Chapter 8
If anyone would say Darth Maul is capable of feeling fear some time ago, he would have cackled in their face before impaling his lightsaber through the fool from face to the chin and probably even slaughtered the fool's family and friends. He believed he no longer felt fear - no longer capable of - not even in the presence of his own Master.
On Orisis, he learned the skills of an assassin. However, Sidious ordered him to forgo any use of the Force, save for his heightened senses and to improve in terms of lightsaber combat.
The young Zabrak, upon being introduced to the students, challenged the tall Abyssin Dalok to prove himself and defeated him with such ferocity that he bit him on the nose. He defeated many in his time yet now the presence is closing in on him.
When he was younger, the boy constantly feared for his life, but he learned that he must turn his fear into anger, therefore using it many times and growing ever the more powerful.
All he has to do is destroy a mere Jedi Master who would expire shortly and an arrogant Padawan and one part of his mission would be completed then he shall retreat until this traitor to the ways of the Sith diverges from the Queen and capture the Queen and bring her to Coruscant.
That have been the plan; the plan that Darth Sidious formulated; now, he could sense the presence closing upon him greater than before; he could sense pressure surrounding his chest, whoever this being is presence in the dark side as strong as his own Master. Dread feels him as he realizes that the plan is failing and that means as a result he will fail his Master if this figure is indeed as powerful as the Force is radiating around him.
The modified Naboo speeder accelerates to him, and, not even forming a confronting stance, the figure extracts himself from the vehicle, looking ever the more intimidating with the Twin Suns at his back. Ruthless and cold as ice, for the first time for a long time, making the Sith Apprentice shiver. Power and domination close around him.
The Zabrak Assassin glares, angry at the power of this mockery obtaining this immense power but also interest in seeing if he can bring him before his Master, for him to drain his power and to give it to them so they can obtain unlimited power or to convince him to join them. He observes the figure, completely clouded in black, staring up at his enemies with his golden eyes. The battle-worn armor reminds him all too much of Darth Revan's ancient lost armor and the mask that is similar to Darth Malgus.
A small smirk emerges on his lips at the two women noticeably stiffening at the presence he furnishes into the Force. In due time, all of the Jedi would have similar reactions and he would crush them underneath his boot.
The two women pull their blasters from their belts, seeing with their training that he is a threat, and begins to fire as they approach, causing the Zabrak to raise his hand and propel the blaster fire to other directions before seizing them and blasting the women away.
Sprawled across the ground, the blonde woman begins coughing repeatedly and the dark hair woman rubs at her wounds while the mockery stares on, hands interlock behind his back, remaining deceptively calm.
Like a prey hunting for a hunter, the Zabrak snarls, grasping the hilt of his lightsaber before activating the crimson lightsaber, twirling his lightsaber across the sandy ground, and attempting to intimidate this traitor, seeing that despite his Master's warning, a confrontation is inevitable.
The shadow huffs - or makes a noise that sounds like it. "Fool, you are hardly even worthy of being called a Sith. You are not a Sith. You are just a tool."
The Zabrak points his upper lightsaber horizontally at the figure, a cold fury intensifying within him. "Your allies are defeated," he says calmly.
The dark shadow chuckles. "Hardly defeated. You are a weapon long since past its time, were you to ally with me some time ago, I would have welcomed your strength, but we shall do battle here, and the victor shall prove their worth to be the greatest among us. Show me you are truly worthy of being called Sith..." the figure draws, grasping the hilt of his lightsaber and activating it. "Perhaps that's why your mother abandoned you."
The Zabrak lunges, utilizing more momentum than ever before. He dares to mock him and cut a core deep within him that reminds him of his mother! He shall die! Yes, the Zabrak shall see that this shadow suffers the most pain he has ever seen and see to it that he feels every wound! He would first take his corpse to Mustafar where he would char his remaining body parts for days! He would then even travel to Dathomir and command for them to devour this shadow's remaining!
The shadow's lightsaber comes up as he waits patiently. It only further incenses the Zabrak that he isn't willing to oppose him as a challenge.
And the clash begins.
The Zabrak's agility on inhuman legs and flashing blades seems to push the dark figure away. But only at the beginning. With dawning amazement and horror, he realizes that the being is deflecting all of his strikes… with only one blade! He feels his rage deepen and calls upon the dark side even more. Speed increasing still, he blurs away from the figure, then streaks back even faster, hoping to take it by surprise and pierce it through the torso.
