It had been some time since Darth Rheeve had experienced the feel of a good night's sleep in a bed, and the previous night was no different. Rheeve had not preempted the alarm that she had set on the small personal computer that she had sat upon the table she had worked on, so when a soft yet piercing beep filled the air, the Darth Lord sat bolt upright in the chair she had drifted off in, scattering data-pads across the floor.
Switching off the alarm, Rheeve uttered a silent curse and lent down painfully to retrieve the items from where they had fallen, all further evidence of her tireless, and as of yet mostly fruitless efforts to stave-off the illness that seemed to be draining the life away from Telethia Kolnet, future wife of Darth Struja and someone she had personally become very close to over the past few months. Reaching out gently with the Force, she could sense the pair still resting with-in Struja quarters. The Pureblood Darth had insisted that the pair spend as much time together as possible, and that Struja himself get some rest, she was pleased that he was was least taking Rheeve up on her offer. Thankfully neither had awoken at the sounds she had been making, and with further efforts to be silent Rheeve lifted the small bag she had placed beneath the table with a change of clothes and slipped out of the estate unnoticed.
It was nearly 7.00 in the morning, standard galactic time when Darth Rheeve arrived at her location. She had showered in her ship, a rather humble Fury-class Imperial Interceptor that had seen her well through-out the galaxy during the last few decades. The Darth was dressed in simpler robes than she was used to stepping out in public, and the gold beads that usually punctuated the long, dark tresses of her hair were foregone to let the silken waves of ebony simply drift about her shoulders, the chilly morning breeze of Dromund Kaas causing strands to wander across her face and stick there with rain.
Darth Rheeve stepped over to the small balcony that encircled the imposing, stark grey building she was here to enter, wrestling with-in herself the courage to step through the large, glass sliding doors. The Pureblood warrior would have rather be facing a fully armed battalion of Republic soldiers, or even a long, unpleasant conversation with an Alderaanian noblewoman than this. But it had been too long already, she was six months pregnant, visibly swollen with the son that now sat with-in her and there were questions. Those that knew her well were aware of the trouble she had been in recently at the hands of the Father, and those that didn't were questioning the child's origins. The Darth had not publicly beenseen with anyone for a long time, no-one except the Darth whose estate she now resided in, and even she had to confess it seemed improper for people to be whispering that the child could have possibly belonged to Darth Struja when he had such much of his own to be dealing with.
But more-over than that there were questions about the child's health, Rheeve found those the most troubling to answer because in actual fact, she didn't know herself. Ever since the morning she had woken up on a medical bed, after of Darth Daarak Mun'lak's assassins had nearly succeeded in in their task, leaving Rheeve to die upon a pile of broken rubble after having plunged his lightsaber into her torso and brought all but half the building down upon her, Rheeve had not sought any further medical assistance. The freshly branded scar across her midsection scared her, and she was deathly afraid what any scans or Doctors may tell her about the fate of her unborn child. She knew he was alive, her stomach had continued to swell and she could sense... something from with-in her. But it was faint, and with little experience with such things the Darth had spent the last few months in silent concern.
Raising a hand to pull the wet strand of hair away from her face, Darth Rheeve finally turned back toward the medical facility and strode inside.
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The Darth was treated with the sort of respect and adulation one of her station would expect to deserve, but in her current state Rheeve found it beyond tiring and on more than one occasion she had to pause and make a conceded effort to keep the mask of her friendly cordiality in place when another missish young intern began fawning over her and asking her if she was 'excited' about the prospect of Motherhood.
Finally being saved from further questioning Rheeve was led to a private room and guided to lay upon the cot that sat inside after slipping into a plain, white gown. Rheeve let out a sigh and closed her eyes, she could hardly blame anyone for their fussing. She supposed it was only normal for most Mothers to be looking forward to the prospect of seeing their children, to share in the experience with the partners of their chosen life. But Rheeve was here alone. The empty stillness of the room all too apparent to her as the bed was flanked by assorted medical computers instead of a companion. She was gratefully distracted by her melancholy by a human woman, dressed in standard whites of her profession and wearing a warm yet knowledgeable smile.
“My Lord,” she began, as courtesy expected her to “I am Doctor Cairns. I see you are here for us to do a general scan and check-up of your, son is it? I however cannot find any records of your recent visits. I assume you have been seeing a private physician?” the woman asked, looking over a data-pad she had clasped in one hand.
“Ah, yes.” Rheeve answered quickly, hardly one to admit that she had been lax when it came to her own offspring out of fear and shame. “I thought it was time for a more formal check-up in an Imperial medical facility.”
“Very good, just lay back and we shall begin.” she smiled, moving to stand further beside the bed and placing her data-pad with-in clear reach for later as she pulled a tool off one of the machines that sat beside the cot and began toying with it. The equipment puzzled Rheeve exceedingly, but that is of course why there were people trained in such things while others such as herself stormed the battlefield attempting to reclaim territory for the Empire from the hands of the Republic. Every one of them was a gear turning in the great machine that was the Empire, some pieces just happened to be bigger than others.
