Though Darth Vader was hardly one to judge on matters of elegance and statecraft, what he'd seen thus far of Noreino House hadn't impressed him. But he supposed not every architect had the aesthetic sense of the builders on Naboo.
Which was a poor choice of comparison, considering his personal history. He clenched his teeth together so tightly he felt a muscle jump in his jaw, shunting the memories away before they could overcome him. He was harried by recent prior experience. When it came to the distant past, the last few days since his arrival on Onderon had not been pleasant.
Vader went wherever his Master deemed he would be of the greatest use. Sometimes that was a dull military function, making an unexpected entrance to frighten the disgruntled fleet commanders attending into submission. Sometimes that was a distant and equally disgruntled planet no one would miss, quelling rebel insurgencies with a blunter touch.
This mission was blend of both, but not an enormous deviation from routine. He couldn't understand why his senses were constantly primed and alert, darting out at the slightest provocation.
Vader was self-aware enough to know that on a level deeper than conscious intuition, he was searching for something. The nameless itch filled his nights with dreams he never remembered by morning, and his waking hours with visions that rose like heat devils off the city around him. The images he saw shadowed what was with what could've been – and, more worrisome still, what could still be – but trying to drag it out into the open for analysis was an exercise in futility. He hated that.
Vader picked up the pace down the long hallway; between his long strides and the added power of his life-support suit, the Noreino guards escorting him were forced to scramble to match him. He had to find that rogue Jedi before he snapped and acted without thinking for the secrecy of Project Archetype. Something important was happening on Onderon that went beyond his Master's machinations, and he was desperate to find out what. His peace of mind depended on it.
Peace, no. I don't want peace. Peace is the Jedi way. I want my control back, he thought, smiling beneath his helmet. The Force resonated with the truth of it.
"... made a grave error in underestimating him. I'm not surprised she was caught in his wiles; a young girl like that can be quite impressionable. That could prove useful for us, when she's a little older."
Vader felt the inflection of the words more than he heard it. He was near enough to Zakhan Noreino's office now that he was picking up on the heated conversation inside, filtering the two voices into his mind without conscious effort.
A woman spoke next, and her outrage exploded in the Force like rounds of live ammunition. "Are you implying my daughter would be so easily ensnared by–"
"Enough," Zakhan interrupted. His disinterest covered a deeper anxiety. "I've instructed Dakharen to recover the stolen information. That will be the end of this."
"If he's clever enough to alter a code cylinder without compromising its primary function, he will suspect something," she said with impressive restraint, though the mental storm beneath had abated only a little.
Vader wondered, briefly, whom they were speaking of. The name Dakharen struck him, but Onde'er was not so phonetically complex a language it made overlap with other cultures' naming conventions impossible. His interest passed quickly when the Force was unforthcoming in providing an answer. He had more important things to dwell on than the finer workings of House politics.
"Dakharen has been given documents with false leads to leave in their place. He trusts the old servant, but even he is not aware Dakharen has his private codes. He'll never know anything is amiss, and our business dealings will go ahead as–"
Vader summoned the Force, bypassing the locking mechanism and opening the door. He crossed the reception area without pause or ceremony, barely breaking his stride enough to let the guards or the secretary get a word in before he moved into the office beyond. Shaken by Vader's forced entry, the squad leader announced him so faintly her voice was nearly eclipsed by his respirator.
Zakhan Noreino greeted him with a nod, but the woman he was speaking with – a strikingly tall figure with tan skin and sharp dark eyes dressed in the traditional Onderonian style – gave him only a coldly cordial look.
The light was low, but broad gestures would translate well enough. Vader hooked his hands over his belt, within easy reach of his lightsaber. "Leave us."
She hesitated, weighing the threat, and examined Vader with a critical eye. The Lord Imperator motioned to the door before her indecision could start to annoy Vader too much. "Lady Arahlee, if you'd be so kind..."
"Lord Vader," she said quietly. Then, with a swish of her tunic, she was gone. Unwilling to risk Vader's wrath, the guards followed after her.
"Forgive Lady Arahlee her stubbornness, Lord Vader," Zakhan said. "The other Great Houses aren't accustomed to feeling the Emperor's presence so... keenly on Onderon, and we were not expecting you to join us here today."
