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There was something immensely satisfying about working in his old capacity of hunting pirates and other various criminal scum again. He loved being the admiral of the Executor and wouldn’t be relinquishing that title anytime soon… but sometimes it was nice to return to ones roots.
It had been an odd assignment from Lord Vader (not to mention just ever so slightly treasonous given that the act of searching itself was forbidden by the emperor), to try and track down one very specific, very elusive group of criminals. Forbidden, and to be kept secret from everyone, except those that Lord Vader allowed. Essentially, it was a dangerous job.
But. Firmus Piett hadn’t gotten as far as he had by turning away from a challenge and couldn’t possibly say no.
It had taken weeks, weeks of tracking, weeks of meeting with old contacts, of splicing into galactic security video feeds, of hacking into programs and databases and running widespread facial recognition software tests, searching through the underground trades and black market persons. Conducting raids and arrests, sending additional spies into the rebellion to see if they knew anything about the whereabouts of one lone rebel pilot but... for all of his efforts, there was nothing for it.
Luke Skywalker had, quite simply, vanished into thin air.
Lord Vader could not appear to be looking for him and neither could he sense him, whatever the hell that meant or entailed, through the Force. Skywalker’s disappearance was both a source of incredible rage and… well, honestly there was no other word for it – but yes, anxiety for his superior.
Firmus didn’t pretend to understand, but he was wise enough to know that there was something much larger going on here than what he was obviously allowed to know.
All they had to go off of was a criminal group, who’d cleverly kept their identity hidden and done so with astonishing skill that, in different circumstances, he couldn't help but be impressed. Even as frustrating as the situation was. The group had sent in a notice that they’d captured Skywalker and were requesting the substantial bounty Lord Vader had placed on his head. They’d included one picture, which after running diagnostics, was in fact, an original and hadn’t been stolen from anywhere else on the holonet. They wanted half of the bounty before they were willing to offer any additional proof that they even had him and offered no information on what his condition was – it was utterly ludicrous, stupid and somehow absolutely brilliant... because they’d done what few had ever done and quite literally forced Lord Vader’s hand.
Firmus could only assume that the dark lord's willingness to comply was on account that Skywalker was lost to him so completely in the Force that the only truth he was willing to accept was that they did, in fact, have the infamous rebel. The credits were to be wired to a damn near untraceable account and then once they had the credits in hand, they had disappeared entirely.
There was no trace, no word, no hint or sign that they’d ever existed. And more importantly, there was no sign of Skywalker.
Frustrated but not completely surprised, they'd continued tracking all of Skywalker’s last known locations. Retracing his steps to whatever various systems and planets he’d visited. Their efforts had offered them very little to go off of and it wasn’t until his X-Wing and depowered R2-D2 droid were finally found hidden and locked away in a Hutt storage container on the planet Nar Shadda, that they’d gotten anything substantial to work off of since the criminal group had gone into hiding.
Intelligence files confirmed that the R2 unit was frequently spotted with the rebel and it was quickly powered up for questioning, to see if it knew what had happened. The following confrontation had been both exasperating and somewhat entertaining. R2, who had far more personality than one little droid his size should ever be allowed to have, shrieked and screamed and had stubbornly refused to tell them anything about Master Luke.
It was Lord Vader, surprisingly, who managed to convince the snarky little monster to help them and how the dark lord managed that, Firmus didn’t know. But the encounter didn’t end with the droid in pieces, only surprisingly compliant. The R2 droid had grudgingly shared what information he could on Skywalker’s disappearance, his memory banks having saved the faces of the ones who’d rudely shut him off and Skywalker’s own comments over a period of several days, wherein he'd felt that he was being tailed. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. They had a last known location and faces to track and it was more than they had before. The X-wing was reclaimed and was now being stored in Vader's private hangar, and a restraining bolt was placed on the R2 droid, who was now being kept locked in Lord Vader’s rooms.
Not necessarily for his safe keeping but more for the Executor crews' collective safety and sanity.
