Note: Sorry for not updating for a while. Took a little break to work on my side project: Cage of Darkness (check it out if you haven't already, it's a lot of fun!).Also, updates will slow down on everything for a while to come as I'm moving back to my college campus to enjoy (translation: suffer through) my senior year.
Now, let's just ahead a year after Muunilinst!
Chapter 43
Jabiim
Vader huddled under an inconveniently narrow overhang and glared. There were a lot of ways a planet could be completely opposite to Tatooine. An icy frozen planet would oppose Tatooine's oppressive heat. A lush green planet would oppose Tatooine's dead sandy wastes. An oceanic planet would oppose Tatooine's lack of water. And a planet where it rained all the time would oppose Tatooine's dry, rainless climate.
Jabiim was the last of these. It rained all the time, pretty much everyday. According to the data file he'd read, there was an average of seven days where the sun shined without any clouds to veil it. Every other day in its slightly longer than Standard year it rained. It rained, just as it was raining right now.
Funny how rain used to fascinate him. He could stare at it for hours on end. The very idea that water could fall from the sky blew his mind. Not even Dooku could make him hate rain. But Jabiim could.
And to think, I wanted to come out here, Vader grumbled to himself in disgust. I wanted to come out here just to spend time with my old buddy Obi-Wan. What was I thinking?
"How's the weather?" Obi-Wan asked, stepping out of the command center of Shelter Base and crowding Vader closer to the edge of the tiny overhang.
"Oh it's just great!" Vader sighed, drowning the statement in sarcasm.
"Ah yes, another beautiful day on Jabiim." Obi-Wan nodded gravely. "Aren't you glad that you're here to enjoy it with me?"
"Yes," Vader huffed.
It was still quite amazing to him that the Council had cleared him for this. Though he was very glad that they had. Over a year and four months had gone by since then, and some days he still had trouble believing it. More amazingly, he hadn't found a way to screw up between Muunilinst and now – a whole year! – that would've taken him out of the fight and locked him away in the Temple forever.
System after system, battle after battle, the months had bled by that year. He'd witnessed countless horrors, waves of battle droids storming over civilian settlements, clone troopers dying in the hundreds, missiles raining from the sky like water, continuous explosions that could deafen or drive to madness, and devastated wastelands. And the worst part was there was no end in sight.
But Obi-Wan stood firm through all of it and Vader was determined to be right there backing him up. If Obi-Wan could take it, then so could he. If a Jedi Master, raised in the safe, happy confines of the Jedi Temple, could stand this, then he, a desert rat runaway slave who rarely had luck smile on him, could stand it too. He would not disappoint his Master.
"Well, I've got a patrol to supervise. Why don't you go inside? Dry off, warm up, harass someone," Obi-Wan teasingly suggested.
"Yes sir, General Kenobi, sir!" Vader smirked, giving a mocking salute. "I'll get right on it, sir!"
"Get going Padawan!" Obi-Wan snorted, lightly smacking Vader in the arm. "And enough with that 'General Kenobi' garbage."
"Yes sir!" Vader grinned, giving another little teasing salute.
Sighing wearily, Obi-Wan pulled his hood up and bravely marched out of into the rain. Vader leaned against the wall and watched him go until he vanished from sight. A few minutes after that, he decided to do as he was told and wandered inside.
The command center for the Republic forces was a prefabricated building thrown up as quickly as possible to give them all a nice dry place to control battles, make plans, or just relax in off time. Aside from the infirmary, conference rooms, and monitoring stations, there were lounges; large ones for clone troops and a smaller one for the Jedi commanders. Vader angled for the Jedi lounge.
It was a small bare room, just a few chairs, a table, a data terminal, a couch, and a preserver with some simple drinks and things inside. As usual it was almost entirely empty. Most Jedi on Jabiim where either busy working or getting some rest in their quarters.
With no one around to harass, Vader was left to thinking. And thinking could lead to trouble. However, in this particular instance, thinking only led to a glum mood.