"I don't really care for your petty schemes, Lord Imperator," Vader broke in, bored already, "though I'd counsel you to invest in more effective soundproofing."
"Yes, well, uh... right. May I ask why you've come?"'
"I'd think the reason for my visit would be clear. The investigation at the auction house is at a standstill, and the rogue Jedi is still at large. With the spaceports locked down and blockade of dreadnoughts in orbit, I can only assume your Elites' incompetence is to blame."
"Common troopers are worth very little against a Jedi, as you've consistently reminded us." Zakhan gave a sudden smile, and satisfaction rose off him like a bad smell. "But management of the Elites was your responsibility, Lord Vader; you even drew additional troops from the outlying villages. The blame does not rest with me."
Vader really, really wished the Emperor hadn't made him promise to leave Zakhan alive and unharmed. He made up for it by mouthing a few particularly nasty Huttese curses at him, careful to put no sound behind them lest his modulator amplify them to full volume. It was a petty thing, more reminiscent of the person he'd once been than the person he was now, but it did burn off the excess anger.
"I cannot expect you, or even one of the Elites, to understand the true subtleties of tracking a person with their presence in the Force alone. I've been searching for the Jedi ceaselessly. What have you done to appease the Emperor?"
Zakhan was silent, considering this, and Vader grinned. His Master inspired as much fear as he did awe, which gave Vader the opportunity to turn others' loyalty into a trap. By highlighting his achievements and inviting an opponent to do the same, he could bait them into revealing their disloyalty or their incompetence as they struggled to find proof to justify their patriotism.
Zakhan did neither. "I could ask you the same. A man of your talents, Lord Vader, sequestered away meditating? I think Emperor Serenno intended you to be a little less passive, when he sent you here to reinforce us."
Vader snarled silently at him before answering in the most even tone he could manage. "The Force will guide me to the Jedi at the proper place and time. As of now, locating answers has been... difficult."
"Then perhaps it is not will of the Force for you to find them."
"Do not mock me," Vader bit out. "You forget yourself, Lord Imperator. I have the Emperor's ear above all others, and you have only risen to power through years of careful planning on his behalf. Project Archetype – and all the wealth and privilege you have achieved by leading it – can just as easily pass to another."
It was a bluff, and an obvious one; the man was critical in determining the project's feasibility and longevity on a larger scale. But Vader had struck a weak spot, and Zakhan instantly changed his tune to defend it. "That will not be necessary. The Jedi poses a minimal threat to my leadership, but I welcome your insight to do away with it, Lord Vader. I am at your disposal with anything you require."
Pathetic. "Your subservience is all well and good," Vader said disdainfully, "but it creates another problem. You lack imagination when it comes to producing results, relying on the framework others have laid before you."
Zakhan bristled, but said nothing. Good, Vader thought, you've remembered your place. Now I don't need to waste time wondering how to kill you and make my Master think it was an accident.
"And if the Jedi has somehow fled the system?"
Vader leaned closer to Zakhan, towering over him. He made a grabbing motion a few inches before Zakhan's face, and he smiled when Zakhan recoiled in fear of a Force choke. "If the Jedi has left the Kyzeron region, then we must draw them back. If they are here, then we must draw them out," he said.
He unclenched his fist to point sharply between the Lord Imperator's eyes, then withdrew, walking to the window behind the stately wooden desk. He gave the cityscape beyond a cursory glance, his arms crossed behind his back, before turning to face Zakhan again so abruptly the other man made a startled noise. "We will squeeze Onderon until someone reveals the whereabouts of the Jedi traitor who dares to defy my Master's will, or they reveal themself."
"You believe the suffering of others will make a suitable lure?"
"This Jedi dispatches their enemies less discriminately than the old doctrines dictated, but they're still driven by compassion. They pushed the slaves to attack out of empathy for their plight as much as a need to avenge their fallen sister."
Zakhan stood straighter, an echo of his military background, and nodded sternly. "I will increase my efforts to... brutalize the commoners into submission."
