and I can just imagine what she’s thinking. As I shove the fuel control to the floor, she grabs onto the door handle and hangs on tight as the acceleration pushes us back into the seats. When the engine starts to scream, I shift the gear up a notch. Not bad for a combustion engine, I note. It’s unfortunate I don’t have the time to take it apart and study it.

The section of road closest to the observatory is flat and straight, so for the next few minutes, I go as fast as I can safely get away with. I slow before reaching the sharp corner halfway to the gates, but still end up in a sideways skid. Somehow I stay on the pavement and keep going. The last bit of road is slightly winding so I whip the wheel back and forth around the curves, without slowing or touching the brakes at all.

This is great fun. The most fun I have had in a long, long time.

Once the gates are in sight, I slow down to a more reasonable speed and look over at Maia for her comment. She is paler than I have ever seen her and appears to be a bit ill.

‘You are a lunatic,’ she states.

‘You enjoyed that, so why don’t you just admit it,’ I tease her.

She gives me an annoyed look at that observation.

‘It’s a good thing I have to be the one driving it the rest of the way,’ she tells me. ‘The way you drive, we would probably be stopped by the police, and I don’t think your Imperial pilot’s licence would impress them very much.’

I chuckle a little as we stop at the security gates. She is probably ready to kill me for making her a bit motion sick. That was fun, though, even if I did miss a gear and stress the engine a few times. At least I now know exactly what this car can do.

I will be sure to acquire a similar vehicle for my collection the next time I am at Imperial Center.

***

Part 3

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