When the Silver Streak docked on Polis Massa Space Station, Padmé and Luke bundled up Anakin in a large, white blanket, draping it over his black armor.

To complete the disguise, Padmé sent Luke onto the station to retrieve a hover chair. The medical center expected them, but they did not know the identity of their patient.

The space station sat in the middle of the Polis Massa asteroid mining colony. It began as a medical center for mining accidents, but over the years it had become a haven for those who wanted complete discretion about their medical issues.

For everything from delivering Force-sensitive babies whose parents feared their children would be killed at birth to rehabilitation of Spice addicts, Polis Massa was known for its discretion. Most importantly, the space station claimed some of the most advanced medical facilities and doctors in the galaxy.

Padmé in her handmaiden ombre uniform and Luke in the Nubian security blue-and-maroon uniform guided the hover chair into the medical center.

A human doctor met them in the receiving area. Dr. Cantoro led them into an examination room where two medical droids and a human med tech awaited. "Welcome, Lady Quemé, and . . ."

"Discretion, doctor, utmost discretion from this point forward." She waited for the doctor's acknowledgment. "The patient has no records here. He has received inadequate treatment at an Imperial facility for injuries sustained in the lava flows of Mustafar eight years ago. We would like a complete examination of the cybernetics, life support systems, internal organs, and unhealed flesh wounds of . . ." She removed the white blanket hiding the dark suit. ". . . Anakin Skywalker."

Dr. Cantoro took in a deep breath and looked at her med tech, a gigantic Sanyassian named Wertho. Cantoro said with a sigh, "This is not how I thought this day was going to go. Very well. If you and the boy will excuse us . . ."

Anakin stiffened in the hover chair as his helmet swiveled to Padmé. Luke grabbed his left hand in comfort. The Sith Lord rumbled. "They stay."

He reached forth his right hand to emphasize his demand, but his wife grabbed it in her hand and lowered it to his side.

She shook her head slightly at him. "It will be okay. We're not going anywhere."

"Very well, if you wouldn't mind moving to the examination table, Lor—Master Skywalker . . . or do you require assistance?" The doctor pursed her lips together.

"I am perfectly capable." Anakin moved from the chair, leaving the white blanket behind, and sat on the padded examination table.

The med tech flicked a few switches on a control panel at the rear of the chamber. The room clicked, sealing the airspace. Oxygen flowed into the small room, filling the air with its odd odor. 

As they waited for the pressure to increase, the doctor asked, "I see you have an older model life-support unit. Do you know exactly what it manages?"

"It maintains my heart rate, and the respirator maintains my breathing. My lungs are scarred from the fumes on Mustafar."

"And where are your cybernetics?"

"My right forearm and hand were installed fourteen years ago after they were severed in a lightsaber duel. It attaches at the elbow. My entire left arm and both legs were installed eight years ago after they were burned in the lava." Anakin motioned to each in turn.

"Have you noticed any problems with the prosthetics?"

"Except for the right arm, I am in constant pain. I have phantom pains as well, feeling injuries to body parts that don't exist anymore. My lungs burn when I breathe, as well."

One of the medical droids spoke in its mechanical voice, "Full pressurization has been reached. Oxygen is at one hundred percent."

Dr. Cantoro said, "Thank you, One-Bee. Please remove his helmet so that we can see what's going on under there."

After the droid had removed the helmet, Anakin turned his eyes on his son once again—the second time in his life he had seen him with his own eyes. It took his eyes a little bit of time to adjust to the brightness of the room, but then he turned to Padmé as a smile formed on his lips.

Dr. Cantoro checked his pupil response with a pen light.

The med tech pressed a recessed button behind him, and an eye chart descended out of the ceiling. "Can you read the third line for me?"

"Forn, dorn, vev, resh, kresh."

"Good," the doctor said. She then held up the back of her datapad to Anakin's left eye, covering it. "Now read with your right eye the fourth line."

"Trill, senth, jenth, qek, mern."

"And the fifth line with your left eye." Dr. Cantoro moved the datapad in front of his other eye.

"Grek, krill, leth, aurek, thesh."

"Very good. Your eyesight is perfect. At least one thing is working properly. Now, the medical droids are going to emit sounds at different frequencies. Indicate which ear you hear the sound in, if you hear any at all." The doctor adjusted ear cuffs around the respirator base.

After Dr. Cantoro and her staff had completed the basic tests, she said, "I want to remove your cybernetics and test them. I also think the more recent ones were attached incorrectly, connecting to the wrong nerves. I will need to sedate you."

"No," Anakin moaned.

Padmé grabbed his hand. "If you must, then do so. Ani, I'll be here. I'm not leaving. I'll help you through this. Luke will help you through this."

"I cannot proceed without the patient's approval."

Padmé hardened her face. "Well, I'm his wife."

Both the doctor and the med tech looked at Anakin and then at Padmé.

"Don't I get a say?" she asked.

The doctor shook her head.

"As long as you and Luke stay with me, I will do this for you." Anakin reclined on the table, his prosthetic legs clanging as they hit the metal table.

The medical droids rolled over to the large man, administering large doses of anesthetics.

Anakin drifted off to oblivion, his eyes gazing at his loving wife.

Medical Droid Two-Three-Bee said, "The patient is unconscious. Procedures may begin."

Padmé said, "Sedation always brings on the Force-visions. Please restrain him to the table."

Three-Bee pushed a button on the end of the examination table, causing four straps to slither over the torso.

The doctor removed the life support trousers while Padmé and Luke scrubbed their hands and arms and donned surgical gloves and masks.