"Have your troops conduct routine searches and ID checks in the Kyzeron slums and slave quarters. I want a curfew over the entire region, and no one leaves their cities save on Imperial business. Restrict civilian comm usage to the lower band and charge an exorbitant fee for long-distance transmissions. Limit rations and other handouts to the bare minimum, but offer to double them for those with information on the instigator of the auction house riot."
The Lord Imperator's normally ruddy complexion paled three full shades. Vader smiled, relishing in his fear. But his dark satisfaction faded when beneath the thundering storm of the dark side, he felt a thirst so deep it turned the very marrow in his bones to dust. The old lessons of parched soil and lifeless sand urged him to remember when he'd lived under the same conditions he now sought to impose.
Vader listened. And he let them inspire him. "And if that doesn't work," he finished, "start rationing their water."
Anakin – Vader winced to think the name – had been the one who would bring the rain, the one with dreams to bring about times of plenty that made the galaxy a better place. Vader had the same dream, but he knew now it would take more than water to make the rot-riddled soil of the galaxy fruitful again. The Empire needed a rain of blood to secure its legacy, and that was what Vader would give it.
After all, he had nothing else left to fight for.
Padmé Amidala and the child in her womb were dead; the ship bearing them into exile had fallen under Rebel attack nearly a year and a half before. In the space of a heartbeat, they'd been scattered into atoms, and he'd been robbed of the right to call himself a father and husband – titles he'd wanted more than Master on the Jedi Council, or even Dark Lord of the Sith.
Obi-Wan and Cody were lost to him, dead or – if the Force had favored them – marooned on a habitable world far beyond the Empire's reach. Ahsoka was...
Perhaps that was why he was so drawn to the anomalous nexus in the Force. His quarry's presence slipped through his fingers just when he was certain he'd cornered it, but simple intuition told him that beyond their shields, the rogue Jedi was hiding a power that complemented his. They matched, or had the potential to – and Vader had never felt that connection between warriors with anyone but her.
Vader started. Could it be? Had the Force finally rewarded him for his toils by returning one lost loved one to him?
No, he thought, shaking himself. She would never expose herself so foolishly. Anakin Skywalker hadn't trained her to run away, but he had trained her to survive in a galaxy that would not treat her kindly. Jedi who fought back against the Empire lost their lives. Those who complied only lost their midichlorians.
"Have you any other suggestions?" Zakhan asked, folding his hands against his front with forced primness. This was not a man accustomed to subservience, but he knew now that Vader wouldn't tolerate anything less.
"Not for the moment," Vader said, and banished Ahsoka's face from his mind. Another rose unexpectedly to take its place – and it was one he'd seen before, in passing, in his waking meditations.
Come to think of it, he'd not seen hide or hair of Zakhan's successor since his arrival – a detail that would certainly be of interest to the Emperor, now that the boy was of age. Vader opened his mouth to ask after him only to close it again when the Force shifted, disturbed by the approaching presence of Darred Rehin.
Vader had left the skittish lieutenant – whom he'd commandeered as his unofficial assistant – instructions to relay the latest report on the Elite search grid to him as soon as it reached the Imperial garrison. Though he wasn't in the practice of telling his subordinates his plans, he'd also made Rehin aware of his visit Noreino House in advance. Rehin, blessedly, was bright enough to deduce he'd only been given that piece of information so he could bring Vader the report in person – before anyone else had the chance to tamper with it.
Of course, doing so completely cut Major General Acesto out of the chain of command. But the Imperial system encouraged competition. He had every faith she'd make up for her bruised pride in due time.
Vader turned as the door slid open to admit Rehin, his arms filled with datapads. The secretary didn't get to make any introductions this time, either.
"Lord Vader, Lord Noreino," Rehin said, with decorum Vader very nearly snickered at; it must've been practiced in advance.
"Is this the office of a school club or of the Lord Imperator?" Zakhan snarled. Rehin was by no means a proxy for Vader, but any target for his pent-up frustration that couldn't talk back without risking a court-martial was a good one. Thanks to his place at his Master's side, Vader had no such weaknesses.
Rehin cowered, taking a step back before finding Vader with his eyes. Remembering he had an excuse for being there, he hurried forward and passed Vader a 'pad off the top of the pile. "Begging your pardon, but Lord Vader instructed me to give him news of the Elites' search as soon as it arrived. I also have an urgent communiqué from Major General Acesto about security in the outer villages."
