On My Knees
Chapter Two
"Always in motion is the future." –Master Yoda
Vader felt his eyes snap open, they saw sightlessly into the red haze that was constantly his vision—the world tinted in red due to his mask. He was so shocked he barely noticed. He had been meditating like he always did before sleep, when the most startling thing to ever occur just happened. Eh, perhaps not the very most startling—or was it? After all, nothing so preposterous had ever entered his meditations. For one brief moment, he had felt something. And had heard something. A bright, almost blinding presence had overwhelmed him, filled with such fear and panic and utter turmoil—it took his breath away. The situation was only made worse by one single word: Father. It had been shouted at him, loud and clear, no possible way to mistake it for any other word. Father. And needless to say, it had shaken him. The entire experience had lasted only for a moment, a second.
And now he sat there, in his oxygen enriched office where he relaxed, frozen. Doing nothing, his mind was blank. Suddenly, as if kicked into high gear, the organ began to whirl. Father, Father—who in the Galaxy would address him so? And better yet, who could have sent such a blinding Force presence his way? The implications trickled into his mind slowly, reluctantly. When the full idea of what this all could mean hit, he scrambled almost desperately into the Force for any lingering remains for that contact. That contact that somehow felt familiar.
There was nothing, nothing at all.
Father.
It shook him to the core. Was the Force telling him something? But it wasn't possible. He himself had ruined any and all chances he might have had of that former life, the one that had a child in it. The one with Padme in it. He felt a wave of unbearable pain grip his chest, and then he was furious. He had killed them all, every last one of those corrupt single minded fools—there was no one left. Except one. In his mind, this could only be the results of one person who had power and motive enough to do this.
Obi Wan Kenobi.
The name filled him with such loathing, with such fury, along with a flurry of other emotions. The sting of betrayal. Pain. Others he could not name so easily. This had to be Obi Wan, the man was trying to torment him, trying to mock him. How else could he explain a vision that so obviously had to be fake, a vision—or was it just a feeling?—that would rattle him so much? Was it suppose to be a reminder, of the past and future crimes he had commited? Was it suppose to scare him, fill him with regret, make him weak? Well it wouldn't work. If anything, this had only made him more angry, more determined to hunt the elusive Jedi down and cut him limb to limb. Like Obi Wan had done to him.
He sat there for a long while, brooding and simmering in his anger. And though he skittered away from the thought and wouldn't admit it, even to himself, disappointment. He would not, could not allow himself to think, to hope that this could be something else. It briefly occurred to him that this could be the work of Palpatine, trying to test him, but that thought was dismissed almost immediantly. Palpatine had encouraged thoughts of Obi Wan's betrayal, told him to embrace the anger of losing his wife and child. What purpose could it serve now? He had come to terms with it, he had accepted his past.
Right?
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So this was where he was now.
Wherever here was, he sure didn't know.
It wasn't home. It wasn't Mos Eisley, it wasn't even Tatooine, it was a different planet all together, and he didn't even know how he had gotten here. Their keepers were fond of ejecting fluids into their bloodstream that would promptly knock them out. Luke didn't understand at first how they were going about this without his knowledge. A kid who was a few years older than him had kindly explained it to him—a chip. A chip, not the yummy kind, the computer kind—had been implanted somewhere, somehow, in his body. This little chip was his life now, apparently. This chip could blow him up, or electrocute him, or apparently, put him to sleep. Luke had spent hours in the dark going over every square inch of himself, trying to find this mysterious chip. And when he found this so called chip, he was going to rip it out. He didn't care how much it hurt. Because if he got rid of the chip, then he could run away. And when he ran away, he could go back home, to Owen and Beru and Obi Wan. He wondered if they were looking for him. He couldn't imagine them not looking, and he knew he would be found. Because Owen was—well, Owen, and Obi Wan was a Jedi.
Ahhh…
Yep.
Any day Now.