He recalled his last, brief leave at the Temple. He remembered how empty the massive building was—so many of the Jedi were out fighting, or dead. And he thought back on all the dull-eyed, lonely children there; the orphaned Padawans who's Masters had been slain in the war. One in particular stood out in his mind…
He was on the edge of being late. Master Obi-Wan had set him up with a set of lightsaber evaluations with the Saber Master, Cin Drallig, and it wouldn't do to miss his appointment. With less than a week of leave, he didn't dare waste what little time was available. So, to make it to the training halls on time, he cut through a rarely-used hallway near the classrooms…and promptly tripped over a small body huddled on the dusty floor.
"Wah!" Vader grunted and squinted down to find a small Human Padawan underfoot. "What are you doing down there?"
"Sorry!" the Padawan squeaked pathetically, cowering. "I-I'll get out of your way."
"What's your name?" Vader asked, helping the painfully young Padawan to his feet.
"Zett Jukassa," the boy mumbled and tried to flee.
Vader caught him by the arm as he tried to edge past. "Where is your Master?" Who left you alone in this dusty old hall like that?
This was the wrong question to ask. Little Zett started to tear up and sniffle. "He's gone, sir."
Vader blinked. "He's wha—oh…" Crap.
"I'll get out of your way," Zett whimpered and again tried to flee.
"Wait, wait a minute." Vader muttered, keeping his grip on the kid. "Hey…would you like to come watch my evaluation?"
The dark-haired boy peered up at him with watery eyes. "Really?"
"Of course," Vader grinned, "if you want to."
The Padawan nodded enthusiastically, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "If-if it's all right…?"
"I wouldn't offer it wasn't," he chuckled. "Come on!"
The kid had followed him and eagerly watched as he was put through his paces by the Saber Master. And for the rest of his time on Coruscant, the orphan was his shadow. He helped the kid practice, helped him with his homework, and generally kept him company. Obi-Wan found this little good deed to be worthwhile and did what he could to work the lonely little Padawan into their plans, or set something else up if he couldn't squeeze him in.
Leaving Zett behind had been difficult. Vader hoped to see him again, but didn't count on it. Next leave could be too short, too busy, or the kid could've won himself a new Master.
I really hate war, Vader grumbled to himself and picked some dried mud off the hem of his cloak. I hate the killing and the destruction and the misery… I hate the fact that sweet little Jedi kids have to lose the only parent figure they're allowed that way.
Obi-Wan fought back a sigh as he sat in the cramped confines of the Republic AT-AT (All Terrain Attack Transport) walker behind some of the clone troopers that controlled it. The large machine slogged through the mud flats north of the city where the Republic forces were concentrated. Supervising patrols was the worst – well, second worst – thing he had to do on a quiet battle front. The worst was sitting in trenches waiting for action.
But it was a necessary evil. He was a Jedi Master and a General and it was his duty to oversee his troops. And he always did his duty.
So far, the Separatist presence in this system was simmering under the surface. Initially, a power-hungry mad man sprang up shortly after the outbreak of war. The man, Alto Stratus, incited a bloody coup and promised Jabiim's valuable ore to the Separatists to gain the resources necessary to keep his power. Citizens loyal to the Republic rose up against him, sparking civil war.
At the moment, Alto Stratus's forces were on the losing side and scattered out in the muddy bush of Jabiim. It was hard to say how many Separatist droids he still had in his possession, he kept them in the mountains and only revealed them in guerilla strikes against Republican forces. And although he didn't use many mercenaries or bounty hunters like other Separatist allies did, his Nimbus Commandos more than made up for that lack.
Scanning the scanner plot over a clone's shoulder, Obi-Wan made note of another patrol several miles to the west, headed by another Master. So far, all was quiet. No sign of Alto Stratus or his fanatical forces.
Master Norcuna, the Jedi in charge of the campaign, had determined that they would go out and hunt the leader down before he could gather his forces enough for a devastating assault. Obi-Wan agreed with the idea, but he was left with an uneasy feeling about the battle plan. But since there was no solid proof that something was going on out in the mud flats of the planet, he didn't allow it to intrude on his current business: looking out for trouble on his patrol.
As Master Qui-Gon always told me…"Keep your mind on the present."