It had taken almost three whole months - far longer than Firmus had wanted – but thanks to the droid, eventually his and his teams efforts had finally led them here.
A previously unknown, top secret, maximum security holding in the outer rim underworld that belonged to the Black Sun crime syndicate. And, more specifically to one Prince Xizor of the House of Sizhran.
Firmus considered it fortunate that Lord Vader hadn’t blown out the bridge during the fit of rage which accompanied that particular revelation. There was no love lost between Lord Vader and Prince Xizor. They had a strange, antagonistic relationship where both of them made the most minimal effort possible to hide just how much they detested each other.
In hindsight, it almost made sense because who else in the galaxy had the resources, funding, and the desire to pull something like this off? If Prince Xizor hated Lord Vader as much as Firmus suspected that he did, then it wasn’t a far leap to assume he took an interest in Skywalker just to piss him off. It fit and he didn’t envy the Falleen when Lord Vader eventually caught up to him somewhere down the line.
Everything that Firmus could find, had led him to believe that if Luke Skywalker was anywhere, then it was here.
Lord Vader didn’t waste any time launching his attack on the complex, the emperor's order be damned.
It was fast and brutal and no mercy was granted to anyone who got in their way, with Lord Vader himself leading the charge and dispatching the majority of those guarding the building. It was a huge building and there were dozens, if not hundreds of prisoners and slaves being held inside, awaiting whatever grizzly fate had been chosen for them. The process of searching for Skywalker had been slowed in part as the others that were found were processed, freed, or tended to by various medical professionals. And the medics were certainly needed in this foul place.
It was a place of suffering and lacked the very basic forms of humanity. Now several hours into the search, Firmus felt that he had seen more than his fair share of gross and abominable cruelty inflicted on undeserving persons to last him a long, long time.
He was currently helping to search through the higher security detention cells and was accompanied by several of the old 501st veteran members. The sentients being kept in this part of the building seemed to be being held largely for bounty or ransom purposes. He held the faint hope that meant they were getting close. He had a droid splice through the lock on one particularly thick door that led to another long corridor and as it swung openly silently, he and his companions heard something that seemed so out of place in this gruesome setting that it bordered on obscene.
It was the undeniable sound of laughter breaking through an otherwise silent corridor.
Weapons drawn and ready, they each advanced forward silently, following the sound. At a T-intersection, they turned the corner, and there, they promptly found the source of the laughter.
The sight that they encountered was, from both a moral and a military perspective, absolutely despicable. The door to a dimly lit cell was open and the cackling laughter was coming from two guards, who obviously hadn’t gotten the memo that their base was being raided by Lord Vader and Black Squadron, and instead of surrendering or running for their lives, they were gleefully using a stun baton, set at a much higher setting than usual by the sound of it, to repeatedly shock a prone and cowering figure on the ground.
“Drop your weapons!” One of the 501st troopers roared, setting on the two beings with something not unlike fury. Firmus couldn’t blame him – it was hard not to be furious, regardless of the identity of whoever they were hurting. The two men were quickly apprehended and none too gently yanked out of the cell for questioning and arrest. Firmus stepped aside and ignored those proceedings in favor of figuring out who this particular individual was. He had sympathy for a great many people in here, but there was still only one person he was interested in finding.
Stepping into the doorway, he cautiously switched his blaster to stun in case the prisoner reacted poorly. He had no interest in being the source of more pain for anyone right now but he also didn’t want to get punched in the face either. With the brutal assault on his person having stopped, the prisoner turned over on his backside and weakly scrambled backwards until he hit the wall, his breathing harsh and ragged. Firmus watched as he then clumsily managed to pull himself to his feet and pressed himself further into the corner, trembling violently and raising an arm in front of his face in an effort to protect himself from further harm.
It was pitiful sight to behold.
“What’s your name, prisoner?” Firmus demanded, silently cursing the dim lighting that made it hard to see. He’d repeated this process more times than he could count today with other human prisoners they’d come across in this damn place and the responses were either whispered meekly to him or offered with desperate hope that salvation had finally come their way.