Each of his blows is counter with a casualness that surprises him. What's more, his own strikes appear to be far more powerful. From his time as training, the Zabrak can see that the mysterious foe is battering each of his strikes aside before making his own attack. He is trained in all seven forms yet his foe is requiring merely one form to defeat him! It made him angry but the shadow didn't break his source for combat! When the Zabrak attempts to jump over him and dashes at him, the shadow merely turns like a talented dancer, masterfully parries the assault by the Zabrak, and continues to attack!
The Zabrak finds himself back on defense, parrying each assault with a noticeable strain in his muscles, gritting his teeth as the force of the shadow's blows descends down upon him. The shadow jabs him in the shoulder and manages to break through his assault, striking him in the torso with his fist, causing him to grunt and his lightsaber to be fly several feet away.
The shadow plants his knee on his abdomen, preventing him from moving. "Sloppy," the shadow declares with some sort of amusement. "Others can fight better. How anyone like you could be viewed as an Assassin by your Master is beyond me."
The Zabrak catches him in the face and kicks him off of his form, using the Force in calling his double-bladed lightsaber horizontally to his grip and activating it, breathing heavily as he glares at this adversary. This mockery of everything he was taught. Working with Jedi! Associating with inadequate individuals who only bury themselves away with wealth without obtaining any real power!
"It appears that your mastery of the Dark Side is not as complete as you wished," the scornful voice taunts. "Shame. A learned disciple might have corroborated a formidable bludgeon to be implemented as I have striven."
The shadow swings his lightsaber around the Zabrak in under a second, and he can sense the light and the darkness in every swipe that sends a waver through the Force surrounding him before pulling back and raising his hand before propelling sand off the ground and sending the storm he has constructed with the Force into the Assassin's direction, provoking the Zabrak into raising his double-bladed lightsaber and blocks the assault, gritting his teeth as the strain of his muscles begins to become evident before he raises his hand and blasts the sand back at the user.
The Zabrak, beyond irritated, sends the wind of sand away, striking his way to the fog and hacking at where his opponent is... or was. As the wind clears up, he can't see his rival anywhere...
Only to dodge a swipe seconds earlier from decapitating his head from his shoulders! The Zabrak kicks him back, parrying five assaults, and Force Blasts him away, rotating his blade before welcoming him to attack with one motion of his hand. The shadow walks over calmly, slashing at the Zabrak who parries each of the strikes. The Zabrak aims for a downer strike, attempting to catch him off-balance in the knee. His strike is promptly block without much effort.
The blonde woman stands first and raises her blaster at the back of the Sith Assassin and begins to fire, causing the Zabrak to break off from their locked blades and rotating his double-bladed lightsaber behind him to deflect a few of the blaster shots and raise her in the air, bringing her slowly to him, but before he could commence with something that would threaten the handmaiden's safety, the shadow outstretches his hand and Force Pushes the Zabrak slightly back, staggering the Zabrak but causing him to release her. It is evident that was done on purpose and only an mini attack that would force him to release her.
The shadow shakes his head at her with an aura full of disapproval, a single motion in telling her don't involve herself with this. Both know non Force Sensitives or those who aren't trained in the ways of the Force are extremely valuable compared to experienced Force Users. Ysalamirs are the only way to negate Force abilities and they are rare to track, imprisoned by the Jedi decades ago in the Deep Core and exterminated by his Sith Master in another time. Having long admired the tenacity of the ysalamiri, the Jedi Order named a form of lightsaber combat, Makashi, after the creature.
So now it is utterly impossible for Force Users to be bested by non Force Users.
The shadow returns his attention to him, aiming his lightsaber at him. "Unfortunately, assassin, you have yet to realize both Orders are pathways to misery. The Order of Bane and the Order of Jedi is tortuous; one Order cannot control their emotions while the other is immensely detach. Both Orders must collapse for balance to be restored once and for all. And I shall see to it."
The Zabrak glares at him, golden eyes flashing as he lunges at the shadow, hacking away endlessly that could have killed any other inexperienced individual. The Zabrak spurts forward, and the shadow tears forward to meet him, the former attempting to send flurries over flurries in a pathetic attempt to destroy him. The shadow merely rammers him aside in all to the calm of a gesture that adds to his anger as he skids across the ground, sending his lightsaber across the ground.
The Zabrak gets into a pouncing position before he feels it once again. Within his advisory, the light and dark synchronize. They merge, the boundaries between them breaking down until it becomes nearly impossible to tell one from the other. Like the twin suns above, he is the center point of the Force in its ecumenicity. Existing within the same echelon as other mortal beings, and yet at the same time reaching a level that they could not, should not encompass.
