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Niera's training began with lava rocks. As soon as he'd finished speaking, Lord Vader reached out with an open hand and pulled a passing chunk of solid rock from the lava river as it floated by. Lifting things with their minds was one of the less impressive things Niera had heard Force-users were capable of, but the size of the stone made his eyes widen, glowing molten lava dripping off of it as it was raised from the river. The moment Niera saw him raise his arm, somehow he'd known what was coming, but he hadn't expected the sheer speed with which the rock would then be hurled at him. He was thankful the coolant suit had been designed to function as battle armor, but it still hurt like hell when the thing slammed into him, sending him hurling back into the wall.

Vader threw another, but this time he was more prepared and managed to leap out of the way of the next rock. It wasn't until the third one that Vader chose to tell him what he had been expecting Niera to do.

“Reach out with the Force," Vader instructed, closing a fist in a dramatic gesture. “Show me what you are capable of."

The next rock was already floating up out of the river of lava. Niera held out a hand uncertainly. The rock flew toward him and he crooked his fingers as if squeezing an invisible grip around the massive chunk of earth. It was like pushing against an oncoming land speeder, and he grit his teeth. The rock stopped, inches from his face.

He was holding it, keeping it suspended there in mid air. And just as quickly, Vader was lifting another. Niera discarded the rock, tossing it with a push of his hand and letting it smash to pieces on the bank of the river.

“Good," his mentor's deep voice said. “Again."

The barrage continued and after awhile Niera was feeling sore and bruised, even with the armor. He only managed to halt every other rock or so in its path toward him—Vader wasn't even keeping them in his grip and pushing them at him, he'd simply lift one and hurl it toward Niera, the momentum of it almost too much to stop. The coolant suit had sustained damage, becoming scuffed and burnt, the plating across his chest had been dented, and he knew he'd need to get it repaired later, but it hadn't yet started leaking coolant.

Niera was growing increasingly frustrated with each failure. Not only did they hurt, but he knew each time he was slammed with a rock, Vader's approval diminished. This perfectionist attitude had gotten him far in the Empire, never accepting a single award he felt he wasn't truly worthy of. But at times it could be his own worst enemy as well, making him grow angrier with himself at each successive failure. Eventually, he'd had enough and as a rock flew toward him, he reached out with both hands and screamed with rage.

The rock exploded, tearing itself apart, chunks splashing back into the lava behind Vader as smaller pieces fell around his feet, the shockwave of raw power blowing the sith lord's black cape.

“Good," Vader said, a tone of actual approval in his voice. “Now you see how the dark side can empower you, turn your rage into a weapon."

Niera's eyes widened. For years, he'd tried to quash his rage, believing it made him unfocused in battle. He had never considered turning it against his foes. But now, with the Force on his side, the dark side at his fingertips, he could destroy his opponents. He wondered what might happen had a rebel been on the receiving end of the shockwave. Or a starship.

The training proceeded with basic lightsaber techniques, conducted not by Vader, but instead by a pair of old droids with long staves that sparked with purple energy at each end. Evidently, Vader had more important things to deal with at the time and saw fit to rely on the training strategy of simply letting the droids attack him. Niera was certain that if he hadn't gotten the hang of things with his lightsaber when he did, the droids would've killed him, but he was familiar enough with the process of learning through threat of death.

Lord Vader's own skill with a lightsaber was, unsurprisingly, far exceeding that of the droids Niera had just defeated. It only took the sith lord moments, probably less than a minute, to defeat him, cutting a large gash across the coolant suit. Still, Vader seemed impressed Niera had managed to defend himself as long as he did. Or as impressed as an expressionless masked cyborg could seem.

The coolant was quickly running out, clouds of white puffing from the damaged suit as he moved, and his vision filled with warning messages. Vader was merciful enough to call off the training a few rounds after they'd started using both the Force and a lightsaber at once. A lava rock smashed into Niera's chest and he heard a crunch that he could've sworn were all his ribs snapping, but once he'd staggered back to the med bay, he saw that the leaking coolant had run down the front of the suit in liquid form and probably weakened the metal. The chest was concave, crushed inward by that last lava rock, and the resin plating was cracked, covered with ash and bits of brown dirt.