"So you see, Lord Imperator," Vader said, sensing an opportunity to finally put this silly politicking behind him, "my methods are not as 'passive' as a cursory glance would have you believe. You would do well not to doubt me."
Zakhan's anger grew heavier in the Force, weighed down by the inevitability of the situation. He knew Vader was untouchable – and Vader reveled in it.
Questioning Zakhan about his absent son could wait. Motioning for Rehin to follow, Vader left the room. "What does the major general find so critical about some insignificant villages?" he asked once they were out of earshot.
"There's been some unrest after a controversial Noreino publicity campaign. Nothing too serious, my lord, but she's hoping to take some Elites from the auction house task force to keep the peace."
Vader had guessed as much as soon as he'd heard the major general had sent him a message. Elite storm troopers were versatile, but above all else they were a symbol. They could block attacks before they saw them coming, sense rebellious thoughts, and perform physical feats that defied nature. As far as most civilians knew, the Elites were a force several hundred thousand strong with the same powers Jedi had – but instead of keeping the peace, they enforced martial law.
Vader thought the two were one and the same, in the new Imperial system. But perhaps the difference lay in perception. Where the Jedi had been exalted for their kindness and mercy, the Elites were feared for their ruthless obedience. And they were just as effective on Onderon as anywhere else.
However, Project Archetype had given Onderon strategic importance that transcended normal parameters. It troubled him that the Elites were spread so thin here they couldn't be mobilized longer than a few days to deal with a crisis.
That was either a sign of sloppy management of resources, or of a greater unrest the nobility and Great Houses were trying to keep hidden. Either way, Vader had a feeling the upper echelons of the Imperial garrison – as well as the situation in those outlying villages – merited some additional scrutiny. Perhaps he wasn't quite finished with politics after all.
"Inform her the Elites' chief concern is elsewhere," he said at last, powering up the datapad in his hand and beginning to read. "A few locals questioning Noreino authority are no concern of mine. If she wants to maintain order on a domestic level, she should encourage her troops to double their efforts. If she does not... perhaps I can find new ways to motivate them."
It was heavy-handed, but Vader's reputation preceded him; the threat would still be an effective one. Rehin blinked beside him, and a momentary flicker of fear coursed through his shockingly blue eyes. Then, he nodded, and fished a stylus out of the pile to transcribe Vader's response.
The sword of destiny is double-edged. Vader thinks his cause is a righteous one, because he is bringing security and justice to the new Empire, and because he's striving toward the one thing Sith are meant to crave above all others: power. However, feelings for loved ones long gone linger, and the past is never far behind him. What happened between Vader and Ahsoka that makes him hesitate to remember her? Has he dismissed his hope that Ahsoka will come back to him? What will come of the intrigues he was briefly ensnared in today? Only time will tell...
And here, ladies and gentlemen, we have a classic example of two military men trying to play politics and blundering a lot. In sum:
Zakhan, yelling at subordinates because Vader outranks him:
Vader, who answers to nobody but Dooku:
This chapter was great fun, because I'm starting to feel like I've gotten a better sense of Vader's headspace (helped in part with finding as many places as possible to reference some of his more iconic lines in the shows and movies). It was an exercise in dramatic irony – which there will be a LOT OF in this book –, notably in how close Vader comes to pinpointing critical things before dismissing them as unimportant. It was also fun to see him roast Zakhan for mooching off the Emperor's schemes, when Dooku is technically doing the same for the groundwork Palpatine already lay...
... but it's gonna be awhile before anyone figures that out.
I'd like to give a BIG shoutout to Fialleril, whose works on AO3 about Anakin and Tatooine slave culture have been such a huge inspiration to me for this fic. A bit of an obscure reference, but in Fialleril's Tatooine slave language, the name Anakin roughly translates to 'the one who will bring the rain'. I wanted to give credit where credit is due.
I'd also like to make a note that in my canon, Onde'er corresponds to the language spoken by people on Onderon, but the people themselves and elements of their culture are called Onderonian. I hope that's not gonna confuse anyone in the future!
Have a magical Monday, everyone. I'll talk to you in the next chapter!