Star Wars: A Story of Light & Dark
Chapter I: Death of a Mentor
Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith and Second in Command to the Emperor, had waited nearly twenty years for this day. Before him stood his old master, Obi-Wan Kenobi; the man looked haggard and far older than his years, a mere shadow of the Jedi Knight he had once been. Vader sneered behind his mask, hatred at once flaring to life inside of him.
"I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again at last, the circle is now complete." Obi-Wan did not – could not – respond. Ben suddenly felt an uncharacteristic lump form in his throat as he coolly watched his old apprentice slip into an offensive position.
So, this is how it ends.
Kenobi eased himself into a defensive stance, not trusting himself to speak.
"When I left you, I was but the learner; now I am the master." Vader had waited for this moment for so long, had spent years fantasising about the different ways this scenario would play out. He had envisioned himself holding the old man as a prisoner, inflicting pain upon the Jedi not unlike what he had suffered on Mustafar. Many a night had an epic battle played out in his minds eye, with him ultimately being victorious.
However, staring at the seemingly frail old man who stood in front of him, Vader feared it would be a swift death for the Jedi. A swift death that he did not deserve.
If he were a younger man Vader would have lashed out immediately, using the full power of the dark side to end the fight before it had a chance to begin. However, he let his mechanical breathing fill the silence in the room.
"You have only become a master of evil." Kenobi murmured, his eyes not once wavering from the Sith Lord. He suddenly lunged forward, momentarily surprising the Sith with his boldness, but within a split second the move had been blocked – the force of the blow sent Obi-Wan staggering back a few steps.
Vader circled him like a shark would its prey, toying with him.
"I know there is still good in you, Anakin." Kenobi blocked a particularly vicious attack and held his ground, the two Lightsabers locked in struggle.
"Skywalker is dead." Vader hissed. The very air around them crackled as his hatred increased tenfold. Drawing on the power of the Dark Side, he continued his attacks with new vigour. The pair clashed again, both locked in a deadly dance, each blow from the Sith Lord seemed to weaken Ben.
They pulled apart for a brief moment, eyes locked on each other. Obi-Wan just had to distract his former Padawan for a little bit longer so that Luke, Han and Leia could escape.
Vader grew tired of playing with his old mentor. He stalked towards him, Lightsaber primed and ready to slice through the older man.
"If you strike me down now, I shall become more powerful than you could ever imagine." Kenobi warned, deactivating his Lightsaber. It seemed that his old master still talked in riddles, and despite all the years that had passed it still served to infuriate Vader to no end. With a low snarl Vader's Lightsaber went speeding towards Obi-Wan's middle. Instead of the satisfying sound of sizzling skin and the smell of burnt flesh, his saber connected with thin air.
Obi-Wan's cloak fell to the floor along with his Lightsaber, which landed neatly on top.
I did not believe him to be powerful enough to discorporate like a Master.
Under different circumstances Vader might have been impressed, but all he felt was strangely empty. He nudged the robes with his foot absent-mindedly, as if to make sure that his old friend was really dead. He summoned the Lightsaber to his hand and clipped it to his belt.
"Ben!" Straightening up, Vader immediately found the source of the strangled cry. A young man – no, boy – was staring at him, hatred burning in his eyes as he took an involuntary step forwards.
Impossible – did Obi-Wan take on another apprentice? There was no doubt that the boy standing in front of him was immensely powerful in the force. Vader was almost thrown off balance by the sheer force of emotions the young one was unintentionally broadcasting.
"I want him subdued for questioning." He barked out. His lips had moved before he had even registered what he'd said. The few Stormtroopers that stood off to the side sprung into action, their guns set to 'stun'.
"C'mon kid, we need to get going now!" Han yelled, firing off a few shots of his own. More reinforcements were coming into the hangar bay however, and he knew that they only had a few precious moments to escape before they would be completely trapped.
"He killed Ben!" Luke shouted. As the troopers neared him, he ignited his Father's Lightsaber and started to blindly swing at them, no longer seeing or hearing anything. He did not hear as his friends pleaded with him to get on board, nor the Stormtrooper that came up behind him and swiftly hit him on the head with the butt of his gun. As the troopers turned their attention his friends, they were already hurtling towards the hangar bay doors and to freedom.
Luke groaned as he tried to get up. A trooper booted him in his ribs sending him crashing back down to the ground. His Lightsaber rolled out of his hands until it came to a stop at a large, leather boot. Summoning it to him, Darth Vader did not pause at its familiar feel in his hands. Instead, he tucked it away next to Obi-Wan's on his belt for further examination.
