Chapter 7: Cruciatus

Ferus ran from the tent with Caleb and Jaina hot on his heels. The force had screamed at him, showing the way and he knew he needed to follow. They'd all heard the spine-tingling roar only minutes earlier, surmising that it had originated from the mausoleum. The warning rang through the force immediately after, prompting them to spring into action. "There! By the trees," he exclaimed pointing ahead. "Someone's hurt."

The three Jedi stopped by the incapacitated woman lying on the ground between the trees and immediately moved to help her.

"That's her," Jaina stated crouching down, "the woman from the mausoleum. That's Sabè."

Her deep green velvet robe was in tatters, small twigs and dust littered her dark brown braid and blood covered the underside of her face, pooling on the boulder beneath.

Ferus moved to the other side and bent over, inspecting her injuries. "Her head's bleeding, looks like she hit it pretty hard."

Caleb paced back and forth between the bushes keeping his eyes focused on their surroundings. He was on edge, still feeling the dark energy nearby. "Can we hurry this up a bit? That Sith is still out there," he snapped, glancing back at them impatiently.

"Caleb, come here and help me lift her. We need to get her back to camp," Ferus said, moving his hands behind her head.

The two men carefully pulled Sabè up from the ground, the padawan at her feet and the master with her shoulders. They carried her through the trees and back to the tent, placing her gently down on the bed inside.

"Jaina, grab the bacta patches and some bandages. Caleb bring me that canteen and some wash cloths. We need to clean the wound and stop the bleeding."

The two padawans retrieved the supplies and sat either side of the older Jedi while he tended to her injuries. He poured water onto one of the wash cloths and methodically dabbed it around her forehead, wiping away the blood and dirt. Satisfied that it was clean enough, he grabbed a bacta patch and smoothed it out over the cut, then started to bandage her up.

"Do you think she'll be alright, Master?" Jaina asked.

Ferus tied off the dressing, laid her head back down on the pillow and sat back. "I'm sure she'll be fine Jaina, she's just concussed. Her breathing is normal and her pulse is strong. She's just going to have one hell of a headache when she wakes up."

Standing up, Caleb folded his arms and started to pace around the tent glancing down at their newest accomplice briefly. "That Sith had been in there for hours before she disturbed it. Why do you think it was in there? What significance could it possibly have?"

Jaina gently pulled the twigs and debris from Sabè's hair, trying to keep her mind occupied. Overthinking and reading too much into coincidental instances was the curse of the Jedi Diviner, and she - still a learner not fully understanding her role in it all - often found herself getting lost in the 'what ifs'.

Placing the first aid equipment back in his rucksack, the older Jedi sighed, gently shrugging his slumped shoulders. "Who knows my young padawan. But if the noise that boomed from over there was anything to go by, my guess is, that it wasn't too happy about being interrupted," he said.

Jaina traced her fingers over Sabè's forehead, staring at her empathetically. "Perhaps, when she wakes up, she'll be able to tell us more," she whispered, not taking her eyes off the unconscious woman.

The master glanced down at the young blonde, seemingly lost in her own musings and nodded in agreeance. "Perhaps you're right young one," he said softly, slowly walking toward the tent door. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."


"E-CHUTA!" Sparks shower over the cybernetic pistons, once again shorting out the servo-motors in my right leg. I hurl the useless driver across the circular chamber in disgust, watching it bounce repeatedly off the sandstone floor and smash into the center pyre.

Clenching my fists, I grind my teeth, pulling my left leg up toward my chest and push back against the wall. The small fragments of rock crackle beneath my combat boot as it scrapes over the ground. Trapped from the haphazard way I landed, the weighty cloak pulls on my shoulders each time I move.

It seems every artificial piece of me is prone to failure, only this time the result had been catastrophic; dropping me to the ground like a dead-weight, giving her the perfect opportunity to escape.

And now I'd lost the only link to possibly discovering the truth of my wife's demise. Failure. I despise it. Yet more and more its repulsive face rises to greet me - ever since I'd been placed inside this worthless excuse for a walking coffin.

Surely there were better, more advanced prosthetics at his disposal at the time, especially considering how many years had passed since I got my new hand - after Dooku so kindly lopped it off. Even that is better than these faulty hunks of scrap metal so rudimentarily attached to me now.