Never mind the fact that a whole two weeks had already gone by. Never mind that he had left the planet altogether. Never mind that he hadn't showered in that long, or slept somewhere that wasn't cold and hard. Never mind that he was always hungry and thirsty. Never mind that he was scared out of his mind. That first day, all of the children had been lead out of that room, one by one, no one came back. Finally Luke was hauled up by his shirt and dragged out. He was attached to several other children by a length of chain. It was heavy and made his wrist bleed. Luke didn't remember much of where they went. He remembered Jabba, however. The… thing, was vile. Thick and slimey and long, like a fat snake. He had a large mouth, a flickering tongue, and some pointy little teeth that looked sharp, and vaguely threatening. He smelled and was dirty—everything smelled here. And everyone hhere spoke Huttese. He knew a little, you couldn't live on Tatooine without knowing some, but he didn't understand a lot of the time. By the time the end of the week came he understood more, not that it mattered. . For that week, they didn't do much.
Most of the time they were all thrown together in a small dank room that was cold, where they tried to sleep. Where they waited endlessly, hour upon hour, day upon day, and no one spoke. He despised it, he hated being alone, he hated being crushed in by the suffocating darkness and silence on all sides. He was fairly certain he had gone crazy by this time. Sometimes, they were let out, to do strange things he didn't understand. Things that seemed pointless. They cleaned and served food and drinks, they put machines together. This at least, was something he could do. He would always wonder where and how they got all of these droid parts, and what they were being used for. All he knew was that he could do this, and if he did enough, he would get food. He didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, the other children he was with, he didn't really take anything in. Life at the moment was being lived in a dazed state, where he wasn't sure if he was living at all. He felt numb, like he was stuck in limbo, waiting, waiting for something to happen. By the end of the first week, he'd learned several sentences of Huttese that mainly included various insults and shouted demands from their… keepers, for a lack of a better word. He found himself cussing more and more, it wasn't like anyone was going to scold him for that. No, they scolded him for being too slow, for not focusing on his work, for dripping blood from his wrist onto the floor. It's not like they were always chained, but they were often enough for him to have constant cuts. Most of the time the threat of being blown to smithereens was enough to keep the kids in line. Like now, for example.
All Luke could tell at the moment was that it was evening on whatever planet this was. He was standing by a cart filled with something Luke didn't care enough to find out, with a mean faced Rodian, three human boys, and two other species of children Luke couldn't identify. They weren't chained at the moment because they were on a planet with men in white armor wandering about here and there. Their keepers had told them in no uncertain terms that they were not to look, speak, or think about these white armored people. And if anyone asked, they were orphanages going to a new home, and the keepers were very, very kind to them. They were also told that if they kriffed up any of these very, very simple directions, they would press the button, and be electrocuted. But not blown up—there was a first. Luke could only assume they wanted them in one piece for wherever they were going.
They left Tatooine yesterday, the line of children marching single file through the sands under the scorching Tatooine suns. For a brief period of time, Luke had felt better. He was chained, sleepy, forced to walk, and very, very thirsty—but he was out in the suns again, not trapped in darkness and cold. He never thought he could say it was cold anywhere on Tatooine, but clearly if you went deep enough, he could be wrong. They went to Mos Eisley and promptly borded a ship. On any normal occasion, like say, with Beru or Owen or Obi Wan, Luke might have been estatic at the thought of flying on a space ship for the very first time. On this occasion however, he could only muster mild curiosity. He was leaving the planet he called home his entire life, if he hadn't left his family before, he was definitely leaving them now. And if they hadn't found him while he was on Tatooine… what were the chances they would be able to find him now? Luke was old enough to know the galaxy was quite large, and it could take them years, if not ever, for anyone to find him. Would Biggs miss him? He really wished he had a friend here. He glanced around, nervous. He couldn't make friends here. He couldn't speak any language but Basic—and a bit of Huttese. Not to mention, the Keepers were quick to punish socializing of any kind. Luke thought desperately, not for the first time, that he could run away. And now would be his last chance. Once he got to wherever, he was positive he would be locked away again, in another dank musty room. And really, the only problem was the stangable chip. If he could just figure out where the kriff this chip was… But he didn't know, and he wouldn't find out anytime soon. Luke almost wondered if it would be better just to die here anyway. At least he would die outside. Then again, he would only get shocked, not blown. Maybe he could find someone to take it off before the Keepers even knew he was gone, if he played his cards right. But Luke had no cards. He would just have to invent some, what's the worst that could happen? Luke decided not to answer that.
