DARK MEDITATION

A warm but temporary sting always followed once submerged in the thick, gelatinous substance. A sting that was worth every submersion. After all, he had been through worse. Much worse. Although bacta was known to heal injuries, whether it was to help seal up cuts or treat concussions, that was never the only intention for the Sith Lord. It was used for peace. Meditation. And then, after the initial sting, the warm bacta became a cool liquid that temporarily relieved the pain of every burn, scar, and amputation of a man that had lost everything. But that was an old life. Another life. And a life that ceased to exist or matter to the man who had risen out of the ashes. Darth Vader. A Dark Lord of the Sith.

Every bacta tank submersion provided Vader with the same feeling: a sting that coursed through every vein of his body once his skin had made contact with the warm substance, then a cool-down period where the sting faded away and the pain of every injury temporarily ceased to exist. Of course, the pain wasn’t entirely gone but it was the best his body had felt since before his old master burned and left him to die years ago. The tank offered Vader a period of regeneration, while providing a time for peace, meditation, and sometimes sleep as he would occasionally drift off during the submersion. The tank was the only place where Vader couldn’t be disturbed by a petty Imperial officer trying to win over his appraisal or ask forgiveness after a failed task. And it was the only place, despite his portable meditation chambers, where he could get much needed rest. Although the meditation chambers were nothing like his fortress on Mustafar. This fortress had become his home. This planet had been connected to the Sith as well as Vader himself. Here, he had failed his master. Here, he had killed his wife. Here, he had become the most feared being in the galaxy. He had bled his crystal under this very fortress which had become his solitude. Ever since he chose the planet as his own, it had become a comfort. That comfort had allowed Vader to drift during most submersions. However, today, he remained awake because he had summoned someone to the castle. He was not looking forward to the time when that guest would arrive for he would be disturbing a rare period of peace. However, the emperor insisted that Vader summon this man and speak with him face to face. And as Vader had always done, mostly, he carried out his master’s wishes.

Vanee, Palpatine himself, and a couple of Royal guards were the only ones allowed to witness Vader in such a state of vulnerability. However, he never considered it as such. If a rebel were to bust through the door, it would be as little as a simple annoyance, not a threat to his life. He could crack a neck with the mere power of his body and mind. He didn’t need a suit or a limb to protect himself. It was at Palpatine’s insistence that the two royal guards stay within the bacta chamber during submersion. Fortunately, the cylindrical tank’s glass always turned a foggy white once the submersion was complete, which hid Vader from the royal guards. The constant smoke that protruded from the floor and from the machine also added to the privacy that Vader so desperately craved. However, the guards saw him before and after the submersion and he didn’t think it necessary nor wanted anyone, not even two of the Emperor’s most trusted soldiers, to see him underneath his mask. But, as he usually did, Vader kept his thoughts to himself because after his failure on Mustafar—although many years ago—Palpatine would never grant him that desire.
There was no set time for how long the dark lord would be submerged in the bacta. Sometimes it was only under an hour when he needed a quick refurbish before a long mission. Other days, it could be hours. Whether it be after a long journey, or when Palpatine had no other tasks for his apprentice at the moment, Vader considered those hours precious. Besides destroying his enemies, the bacta submersion was one of Vader’s few pleasures. Not only had he gotten used to the sting of the warm liquid on his pale, burnt skin but of the cold and metallic droid pincers that held his body up by his arms as well. The breather acted similarly to the one in the suit and gave off the same sound when he took a breath. Those breaths were allowed because of the two tubes that were connected on each side of the breather that led to the top of the container. One tube filtered the oxygen from the outside room to Vader’s breather and the other filtered his exhales back out.

It was not safe to open one’s eyes while submerged in bacta and Vader mostly followed this precaution with a few exceptions. His eyes would sometimes pop open for a few seconds as if he was trying to escape a nightmare. When asleep, he had little control over his mind and visions from his past tended to take that control and twist it by flashing images that tormented him. Images of faces, waterfalls, desert monsters in masks, battles, and deaths. The most jarring aspect about these nightmares were not the visions but the feelings that came with them. Feelings that came with friendship. Camaraderie. Playfulness. Happiness. Love. His eyes would pop open to resist these foreign temptations. It was like something or someone was trapped deep within his mind and desperately tried to crawl out. The slight burn of the bacta against his exposed eyes was not nearly as painful as the nightmares he had resisted. Closing his eyes once again, anger coursed through his veins at the thought of being disturbed not by an outside force—like an Imperial officer—but of his own mind. After these occasional incidents—they wouldn’t happen every submersion but enough—Vader tried to focus on how the bacta cooled his body and helped rejuvenate him physically. Thus led to relaxation and furthermore, meditation—in which he reached into the core of the planet and bonded with the dark side as if it possessed every cell in his body. This meditation transported the Sith Lord to a different but familiar realm that he discovered years ago, colored in black-red skies. His limbless body floated above the black terrain in this realm as lighting struck the ground around him. His eyes glowed red and his body became an amalgamation of black and red swirls as he embraced the darkness. Most meditations led him to this world, which where he was right now, so he took this moment for granted knowing that his guest would arrive shortly. And as if on cue or because of his enhanced senses, which brought him back to reality, Vader heard slight footsteps approaching the two sealed doors that led into the room.

It was Vanee. He sensed it. And sure enough, Vanee strolled into the room covered in a hooded black robe as he had always worn. On both knees, bowing his head to the dark lord, Vanee spoke.

“My lord, Director Krennic,” he started, head shifting upwards to try and look at Vader in the tank, “Has arrived.”

Vader let out one last submerged breath and used the force to turn off the bacta machine, which made a unique sound to which Vanee knew to bow his head yet again. That sound was followed by the bubbling of the bacta as it drained by perfect level towards the bottom of the cylinder, leaving Vader hanging in the warm fog.

Yet another period of relaxation had ended and the only thing Vader could do was patiently wait for his next submersion. And hope that he wouldn’t kill the Director, not for compromising the super-weapon, but for indirectly interrupting another brief moment of serenity.