But this one was different. There was no response, only that strained, desperate breathing. The prisoner was moving his head back and forth in a strange fashion and Firmus couldn’t help but feel wary because of it.
“Luke Skywalker?” He tried again, his voice firm and commanding. He switched his blaster to one hand and fumbled for the small flashlight he kept in his jacket with the other. It took him a moment to find it but when he did, he quickly switched it on and shined it on the shaking person for a better look.
Roughed up, bruised, and hair longer than in any holo he’d seen so far, there was still no mistaking that very famous face.
Luke Skywalker was alive. And part of him almost wilted in relief at that fact. They’d found him and he was alive and honestly, it was more than he’d hoped for at this point.
Thanking the Force and every deity out there that his efforts hadn’t been in vain, Firmus quickly alerted the stormtroopers in the hallway that they’d found who they were looking for.
And all things considered, despite the attack they’d just put a stop to, the rebel looked… relatively unscathed. Outwardly, at least, Firmus amended silently with a pained grimace. Luke Skywalker was not unattractive and if Prince Xizor had no intention of turning him in to Lord Vader, and if the Falleen were smart and he’d simply decided not to risk Lord Vader’s wrath any further after taking what the dark lord wanted, then Skywalker’s next stop likely could have been into the galactic slave trade. It was a disgusting, cruel, and barbaric thought… but ultimately still true. Ruining his appearance would have lowered his overall value.
He was quite thin, however. What little clothing he had on was hanging loosely on his body, and he had what looked to be a metal band around his neck. But otherwise there seemed to only be a few noticeable scrapes and bruises. There was still no reaction from him though. Not to the absence of his tormenters, not to the open cell door, or Firmus himself and certainly not to the light shining in his face. Nothing.
“Kix!” Firmus shouted, keeping his eyes trained on Skywalker. There was some grumbling and shuffling around as the old clone trooper who was accompanying their group made his way into the cell, bypassing the other troopers who were still dealing with the guards. “What’s wrong with him?” He demanded once Kix was at his side, gesturing with his chin to the unresponsive rebel in the corner.
“I’d say he’s probably been through hell, is in a lot of pain, and has a blaster pointed at his face. Come on Firmus, the kid isn’t going to be leaping for joy when the Empire comes to get him.” Was the muttered response. Firmus frowned at him but slowly lowered his blaster when Kix gave him a meaningful, somewhat unimpressed look, though he at least had the grace to look a little apologetic for his sarcastic tone. “Sorry, admiral. I’ve seen far too much shit today. But he’s not going anywhere and he might be more cooperative if he thinks he won’t get shot.”
Fair enough.
“I don’t think it’s that though.” Firmus said, deciding to let the rudeness slide. It had been a long day for everyone. “It’s like… we’re not even here. Watch – Skywalker!” He snapped, in his very best 'listen to me' tone, which had never failed to cause even the very greenest of recruits to snap to attention and say 'yes sir!' before even receiving their orders.
It had no effect now.
Skywalker didn’t react at all. Not once, he didn’t move, didn’t twitch, didn’t even look in their general direction, nothing.
Firmus glanced at Kix, confused, and he saw the same confusion finally mirrored on the medics face. “That’s not normal.” He said pointedly.
“No, it isn’t.” Kix agreed slowly. “Alright. Well, you should probably comm Lord Vader and tell him we found Skywalker. I’ll try and figure out what’s wrong.” He said with a frown, stepping out of the doorway and further into the cell. Firmus followed him and instantly had to suppress a shiver. It was cold and clammy inside. The difference in temperature was so obvious from the pleasantly neutral hallway, it could have only been deliberate.
He grabbed Kix’s shoulder before he could go too far – because situational oddness aside, Skywalker was still a rebel and a dangerous one at that – and then pulled out his commlink. Kix hesitated, glancing at him before shrugging his hand off and bending down to open his medical bag. He pulled out a small, portable medical analyzer. Firmus watched him closely even as Kix waved off his concern, taking a few steps closer while thankfully maintaining a reasonably safe distance, his tool lighting up as he started working.