An epiphany struck him.
Well actually, it wasn't a very original or clever idea, plenty of kids used it at home or in school, but it was the best his very nervous seven year old mind could come up with. Now he just had to figure out how to say the words in a language his Keepers could understand, and not irritate them too much. Yeah, sounded really doable to him. He wandered cautiously towards one of the Keepers, and tried to get his attention.
"Chubba waz peda—pedasku… "
Holy hell, what the Kriff was he even saying?—
"Keba sheik chubba?"
Kriff.
The keeper looked at him strangely, as if not quite sure what to make of him. Luke tried again, this time swiping his forhead to wipe away the very real sweat forming there, and he grabbed his middle and doubled over. Inspiration struck him again, and he preceded to gag the most terrible sounding gag he could muster. His performance must have been alarmingly adequate, because suddenly the keeper waved frantically in his face, gesturing towards a side alley nestled between two structures. He then shot a scolding look at him and held up four fingers, then five. Luke pretended to understand and hurried away to the indicated point. He glanced quickly around him—not much to see. A dark alley which he rushed down, heedless of being quiet. He turned a corner, then went straight, left, right, right, another corner—dead end. He turned around, made a loop, and ran for all he was worth. He didn't know where he was going, and Luke was ashamed to admit he didn't have a plan much further than getting as far away as possible. By the time he remembered that he planned to ask for help, planned to find someone to locate and remove his chip, his legs were burning and his sides were splitting. He slowed down and took a moment to eye his surroundings again. It looked like some sort of residential area, little stone houses about every fifty feet, with plenty of trees. The trees were brown and purple, but Luke decided not to question this. The sky was green here after all, and the stars were yellow—indeed, best not question anything. It occurred to him that maybe he should hide a little more, what if they were looking for him already? What would happen if he went too far, would the chip cease to affect him? Intrigued by this thought, he ventured further down the row of houses, cutting through backyards this time, just in case. He noticed that the houses were getting further and further apart, and the trees thicker and thicker. He wondered if maybe he could survive in those trees for a while, just until he made sure the Keepers were gone. His luck seemed pretty good so far, no shocks, no shouting or pounding footsteps behind him. In fact it was fairly peaceful.
He thought too soon.
"What you doin?"
Luke whipped around, and was startled to see a little girl sitting in the wheat colored plant that was obviously native to this planet not three meters in front of him. He stared at her. She stared curiously back. She had short red hair cut in a bob, inquiring green eyes, and was one of the smallest kids he had ever seen. She must have been very young. She was playing with some kind of toy.
"What doing?" She asked again, more insistently this time. Her voice was high pitched and very adorable, like most little kids. It didn't really occur to him that he was a kid as well. She stared at him hard, as if daring him to lie to her. Er, what was he doing? He had to admit he must look very suspicious traipsing about the edge of the trees and cutting through her backyard. And it wasn't like he could tell her—what if she blabbed to someone who could get him in trouble? So he blurted the first thing that came to mind.
"What are you playing with?"
She blinked at him and held the object up in her hands for him to see. It was a little plastic ship, not as great as the one he had at home, and a lot smaller, but it surprised him all the same. Weren't girls suppose to play with dolls or something? And then right before his very eyes, the ship floated a few centimeters off her hand.
"What was that?" He blurted again without thinking.
"Wha?" She exclaimed before closing her hands over the toy and snatching it out of sight, cradling it to her chest. She glared mistrustfully at him. "Ship. Dummy."
Luke sighed, exasperated, before thinking about the situation. Why was he getting into really weird, really ridiculous situations all the time? Did he just imagine that? Or had a girl years younger than him just used the Force? A part of him was insanely jealous. He hadn't learned to do that. Obi Wan kept saying he would teach him later… later… there would be no later. At the reminder of his predicament, he snapped back to his senses. If this girl could use the Force, then maybe her parents were Jedi. And if her parents were Jedi—like his Father—then surely they could help him.
"Hey, where are your parents, inside?" He glanced towards the house. In fact, why weren't they out here? Was it wise to leave her out here alone?
"Gone," the little girl atoned somberly, "Message?"
"Huh?"
"Message," she said patiently, as if explaining to a very dim witted child.
