Vader marched from the troop transport as the loading ramp lowered. His shuttle had already launched with the injured boy before the dark lord could join him. The last few moments on the transport stretched all his patience.
Lieutenant Piett approached him in the docking bay aboard the Super Star Destroyer Executor. From all outward appearances, he resembled one of the many boot-licking Coruscanti officers that dominated the Imperial fleet. Tall and fit with an air of competency, his short brown hair cut to regulations, his face molded to an emotionless canvas, Piett met or exceeded the ideal standards of an Imperial officer.
To rise in the ranks, each officer had to sell his soul and work deals with the Imperial Senators to obtain a commission. With such a selection process , a menagerie of fawning sycophants swelled the cadre. But there were a few talented officers, still. Many had already risen in ranks: Tarkin, Thrawn, Krennic. But this man Piett would exceed them all once he matured and given the right opportunities.
Very early in his career, Piett had learned how best to avoid Lord Vader's wrath, and that was never to report bad news as bad news. With his exact attention to this policy, Vader hoped the man would survive long enough to reach admiral.
"Lord Vader." The lieutenant tipped his head in a slight bow as required by Imperial protocol.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" Vader turned to the officer on his left.
"The boy." Sweat glistened on the man's forehead at the brim of his cap. "He has no identity."
"What do you mean? He must be in the Imperial databases." Vader towered over the man, causing him to shrink back.
The lieutenant pressed his datapad and then swiped a few times. He held the datapad to the Sith Lord. "There is no record of his birth. However, we have determined his parentage based on his DNA sample-"
Vader turned on Piett, waving the datapad away from his face. "Destroy those records, Lieutenant. No one else is to know who he is."
Piett swallowed. A nervous tick began near his eye. "Yes, my lord."
Vader strode off, leaving his attaché in his wake.
When Vader reached the medical bay, he found a Two-One Bee medical droid and two doctors attending to the boy. The Sith Lord stood outside, observing the procedures through the observation window. The droid did not waver, but both doctors shuddered when the dark lord's silhouette appeared on the bulkhead.
After many hours, the team transferred the boy to a recovery room. Vader followed them, his heavy steps and mechanical breathing announcing his presence immediately.
"Will he live?" The Sith Lord toward over him, threatening.
The lead medic said with a tremble, "Yes, my lord."
"Very well, you will live today, too, doctor."
Both doctors in the room breathed a sigh.
"Leave us."
The medical officers hurried from the room, closing the hatch behind them.
Vader knelt down, his mechanical knees thumping the deck with a loud thud beside the bed.
The boy lay unconscious. Whether from the drugs or his injuries, Vader did not know.
Bandages covered the boy's brow and stitches trailed down his cheek. It would be a few days before the boy could endure a Bacta tank. I just hope the scars fade.
Vader grabbed the boy's right hand with his own gloved right hand, gently squeezing it, wishing his flesh could touch his son's flesh. Not for the first time, he wished he had his own hands, his own legs, his own everything. Padmé, you were right. I wish you could see our son. Our son.
He brushed his left hand over the boy's forehead, pushing a reluctant curl above the bandage. The Sith Lord spoke as softly as his respirator and voice module would allow. "Luke. My son. My angel's son."
Luke's eyes popped open, revealing a monstrous figure in a black mask leaning over his body. The boy jerked from side-to-side, trying to break free. He had no idea where he was or who that creature was. He only knew that just about everything hurt.
"Let me go," he mumbled with slurred words. "Please, let me go. I'll be good. I'll do as I'm told. Please, I want my Aunt Beru." Tears ran down his face.
Vader stroked the boy's head again with his black-gloved prosthetic.
The boy shrunk back in fear. "Please-don't hurt me."
"Shh. I would never hurt you. You're safe now." The man caressed the boy's forehead.
"Safe until you kill me, you mean," Luke said, remembering the fear his aunt and uncle had of him being captured. His eyes grew wide as recognition dawned. This is Vader. The Sith Lord. Anger swelled in the boy. All he wanted was revenge for never getting a chance to know his father. "Just like you did my father."
