TO REKINDLE THE DYING STARS
"You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them!
Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!
You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!"
―Obi-Wan Kenobi
Chapter 1: Only Darkness yet Remains
'Tell your sister… you were right…'
Sidious had been right. Only now, at the end, did he understand- though most definitely not what lingered in the mind of the former Emperor before he was thrown to his doom.
Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, had indeed 'paid the price for his lack of vision'- and it was a price he would gladly pay a thousand times over.
His sun- no, his son- blast it, why differentiate between the two terms- beheld his scarred visage one last time, and between the tears shone a smile, a smile dearer to him than the entire Galaxy.
A shuddering rattle, and he knew it would all be over. The Dark Side left him in wisps as he refused to cling to his rage and hate, the light coming to envelop him- indeed, it was a happy end for him, one he would be glad to have passed.
Luke let loose a last tear before raising his father's form and taking it to a shuttle- any would do, and one would be simple to steal from the apparently faceless and indeed rather incompetent captains that piloted them- for he would not leave his father behind. Not now- nevermore.
Vader watched him as he slowly lost his senses- the end would come now. For what it was worth, he was glad to have fulfilled his life thus. There Luke sat, the new pilot after a well-placed clobber of which the Sith Lord could not help but be proud- there came the warps in space-time which would suggest lightspeed- and then all turned to silver and white.
He could feel the embrace of the Force- there was no darkness, no unknown terror as he had feared. Even as a Sith, he had wondered what it would be like to be a force ghost- what it would be like to be free of the aches and pains and the constant stab of his suit's Neural Needles… no doubt Obi-wan would wait for him, hah- the thought of torturing his old Jedi Master with riddles of his own was rather tempting…
And then something happened that he did not expect.
His demise had seemed initially a rather comforting thing, secure in the knowledge that he had saved the Galaxy that he was, but he had never expected the embrace of the Force to feel so very… cold.
There came then a sudden urge to breathe, a completely ridiculous urge. It was brought on, most likely, by his body's almost primal refusal of its death- there was no point in resisting now, and the last thoughts of his mind moved to quell this bout of irrationality… and then he realized that he really should breathe, and took a great, shuddering gasp, using the force to pull the air through what was left of his mask… no, his mouth- where was his mask?
Where was his suit, for that matter? Where was the pain? And why was he capable of such extensive thought at such a time?
Kriff it, there was nothing for it. His eyes would open, kriff it all, and when he found whatever Force entity was doing this, he would shred it from every last piece of his existence…
And then Anakin Skywalker woke.
"Oi! Jorek! Look at tha'- oi! Did'ntcha see? That great gate for tha' there sphere spit out summin'! I think summat's wha' they asked for us ta be lookin' at- garn, ain't it?"
"Perhaps, Mordistair, perhaps- but you've now gone and forgotten the first rule, haven't ya? Look first, look better next, blast it third, ask questions never."
The second, Jorek- one who claimed in secret to possess ten times the sense of his companion, spared a glance at the ghastly, masked figure armoured in blue and yellow that was Mordistair, and drew his parallaxiscope.
There it was- a distinctly humanoid flesh-coloured thing lying face flat on the cratered, grey ground of the dying Dathomir, right next to the Kwa Prime Gate.
It was clothed, oddly enough, in a robe of dark black, woven as if from the night itself. Jorek clicked about five different dials to pull the view closer to its face, if it had one- and there it was, with a mop of curly brown hair and a scar above the right eye.
"Not an infinity wave, at least" said he, from his metal-inlaid mouth armoured and covered in a fashion similarly ghastly to Mordistair, whose Saurian form appeared poised. Jorek had no doubt he was grinning below one of the many masks that covered his face. "Well, we know the rules, don't we, eh?"
The two raiders- 'honest scavengers' though they would call themselves- wasted no time in activating a pulse from the inductive thruster that formed a part of their hideous armour and flew from pyramid to pyramid within the ancient Star Temple.
