Fortress Vader

Twenty-four - Logomachy

"You always call the old Techno Union facility your 'father's complex.' Why?"

I frown deeply and stutter a moment, trying to understand what he wants to know. We don't talk about personal things.

"I don't know, I relate it to him, I suppose."

"Not because it was built specifically for his work?"

"Oh. Maybe," I shrug. "If you're asking what he did, I assumed you already knew. Surely you did a background check on me."

He lets out a small snort, and his lips reveal...more humor. Something in my chest flutters.

"There are no records of you, Kitten. Your father erased you from existence."

"What?" I sputter out. "Why would he do that?" It feels like a punch to the gut.

He sighs, looking vaguely uncomfortable all of a sudden. "You know the answer to that, little one." I close my eyes, but he doesn't give me time to roll it over in my mind.

"I was suspicious when you fixed my circuit that day, because not only are they touchy to the point of scaring professionals off, it's difficult work." I was under the impression he had no idea what I'd done. Actually, I had banked on it. "You told me your father worked there, so I dug until I found a personal communication talking about a doctor. It said something like: it's not hard to pick him out in a crowd because his daughter is never far from him."

He focuses on me, and likely sees the pain his words cause me. I miss my father. He had many, many flaws, but we loved each other, and he did what he could to give me a decent life. It just hurts to remember something so specific. I was his shadow before I became Vader's, and I don't even know how he died. I don't even know if he died. I've tried looking for him, but he just...vanished.

"He did the right thing, Kitten," he says softly. His tone is not kind but...it's close. "The Emperor would have come for you. And he was wise to teach you, regardless of his anxieties of you catching attention, because if Palpatine had found you and you didn't have the skills he expected, you would have been discarded." There is a burn behind my eyes that I'm trying very hard to reverse. I won't cry in front of this man.

"He didn't teach me," I whisper after a breath. "But he must have known I watched."

He looks to be pondering the words. I suppose I understand. He is right, plenty of professionals in my father's industry refuse to work with his inventions. People attend intense training and apprenticeships to learn how to properly work with the volatile mechanics, and here is a girl who learned as a child. I never really thought too much about it; it's like second nature to me.

"Why are you telling me this?"

He blinks three times before appearing perplexed. Despite my inner conflict, I soften at his expression. "I don't know. You seemed offended by your father's choice. I don't know," he says again, shaking his head as if to clear it. I watch his hair move with him and have the urge to run my fingers through it. The dark, wavy locks are long, scraping his shoulders.

"But my point is, you have the skills to do something most cannot even understand."

"It isn't difficult, sir. You just have to understand all the components."

"Point zero one degree off, and the entire thing would have been useless." Ah, so he's tried to learn. Coming to me must be his last option.

"Precisely. If you understand the boundaries and restrictions, and most importantly the why, it's not difficult. Complicated and tedious, yes, but I'd save the word difficult for creating things like it." Honestly, I'm proud of my father's work. It can be used for almost anything with a few tweaks. And it is a good thing it's difficult to work with too, because the parts are cheap and can be made into dangerous weapons in the wrong hands.