The Trace Which Remains

Chapter 17: ... new intrigue...

Anakin's stomach growled. He had not been mistreated since he had been relocated, but still- even with the second helpings that they permitted him, Anakin was starving. He had always had a quick metabolism. It was understandable that he would remain hungry even after seconds of simple prison food.

The door whooshed open, and Anakin looked up. The Bothan- Borsk Fey'lya, Anakin remembered- entered, a datapad in a furred paw. "I was wondering if you have anything to say regarding the charges leveled against you, um..." Fey'lya clearly was having difficulty with his name.

Anakin scooted over on the cot- it was the only furniture in the cell- and gestured for the Bothan to seat himself. "You can call me by pretty much any name that works for you. Granted, 'sadistic bitch of the Emperor' has a certain flair, but it's a little long and bothersome. Not to mention the lack of an Emperor relieves me of that disturbing post." Anakin kept his voice light, smirking at the sad irony.

"How about I just call you Vader?"

Anakin sighed. "That works. I expect to be referred to by that name for the rest of my life. I'd rather be able to forget about it... but even if the galaxy forgot... I wouldn't."

"Well, how about we begin, Vader?" When Anakin nodded, Fey'lya queried, "So have you decided yet how you plan to plead?"

"It's a complicated situation. My arbiter believes that either a slavery clause or insanity would be the proper way to go. Myself... I feel that a plea of guilty to the charges which are true and not guilty to the false charges would be the proper plea."

"You expect there to be both true and false charges?"

"Certainly." Anakin stretched a twang out of his back. "I have done many things that were wrong. But I am dead certain that at least some of what I will be accused of will be out of a desire to increase penalties. As Vader, I would have killed a man guilty of the crimes that I have committed. I am under no illusions that my life is not in danger.."

"Yes, well... very serious allegations have been leveled against you. Although... I myself find some of them quite ridiculous. It seems that a flood of accusations have consistently been around fifty percent true. It is likely that some people are just trying to get a slice of retribution."

"Or possibly the wealth I used to possess."

"Used to?"

Anakin grinned. "As Palpatine's second-in-command and heir, I was given vast resources. I have no intention to use any of it anymore. It would be better off in the hands of others. Unfortunately, I am not certain who has received my funds. Some high-ranking Imperial who rose in rank at the surrender of the fleet."

Confused, the Bothan asked, "What is blocking you from accessing your bank accounts?"

"According to Imperial law, I am very likely classified as dead."

"Is this standard Imperial procedure, to list defectors as dead?"

Anakin couldn't suppress a wry grin. "No... there are other circumstances which surround my appearance... outside of the armor."

"Yes, about that. I was under the impression that you were badly injured, and required your life-support to survive. Yet today finds you uninjured- indeed, in perfect health. Was the armor a work of deception? Or are you, in fact, merely masquerading as the Dark Lord?"

The beginnings of a headache were forming behind Anakin's eyes. "Councilor Fey'lya, I must ask this- what man in his right mind would admit to being Darth Vader unless it was truth?"

"You must admit that Vader's biography does not assure me that he was in his right mind."

"You can say that again."

"Do you have proof to offer that you are, indeed, Darth Vader? Or is High Command merely wasting its time?"

Thoughtfully, Anakin replied, "I seem to recall an injury I sustained in battle against the Alliance around six years ago. A large shelf nearly fell on me, and caught my back with its corner. I had to cut my cloak loose- it likely had my blood on it. This incident occurred on Telos. It is possible that my cloak was recovered by the Alliance- after the battle, as we surveyed that library for damages and dead, I did not see my torn cloak."

"So you hope to give genetic proof."

"Yes."

The cream-furred Bothan sighed. "I had hoped that my arguments would be proven invalid by the lack of proof of your identity. You understand that now that I have been told of possible evidence, I am required to make use of that knowledge."

"I expect nothing else."

Fey'lya shook his head, and Anakin could swear that there was an ironic grin trying to twist Fey'lya's muzzle. "You're making this far too easy."