" …Message?" What was she, a complink machine?
"Message!" she shouted, looking furious. Luke was so shocked at the sudden loud outburst, he didn't know what to say. "Gone long time," she added softly, tucking in her chin to her chest and looking down. "Morning."
"Morning?" He was beginning to feel like all he could do was mimick her words back. And he was also wondering if he had just gotten himself into yet another situation. She nodded, and for a moment neither of them said nothing. Her parents have been gone since morning, and the green sky was getting increasingly darker, falling into the night. The yellow stars were getting brighter, winking and glittering at them from above, completely oblivious to what was going on below. But maybe this was nothing new. Maybe her parents thought they would be back sooner, and were calling in some kind of babysitter as they spoke. Maybe. But something told him they wouldn't leave a little girl alone for so long—he knew Aunt Beru wouldn't have. And suddenly Luke felt very old and tired. He really couldn't afford to worry about someone else right now, he could barely take care of himself. And on the heels of that thought, a sudden intense feeling of danger swept over him, like somewhere inside him a flip had been switched. He had only ever felt this feeling once before, right before he got taken away. The girl's head shot up, as if she too had just gotten the exact same feeling. He fleetingly wondered why situations always came so quickly, one after the other. Being kidnapped, trying to run away, strange planets and strange children who may or may not be able to use the Force, and danger everywhere, apparently.
"Hands up, come quietly."
Yep, definitely in another situation.
Luke slowly pivoted on his heel to face the speaker with the cold detached voice, adrenaline suddenly pumping through his system. One of the white armored men he had seen swarming about the place earlier was standing behind him in the trees, a blaster aimed their way. Luke himself was barely a meter out of said trees, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed anything sooner. Had he been followed, were they here for him? He got the answer when the man slowly shifted his blaster towards the girl, who was still sitting in the wheat colored grass. But he directed his comment towards Luke when he spoke again, "Get her up and bring her over here, refusal to comply will not be tolerated. She is wanted by the Empire."
Wanted by the Empire.
The words sent a chill through him. What would the Empire want with her, what could she have possibly done? And then it all made sense. The reason why her parents weren't home. The Force Luke was sure she had used earlier. Hadn't Obi Wan told him constantly about how the Jedi were hunted down, destroyed, one by one from the Empire? Wasn't that the entire point as to why he had been given some training, so he could shield his own Force potential? Wasn't it the very reason why he had no father, no mother? And Luke knew he had to say something, to do something, they were going to take her away, kill her without a second thought. The entire event seemed very surreal. Was he even truly here? Maybe this was his after life—if so, it sucked big time.
"She can't possibly be the one you're looking for," Luke spoke out shakily, alarmed about how weak his voice sounded. "She's only two." She was two or something, wasn't she? The man was looking at him now, eyebrow raised. Yeah, good, keep his attention on him. Yeah. "I'm sure it's just some misunderstanding or something, her parents should be coming home soon." Kriff, kriff, he did not just say that—he did not just alert this clearly hostile man to the fact that they were utterly alone and without help. This was not a good thinking day for Luke Skywalker.
"No, actually they won't be," White Armor said cooly, still aiming his blaster at the girl, "Her parents were brought in for questioning earlier."He then looked sharply at Luke, making him sweat bullets when the blaster was suddenly swung around to point at him. "In fact, who exactly are you?"
"Her brother," He heard himself blurt out, and he could have hit himself over the head with a skillet. Yeah, gonna shut up now, his mouth was clearly not helping. This was confirmed when the man curled his lip in a sneer and stepped towards him with the very, very threatening blaster. His mind did manage to register, through the bout of increased panic, that this meant Little Girl was currently out of the line of fire. He had no idea what in the Nine Hells overcame him, but suddenly he was throwing himself forward lunging for said blaster. The man gave a shout and squeezed off a shot, narrowly missing Luke's ear.
"Run!" he screamed at her, "Run right now, Go!"