Once again, Darth Vader drew true breath- and of that there seemed such a dearth that he was forced to take gasp after great gasp. His sight slowly returned- and saw grey. A dirty, abandoned grey, much like the lower districts of Coruscant.
Where in the world was he? Was this a ridiculous dream of some sort? And how did he…
The questions were, no doubt, endless- he had often pondered, in fact, what it would be to once wake like this. He had in fact hoped for it many a time as a Sith Lord, using those hopes, often, as an anchor to the Dark Side, knowing that he would never be freed in such a manner- but now he was, oddly enough.
'DAMN YOU, FORCE, FOR NOT DOING THIS EARLIER!' he raged, curling his fingers around the blasted grey earth- he had fingers!
He rose fully, to his shock, discovering that his four limbs were somehow intact. He was clothed in a dark robe and cloak, of some sort- one that made him despise it instantly as he was reminded far too much of Sidious- but this seemed made of a material quite unknown to him. It was light and ethereal, and felt as if it was not really there, but was there unmistakably…
Really, he should not entertain mundane thoughts of clothing and take stock of the situation, especially as there was this odd whooshing sound coming from somewhere…
BOOM!
"We got 'im! Got 'im square! Didjer see tha', Jorek? Blew 'im roight in the face, tha' one did…"
"Shut up, you sack of poodoo. Hopefully this filth'll fetch a price of some sort from the ol' Technocracy…"
His knees had long buckled, and he heard muffles voices. Something about… square… filth… price… SLAVE!
NO!
HE WOULD BE NO SLAVE, NEVER AGAIN!
From where he was prone on the ground, his fist clenched, and there was a loud thud, signalling that something had fallen hard to the ground.
Harnessing his rage, his hatred at being ambushed by those who had the temerity to dare enslave HIM, he found the strength to once again demand power from the dark side, and command him to obey its whims. The light would be no more use here.
"What! Mordistair, there was no bleedin' need to throw yourself to the ground, you clumsy wazzock- wait, that's not right. Must be the cursed goggles, knew I needed to replace them- aargh!"
The armoured scavenger's sense did not betray him, for he indeed correctly saw a former Dark Lord of the Sith levitate himself to his feet and throw him into the spike atop a pyramid.
Vader's skin felt as if it would crawl off his bones, and he was severely disoriented- there was something wrong, distinctly wrong about him, as if something had upset his nerves and sent his neurons into a frenzy- but he could care less, as he pulled the frustration from the discomfort and pain and the rage that came from being struck to unleash more of the power of the Dark Side, and he pulled his hands together, slowly clawing them apart.
The confused Mordistair never came to know why he felt so squished for an instant before he was torn in two- but within his armour- for the metal somehow refused to bend or budge, much to the alarm of the Dark Lord. He was sure he had unleashed quite a potent force wave within his heart- but this metal seemed impossibly resistant.
"Seems as if we got company, boys! Bring the hounds!"
He swivelled to see another figure- wearing the same horrendous armour of blue and yellow, with many a protrusion, antenna and proboscis arising from it- and there were, indeed, signs of a great big hole in its chest, but it had seemingly closed to a thin slit, and there were fluids leaking from the wound.
He curled his hand for a force pull, but the figure was away in an instant, having flown with a pulse to hover over another pyramid. He sighed- it would be rather more irritating than he had thought.
Long years had made Jorek the scavenger what he liked to call 'a tough old ysalamiri', and being impaled through the chest by a metal spoke was a thing easily remedied by a grunt or two and an activation of the switch that injected the salubrious elixirs he had earned for his services to 'the ol' Technocracy'.
What surprised him more was that this fool was yet perfectly ambulatory and not utterly immobile as he ought to be for the next few days- and was very much able to kill him. It was a blast from a synaptic stunner, and a good hit at that- but no matter.