Upon further, more cheerful reflection in the Jedi lounge, Vader realized that his life bordered on ludicrous. He was born a slave. While a slave, he won a race that, by all logic, a human, let alone a human child, could not win, not to mention survive. Then he'd been bought by a Fallen Jedi-turned-Sith and dragged into a world of suffering and Darkness. And then he'd run away to become a reluctant Jedi Padawan, hiding among the real thing with most of them none the wiser to his true nature. And now…oddly…he wasn't quite so reluctant.
Oh Obi-Wan…where are you? Vader wondered, glancing at the chronometer hanging on the wall. Is his patrol over yet? He tried to remember how long the usual scheduled patrol runs went, but came up empty. Hmm, can't be too much longer, Vader decided, settling deeper into the old couch.
Back when he'd first met Obi-Wan, he'd been convinced that the Jedi was incredibly dull and not all that bright. Really, what smart Jedi would willingly spend time around a person that all his training said was dangerous and untrustworthy? And a man who never cracked a genuine smile, drank tea, and meditated all the time couldn't possibly be fun or interesting.
This was before he'd seen the oh-so-proper-and-dignified Jedi do things like leap out of high-rise windows on Coruscant or fall into insanely dangerous Gundark nests on distant, unpopulated worlds. This was before he'd watched him spar with several different highly respected Jedi and hold his own for an impressive amount of time, even win sometimes. And this was before he'd learned of Obi-Wan's ties to the kind and interesting Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn while recuperating on Naboo.
Obi-Wan is interesting, Vader smirked. You just have to dig your way through the bland exterior to find him. The smirk faded. And with my patience, or lack thereof, I was lucky to ever get so far.
He couldn't say when he consciously started liking the Jedi. He certainly couldn't say why. All he knew for certain was that by the time of Geonosis, he was willing to sacrifice a great deal to save Obi-Wan's life. And he had yet to regret what he'd done from that moment on. He didn't even regret losing his hand.
Actually, I'm probably better off with losing my hand, than keeping it, Vader mused as he studied the golden contraption that replaced his natural hand. Yes it's ugly and hard to use, but it's great for punching! he mentally cackled to himself.
And a side-effect of his injury was his closer relationship with Obi-Wan. His clumsiness due to his mechanical prosthetic had made him temporarily more dependant on the Jedi and forced the both of them to work much more closely together. Instead of simply existing in the same room and exchanging the bare minimum of words necessary for communication, they actually had real conversations.
They talked about real things, more than just Jedi training or how the war was going. Things were more relaxed, almost casual, when they interacted. And then, the fourth system they were deployed to during the war, he'd gotten Obi-Wan to laugh.
Before, Whenever Obi-Wan laughed or smiled, which was a rare thing to begin with, it had been strained, forced. There was always a clear a trace of some gray emotion—sadness, grief, despair, perhaps even bitterness. The Jedi had always been weighed down by something, a dark memory or perhaps an agonizing loss.
At the time, he hadn't understood. Now he was pretty sure he knew the reason for Obi-Wan's lack of humor. Even after all those years, he'd been haunted by the loss of his own Master.
He hadn't found the proper opportunity to reveal anything further about himself. He was really starting to get sick of going by 'Vader' as it tended to remind him of his brief but painful time under Dooku. And it was really, really starting to bother him that Obi-Wan knew as little about him as the next Jedi. It almost seemed like he didn't trust the older man the way he withheld information like his real name or his planet of origin. And he did trust Obi-Wan. He just…he just couldn't find the right time combined with enough nerve to sit down and spill some of his guts.
I'll do it when the war ends, he reminded himself, at the very latest. As soon as that bastard Sidious is taken down, I'll tell him everything. And then I'll tell Padmé. And then—
His thoughts abruptly chopped off at that point as he felt something disturbing ripple through the Force. A Jedi had died. And whoever it was had been nearby, on-planet.
The first time he'd felt a Jedi die had been on Geonosis. Most of the force sent to rescue Obi-Wan had fallen under the overwhelming waves of battle droids. But at the time he'd been too focused on the fighting and too high on adrenalin to really be effected. The next time, though, he'd really felt it.