Hours passed as the doctor and her team worked. Two other doctors joined her when she began work on the life support unit.

Anakin's torso thrashed as the dreams assaulted him.

Padmé kept a gloved hand on Ani's head, but he could not feel her.

Luke could feel his terror, could see his dream. He did not know who the young man in the dream was, but it felt like he was experiencing the entire nightmare himself. The boy moved beside his mother and placed his hand on his father's forehead, sending his love to him.

His father calmed at the touch of his son. Luke looked up at his mother, who nodded at him in encouragement.

They remained like that for hours, legs and feet cramping, but neither Padmé nor Luke would take a break.

At one point, the medical team connected Anakin to a heart bypass machine, sending his blood through it for oxygenating.  The bypass machine kept the man alive while doctors analyzed the heart and lungs with special scopes.

A few hours later, the doctors reattached Anakin's limbs, carefully selecting the correct nerves. They reversed the heart bypass, stitching the hole in his chest and affixing a Bacta gel patch over the opening.

Padmé and Luke never released their touch, not even when the doctors completed the procedures. 

"We are going to revive him now," Dr. Cantoro said. "You may want to move away. This is never a pleasant experience, let alone for a Jedi."

Padmé glared at the doctor. "I'll take my chances. And, please, before you wake him, remove the restraints. It will be worse for us all if he wakes up restrained."

"That is not standard procedure—"

"I don't care. Release him." Padmé's glare could have stopped charging banthas in their tracks.

Dr. Cantoro nodded to the med tech in the corner. "Very well, but I sure hope you know what you're doing."

The med tech punched a few buttons on the table controls. The restraining straps unfastened and slithered back under the examination table.

As the med droid injected Anakin with the sedative blocker, the man twisted and turned in agony.

Padmé and Luke continued to stroke his head, whispering to him.

Immediately Anakin's eyes popped open. He sat up. "Padmé!"

Padmé slid beside him, holding his face in her hands. "I'm here. I'm here, Ani. Luke's here, too. We're all okay. You came through this okay."

"How are you feeling, Master Skywalker?" Dr. Cantoro asked.

Anakin closed his eyes to the glare of the bright lights. He knew he was dressed in his suit, but his limbs felt different. "Better. Not so much pain."

"Your limbs have been reattached, properly this time. But these are old units. I've ordered new ones for you. They should be here in a week or two." 

The doctor checked the meters on his life-support suit. "Your heart seems to be functioning normally, provided it receives adequate oxygen. Your lungs are another issue altogether. A human-to-human lung transplant will have its problems, as your body will reject it eventually. But there is a new procedure I would like to try before we try a transplant."

Anakin glared at the doctor. "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be your test case?"

"You aren't wrong. This procedure has only be successful once before, and I won't attempt unless we have matching lung transplant organs available, just in case we have to abort the procedure midway." 

A display screen descended from the ceiling. It sprang to life with an image of Anakin's lungs.

"You see here, the lung linings are covered in scar tissue, but the bronchia are in good condition. Because the scar tissue is less than a tenth of a centimeter thick, I propose that we slice away the affected tissue and apply Bacta treatments to the lining. Once the new cells have sprouted, breathing should return to normal. If not, we will proceed with a lung transplant."

"When would we do this?" Anakin's voice shook with uncertainty.

"When we have a lung donor available. I took biopsies while we were working on the bypass. We should have a donor by the time your new limbs are ready."

"What does this mean? Will I have to wear this suit anymore if the surgery is successful? The respirator? The mask?"

Dr. Cantoro hesitated with a frown. "There is only a twenty-five percent chance that either procedure will remove the need for your suit. I'm also concerned about your head injuries that have not healed."

"They itch." Anakin raised his hand to his helmet, frustrated when he was unable to scratch.

"We applied a Bacta solution while you were out. If the lung surgery is successful, eliminating your need for a respirator and life-support suit, I would like to submit you to a Bacta tank for a week. I think your entire body would benefit from the treatment, even facilitating the attachment of the new appendages."

A life without the suit. A life without pain. Maybe. Anakin caught the hope in Padmé's eyes. He nodded briefly. Anything for her. "Very well. We will return in a week." Anakin paused, breathing two revolutions before speaking again. "Thank you, doctor. You've given me hope."

"Sometimes that's all we need, Master Skywalker. I warn you, though, that whoever worked on you eight years ago almost killed you. Your life support unit has been pumping poison through your body, and your limbs are recycled droid parts, not true cybernetics. You have been victim of eight years of torture. I recommend caution."

Anakin hung his head low, his eyes flashing red in anger at his master. Sidious, you've done this. You told me the pain would focus my power, but I know now, Master. I feel your fear. You are afraid, because I will be more powerful than you. I'm coming for you, Master. Once I am healed, I am coming for you. And I promise you one thing, you will not survive, even if it costs me my life. Vader propelled the thoughts through the intervening space between himself and his master on Coruscant.

Luke felt the anger and the rage emanating from his father. He slid beside him and crawled on the examination table next to him, resting his head on his father's shoulder armor. "It will be all right, Daddy. Don't be angry. We can do this the Jedi way."

Padmé moved next to the other side of her husband and grabbed his right hand. "Listen to your son, Anakin."

Did you know . . .

● George Lucas gave information in an interview during Revenge of the Sith's release that Palpatine had purposefully given Vader the worst medical care. He wanted to keep his apprentice in so much pain that Vader would never be able to overpower him.

Tell me what you think . . .

● How will Anakin's lust for revenge turn out?