He laughed his crooked laugh, then- for the boys were coming. Now, they'd see what this blightwielder would do when faced with good old firepower.
A voice flared up in his comm as he idly pushed the buttons on his suit to summon pulse after pulse, dodging the great chunks of rock and debris with ease- it seemed urgent enough, so he bothered to listen, and pressed the switch that would enable him to hear more than a muffled buzz.
'-806-X! Do you hear, Jorek? It's a right 806-X, by phrik!'
A code 806-X? Well, he hadn't heard that one used in years, if ever. He wracked his old brains to summon recollection- and when it did, a chill came over him. Whether or not from his knowledge of what it was or something else, he could not say.
"An Archknight! Stars above, an Archknight!"
Jorek spoke no more, for in the next instant, he found himself crushed against a wall. The substance of his armour would not tear- but it was, by all means, malleable.
To say that Darth Vader was enraged was to say that Rancors were relatively large.
A swarm of more hideous, blue-armoured bogeys clouded his vision, and he found that there were in fact too many flies for him to swat.
Given how his would-be captor had dodged his every attempt at ripping off and hurling tremendous chunks of rock and metal, he decided to use rather more precise movements.
His robes billowed as he drew his fists in claws, and the gongs that reverberated when these fiends were thrown to hit each other were rather satisfying- but it seemed to do little rather than distract them. Damned armour- why could they not be more like the Separatists and conveniently overlook the quality issue?
The force waves he unleashed were rather more effective, and most were blasted away- but not all, for soon countless blasts of an unseen force were rippling through his body, leaving it ever more disoriented and oddly tired, and a great plume of pain rose with every hit- he then snarled, for these flies clearly knew not how Darth Vader earned his name of terror.
Every stab of pain raised his strength in the Dark Side, and he commanded it to give him more power- he was met, as always, with willing agreement. The odd, now luminescent material that formed the queer pyramids of this place- he had read something about an ancient species that built in the similar vein from somewhere in Sidious' vast collection of ancient lore- seemed to rise from its framework of its own accord and come to crown him.
He threw the Force outwards, and the collection of dust, debris and star-metal he had accumulated was expelled with a terrible speed, smashing and crushing those unfortunate enough to be caught by a chunk- no, those would be the fortunate. The unfortunate were those he caught telekinetically, for he would crush their hearts from within with a savage hate.
HOW DARE THESE FLEAS ATTEMPT TO STRIKE HIM- HE, DARTH VADER, DARK LORD OF THE SITH! HOW DARE…
And at that moment there happened the inexplicable- The voice of the Dark Side was silenced. The Force no longer roared its approval, and the light looked even further than it always was.
A terrible emptiness crept over him, and the Force seemed to desert him. He could feel a hole- a void- an aura of pure silence and abandonment that claimed his very soul and silenced his hope.
The ground shook, and he felt the cracks of the surface, forced to yield to ironclad feet. Beyond his better judgment, that which he had never felt since his transformation- fear- it crept into his heart.
"Force, I am stronger than this!" he bellowed indignantly- for he was still Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, and he was the Hero with no Fear, the Dark Lord of dread.
He curled the fingers of his palm, then, and concentrated all his rage, all his ever-present hat and his frustration that even after all he endured, he could not find peace- he poured it all into his fingertips, and let fly.
Then shadows hit him, and darkness took him.
The Scavenger-raiders watched in awe even as they struck the blightwielder with their innumerable blasts that would stun him and silence his motions- for a monolith of silent terror and power had come, tremors felt from every step of its feet.
They watched as the great, luminous blast of lightning left the falling palm of their target, watched as it flew in an instant to the monolith's face, and beheld it raising its arm in a gesture as quick as the lightning and yet regal in its execution. The lightning hit the arm and it was deflected, coming to nothing, and the Archknight scoffed under his mask of white and gold.
Resuming his thundering stride towards the fallen Sith Lord, the monolith of power was stopped by one who could only be assumed as incontrovertibly stupid.
