Artifact: The Saber's Odyssey

By VaderLVR

The man hunched deeper inside his worn cloak. He was uncomfortable in my presence, as I intended him to be.

"You said that you had something of interest?" I asked him without preamble. Time was not to be wasted; the work of the Empire was endless.

"I've heard you collect Jedi artifacts," he said in a coarse accent of the Outer Rim.

"Only those which are genuine," I told him. "And I warn that I can tell the difference. It could prove unfortunate for you if you should try to deceive me."

He shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his fate. "I reckon this is as genuine as they get, Lord Vader."

And with that he held out his hand. There, nestled in his callused palm, was the hilt of a lightsaber.

I simply stared at it for a long moment. If my respirator had not prompted me to breathe, I am sure I would have held my breath. It was indeed a Jedi's lightsaber - and not just any Jedi.

This one had been used to kill a Sith.

I supposed that I should have considered that Sith my brother, though at the time of his death I was still many years away from embracing the darkness that consumed me now. His passing had eventually made room for me. There are always only two, as my Master reminded me when he felt I had committed some transgression.

My continued silence made him uneasy and he shifted restlessly on his feet. He began to pull the saber back, as if apologizing for his error.

"Wait," I commanded.

"It's a Jedi's saber, ain't it?"

I moved so that I could view it from a different angle. My first impression had been correct. "Yes."

"So it's valuable to you?" His voice had taken on a sly note which did not please me.

"Perhaps," I replied. "Certainly more valuable than your miserable life," I warned him.

He swallowed hard and his face paled; my warning had been recognized. "Of course, your lordship."

"You may leave it here and appropriate compensation will be credited to your account," I informed him. I was tired of his presence. And for some reason the thought of his filthy hands on that lightsaber troubled me.

Quickly, he placed it on a low table and scuttled out of the room. He probably considered himself lucky to have escaped with his life at that point. But I would arrange for the transfer of credits nonetheless. He might prove useful in the future and I was always aware that one could never have too many allies, even those whose loyalty was purchased. I would let him live, for the moment.

My business with the greedy treasure hunter done, my attention turned once more to the object he had brought to me.

The saber seemed to mock me, inanimate as it was.

Light gleamed dully on the metal, which had seen better days. Clearly, the weapon had not been cared for in years. Not surprising, since it was considered a crime merely to possess such a thing. It would have been hidden, passed surreptitiously from hand to hand.

Settling into a chair I continued to contemplate the object which both repelled and drew me. I could see signs of corrosion; tiny pock marks marred the surface, which distressed me. It did not seem right that such an elegant weapon was not shining and pristine.

But this lightsaber, like the man who had once wielded it, was from an age long gone.

The blade would be a glimmering green. I had seen it in action only briefly when I was a young boy. It had been a thing of beauty as it danced and leapt in his hands. Large capable hands had been utterly assured as they held it.

I could summon up an image of his hands in minute detail. I had trouble recalling his face after all these years, but those hands were as familiar to me as my own had once been, before the lava.

Qui-Gon's lightsaber was here in my quarters.

How odd that it should come to be in my possession after all that had happened.

I could remember Obi-Wan packing it away in his slain Master's bag when we left Naboo. He never spoke of having used it to strike down the Sith. But I heard the story from the other Padawans. They were thrilled to give me every gory detail, though I was sure much of what they said was manufactured in their own imaginations.

Still, this had been the blade used, of that there was no doubt.

On the very bottom of the hilt I saw Qui-Gon's mark. He would have put it there on the day he completed the construction of it. I had seen this saber in the hands of my own Jedi Master more than once.

Usually he would be in a melancholy and reflective mood as he turned this hilt over and over in his hands. I learned not to speak to him when he did so. Very quietly, I would retreat to my own room and wait for his gloom to pass.

Now I wonder what he was thinking as he held his Master's weapon in his hand. Was he mourning the man who had been like a father to him? Or was he telling Qui-Gon that he resented the burden of the slave boy he had been given to train? The latter, I would suspect.

But like so many things, this had been left behind when the last of the Jedi fled their great Temple. The very Temple I had personally destroyed, just as I had their Order.

I wonder if Obi-Wan ever grieved for this lost piece of his history. I hoped so.

And now it was one more bit of my old Master's life that I possessed. It was mine to do with as I pleased. I considered all the different ways I could destroy it. I thought about the satisfaction it would give me to obliterate something that had been dear to Kenobi. The possibilities were endless and entertaining. I mused upon them for an unknown length of time, happily contemplating one more strike against the Jedi I hated above all others.

Finally, I decided the weapon's fate.

I picked it up, finally touching it for the first time. It was well balanced, truly a fine bit of craftsmanship. Qui-Gon must have had an artist's soul, I think.

Opening that chest which contained my few personal items, I placed the old weapon carefully in one corner.

The Sith killer was now the property of a Sith. I enjoyed the irony of it as much as I was capable of enjoying anything. But I wondered what Qui-Gon would think, to have his beloved weapon nestled here in my quarters.

I suspected the thought would haunt him. All the more reason to keep it, I told myself.