Once he'd been checked by a medical droid, Niera retired to his provided quarters—a definite step up from those he'd been provided as a Captain, and a hell of a lot better than being crammed into the trooper barracks. He pondered whether he'd in fact still have his old rank. Was he a Lord now, like Vader or the Emperor? No. Surely he'd have to do more than prove he was Force-sensitive or push a few lava rocks for that.

He took the longest and most relaxing shower he had ever had, then passed out in bed.

***

Training continued. Niera's perfectionism served him well, and there were times when he'd insist on pushing on with training even when Lord Vader allowed him a break. This only happened a few times, however, as Vader began to acknowledge his passion and pushed him further.

He wasn't blind to the fact that his coolant suit made him at least somewhat similar to Vader, especially in terms of the mechanical, pressurized breathing they both announced their presence with, though Vader's was much deeper than that of the coolant suit. He wondered if in fact Vader's suit had been specifically designed to be as intimidating as possible. He wouldn't have put it past the Empire to do such a thing.

Niera also adopted Vader's sense of style during their training. He now often ignited his lightsaber with a dramatic motion—a diagonal slash across as the blade activated with that energized hum, or sometimes he'd hold it vertically in front of his face duelist style. Other times, he put out an open hand, choosing to attack with the Force first.

He found deflecting blaster bolts was remarkably simple once he got the hang of it. It took awhile, but at one point it clicked and he began blocking fire from training remotes without breaking a sweat. As good a shot as he had been in his trooper days, his deflected shots almost always hit their mark. It made his old E-11 seem clumsy and random, at best.

He'd come to enjoy how the lightsaber felt in his hands. The sound of its ignition lit something in him, a fire in his heart, and sometimes he spent time igniting it and sheathing it over and over. There was a soft vibration he felt in his hand, sending a thrum of power through him, and the low hum of the blade was pleasing. Oftentimes, he would idly toss the hilt around and pull it back to his open hand with the Force, or toss it up and simply let gravity pull it back down, only using the Force to ensure it landed back in his hand again.

Then there came a day where he joined Lord Vader for training, when he had grown in his ability far beyond what he thought he would, only to find he had simply stepped to the edge of a great, gaping precipice, and he had yet to fall. In mere weeks, the Force made him a more capable warrior than he ever thought he could be with years of training, but he had yet to learn the true power he could wield.

Before they began, before either of them even ignited their lightsaber, Vader instructed him, “Remove your suit."

Niera's ears perked, turning toward the sith lord and catching only that mechanical breath.

“What?" he asked.

“Remove your suit," Lord Vader repeated, more firmly than before.

Niera gave only a moment of pause before reaching up and pulling his helmet off, the hermetic seal releasing with a hiss and a cloud of white billowing around his neck. Hot air rushed in around his face, but he continued, pulling off the suit piece by piece; the gloves, boots, chest piece, and legs. The heat was staggering, but he pushed himself to focus. Vader ignited his blade.

Niera lasted longer than he thought he would. His feet kicked up hot ash that got in his fur and burned in his eyes, and the incredible, unimaginable heat of the planet hurt to even breathe. The training session came to an end quickly as Niera struggled through it, fighting more out of desperation than anything, before finally falling to his hands and knees.

Vader's shadow fell over him as he knelt there in the ash and dirt, gasping for breath. Vader's red lightsaber hummed and Niera felt sure it was the last sound he would hear, next to that breathing.

“Use the Force," Vader said in that frustrated tone he always had when Niera hadn't instinctively come upon a solution. “You do not need a suit to protect you."

Niera looked down, lifting his hands, and focused. The air flowed around him and the Force flowed through him. He remembered the chill of the coolant, how it had felt around his fur, and pushed the intense heat of Mustafar away from him, feeling a thin shell of cold surround him.

He stood, took the pieces of the coolant suit in his invisible grip, and pushed his hands outward, sending them all into the lava. Then he reached down and drew his lightsaber.