"We felled 'im- we was the ones 'oo felled 'im, L-Lord Archknight. Truth is, we hain't expectin' an-an 806-X for this flesh-scum- and a blightwielder too, by th' looks'er it. Now, as is the rule of the Pax, o'course, my lord, I assume me an' the boys c'n come ta expect summin' as rewar…"
The Archknight did not even move, for one of the two cannons mounted on each pauldron of his armour fired a blast of unseen energy- a concentrated gamma ray, as it were- and the interlocutor convulsed once before falling, body utterly ruined.
"Any who wish reward may come to expect it in due time, after my work is done. Those who seek to hinder me beyond what is absolutely necessary will be dealt with as befits their act. Such is my will, and I have spoken." came a resonant voice- warped by the mask, yet rasping in a manner. If Vader heard it, he would consider what his own once was far more menacing. He would be right- but none in this time would think so, for the sheer terror propagated by the Dread Archknights was second to none.
"U-understood, Lord Archknight. 'Ear that, boys? Git moving!"
He swept his colossal hand, and the figure of Anakin Skywalker was flipped over so that his face could be seen- for within the Archknight's visor, scanners worked to match it with data from an unseen database far away.
The Highlords would be pleased, no doubt. He put a foot under Anakin's back, and swept up with such force that he was flung into the air, after which he caught him in his arms, and began to walk to his waiting transport.
Not too far away, there was a shuffling of feet- feet that belonged to a shadow, or at least a figure who moved as one. Even the Archknight's enhanced senses and sensors alike could not detect it, for it had taken the liberty of conversing telepathically.
"Yes indeed, Lord Sion, this is no falsehood. HE is here- and in the hands of rather a difficult krayt dragon, no less. Tell Lord Traya that she need not pester mind every moment with those dratted riddles she calls advice."
Anakin saw stars.
Dim, dying stars, swelling to a great size and swallowing planets before collapsing in upon themselves to effect supernovae, neutron stars and Black Holes.
Dimly, his eyes opened, but no other part of his body seemed responsive- indeed, it was as if he was floating, a floating head in the middle of nowhere.
Then he felt it- the void.
The Force was absolutely silent, nary a whisper to be heard- and when he saw that he was indeed floating, he decided that the Force was indeed a fickle master- where it would roar rather annoyingly at him in such cases of grave peril, it had now thought to shut up completely. How dare it.
He felt himself being rubbed against hard metal, and as feeling returned, he felt the bite of the vice that held him, and he made up his mind to kill said vice; kill it with fire.
He saw two blocks of stone- or maybe metal- falling periodically to the ground, which cracked under it, and a dim source of light in the everlasting darkness ahead- of what, he could not say.
"I take it your task is done, Lord Archknight Malus?"
A rumble was heard above him, and he tried to turn to afford himself a better view, but the vice tightened to a grip that was excruciating. He was simply too tired to give any indication of pain, however- but he recognised that it was indeed a humanoid life-form that held him now, not a vice set on walking metal, and it seemed sentient- well, perhaps not.
The captain then coughed, bravely attempting speech in front of the figure of looming dread, before summoning the courage and looking up at the masked face- "Pray proceed, then, my Lord. Your shuttle awaits. I have done the needful, and the course is set for Had Abbadon."
There was no sign of approval, and the captain shifted slightly as the Archknight stepped onto the walkway that descended- how he did not crush it was another matter.
The captain would not step onto the shuttle, remaining instead on Dathomir- for Lord Malus and his superiors would suffer no risk of 'tampering' with their… project.
Vader, now Anakin, was set down, still in that crushing grip, and at the press of a button, an array of ray shields and energy wards surrounded him. An intricate prison, indeed.
The Archknight made no sound and retreated to a chamber at the fore of the ship- it was to a queer design, it seemed, for the chamber occupied the square area that would constitute the cockpit.