"I have no desire to hide my identity. And besides... why would I put my family through this hell if I could help it? It is my identity as Anakin Skywalker that I would be more inclined to hide- for the protection of my children."

"Yes, um..." Fey'lya faltered. "About that- how is Commander Skywalker? I haven't seen him in person since before the battle."

Anakin looked down at his bandaged arms, remembering the pain- the absolute certainty that there was nothing- NOTHING- he could have done to help Luke. The helpless feeling clenched at his heart, and Anakin balled his fists in his lap. "Luke is healing quite well... he has handled the pain... most admirably."

"Were those guards the cause of your injuries?"

"N-no." Anakin was not normally a man prone to stammering, but to be asked about his self-caused injuries... "These scratches... are from my own hands."

Fey'lya was taken aback. Anakin measured the Bothan's reactions, before adding, "I have the ability to sense pain coming from those I am close to... in my panic at feeling the abuse inflicted upon my son, I clawed at my own arms and legs."

"Do you have a history of anxiety disorders?"

"I have never been diagnosed with any mental illnesses... the Jedi Order had a strange way of looking at mental illness. They believed that all such irregularities could be MEDITATED out of a person. It would not surprise me if a normal psychologist would diagnose at least a few disorders in me." Fey'lya was on a roll today- he seemed to catch Anakin's sore spots easily. Oddly, though, Anakin wasn't growing angry. Instead, a kind of sad resignation filled him.

"Do you believe that you might benefit from treatment? Medication, therapy?"

Anakin frowned. "I am... leery of medication. So far, the most effective treatment has been the ability to speak to the ones I love- no trust issues, no secrets. The situations of my past largely result from a lack of communication."

Fey'lya gave a toothy canine grin, and said, "I believe this case has gotten more interesting. Perhaps I will give my opponent a lead that I believe I have found."

"What do you mean?"

Rising, Fey'lya extended his paw. When Anakin shook it, Fey'lya replied, "You seem like a rational man currently... it makes me wonder if any 'medication' you may have been under as Vader may not have taken a part in aggravating your... darker... tendencies."

Fey'lya activated his remote door-switch, and walked off, leaving Anakin more than a little shocked. Was Fey'lya honestly going to investigate to HELP him?

****

Luke looked up from an Alliance newsbrief on his family's situation, raising an eyebrow at the panting, disheveled Leia that barged in. "The vid recordings of the hallways last night were messed with. I just turned a copy of them in to Mon Mothma."

"No sign of who it might have been?"

"It's likely that the vid technician has been in on it- I was able to record his face, and he accused me of being a spy."

Luke bowed his head. "Please- don't put yourself in danger for-"

"Too late. I've been in danger my whole life, and I can't adjust to living a mellow, 'safe' life yet. I have a family to protect."

Luke grinned. "You sound just like him."

With a blink of confusion, Leia asked, "Father?"

"His greatest fear is not being able to protect the ones he loves... and now, he can control that fear. He has learned that the best way to protect a family is to be there for them. You've been doing such a wonderful job in letting go of your hatred." Luke didn't bother fighting the tears. "I'm so... so proud of you, Leia. And of Father."

She sat down at his bedside, leaning over to embrace him. "This is just so hard for me- I'm fighting a losing battle against Father's crimes."

"Perhaps you might look into the medical treatment of Vader." They both jumped- Leia hadn't closed the door behind her, and Borsk Fey'lya's entry hadn't made any sound. "I have reason to suspect that Vader was under the influence of mind-altering drugs forced upon him by Palpatine."

Leia gasped. "I... had never thought of that."

"I am on my way to inspect an old piece of evidence- would you care to join me?"

Jumping to her feet, Leia asserted, "Definitely!"

****

"I don't suppose you could locate your friend Dr. Severeth again?"

Leia rolled her eyes. Of COURSE the Bothan spymaster knew about that. "Yes... let's go."

When they found the young doctor, he greeted them with hostility. "You sure don't have a lot of respect for the fact that I'm HIDING, do you, Princess? How do you keep finding me?"