The Zabrak dodges the slash that could have ended his life and reaches out and grabs his lightsaber with the Force, causing the shadow to glide slightly as it activates and spun towards its creator horizontally. Had he had been a second late, he would have been cleaved clean and vertically into two.
The Zabrak catches his lightsaber with a menacing grin, spinning it in his hand for a moment in attempting at intimidation, not able to resist the urge to speak for the first time. "What's the matter, traitor of the Sith? Exhausted."
"Attempting to stall while you are losing this battle. You are inconsequential, pretender." the shadow ridicules darkly, hammering his blow aside before catching another blow just as they lock blades. "Easily negligible. Undomesticated. Pity how once you would have been serviceable to me. I have once fought an elder Former Jedi and he is incomparably more powerful than you."
The Zabrak pulls back and twirls his lightsaber expeditiously towards the shadow who briskly repels his assaults, the shadow intercepting his lightsaber with his own.
"Your lightsaber movements are beyond sloppy. It is disparaging to the Sith title itself." the shadow taunts, sensing the Zabrak's arrogance is slowly materializing. "You think yourself special, boy. You're just a child with no experience of the galaxy."
"I'm a Sith!" The Zabrak rages, golden eyes flashing, finally losing the little patience he has. He wants to wipe out the smirk that must be on his foe's face, wants to decapitate his head repeatedly and deformed his body all over, wants to show his Master how strong he is.
The shadow chuckles. "You are truly a pathetic waste of Force Sensitivity in all realities."
Although a small part of him is bemused at what the shadow meant by all realities, the Zabrak feels himself in the dark side of the Force reaching the climax, the dark side itself roaring inside of his being. Executing a move of phenomenal instantaneity, the Zabrak lunges at the massive shape. The shadow repulses the stab with equal speed, riposting with a counter slash that the Zabrak barely parries. Another parry and Maul counters again, using this opportunity to move around the towering Dark Lord.
They continue to trade blows, with the Sith now backing toward the shuttle. Once his saber and the shadow's lock, the interaction of the two energy fields precipitating a violent sparking and coruscating. A low buzzing sound rose from the overrefinement power units as each saber solicits to override the other.
Baring his fangs into a dangerous grin, the Zabrak pushes forward, attempting to intimidate him. "You believe the Jedi would accept your presence, even after assisting one of their own and Naboo? They would only seek to apprehend you and question you because of the dark side of the Force surrounding you. They wiped out an entire institution of purebloods because of their history. Surrender and my Master would show you true unchallenged power."
"The Jedi Council may attempt to," the shadow reveals, thrusting the Zabrak back with equal vehemence, "but I am imperturbable. No matter of their methods they may attempt to use against me, they would only dwindle. You however have done mental damage to my brother, forcing him into self-isolation. You killed his father figure, his lover, and even attempted to kill his little brother. You're nothing but an animal. Your Master is just as such."
The shadow raises his hand, lightning extending through his fingertips and crashing full friction into the Zabrak. It is a common torture method that his Master used to use on him, one of his weaknesses in the galaxy. The Zabrak collapses in agony as the lightning courses through his body, deactivating his lightsaber.
The shadow ends his assault. "Show me the animal you truly are. Show me that you are worthy of being called Sith." He taunts, before extending more lightning at him with his lightning, the anger intensifying within the Zabrak. "Good. Good. Lash out, boy. Strike me down if you are truly the master of the dark side."
With the power of the dark side of the Force, the Zabrak raises his hands and brings the shadow down to his knees; unbeknownst to him, a similar move another pulled to his rival in a fortress that nearly caused her to sink into the dark side. The Zabrak shows no hesitation and launches himself into the air, his twin-bladed lightsaber whirling as it lands with a hiss against the shadow, who somersaults in the air, landing perfectly, cape spiraling behind him as the sand blows around himself, admittedly creating a dramatic effect. The Zabrak winces, but charges again, he whips his saber around his head and body, hitting the shadow from both sides so quickly there seems no delay in between.
The shadow moves to cleanse him in two, but the Zabrak is able to counter his assault. The two relentlessly hack away at each other, strikes nearly hitting too close to home multiple times for both. The Zabrak would never know this, but the shadow is swift to acknowledge that the Zabrak is indeed remarkable and talented with a lightsaber and that this would not be a fight he could win with no effort. The shadow is a former Sith Lord, however, and his admiration for his foe cannot be confused with fear.