“Lord Vader, we’ve located Skywalker. He’s alive and looks relatively unharmed. Though his behavior at the moment is… odd. Medic Kix and I are on the fifth level of the complex, about to make contact.” He reported calmly, watching the rebel closely for any hint of movement. He felt faintly disturbed by the continued lack of reaction to their presence, the hairs on the back of his neck raising slightly.
Lord Vader’s response was instantaneous. “Understood, admiral. I will be arriving momentarily.”
“Yes, my lord.” There was a series of beeps and whirling sounds from the scanner before Kix suddenly snapped his head up, probably popping something in the process. and stared at Skywalker with something akin to horror on his face.
“Oh, shit.”
Nothing good ever followed those words.
Firmus raised his eyebrows, pocketing his comm and coming back to Kix’s side. “What?”
Kix shoved the medical scanner and its readings at him. “There’s the answer. Look at that.” He practically spat. “Sensatory neural inhibitors. They’re small medical implants that are attached near the base of the skull. They effect the epidermis part of the brain and block neural inputs, like sight and hearing. Sometimes the vocal cords as well. They were developed for slaves, typically ones at auction to keep them quiet and docile, but are generally outlawed in most systems because they are considered too inhumane.”
Firmus swallowed, glancing back at Skywalker’s blank stare and stepped closer for a better look. His eyes – dear Force, his eyes. He hadn’t noticed before but they were completely empty – hardly blinking and completely void of life and color. The sick, uneasy feeling in his stomach increased.
“He can’t see or hear anything – probably hasn’t been able to in weeks. Probably can’t speak either if this reader is worth anything.” Kix continued furiously. “Kriffing inhumane, sick, miserable bastards. They were stunning him like this?” He demanded, turning back towards him.
Firmus nodded, completely disgusted.
The medic cussed and shook his head again. "There’s no telling what type of damage they did then.” He said shortly. “Electrocution effects the nervous system and combined with those neural implants… hell, I don’t even what could have happened. But there’s a good chance this will be permanent even if we take them out. Kriffing bastards.”
Firmus couldn’t help but agree with the insult and he didn’t pity the guards fate when Lord Vader found out what they’d done. No matter which way one tried to put this, it was cruelty to the highest degree. And it was… far from good news. Firmus did not know what Vader’s intentions with Skywalker were, but he highly doubted they involved the kid being deaf and blind. Force, he hoped Kix turned out to be wrong.
He never thought he’d feel sympathy for a rebel – but watching Skywalker now, deprived of all his senses and shaking with fear and anticipation of an attack that he couldn’t see coming… well, Firmus certainly felt it now.
“I think the best option to get him out of here is to sedate him.” Kix finally sighed, kneeling down to search in his bag again. “He’s pretty helpless and it’ll be kinder if we avoid upsetting him.” After a moment, he found what he was looking for – a needle and syringe. He pulled the plastic cap off the needle and gestured to Skywalker. “Hold him real fast while I give him this. It’ll take effect in about a minute.”
They should have waited because what followed was an explosion of fury and movement that Firmus could never have anticipated in a million years.
If the neural inhibitors were supposed to make someone easier to handle, then Firmus would be happy to attest to anyone that would listen, that in the case of one very startled and very frightened Commander Luke Skywalker of the rebel alliance, they did not work.
Firmus couldn’t decide if Skywalker was actually trying to escape or simply trying to avoid whatever horror he thought was going to happen by beating the shit out of anyone who dared to touch him, but even deprived of his senses, the kid wasn’t going down without a fight. And by God, he fought, using every desperate and dirty tactic known in the galaxy the very second they made physical contact with him.
“Don’t shoot!” Firmus wheezed out, waving the two stormtroopers guarding the hall and their prisoners off when they came to back them up after hearing their surprised shouts and struggles. He managed to roll to his knees, sucking in air and breathing through the pain of having been kicked in a very sensitive part of his anatomy.