Vader shook his head and corrected with gentleness. "No, I am your father."
"No, that's not true. My daddy is dead. He died during the Clone Wars." This must be nightmare. I'll wake up at home, Uncle Owen upset with-
"Lies! They're all lies." Vader shoved the medical cart across the room.
The little boy pulled the covers up to his face, hiding himself from this beast's anger.
"I am so sick of all the lies." Vader paced to Luke, leaning his black mask into the little boy's scared face. The boy's blue eyes grew wide in terror. "Now, you would never lie to me, would you, Son?"
"No, I don't tell lies. I'd get whooped by Uncle Owen if I did." Luke cowered back into the pillow.
"You were hit? My son was hit?" Vader raged, throwing another medical device into the wall.
"No, I deserved it. I was a bad boy." The boy shook with fear. "It wasn't hard."
"When I get my hands on Lars . . ." Vader turned to Luke in anger once again.
"I promise I'll be good. Please don't hurt them. They're my family." Luke's voice cracked in fear.
Vader stiffened in silence.
"You're frightening me. I want my Aunt Beru." Luke cried in terror, his screams piercing through the bulkheads. The boy's medical monitors beeped incessantly as his heart rate increased and the boy hyperventilated in fear.
Vader reached out his hand, dragging a stool with the Force. He sat beside the bed. His voice resumed his hushed tones. "Shh. I'm sorry, Son. I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you." Vader stroked the boy's hair with his gloved hand.
Luke's breathing and heart rate returned to normal with those words. He could feel the emotions of this man so strongly. Now, he felt love from this man, love stronger than the anger he witnessed moments before, love even stronger than he had ever felt from his Aunt Beru.
He looked at the man, at the lights flashing on his chest plate and at the mask that hid his visage. He pointed at the blinking lights. "Why do you wear that?"
Vader looked down at his son's small hand. The boy's frame was slight for an eight-year-old. While the boy's face and hair resembled a younger Anakin, his build was all Padmé's.
He clasped the boy's hand in his and pressed it to him, letting him feel the plastic armor, the heat of the life-support lights on the chest plate, the tough fabric that encased him. "I fell into lava during a battle on Mustafar eight years ago."
Luke tilted his head, trying to understand. He could feel that this man was not telling him everything, but he was not trying to deceive him intentionally either. Protect me. That's it. He's trying to protect me.
"My legs, forearms, and hands are all mechanical."
"Like a droid's?" the boy asked with interest. He moved his hands across the man's arms, feeling where the flesh ended and the mechanics began.
"Yes, like a droid's." The man responded with something that almost sounded like a chuckle. "My lungs were burned and scarred by the hot fumes. The mask allows me to breathe. The chest plate maintains my vital systems. Does my suit scare you?"
"No, but your anger does." The boy reached his hand up, moving his fingers across the molding of the helmet. "Does it hurt?"
"I'm in constant pain, Son." Vader lowered his head so Luke could reach the top. "It hurts to breathe, but at least I'm breathing. It hurts to walk, but at least I'm walking. And pain has a way of focusing the power within."
"I'm sorry, fa . . ." Luke trailed off.
He looked at the man. All his life he had wanted a father, a daddy like the other kids had at Anchorhead. His uncle was a poor replacement. However, Luke was not sure he wanted this . . . beast.
"I can feel your uncertainty, Luke." Vader squared his body in front of the boy. "I can prove that you are my son."
Luke took a deep breath, wondering if he really wanted to know that information. Then he nodded his head "yes."
Vader reached over to the console behind him, activating the communication system. "Lieutenant Piett to the medical bay."
It seemed like only seconds before the hatch opened to reveal a man of average build in the dark uniform of an Imperial line officer holding a datapad in his left hand.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Lieutenant. You are as efficient as always. Shut the hatch."
Piett obeyed perfunctorily and stood ready for more orders.
"Lieutenant Piett, what you are about to learn cannot leave this room. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord." The lieutenant nodded.
"You are aware of this boy's parentage?"