"Have him interrogated. I want to know everything about his Jedi affiliations. Do not let him die until I say so." with a quick salute, the troopers dragged the young man away. Vader watched as they disappeared round the corner of the hangar bay, still feeling somewhat off. He unclipped the boys saber and studied it intently. He gripped it in his hand, surprised at the perfect fit.
If it weren't for years of training and discipline, Vader would have dropped the Lightsaber in shock at his realisation. It was his – from a time in his past he longer identified with.
But why had that old fool given it to this boy? With mounting frustration, Vader stalked off to his private quarters having more questions than answers. Something he was going to rectify soon.
Bright flashes of light danced before Luke's eyes at a dizzying pace; where was he? What was happening? Someone slapped him hard across the face, so hard that his entire head went swinging in the opposite direction. For one painstaking moment he was horribly lucid; he was acutely aware of the Imperials face that was inches away from his own, the look of disgust and anger in the man's eyes. He was dimly aware that the man was asking him something, but blissful unconsciousness overtook and he once again blacked out.
"Dammit!" the Imperial swore hotly to himself, standing up so forcefully from his chair that he sent it tumbling to the ground. "I want him awake now! Do you hear me? I don't care how much adrenaline you have to pump into him!"
The medical droid beeped an affirmative and injected Luke with a large needle that protruded off of its arm. Gasping like a fish out of water, Luke groaned as he was brought back to reality.
"Tell me about the Jedi, where are the others?" The man ground out, spit flying into Luke's face.
"I – I don't know anything, I swear..." Luke trailed off as the droid hovered towards him, a frightening needle drawing closer towards his neck. "Please -" he begged, cut off as the needle pricked his skin and he was injected with something.
Pain unlike anything he had felt before shot through his body, like liquid death running through his veins. He arched his back against his restraints, unable to even scream as the pain was too intense.
"Let's start again Luke." The imperial murmured, offering the boy some water. Confused at the sudden change of pace and half delirious, Luke drank thirstily from the glass. "So, you're Luke Skywalker from Tatooine. You lived with your relatives Owen and Beru Lars. You know Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi." Luke nodded as quickly as he could, eager to avoid more torture.
"I don't...I don't know if...there are more. I just -" he coughed, his throat raw from screaming, " - she was beautiful and needed...help...that's all." The Imperial kicked at his fallen chair in frustration. Surely the boy was lying? And yet he had endured more torture than most fully grown men could. Many had died within the first few hours of torture, or they had spilled whatever secrets they had and then they were killed anyway.
Ask for your Father, Luke.
Ben? Too disorientated to understand what was happening, Luke let his head fall the side as he gazed with unclear eyes at his torturer.
"My...Father..." The Imperials head snapped round, irritation clear on his face.
"Your Father is not here to help you, boy." he snarled, backhanding Luke.
Vader strode down to the detention centre, unclear as to why there had been no progress in learning what secrets the boy was harbouring. It been two days since the untrained Force sensitive had been brought into the detention centre, and he had endured far longer than Vader would have thought possible.
Look at him.
Vader stopped short, almost certain that he had heard the ghost of a whisper from his former mentor. He let out a humourless laugh and continued, quickening his pace until he reached the interrogation room the boy was being held in.
"Report." He ordered the officer who stood waiting for him.
The man swallowed nervously as he licked his lips and began to speak. "I believe that the boy knows nothing Milord. All I could get out of him was his name and where he was from. He has endured much more than any normal man-"
"Do not waste my time with unnecessary information." Vader thundered, cutting the man off. After a short breathing cycle, he entered the dimly lit room and regarded the straggly body restrained against a chair. The force seemed to come alive when Vader focused on the young man.
Obi-Wan was a fool not to train him. He thought viciously to himself.
Anakin, listen to him!
Vader snarled at the unwanted voice in his head, yet found himself obeying anyway.
"Father..."
"He's been calling for his Father for a while now, Milord." his subordinate explained, wary of the sour mood the Sith seemed to be in. "...Milord?" the man tentatively asked.
The only two sounds to be heard in the room were the young man's whimpering and the Dark Lord's breathing regulator. The force was like a turbulent wave, crashing and roaring around him – drowning him almost. What was the force trying to tell him? What was so important about this insignificant boy? The lightest brush to the child's mind sent him reeling as stars appeared in his vision.
"What did you find out about him?" Vader asked reluctantly, unable to leave until he had discovered what the force wanted him to.
"Just his name Milord. Luke Skywalker, and that he's from Tatooine." And just like that, everything became clear to the Sith Lord. As if in response to his realisation, the force swam lazily around him, punctuated by the pain that the youth before him was feeling.