With some incredulity and bemusement, he lifted his head and watched Kix briefly grapple with the kid, whose blank eyes were wild with fear and terror and his movements fierce but uncoordinated, before Kix was thrown to the side and against the stone wall with an oomph for daring to try a gentle approach.
Skywalker backed up slowly, silently mouthing words to himself and it took a moment to realize that the rebel was actually counting his steps up until the moment his back hit the wall and damn if Firmus wasn’t grudgingly impressed by that as well. The kid raised his arm up to protect his face again and the one missing a hand was held close to his body. He was breathing in shuddering gasps of air, anxiously moving his head from side to side in what he now realized was a vain, desperate attempt to see something – anything at all.
“Kix – you alright?” Firmus coughed out, struggling to his feet. He was definitely going to need an ice pack later.
“Just winded.” Kix replied dryly, graciously accepting the hand that Firmus offered him and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “Kriffing hell – is nothing easy when it comes to this kid?”
He didn’t feel the need to answer that question. Because no, it wasn’t. And it was no stretch of his – or any of theirs imagination – to realize that this was far from being the first time the kid had had to defend himself in here. Fortunately, he was spared having to think on that train of thought any longer or indeed make another attempt to peacefully subdue the kid with the timely arrival of Lord Vader.
“My Lord Vader,” Firmus greeted, saluting his commander, and hoping the dark lord wouldn’t pick up on the fact that he was actually in a lot of pain and trying not to let his eyes water.
Equally as fortunate, it seemed that all of Lord Vader’s attention was focused directly on the rebel in the corner. He didn’t even acknowledge them and he took what could have been mistaken for an anxious step forward towards him, calling Skywalker by his first name and reaching his hand outwards as if to grab him.
“Lord Vader,” Kix coughed hoarsely into his arm before stepping smoothly in front of him. Were it anyone else, Firmus would say to do such a thing was suicide, but he had also never known Lord Vader to kill a medic, on or off a battlefield. It was one of the laws of war that the dark lord seemed to willingly abide by. Kix knew that too, and he could also tell by the look in the medics eyes that he was going to do his very best to prevent any additional harm from befalling his patient. “Skywalker cannot respond, my lord.”
Lord Vader paused, glancing between the rebel and the medic, taking note of Skywalker’s complete lack of reaction and seeming to realize the oddness of the situation.
“Explain.” He snapped shortly.
Kix did so, quickly relaying all the information they’d discovered about Skywalker’s condition and the potentially permanent damage which may have occurred. Something cold and dark and heavy began to hang in the air – a physical manifestation of Lord Vader’s growing outrage – and there were two sharp and very audible snaps from the hallway that was followed by the sound of bodies collapsing to the floor.
All things considered, the guard's deaths were far more merciful than they probably deserved.
“I won’t know for certain until I can get those things out of his head and have him properly evaluated.” Kix went on to explain, looking tired. “But it is a possibility you should be aware of.”
They collectively watched for a moment in complete silence as the young rebel shifted uneasily, biting at his lower lip in a nervous gesture, waiting shakily for something else to happen. Fear and indecision was written on his face and Firmus could only imagine how long he would wait before finally deciding the threats were gone and resigning himself to total darkness and silence once again.
He also had the feeling it would be a very long wait.
“I’d like to give him a mild sedative, Lord Vader.” Kix continued quietly, sharing a brief look with Firmus. “He’s a fighter – but he’s also weak and extremely malnourished. It’s possible he hasn’t eaten in days and he’ll do a lot more damage to himself in the long run if he keeps trying to defend himself. I don’t know what else has been done to him and I couldn’t get a good look at the collar and it could –“
“It is a Force suppressant.” Lord Vader bit out, almost snapping in anger. “It is why I have not been able to sense him. Without it, even with the sensory deprivation, Skywalker would have been far too aware of his surroundings to be easy for them to contain. But it is a form of torture in its own right.”