The best way to describe it was a ripple in an otherwise smooth pond. The first impression, the first feeling the wave brought you was pain. And then when is passed by, there was an emptiness, a feeling of loss. If you didn't know who had passed on, it was merely disconcerting, like a rush of cold air. If you did know who had died, it was infinitely worse. And from a few of the Padawans he'd been around that had been unlucky enough to lose their Master and become "orphaned," he could guess that loss was exponentially worse.
Alto Stratus is an ass, Vader thought darkly as he pushed away the sting of nearby death. A greedy, murderous, insane ass. And his name is stupid. I can't wait to beat him down and leave this miserable mud hole behind forever…
Obi-Wan grimaced at the bitter taste of his caf and wished in vain for a cup of tea. It was still early yet (or very, very late depending on who you asked) and so the briefing room was empty. The screens and holo-projectors used to display strategies and troop movements were dark and inactive, only a small lamp illuminated the auditorium-like room.
He'd specifically chosen this room to avoid running into other people. He wanted a little time to himself and this was the best way to get it. Now he could think all he wished without being interrupted.
And the subject he decided to ponder on this particular occasion was Vader…
If one were to meet Vader only twice, once before Geonosis and once after, it would be unlikely that they could recognize him as the same person.
Before, the young man was always radiating some anxiety. Some days he would jump at shadows while others he'd just look at the shadows suspiciously. When he felt he could get away with it, he was excessively rude, let slip an explicative every third or fourth word, and acted callous and selfish. On his better days, he was a tolerable companion. But on the worst days (which had been far too often in his humble opinion) it was almost enough to drive Obi-Wan out of the Temple and into a bar.
Now, Vader was almost completely different. Yes, there were days when he reverted back towards his less-pleasant personality. But those days were fewer and farther between. The rest of the time, he was surprisingly pleasant to be around. If he was in a good mood, he was polite, sometimes talkative, even funny. If he was in a bad mood, he now was more likely to keep his mouth shut and perhaps sulk instead of spewing bitter, profanity-laden, whining rants like he used to.
And then there was his performance in battle. While he had always been a formidable warrior, before the war he had been hesitant. In sparring matches he rarely held back, but when real blaster bolts began to fly he left most of the work to Obi-Wan. Now some days it was all he could do to keep Vader from racing down the Separatist's throats. His hesitant, reluctant strikes had transformed into reckless, sometimes seemingly suicidal, charges.
From the 'very reluctant Padawan' to 'always on the move', Obi-Wan half-chuckled to himself. He reached for his caf cup…and frowned when he came up empty. Hey, where's—
"This caf is terrible," Vader snorted from somewhere over Obi-Wan's left shoulder.
The Jedi Master slowly turned around to find his "Padawan" standing there, studying the liquid in the stolen cup with a skeptical expression. He was dressed for bed, wearing his loose black sleep pants, a baggy white tank top he'd most likely won off a clone trooper during a card game, his cloak, and his boots. Vader took a cautious sip out of Obi-Wan's cup and grimaced.
"Yeesh, after all your fancy tea how can you stand this stuff?" Vader asked.
"I don't know, must be one of those unexplainable mysteries of the galaxy," Obi-Wan replied dryly. "What are you doing up here, awake, and in your sleep-clothes?"
"What are you doing up here, awake, and not in you sleep-clothes?" Vader countered, idly swishing the last of the caf around in the cup.
"You first," Obi-Wan fired back, shifting his chair around to more comfortably face his young companion.
"Oh, I had trouble sleeping and discovered you weren't sleeping either, so I decided to come find you." Vader shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable, tendrils of tension leaking past his shielding. "Your turn."
"It's just been so busy lately that I needed some time to sit and think for a while and this is the only time I could find to do that," Obi-Wan replied.
"Overachiever," Vader muttered, rolling his eyes. "Come on now Master, it's time for bed."
"Overachiever?" Obi-Wan repeated, ignoring the call to bed.
"Yes, you stay awake all day and do a great deal of thinking. And now you stay up late when you could be sleeping to think some more! You are an overachiever," Vader explained patiently, taking another sip of Obi-Wan's caf.
"I see," Obi-Wan replied gravely. "Now can I have my caf back?"
"No," Vader smirked after a long, slow sip.
"Why not?" Obi-Wan frowned.