It was more a sanctum, of sorts, and Anakin watched helplessly as the Archknight walked in, pulled a few cables from somewhere and inserted them with a surgical precision in sockets on his helmet, it seemed… and then the door shut.
He felt movement- the ship took off smoothly, silently, with none of the telltale signs of liftoff, but the force told him that they moved… and then the jerk.
The engines worked, the thrusters flared- but the ship was, for some reason, seemingly stuck in one place. There was no sound from the Archknight within, but there was something that told Vader that it was not he who had ceased the ship's motion.
Lord Malus calmly willed the engines of the craft to thrust at full capacity with the neurokinesis his order employed to pilot their ships, but nothing came of it.
It was futile. For a while the engines struggled in futility against the force that held them, and then the voice of the Force once again roared from its silence in Anakin's ear- it was in these moments that the Chosen One knew of how many things would happen at once.
The Archknight rose and unplugged the apparatus from its sockets, and at that very moment, the ship began hurtling down with a great speed.
Battered around the field of the ray shield, Anakin saw the Archknight stand tall and unyielding, somehow not jolted by the sudden momentum- and then the ship crashed into Dathomir at a great speed.
Sparks flew up, fires developed from friction, systems crackled in their failure and wires jutted out- yet another of Obi-wan's typical 'happy landings'.
Then he felt it- the power. The sheer glory.
A great light had washed over his senses, great in its warmth as were the twin Suns of Tatooine, and it was followed by a great darkness, ravenous and wrathful. The light and darkness were intertwined, casting themselves upon each other and becoming greater through this eternal conflict.
Feeling rose from beyond the singularity that was the presence of Archknight Malus, and as the door was crushed open, Anakin beheld a figure wearing robes of black and red over golden electrum armour, with the face covered by an ancient mask which he somehow knew but could not quite put.
Beneath his own helmet, the Archknight's visage adopted the barest hints of a scowl- for the Force had proudly announced the arrival of Lord Darth Revan.
Author's Note:Greetings, all, and welcome to 'To Rekindle the Dying Stars'. I shall provide that the premise takes place around 4000 years after the Battle of Yavin, to be very precise, and I shall therefore provide a glossary of terms to accommodate the various odds and ends that may be found in this very different iteration of the Galaxy Far Far Away. Note that this shall use Legends material, but not necessarily with an assumption that Legends is Canon. Some of the rather more ungainly things in Legends are left out purposely, and some do not mater in this time and era.
Kriff- An exclamation of frustration in Galactic Basic
Parallaxiscope: An advanced version of the binoculars used in the OT. Used to view telescopic images by narrowing parallax from both sides to generate artificial images.
Synaptic Stunner: A subduing weapon that obstructs nerve impulses.
Blightwielder:A term for Force-wielder used in the new Galaxy. Why Force-wielders are considered Anathema is to be expanded later.
Infinity Gate (Legends): A gate established by the ancient Saurian civilization known as the Kwa that allowed them to teleport between worlds using the 'cosmic power', that is, the Force. They can also be used to project 'infinity waves' as a last resort, decimating civilization around the area. The Kwa have long been extinct, destroyed by the Rakatan Infinite Empire in about 30000 BBY.
Star Temple: The pyramidal temples constructed by the Kwa to hold infinity gates.
The Prime Gate: Locate don Dathomir, it serves as the hub for all other gates. Dathomir itself has turned grey due to its spirit ichor 'drying'. It is now a dying world, scavenged by raiders for artifacts and secrets.
The meaning of the 'ol' Technocracy' and the Archknights will also be expanded later. For now, suffice to say that the former is an extremely powerful organisation that controls much behind the scenes, and the latter is a synod of Enforcers who are feared greatly and rightly so.
I shall award brownie points to any who can correctly guess what Revan is doing with a large number of ancient Sith Lords. Many of our favourite Sith will make an appearance in this story, in a role I must say most shall not quite be used to.