“And if it was taken off?”
Lord Vader hesitated for a moment. “It… could be dangerous.” He ground out reluctantly. “He is powerful and may very well act defensively if he were to still feel threatened.”
Kix frowned, absorbing the information. “Alright. Then if there is no way to reassure him of our intentions, a sedative is still our best bet. We just need to hold him long enough to put him out.”
It was a long moment where the dark lord tilted his head down, doing his own quick thinking as he stared at the nervous rebel.
Then, ignoring them both entirely, Lord Vader stepped forward, crossing the small distance that separated them until he was standing directly in front of Skywalker. When he raised his hand, Firmus spared a thought to wonder if he was going to hit Skywalker – but instead, the dark lord simply waved his cupped hand in front of his face.
Feeling the movement of air, Skywalker lunged forward to attack and was instantly caught in Lord Vader’s grip. The dark lord had each wrist – well, wrist and stump – in an unyielding hand before the kid could do any damage at all. It didn’t stop him from trying to break free though – he squirmed and fought and kicked out with every last ounce of strength in him, desperate gasps for air the only sound he could make.
It was pitiful to watch but Firmus couldn’t help but respect the valiant effort. There was no shame in fighting the way that Skywalker was. He doubted most people in the Imperial Navy would do even half as well as he was if they ever found themselves in the same situation.
Kix threw his hands up in annoyance and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “We should have done that the first time.” He grumbled, retrieving a new syringe from his bag. He approached the two swiftly, but paused when Lord Vader suddenly shook his head at him. Skywalker’s strength was already beginning to fail, his efforts for freedom becoming weaker and weaker.
“Wait.” Lord Vader ordered, watching Skywalker shake in petrified fear. “Not yet. He is afraid.”
“There’s no way to communicate with him.” Kix pointed out. “You said it yourself that it would be dangerous to release his Force capabilities until he knows he’s safe.”
“I am aware of what I said.” Lord Vader replied, oddly calm. “But there are other ways to help one see the truth and I will not allow Skywalker to suffer needlessly any longer.”
Well. That was... something. And a kindness that was wholly unnecessary. Firmus couldn’t help but wonder, privately and certainly not for the first time, why this rebel was so important to his superior. He also wasn't certain how the dark lord intended to go about proving to Skywalker that they meant him no harm. It seemed rather impossible in his current condition but... Lord Vader seemed to have come up with an idea.
Without explaining anything to either of them, Lord Vader simply raised the kid’s one remaining hand and then placed it directly on his mask.
And just like that, Skywalker froze, his blank eyes widening.
With surprising gentleness, Vader slowly let go of his grip on the kid and then lowered his hands to his side. Skywalker’s hand remained where it was for a long disbelieving moment. Finally, trembling in earnest now the boy slowly, cautiously felt along the mask, lightly touching the respirator and the red lenses before feeling for the edges of the armourweave cape at his shoulders. Lord Vader was completely still throughout the blind exploration. Skywalker’s breathing quickened as he dropped his hand to Vader’s chest, clumsily feeling along the control panel to his suit.
A pitiful, weak, broken sob escaped from useless vocal cords and then to Firmus’ stunned surprise, Skywalker dropped his head forward against Vader’s chest, and started to cry. Tears spilled freely from his sightless eyes and he wrapped his arms around him and held on as if he intended to never let him go. In between his sobs, it seemed like he was trying to speak, mouthing the same few words over and over. It looked a lot like he was saying 'help me… help me, please' as well as one other word that Firmus was certain he was misinterpreting.
Heedless of any of this, Vader drew Skywalker close, hugging him tightly and with such fierce protectiveness that Firmus literally couldn’t think for a few seconds. One gloved hand raised to gently pet the rebel’s hair and it was such a comforting, parental like gesture that he had to blink twice to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
He wasn’t.