Unless of course he wanted me to remain this way, easily paralysed and controllable. He, like the Jedi, being potentially afraid of what I might evolve into. The more I think on it, the more plausible and irritating the notion becomes.

Holding my gloved hand out, I use the force to call the driver. It levitates from the floor, flies across the room and thuds back into my outstretched palm. Whether that was his intention or not, dwelling on it isn't solving my current situation, and I return to the laborious task of repairing my leg.

After reattaching the wires and securing the panels, I try once more to move it. Finally my foot flexes and the servo-motors engage, the high-pitched whine and grind of the components responding correctly. With a few test exercises of bending my leg up and relaxing it back to the floor, I am satisfied that it is at least capable of holding out for a few more days – or at least until I return to the Exactor.

Grabbing my boot, I slowly tug it up over my foot, drawing it towards my knee, then reach for the durasteel shin-plate.

BEEP, BEEP. BEEP, BEEP.

The glossy armour drops to the floor and I pull out the comm-unit from my utility belt. It buzzes into activation, the hazy blue image of Commander Appo coming to life.

"Lord Vader?" his voice crackles amidst the static.

"Yes. What is it Commander?" I snap, irritated by the sudden interruption. He hesitates, clearly sensing my apparent disapproval at his choice of timing.

"My Lord, several checkpoints have come under attack. It would seem the Queen is retaliating Sir."

"She's what? Since when Commander?" I growl back.

"Sometime during the night Sir. I have been trying to reach you on your comm, but it failed to connect."

I clench my jaw, gritting my teeth together. Of course everything would go wrong at the one chance I have to say goodbye. Why wouldn't it? Barely containing my rising annoyance, I return to the conversation. "Yes. I turned it off. I did not wish to be disturbed."

He hesitates again, clearly my growing frustration was not as well concealed as I had initially thought.

"What would you have us do My Lord?"

Rolling my eyes behind the mask, I growl in frustration. Rex would never have needed me to think for him like this. Sure Commander Appo was competent enough, but not nearly as forward thinking and responsive as Rex. I snap out of the reflection and return to the comm: "Pull the outlying troops back to the city. Reinforce all checkpoints closest to base and hold firm. I will return shortly."

"Yes Sir. Appo out."

Snatching the shin-plate from beside my leg, I reattach it, and secure it into position. Right, let's see how this goes. Bracing both hands against the floor, I push myself upright, waiting for the prosthetic to fail again. The servo-motors whine, engaging and locking into position and I stagger back to my full height once more.

Good. At least I'm still good at fixing things, not that I ever envisioned having to fix myself. I brush the dust and dirt from my suit and adjust the cloak, returning the chain to its proper place around my neck. I glance back down the corridor and then to the exit. Back to the corridor and then to the exit.

Not being able to feel her irks me, and I can't shake the feeling that I have somehow missed something. The dark side has returned my focus, clearing my head and allowing me to think more objectively. The force is whispering, urging me to go back in there. I know it's wrong, but I must see her – I need the affirmation.

With a flourish of my cloak, I stride down the corridor mentally preparing myself for what I am about to do. Stopping before the sarcophagus, I draw in two ragged breaths and grasp the stone lid in my hands.

"Forgive me Angel," I rumble, drawing on the darkness. Using all my strength and the force as my ally, I heave the solid stone sideways, dragging it away from the base. It grates and grinds, shuddering and snagging across the ridged surface. With it now half-off, the inside of the sarcophagus is visible and I stutter in a breath to control my nerves.

Tilting my head down, so I can see inside through the lenses of my mask, I stare at the image before me.

Fire; it rises inside like the lava that birthed me. The rolling tempest twisting and swelling, driving all rational thought away. The walls shake and the ground vibrates. In a fit of fury, the lid catapults across the chamber and crashes to the floor, shattering to pieces. My chest is heaving, the respirator struggling to keep up with my sudden onset of emotion. Gripping onto the sides of the barren tomb, I glare at the vacant stone base and the rock starts to crumble and crack beneath my iron grasp.