Doctor Cairns wordlessly swept some form of scanning device across the orange-skinned Pureblood for several minutes, brief furrowing of her brows only hinting at what-ever the read-outs coming out of one of the taller blinking contraptions were telling her. While she didn't speak, Darth Rheeve could sense the turmoil with-in the woman and the hesitation that the Doctor was exhibiting as she struggled with-in herself where to begin with the Darth that lay upon her table.
The tension in the room was becoming so thick that Rheeve finally closed her eyes and took a few cleansing breaths in an attempt to shut out all of the anxiety that was rolling off this woman. Her reverie was only broken when a voice pierced the air.
“My Lord, I- I have to ask. Has your own physician hinted at any 'complications' of your pregnancy?”
The blazing pools of fire that were Rheeve's eyes shot open and settled upon the Doctor, clearly unsettling the woman further, although the Pureblood was used to her piercingly alienesque features having that effect on people. Especially humans with their friendly eyes and their soft and unremarkable skin.
“Explain it to me in your own words.” the Darth replied simply.
“Well, there is a uh...” the Doctor's hands shook a little as she raised a portable display screen and passed it toward the Pureblood, any hint of stoic professionalism the Doctor had all but withered away beneath the fear she was currently experiencing at the idea of displeasing a Dark Lord of the Sith with her news. “There seems to be some mild deformities.”
Time seemed to stop as the Doctor's words and the visual display on the screen that sat upon the swell of her stomach reached Darth Rheeve. There upon the screen sat the tiny, flicking black and white image of an infant. It seemed to be a child, he was curled up and the screen had only captured a few angles but one thing that stood out to the Pureblood was that her son only seemed to have one arm. As she fully absorbed the image, she began to see that there were other small abnormalities. His left foot also seemed to be missing and his other leg was twisted into a strange angle. If crying was something that the genetic traits of her species had allowed her to do, Rheeve would surely be blinded by tears as she stared at the stark truth being shown to her on the screen.
“My Lord.” a voice finally interrupted Rheeve as the display screen slipped from her usually nimble fingers, the Doctor catching it before it hit the floor, a clear look of concern painted across the human woman's face. “There are things we can do My Lord.” she began, words slipping from her lips in rapid succession in some attempt to calm the emotions of the Darth before she suffered her wrath. “There have been amazing leaps in cybernetic technology as of late, and his bones are in-tact. Some surgery could see them corrected. His heart-beat is strong, I am sure everything will be fine.”
Rheeve had to give her one thing, her smile seemed sincere for the most part. It was clear she was still worried about having her neck snapped or having the life sucked out of her with some form of space magic she didn't quite understand.
“Very well.” the Darth spoke simply, hoping at least to allay the poor Doctor's fears. “Is there anything further?”
“I would suggest a muscle relaxant My Lord, if you would allow me. Then I could arrange another appointment to see you back here in a few weeks.”
“Of course.” Rheeve sighed, resigning herself to any efforts that would be required now to see see herself, and namely her son well. Doctor Cairns administered an injection into Rheeve's bare, scar-covered arm and she hardly winced at the pain that shot through her shoulder. It was scarcely notable next to the swirling vortex of torment that ripped it's way through her at the idea that due to her own foolishness, her own ineptitude, her son was broken before he was even born. He would have to endure painful and risky surgeries to 'fix' what-ever had been done to him due to her own inability to keep him safe from the pride-filled rage of his Father.
The end of her conversation with Doctor Cairns, dressing and somehow finding her way back to Darth Struja's estate was a dull blur. Barely a few of hours had passed since she had snuck out, the couple still asleep with-in Struja's chambers. Rheeve climbed the stairs and found herself back into the chair that had been her cot the previous night, silently placing the printed image she had been given of her son onto the table before her. More time passed as her eyes drifted over the black and white photograph. Darth Rheeve thought she had experienced pain before. She felt she knew what it was and was acquainted with many facets of the feeling, but this sensation was entirely new. She felt empty, hollow. As if someone had taken a spoon and dug out the cavity of her chest until there was nothing left.
Only when the sounds of someone moving reached her ears did Darth Rheeve shake free from her stupor, fixing a smile over her face so rapidly that no-one could have guessed what was going on with-in the recesses Darth's heart. Darth Struja stepped into the room, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand as Rheeve expertly flipped the image before he took notice and covered it with a scattering of data-pads.
“I see you slept well Bannen.” the Pureblood grinned at her friend, the appearance of Struja at least calming a little of the turbulence she was experiencing, but he always did seem to have that effect on her.
“Mmm, seems so. I don't see a cup of tea on that table, you alright?” he asked, nodding to the pile of work before her. It was unusual to see the Pureblood Darth without some steaming beverage to keep her company during her long hours.
“Of course.” she lied expertly, pushing every single of her fears, her pain so deeply with-in herself that only the very deepest of probings with-in her mind would reveal the truth. Her son was broken, and it was all her fault.
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