She bolted from the ground and began to run, she was remarkablly fast for someone so small and Luke had a brief flare of hope that she might get away. His own situation at the moment did not look so promising. He had managed to get himself in a headlock that was proving very tricky to get out of. "Look here boy," the man snarled into his ear, "I know you're not her brother. All we want is her, so give up this noble act that you know nothing about, and we'll have no trouble."Luke decided it would be appropriate to struggle harder, and try to bite him in the meantime. "Kriffing brat," he spat as he threw Luke hard to the ground. The blaster was then swung his way, and there was a burst of red light that filled his vision before his mind could even register what was happening. Luke shouted as a blaster bolt shot through his hand and scorched the grass underneath it. "This should keep you busy, eh?"
He couldn't believe it, he was in shock. He had just been shot through the hand—the hand!—which he definitely, definitely needed—and he didn't know what to do. Through the unbearable pain Luke could hear screaming. The girl—the girl—Luke struggled to think, to collect his thoughts—the girl was in trouble. The man was running away from him, presumably to assist in capturing her, and Luke struggled to his feet. His hand was burning, a fire was igniting his skin, hot white pinpricks of pain shot up his arm, but he shoved the feeling away, desperate to help, to do something, he couldn't live with himself otherwise. The screaming was getting further away, so Luke started running. He ran through the trees, cursing them for having so many snagging branches, and cursing the night for being so dark. Night, when had it become night? Or was it just him? His mind was foggy, he felt like he was swimming—and then he could see her. She was being held by three men in white armor, and the little person was screaming and kicking for all she was worth, to no avail. They held her fast in their grip, laughing even at her struggles. Luke was so furious, without thinking he picked something up, and chucked it at them as he fought to catch his breath. Catch his breath—when was he out of it? He heard a satisfying clunk and a shout as it impacted with something. The it just so happened to be a rock.
"Leave her, alone," he panted out between gritted teeth. Was that blood?
There was the sound of mumbling over the girl's voice that had died down into a frightened whimper. Luke couldn't make out what they were saying. Then he heard the unmistakeable voice of the man who had started all of this, "Leave him be. He can barely stand. He can't give us any trouble." More mumbling. Then a raucous laugh, "No no, really. He's a slave, don't you recognize the wrist cuts?"
For the second time in so many minutes, Luke felt inexplicable rage fill him. He was not, he was not just a slave boy. He was a person, damn it, and his name was Luke Skywalker. He lifted his head and glared as ferociously as he could under the circumstances, and took a step forward, fury mounting with every step. He would show them just how much kriffing trouble he could be, stang it, and he would show them—
And then the unthinkable happened.
A shock went through him, mini explosions ran up every nerv and vein in his body, stars boomed into existence in his eyes. Every pore, every fiber twitched and spasmed in agony, in searing pain, and whoever was screaming really wasn't helping his head which was close to bursting. He clutched his hair, he suddenly felt his knees digging into his chest, and he realized that the screaming was him. In the very, very back of his mind he knew what was happening. He was being electrocuted, from Force only knows how far away, by one of the Keepers. The only way Luke could think to stop this unimaginable torment was to go back, to run back, to grab the source and smash it into indistinguishable shraps of metal. Right, now, right this very second, and he could feel his feet stumbling along grass, along the flat street, he could feel his legs churning as fast as they could go. And then before he knew it, he was barely even aware of strong hands grasping him on the shoulders and shaking him, because his legs were jelly and he was sinking to the ground in relief. His entire body felt like goo, and he was covered in sweat. Nausea was fast crawling up his stomach and the hands shoved him roughly away as he puked uncontrollably all over. He faintly heard something that sounded suspiciously like, "Said he was sick," in Huttese, before his world went black.
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A/N: Heh, did any of you think this chapter sounded kind of rushed? I read back over it, and it just seemed like I popped scene after scene of drama in there nonstop, without any transition. Should I be writing more descriptively, for breathing room if nothing else? I also think my chapters are alarmingly short, but I dunno. Ah, anyway, tell me what you think!
Unregistered Review Replies:
Michelle Erika:
You would have played with the toy ship? Haha, a toy ship would be awesome I admit. Hm, I wonder how that whole kidnapping scene would have gone if Luke just played with his ship right then and there.
BookGal26:
Haha, thank you, I hope you keep reading, and reviewing.
I try to answer every review personally because each one is precious! So please tell me if I didn't get a reply to you—my internet is shotty at best.
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