"WHERE ... ARE ... YOU?" I bellow, my booming robotic voice rebounding and bouncing off the deceitful chamber walls.

In a flash; fully consumed by the dragon within; I whirl on my heel and charge from the chamber, thundering down the corridor and out onto the elevated walkway, my midnight cape flapping behind in my wake.


The net curtains tugged and twisted in the late morning breeze, dancing across the open window. Sunlight bleached the plush red carpet, stretching up over the corners of the luxurious silk quilt. Chestnut curls splayed out across the white pillow, cascading around the former Queen's head. She subconsciously pulled the blankets up under her chin in an attempt to combat the sudden chill in the air. Her eyelids gently fluttered, the thick black lashes twitching from the movement.

With a loud gasp, Padmè suddenly sprang up from her pillow, startled awake and stared blindly around her room. She sat shaken and confused for a minute, rubbing her eyes and struggling to come to. "Sabè?" she called out, holding the blanket up against her chest.

No one came. Sabè had been staying in the room next to her and she usually heard her when she called.

"What time is it?" she said to herself, turning to check her chrono on the bedside table. "Force, it's after ten. Why didn't anyone wake me?"

Yanking the blankets back, she threw her legs over the bed and jumped up, running into her wardrobe. She grabbed her dressing gown and headed for the door, bolting down the stairs.

Jobal was sitting at the table by the kitchen, sipping her tea and reading her datapad. Padmè all but ran towards her. "Mum, have you seen Sabè? She's usually back by now," she asked, her voice pitched with panic.

Her mother's deep brown eyes turned to meet her. "Why no dear I haven't. I wouldn't worry over it though, she probably needed to run some errands," her silken voice replied. "Why don't you go and get yourself a cup of tea and sit here with me, we could even go out into the garden if you like, it's a lovely day outside."

Padmè shook her head. Something was wrong, she could feel it. Sabè was never this late. "I'll think about it, I'm just going to call her first. I need to know everything is alright."

Jobal sighed and returned her attention to the datapad on the table, picking up her tea. "Suit yourself dear. I'll be here if you change your mind." She took a sip from her cup and continued to browse the terminal.

Turning back to the staircase, Padmè ran up to her room and over to the bedside table, grabbing her comm-unit. She sat down on her bed, entered in her handmaiden's frequency and waited. It beeped and buzzed a few times before disconnecting. "Come on Sabè, pick up," she stressed, entering the frequency once more.

"Hello?" a Male voice echoed over the comm.

Padmè's eyes went wide in horror. The unit trembled in her hands as she fought not to drop it. "Who is this?" she demanded. "Where is Sabè?"

"Sabè is with us. She is injured but safe. Who am I speaking to?"

She ground her teeth and jumped to her feet, pacing back and forth across the window. "I believe I asked you that first," she bit back.

There was a silent pause, filled with static, before the voice spoke again.

"My name is Ferus. Your friend is here, but she is unconscious. Please, I mean both of you no harm. Can we bring her to you? Is there somewhere safe and private that we can meet?"

Padmè stopped pacing and stared at the comm in disbelief. She didn't want to give her name out to this stranger. After all they could be an Imperial spy or worse ... a bounty hunter. "My name is ..." she hesitated trying to think up a plausible alias, but also one that her husband would instantly recognize if he ever chanced to hear it. "My name is Shmi ... Shmi Skywalker. Come to the dock by the far side of Lake Varykino. I can meet you there at noon."

"Well Mrs Skywalker, my friends and I will bring Sabè there to you. Please, keep this meeting a secret, we are trying to avoid attracting too much Imperial attention."

His voice was calm, controlled and educated. She couldn't help but wonder who this new stranger was, but a girl could hope right? "I'm sorry, Ferus. But can I ask where you found her?" Padmè enquired her curiosity starting to run rampant.

"In the forest, by the mausoleum, my lady. She fell and bumped her head. We took her back to camp when we found her."

"What are your friend's names? I'm sorry it's just, I'm not usually accustomed to meeting strangers out by the lake, without at least knowing the names of the people I'm meeting."

"No need to apologize Mrs Skywalker. Their names are Caleb and Jaina, they helped me find her and bring her back."