It was as if a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over him. His heart hammered erratically behind his chest, yet his breathing regulator did not betray this fact.
"You said he had a family?" Vader asked in a deceptively soft voice. Sensing the impending danger, the interrogator started to sweat profusely.
"O-Owen and Beru Lars. His Aunt and Uncle." clearing his throat, the man subtly tried to put as much space between him and his commanding officer as possible.
"It seems that in your anger, you killed her."
"If we have a son, I want to name him Luke."
It should have been impossible. Nothing made sense, and yet everything was clear to him. His son had survived. His grown up son. He roughly grabbed the boys chin and lifted his head up. For a moment and with vivid clarity, Luke stared up at his captor with fierce, cerulean blue eyes. His expression was one of a quiet determination not to give up, of hope, of a fiery passion for all that was good.
Vader needed no DNA test. Those were his eyes, and that was her look. Painful memories came rushing to the surface of his mind. Although they had been buried for so long, the wounds they reopened still felt as fresh as the day they happened.
As quickly as it had happened, Luke slumped forwards again, drained from using the last of his strength to look his Father's murderer in the eye, to show him that he wasn't afraid of him.
"Release him." Vader ordered with barely restrained anger. It was a miracle that the room did not begin to shake. The lowly Imperials hands were shaking so much that he tried and failed to unfasten the clamps around the youths wrists. Snarling, Vader released them himself and yanked the man back violently with the force. He was sent flailing through the air before hitting the wall with a thud. He then lay motionless on the ground.
Vader, so unused to caring, to nurturing, to being the protector, propped Luke up against the wall and sent soothing waves of the force towards him. Whether to ease his son's pain or to offset the alarming guilt blossoming in his chest he did not know, but he simply acted on instinct without thought.
"Have my medic summoned immediately." He ordered the droid. He would see that his son was safe, and then he would have time to think.
Vader watched as his son breathed evenly as he slept, a peaceful look on his face. Bacta patches hid the extent of the torture he had endured, something which Vader was thankful for. He found himself unable to look at the bruises.
"Milord?" Vader did not turn at the voice; it was his personal medic, a man whom Vader knew was loyal to him.
"What is his status, Doctor Holst?"
"He is making a speedy recovery Milord. I believe that he will be lucid enough for more questioning within the hour." Vader turned slowly to face the medic.
"That will not be necessary, Doctor. Alert me as soon as he is awake, do not speak to him under any circumstances." Holst saluted curtly, his interest in the young boy piqued immensely. It was rare for the Dark Lord to take such an invested interest in a prisoner – in fact it had never happened in the Doctors tenure as the Sith Lord's personal medic.
"Remember Doctor, I chose you because of your discretion. Do not make me regret that decision." Holt understood the thinly veiled threat aimed at him and swallowed imperceptibly. He had so far avoided incurring the Dark Lord's wrath and he did not want to start angering the man now.
What made this boy so important?
Yet Holt struggled to see how the young, thin, straggly man laying asleep in the bed before him could be anything important. He checked the boys chart, acutely aware that the Sith Lord was watching his every move from behind the window. Holt couldn't help but scoff to himself; it just showed how stupid the Rebel Alliance really were if they trusted their sensitive information to a child.
Yet he endured two days of interrogation and didn't spill any secrets. An unsuppressed shudder ran through his body, sympathy welling up within him. Perhaps the Alliance weren't complete idiots after all.
Vader shouldn't have been surprised that Palpatine had lied to him about killing his son and wife, yet there was small, subtle pang of something that he couldn't quite place that accompanied the roaring anger coursing through his body.
For a foolish moment Vader had allowed the dangerous idea of Padmé still being alive to blossom within his mind, but he knew deep down that she would be lost to him forever.
But her son – our son – still lives.
Sitting in his hyperbaric chamber, Vader meditated to calm himself as he thought about his next steps. Revealing the boy to Palpatine so soon would be most foolish, but the idea of squirrelling him away to hide somewhere did not please him either. He would bide his time, get the boy on his side and teach him the basics before revealing him to his Master.
Vader could already see how it would play out in his minds eye; if he could present the boy as a fresh challenge, young and powerful and ready to be moulded into a dangerous Sith that Palpatine could control...yes, make the old fool believe he could use the boy to replace him...but then Father and Son would unite and rule the galaxy the way it should have been from the start.
He will become what I failed to be.
An invigorating rush of power and adrenaline coursed through him before suddenly giving way to a soothing calm, akin to a gently winding river. It took Vader a confused moment to understand what was happening, and when he did he felt suddenly apprehensive; the boy was awake.