Suddenly feeling as though he were exactly where he wasn’t supposed to be, Firmus tried to look away and give them what little privacy he could. He had no idea what was occurring but it felt incredibly rude and intrusive to watch. Yet by moving and leaving them alone, he also feared that he would be more disruptive than if he stayed still and pretended he wasn’t there.
Either way, Skywalker was aware of no one except Lord Vader and Lord Vader was equally focused solely on the rebel commander as he sobbed literal, deep, shuddering heart wrenchingly silent sobs.
Firmus honestly didn’t want to know what had been done to him if his reaction to Darth Vader coming to get him was this bizarre sort of relief and gratitude and honest to God tears. What kind of torture did that to a person? But then again, he mused, still trying hard not to stare, if he’d spent weeks in total darkness and silence, broken up only by cruelty and pain, maybe it wouldn’t matter who’d come to free him either. At some point, anyone at all was more than enough.
Maybe.
Fortunately for him and Kix, Skywalker didn’t seem to have the strength to cry like that for very long and it quickly tapered out to silent tears and sniffles. Rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his stump arm, Luke sighed, leaning heavily against the dark lord's chest as if he were the most comforting presence in the galaxy.
But then, just as quickly, his muscles stiffened, becoming rigid and hard as if he’d been stunned once again. His empty eyes shot open, panicked and pained, and he began to shake. Skywalker pulled back from Vader, unclenching his fist and raising it to the metal band around his neck, clawing at it desperately. There were patches of skin that looked to have literally been rubbed raw from his previous efforts to get it off and they began to bleed in response.
Lord Vader grabbed his hand before he could do anymore damage to himself and then easily turned Skywalker around, trapping his arms and holding him close to his chest, hunching over him slightly. Skywalker’s breathing sped up but whether from fear or anticipation, it was impossible to say.
“Brace yourselves.” Vader commanded, and neither of them had time to wonder what the hell that was supposed to mean before the metal band around Skywalker’s neck suddenly snapped in half and the ground lurched.
Firmus and Kix both stumbled, nearly collapsing to the ground as the walls around them cracked and groaned ominously, dust raining from the ceiling and, dear Force, the very air was practically shivering with energy as whatever power had been trapped inside Skywalker was released. There were panicked cries from outside the hall, and Firmus barely had time to wonder if the whole building was shaking before he lost his balance and stumbled to his knees.
An odd, heavy sense of fear and anger and pain began to permeate the air around them, making the small hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up straight. It felt not unlike Lord Vader when he was in a particularly explosive mood and Firmus' own senses began to scream danger Danger DANGER as something – a force, a power, something that felt alive – rushed him with the intent to do him harm and he shoved himself backwards, raising an arm to defend himself and oh Force, he was going to die –
…and then it was gone.
The air became still. The fear and anger and pain disappeared as quickly as it had come and everything was normal again in an instant.
Shaken and terrified, his eyes flew to Skywalker. Paler than a corpse and looking like death had run him over with a speeder bike and then came back to hit him again, Luke’s legs had given out completely and he would have been on the floor if Lord Vader hadn't been supporting his weight.
It looked like his skin was vibrating – he was twitching, muscles clenching and unclenching painfully. His eyes were half-lidded and they looked almost sickly yellow in color. It must have been a trick of the dim lighting though, because a moment later, they were disturbingly void of any color at all. His breathing was shallow and raspy but slowly... he started to relax, coughing weakly as the tremors subsided. A few stray tears slipped down his face.
“My lord?” Kix said, hesitating to approach but up and ready to assist like the medical professional that he was.
“He will be fine.” Lord Vader said quietly, allowing Skywalker to simply breathe. After a few moments, it did seem like color was coming back into his face. Blinking dully, Skywalker sighed and began silently mouthing something. Once again, Firmus wouldn’t claim to be any sort of expert on reading lips, but it looked a lot like he was repeating 'thank you' over and over.
Hefting Skywalker a little higher against his person, Lord Vader looked up at the two of them. “He needs water.” He ordered. Firmus was quick to get back to his feet and offered Lord Vader his own little flask that he kept inside his jacket pocket.