Padmè's heart soared and sank both at the same time. Jaina was the name of the Jedi Sabè had said she'd met, and at the mausoleum too. A small part of her had foolishly hoped that Anakin may have been with them, but it was just that – foolish hope. He would've recognized Sabè instantly, of that she was certain. And with the dreams she'd been having lately, it got easier to believe that he was still alive and nearby somewhere.

"Very well, Ferus, I will meet you by the Lake at noon," she said moving to stand in front of the window.

"Will do my lady, may the force be with you," he replied before the static hiss abruptly returned.

Dropping the comm down on the bed, the former Queen bolted into the fresher and turned on the shower, needing to get ready for her Jedi rendezvous.


"Skywalker?" Jaina asked, staring up at Ferus holding the comm. "But isn't that...?"

The older Jedi began to pace around the tent, scratching his head deep in thought. "Yes, Jaina it was. Although it may just be a coincidence," he muttered.

"Is that a common name, Master?" Caleb asked cocking his brow. "I mean, surely they're not related are they?"

Ferus locked gazes with the two young padawans before glancing down at the woman on his bed. He folded his arms and sighed. "No it's not a particularly common name Caleb," he said walking over to the transmitter and sitting down beside it. "But we can find out more when we see her."


TATOOINE

The twin suns were just beginning to set, sliding down behind the barren wasteland that had become his new home. On the horizon, a swirling mass was forming, growing in size, rising up to swallow the setting red orbs. A gust of hot wind whipped at his heavy brown robe, and he pulled it in tight to keep out the sand on the air.

"So uncivilized," he groaned, turning on his heel and trudging back inside the secluded hovel. It wasn't much but then again, he didn't need much, just the essentials. Stroking his auburn beard, he headed into the modest kitchen, and prepared a mug of tea.

On the small wooden table just outside the kitchen, the transmitter buzzed into life, signalling an incoming call. He sighed, dragging his weathered hand up through his shaggy, sand-filled hair and walked over to the table, sitting down in the solitary chair positioned alongside it.

He pressed the receiver, activating the transmission. "Kenobi here, come in Ferus," he said, slumping back into the seat and taking a sip from his cup.

"Obi-wan, how'd you go with that extraction?" Ferus asked.

He shook the particles of sand out from his hair and sat back, crossing his leg up over his knee then resting his cup on top. "Bail Organa is sending Captain Antilles out tomorrow to pick you up." He took another sip from his tea, closed his eyes and yawned. The long Tatooine days were tiring and he was still struggling to adjust to the vicious climate.

"That's great news, thank you."

"If there's nothing else Ferus, I really need to be heading off. I'm exhausted."

"Just one more thing Obi-wan."

The weary Jedi sighed, draining the remaining tea from his cup. "What is that?"

"Did Anakin ever have any relatives?"

Obi-wan choked, lurching forward in his seat. "No, I don't believe so. Why do you ask?" he snapped.

"Well I've just spoken to this woman on Naboo. She claims to be a Skywalker."

The cup fell from Obi-wan's hand and smashed onto the floor at his feet. He leapt towards the transmitter bracing himself against the table. "Impossible, you must have heard it wrong."

"No, she definitely said Skywalker. Anyway we're meeting her in just over an hour so I'll see what I can find out."

"Yes do that Ferus. I want to know who she is. As soon as you have more information contact me immediately."

"Sure thing Obi-wan. Talk to you later. Olin out."

Obi-wan dropped back in the chair and stroked his beard staring out into the air. It couldn't be Padmè, she was dead. He was there when the droids pronounced it. But who else would use his name? And why?


AUTHOR'S NOTE

Well, here we go. That was the last of the build up, Vader is pissed, Obi-wan is in shock and Padmè is about to meet her new Jedi friends.

They all start to collide in the next chapter and then the fun really begins. Hold on to your butts.

Sfloresf: yep, he's a bit of an over-thinker, young Vader. Still trapped by his past and unable to shake it. It only makes him more unstable and more entertaining.

Lyn79: hang on to your seat, because our boy in black just despises being lied to. As the web untangles and the truth is revealed, will he beg for her forgiveness or just take what belongs to him?

Thanks for reading.

MTFBWY