Piett smiled faintly. "Yes, my lord. The blood test results have already been destroyed as you requested."
"Bring in a medical droid. I want them run again."
Piett's mouth opened in surprise.
Vader continued. "Then have its memory erased and the droid reprogrammed from a hard wipe."
"Of course, my lord." The lieutenant punched a few commands into the datapad.
A minute later, a Two-One Bee medical droid rolled through the hatch. The droid spoke in its metallic voice to Luke, "Extend your arm."
Luke obeyed, watching with interest as the droid's appendage withdrew blood from his arm.
In its synthetic voice, the droid asked, "How shall I label this sample?"
Piett looked at Vader for advice. When none came, Piett said, "Sample A. Analyze the blood with the orphan screening program."
The clangorous voice echoed in the small room. "Parentage verified. Mother-Padmé Naberrie Amidala of Naboo, deceased. Father-Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine, also deceased. Midichlorian count in the 99th percentile."
Luke's eyes filled with tears.
Vader saw them. "It shouldn't hurt for too long, Luke."
"No, it's not the pain. I never knew her name. It's so pretty."
Vader's voice modulator malfunctioned with a gurgle. "They didn't even tell you her name?"
Luke shook his head.
Piett beamed at the success of the procedure. "You see, Lord Vader, this is the son of Anakin Skywalker." The lieutenant swiped a few commands on the datapad to delete the data.
"Stop." Vader thrust out his hand. "Not yet. Have the droid take my blood."
Piett's eyes ran over the suited man's form. "My lord, where do you suggest we draw blood?"
"Seal the room and flood it with oxygen, Lieutenant. I will need to remove my mask."
Once the room's oxygen percentage had increased to fifty percent, the dark lord lifted his arms to his helmet and pressed two buttons on the side. The heavy mask clicked and hissed as the seal opened.
Luke looked at the man in wonder. He looked very old, with a pasty complexion and many wounds to his face that had not healed. How can this man be my father? He's too old. He should be in his third decade not . . . this.
Bright blue eyes were the only things undamaged on that face. They shined in wonder as they beheld Luke for the first time without the red tint of Vader's mask. A tear streamed down the Sith Lord's cheek as he stared at his son. He held still as the droid swabbed blood from one of his open wounds on his head.
Once Vader had replaced his mask, he said, "Compare my sample with the boy's."
"Parentage verified. Mother: Padmé Naberrie Amidala of Naboo, deceased Father: Darth Vader, Sith Lord."
"That's impossible. Take fresh samples and re-run the results." Piett rubbed the sweat from his brow as he punched new commands into the datapad.
Vader grabbed the droid's arm, holding it still. "That won't be necessary, Lieutenant. The results are correct."
"Then that would make you . . . Anakin Skywalker?"
"That is correct, Lieutenant." Vader pointed at the man. "But that information is not to leave this room. Destroy the records and have this droid's memory erased."
Lieutenant Piett quickly swiped some commands across his datapad.
Vader paced around the small room. "I want the absolute best medical care for this boy. Create an Imperial record for him under the name Luke . . . Naberrie."
Luke could have sworn he heard the respirator catch as Vader said that name.
"And when he is released, transfer him to my quarters." Vader turned to the boy again. "Luke, if there is anything you need, just call me. I will hear you, no matter where I am on the ship. But rest now. Your body needs to heal."
Vader bent over the bed and lowered the face shield of his mask to Luke's forehead. Luke heard what sounded like a kiss from the voice modulator. "I love you, Son."
Luke felt the love from his father. The words were not necessary. Yes, Luke wanted this beast, because this beast loved him, and he loved this beast. And this beast was his father.
Did you know . . .
● Luke did not know either parent's name at this point in his life, but it worked better only to mention that he didn't know Padmé's here.
● I was definitely channeling Beauty and the Beast when I wrote this.
How long must this go on?
This cruel trick of fate?
I simply made one careless wrong decision
And then [my wife] was gone . . .
Is there no one
Who can show me
How to win the world's forgiveness?
Tell me what you think . . .
● Is there any hope for Vader? If so, what?