With exceptional care, Lord Vader removed the cap and pressed the water flask against Skywalker’s lips, silently encouraging him to drink. After a moment of almost not seeming to know what to do with it, the commander began to drink greedily, with the fervor of someone who’d been denied water for a long time. Lord Vader pulled it away from him after a few seconds to prevent him from choking and a small, frustrated whine escaped Skywalker in response. A few more seconds passed before the water was returned and this time, the rebel seemed to be making a noted effort to drink at a slower pace.
“My lord, if you want, I can apply bacta to some of his injuries before we transport him.”
“You may do so.” Was the distracted response.
Shaking his head and grabbing his bag, Kix approached the pair and then carefully reached for Skywalker’s arm – the one that was covered in deep gouges where it looked like he’d been clawing at his own skin.
Startled, Skywalker flinched at the sudden and unexpected contact, pressing back against Vader in wide-eyed fear. Raising his hands, Kix stepped back peacefully even as Skywalker’s head started to move back and forth again in the familiar attempt to see – but Lord Vader carefully readjusted his hold, snaking his arm under both of Skywalker's and hefted him up a little higher one more time. The commander seemed to calm down again fairly quickly, beginning to take deep, calming breaths. He swallowed, another tear slipping down his cheek, and then nodded hesitantly in response to something that only he could hear.
Lord Vader turned to Kix. “You may proceed.” He rumbled at the medic.
“Right.” Kix cleared his throat and stepped closer once again. “I… apologize for frightening him.”
“He was simply unprepared.” Lord Vader said dismissively. “I have informed him of your intentions and he is ready if you are.”
Kix nodded and wisely went back to work, studiously ignoring the fact that Lord Vader and Skywalker seemed quite wrapped up in each other and were clearly having some sort of personal and private conversation.
It was none of Firmus' business to wonder what was going on between the two – there was obviously more – so much more – to Lord Vader’s interest in Skywalker than what he had originally assumed. He thought back to what Skywalker had been trying to say when he first seemed to realize that it was Lord Vader who'd had him, and how he had briefly thought that it looked a lot like he was saying 'father' except that was ludicrous and –
Firmus felt his eyes snap up as understanding, sudden, awful crystal clear understanding came to him and holy shit –
Swallowing, he quietly shook his head.
Nope.
Nope. He was not going down that road. Not today and probably not tomorrow either.
He didn’t get paid enough to try and figure that one out and if he needed to know what he now suspected he might know, then Lord Vader would tell him. Instead, he watched Kix quickly and efficiently apply a bacta spray to the infected wounds on the rebels arm and neck and then wrapping the ones he could with clean gauze. Skywalker’s stump was checked but the neural connector ports were deemed to be undamaged, if a little dirty. But it would still have to be reexamined later by someone more specialized in prosthetic's then he was, Kix claimed. Then he checked to see if any of Skywalker’s ribs were broken and the give he felt when pressing his hand against them told him that at least two were cracked, if not broken. A quick blood sample was taken, and then Skywalker was given a few shots containing antibiotics, painkillers, and finally, with Lord Vader’s permission, a very mild sedative.
It took effect almost immediately, Skywalker’s eyes fluttering closed with a sigh. With a level of care that no one could have ever anticipated, Lord Vader quickly lifted the rebel up into his arms and ordered that the medical bay onboard the Executor be alerted that a high priority patient would be arriving within the hour.
A very, very high priority patient, Firmus thought disbelievingly, if indeed what he now thought he knew but definitely didn’t know turned out to be true.
Thank the Force that there was still a hell of a lot of work to do and dozens and dozens of other victims who needed to be helped to offer him a distraction. He wasn't quite ready to think deeply about what all this meant. Because, Firmus had a strange gut feeling, as he watched the dark lord stride out of the cell with his long sought after prize literally in hand, that the whole kriffing galaxy was about to change.
Everything was about to change.
And, he thought quietly, those who weren’t standing with Lord Vader when that change finally came, better be prepared to get the hell out of his way.