"Jedi blood runs through my veins, Dr. Severeth. And speaking of blood- we need your help analyzing an old sample."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Just let me drop EVERYTHING I'm working on to come out of hiding and help your asses..."

"You gave your word!"

"I'm doing my own work to help! Leave me to it!"

With that, Severeth turned away, and Leia caught sight of a code on his datapad. "The third word on the left-hand column is "disease."

The blond scowled at her, and muttered, "Okay, okay. You freaking win."

****

"What do you see?" Leia asked as Severeth entered a flake of the blood from the cloak fragment- a Force-granted stroke of luck that the Alliance came to possess. They were using Fey'lya's office as a temporary laboratory.

"Wait- it has to process it." Severeth tapped a few keys, then murmured, "Hello."

"What?"

"This is definitely your dad's blood. But there's not just blood in here. He tests positive for no less than thirty different drugs- probably a hearty little 'stew' good ol' uncle Palpa-jerk concocted to increase your dad's aggression. There's nicotine, to keep his body needing these toxins... I'm seeing a hefty dose of caratheinine, narioxelitonin, and shallatharine- all stimulants outlawed in athletics a good three thousand years ago for causing riots among teams and inhuman displays of strength. They also were known for weakening respiratory systems."

"You mean..."

"Palpatine wanted Vader as firmly under his control as possible. He MADE Vader continue to need the suit."

Fey'lya crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Does this excuse any of Vader's crimes?"

Severeth bit his lip. "There is a precedent within the Republic of addicts being admitted to rehabilitation after committing crimes. Nothing that remotely approaches the magnitude of Vader's crimes, but it has happened."

"A combination of emotional manipulation, fear-mongering, and substance control. It seems as though your client may have more going for him than I had expected, Councilor Organa."

"Considering this crap, I'd consider it a wonder that your dad isn't guilty of more." Severeth ran a hand through his short-cropped blond hair, and let out a low whistle of astonishment. "This would have killed him if Palpatine had let it."

"Pretty strong evidence."

The door to the Bothan's office hissed open, and Leia looked up to see a young man, black-haired and slender, enter without hesitation. "You're Borsk Fey'lya?"

"And you are?"

"Maylon Granns, of Coruscant, sir. I have testimony and genetic results proving my sister's rape and death at the hands of Vader." His eyes flicked to Leia, and she froze.

Rape? "Impossible! My father is not a rapist!" But there was still the matter of her brother's assault in the past- could Palpatine have manipulated Vader's blood into unrecognizability?

No. A thousand times no. Her brother wouldn't lie about this. She had to have faith in her family.

The young man frowned at her. "I may not remember my sister, but I remember the crime scene. I remember meeting the investigator- she told me that it was Darth Vader who did it. She showed me these papers."

Leia accepted the report from the young man, but Severeth promptly snatched it from her. Comparing it to his datapad's screen, he stiffened. "This is indeed Vader's genetic data... but it is from before the time of his fall to the Dark Side."

Granns scoffed. "There was no 'fall!' Vader was a sicko his whole fucking life! My sister died at his hand twenty-two years ago- before the Jedi Purge, before the Empire. My sister was disgraced! I'd like to see YOUR family brought low like mine was, Princess!"

She forced calm into her voice, absorbing the anger of the accuser to draw strength. "My family has had its own struggles. It is not the place of one person to decide the fate of innocents."

"Nor is it the place of a psychopath to decide to use a woman for his own pleasure, then murder her!"

Borsk, thankfully, intervened. "Mr. Granns, I will ask you to stop. I will not listen to the testimony of someone who cannot give it coherently!"

Deflated, Granns bowed his head, reached forward to retrieve the forensic report, and hastily exited the room.

Severeth rested a hand on Leia's shoulder. "You did well not letting him bait you. You gathered power from your own pain- and from the energy he was giving off. Nicely done. Just like a true Sith."

She stiffened. A true Sith?

How much like her father WAS she?

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