"If you finish this, you won't sleep at all." Vader tossed back the last of the caf. "Stimulants and sleep don't mix well. Now off to bed with you!"
Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Remind me, who is the Master and who is the Padawan here?"
"You're the Master," Vader answered, smirking, "and I'm not the Padawan."
"Cute, very cute," Obi-Wan replied flatly. "Almost funny even."
Vader grinned. "Really? I've been working on that one."
"I can tell," Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily.
"Heh, well let's get back on subject here," Vader snorted. "Bedtime Master."
"You go on ahead, I'll catch up in a few minutes," Obi-Wan replied, waving the younger man off.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Vader jokingly scolded, wagging a metallic skeletal finger in front of the Master's face. "If I leave, you'll just stay here until the sun comes up. So I'm not leaving until you leave."
Obi-Wan glared up at the tall Padawan who only smirked back in response. Tiring quickly of the stalemate, the Master decided to give in. "Fine, fine," he grumbled in annoyance, stiffly rising out of his seat.
"Hah! I win!" Vader chuckled, more to himself than anyone. "I beat The Negotiator!"
"Enough with that," Obi-Wan muttered. "The Holo-Net reports and News-Faxes are bad enough by themselves. I don't need to be hearing that from you too."
"What? I find that to be a very apt nickname for you." Vader grinned lop-sidedly, taking Obi-Wan's wrist and gently towing him out of the room.
"I don't like it," Obi-Wan complained, tamely following along.
"They could've coined something way worse for you, you know." Vader pointed out.
"I know," Obi-Wan sighed tiredly. "Though I wish that every time a reporter pounces on me, you didn't find a good excuse to disappear."
"But they're so scary!" Vader replied, warping his voice to sound younger and more innocent, child-like. He tried to look innocent too, but at Obi-Wan's very skeptical expression, he cracked up.
"You just don't want to have to deal with them and you resent the fact that you can't punch them in the face when they annoy you," Obi-Wan retorted dryly.
"That's part of it," Vader agreed once he stopped chuckling. "But I'm also afraid of what sort of weird nickname they'd saddle me with if they ever managed to see me more than twice."
"Oh I'm sure they wouldn't conjure up anything too terrible for you," Obi-Wan replied, stifling a smirk. "Perhaps they'd call you…oh…The Hero With No Fear."
Vader paused mid-stride, then turned to stare at Obi-Wan with a partly disgusted, partly horrified expression. "One, that is a mouthful. Two, it is terrible. And three, it's entirely untrue."
"You could've fooled me with all those fearless charges of yours," Obi-Wan teased.
Vader scowled and started walking again, once more towing Obi-Wan by his wrist. "I'm not fearless," he mumbled, "and I'm not a hero."
Obi-Wan sighed quietly, but made no comment. He knew Vader wasn't fearless. But he felt he could argue the hero point if he'd felt like it.
A gust of chilly wind jolted him free of his musings as Vader led him outside into the chilly late night (or very early morning) air. They crossed a wide muddy expanse between the command center and the barracks as quickly as possible, carefully weaving over the least soggy ground to minimize the amount of mud caked on their boots. But despite their efforts, they still spent over five minutes scraping mud off when they made it back indoors.
"I can't imagine why Jabiim doesn't get many tourists." Vader snorted as he attacked the last layer of mud on his left boot. "I can hear the ads now, 'Come to Jabiim! See the rain! See the mud! It's an amphibian's dream!'"
Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh at that as he toweled the last of the mud off his own boots. "Yes, I can't imagine why either."
Now mud-free, they ventured deeper into the barracks towards their assigned quarters. The barracks, noisy and rowdy during the day, were eerily quiet at night. What made things even more eerie was the sound of their boots echoing down the halls, breaking the almost unnatural silence. If Obi-Wan hadn't suddenly felt so tired, it might've bothered him.
Thankfully bed wasn't very far away. Once the door had shut behind them, he wasted no time in stripping down for bed. First the cloak, then the boots, then the belts, then the outer tunic. And then he collapsed into the lower bunk.
"Goodnight Master," Vader laughed, "I'll set your alarm for you."
Obi-Wan failed to respond. Despite his half a glass of caf, he was asleep already.