***

Other abilities began to come to him in the intensity of the training. Becoming increasingly frustrated at the number of machines Vader threw at him, he focused on their power sources and decided to give these things a taste of their own medicine. He thrust his hands outward and bolts of bright lightning burst from them, electrocuting the training droids and the remotes, reducing them to smoldering, smoking, sparking ruin.

The way he learned Vader's signature Force Choke came as a surprise, when one day his master brought out a single stormtrooper and ordered him to fire on Niera. He had blocked each of these bolts effectively, but none of them hit the trooper, confused as he was by the sudden change in opponent.

“Kill him," Vader ordered, but the command was not to the trooper, as he was facing Niera.

“He's imperial," Niera said. “One of ours!"

“He is a traitor," Vader responded. “Kill him."

The trooper protested. Niera felt the rage swell inside him again, but not a rage like that he usually experienced in training. Rather than being born of frustration, this rage came from hatred, that same feeling he had felt in the presence of the jedi. But a death by his lightsaber would be too quick.

However, instead of raising a hand and clenching a fist, squeezing the life out of the terrified trooper, Niera's rage caused the man's neck to snap like a twig underfoot the moment he crooked his fingers, and in doing so he gained his own signature Force move. Vader brought him more traitors and pitted them against him in various exercises, for the Empire had no shortage of enemies even within its own ranks, and rumor had begun to spread about Vader's new wolf apprentice and his propensity to snap his foes' necks rather than crushing their throats.

***

Not long after came a lesson Niera would not soon forget.

It began like any other training session, plenty of the typical training remotes, though by this point Vader had switched out the old IG-100 magnadroids for combat droids wielding lightsabers. This time, there was something else, an unfamiliar sensation like a subtle tremor in his skull, and he realized Vader was attempting to peer into his mind. Judging by his perfectly executed feints and well-timed blocks, he was doing just that.

But Vader continued his relentless assault, never letting up. Niera's body was fine, he'd hardly broken a sweat, but fighting the sith lord's mental assault was exhausting. Finally, Vader broke through, and Niera felt him sift through his thoughts, delving down, finding his deepest desires. He wanted to feel the power of the dark side flow within him, he wanted to feel the lightsaber ignite in his hand, to feel his enemies' fear.

But buried at the bottom was his deepest desire. Niera guarded it with all he was worth, clutched and clawed at it, but an image pierced his mind, one he'd kept well hidden, banished from his mind since he began his training months ago: Captain Ravaran Lethra. He did want the power the dark side offered, he wanted to serve the Empire, but more than that he wanted her.

Niera fell to his knees in the ash and Vader's blade was inches from his face.

“Weakness," Vader said. “Use your hatred. Turn it into strength."

At once, he felt Vader project images into his mind, scenes, nightmares his most horrible thoughts couldn't come up with. He saw Rava, struck down in battle, taking a blaster bolt to the chest. He saw her being taken prisoner by the rebels, tortured for information. He felt her pain, her fear. Rage welled up within him like never before, a surging in his chest that erupted outward from his body and he screamed, the power of the Force sending a blast of energy out and around him, pushing away his foes.

Niera drew his lightsaber and pushed back, not just with his physical skill, but with his mind. He didn't just learn to block the intrusion into his head, but also to push past the seemingly impenetrable wall that surrounded Vader's, to know when he would attack and where to strike. It took awhile, but eventually he did manage to land a hit, his blade striking the shoulder of Vader's armor. The black plating sizzled and glowed orange, but Vader didn't relent until Niera had landed a second and then a third hit, his blade grazing the dark lord's left thigh. The third actually slashed the helmet.

This seemed to come as a genuine shock to the sith lord, as much as it did to Niera, and for just a flash of a moment, he saw a face beneath the mask before Vader stepped back into shadow. A single yellow eye glared at him, exposed by the open half of the helmet. The deep breathing had become raspy, the respirator in the mask damaged.

“Good," Vader said. His voice was half machine and half man. “You are ready."