The shadow lunges, his crimson lightsaber moving with a frantic pace but with deadly precision, he blocks the Zabrak's every strike, and when possible, would give his own, thrusting into the open space between the Zabrak's blades, only for his saber to be caught and pushes aside at the last second.
The Zabrak lunges back, eager to engage again, but with a different strategy, he clearly could not defeat the shadow with speed and force alone.
"You have commendable experience I must admit, but that will not win you this fight." the Zabrak snipes, breathing heavily as he squares down his foe once more.
"You have not seen my full power yet, and I can assure you, it is far beyond your own pathetic method," the shadow responds, his crimson lightsaber angle downwards in a challenge motion, the tip burning the sand.
"We shall see," the Zabrak growls.
Again, he launches himself at the shadow, this time his lightsaber catching part of the shadow's cape, tearing it off. The shadow is quick to respond, launching a flurry of attacks, each but the last being parry by the Zabrak, with it catching his hilt, causing one of the blades to deactivate in an instance. The Zabrak switches up his lightsaber style yet again, but this time he is clearly at a disadvantage, he may not have been able to defeat the shadow with both of his blades, but now he had put himself fully in the shadow's court.
"If you are truthful in claiming you are not harnessing your full power against me, then do it!" the Zabrak bellows, beyond irritated as the shadow backs himself up or moves on the defense.
"So be it," the shadow acknowledges.
The Master of the Force versus the apprentice of the most powerful Sith Lord in the entire galaxy.
Master of Djem So, the shadow swipes furiously at him before he brings his lightsaber down on the Zabrak from above, from the sides, and then from underneath, each strike bringing with it immense power and speed, the Zabrak's blocks are barely keeping the shadow's lightsaber away. The Zabrak snarls and lets out a Force Push with his free hand, but it is met with the shadow's own; and the Force energy he let out, dissipates into nothing. The shadow brings his lightsaber down once more, and when the Zabrak parries, bring it back up with blazing speed, the shadow's continue entourage didn't stop.
Their battle carries down the hills for what feel like hours, what probably have been, the Twin Suns above them, but there is no mercy in either strike as they continue to hack away at each other with blows that would kill anyone else less experience but both are powerful in their own right.
To none that would witness this battle, this shadow, and this Zabrak is two blurs of movements, crimson lightsabers crashing rapidly. The Zabrak notices his opponent is slightly weaker with defensive than offensive, striking at him rapidly to ensure that his opponent doesn't gain an advantage. His opponent regains the advantage of attacking by moving around him.
They finally lock blades, both knowing that the next move by either side would determine how this battle would end.
The Zabrak slowly comes to the realization that he is outmatched. Eventually, the shadow cuts through the Zabrak's lightsaber, deactivating it completely.
"Erk-" He jerks to a stop almost afterward, his momentum entirely cease. His eyes roll wildly as he witnesses himself rising slowly off the ground. His throat! A Force choke! He had heard nothing of the use of this power when he had researched his enemies in the past.
The victor stares at the one who he had just defeated, and with a slight tilt of his head, cracking sounds begin to come from the Zabrak's ribs, his desperate attempts to force the only one foe whoever defeated him away being mere futile efforts.
"RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" His force enhance cry pushes away his executioner just enough to stop the Force Choke.
The two women clutch their heads in agony, yet his victor isn't swayed enough to distort him but it did make him drop his concentration of the Force-or perhaps he had simply released him.
Now liberated from the constricting hold that is like everything he felt before in his torture sessions with his Master that only increases his power to immense proportions, the Zabrak squirms to stand, but the shadow outstretches his hand and blasts lightning at the Zabrak, who throws himself to the side and grabs his lightsaber.
He dashes forward, and the shadow sends lightning at the Zabrak, who blocks the intense power, struggling to keep his hand on his lightsaber, gritting his teeth in pain.
"This, Darth Maul, is power," the shadow declares.
The Zabrak had collected many lightsabers and claimed many lives both Force Sensitives and non Force Sensitives, assassinated many Jedi, and thought he would've more but it appears that his fate is to die here. He would not allow himself to fall prey to this being.
Darth Maul sneers, vowing to have his vengeance on this being, before blasting the shadow away before boarding the shuttle and begins flying away.
He would have his vengeance.
Padmé is wide awake, and she feel terrible about it. Qui-Gon and Jar Jar, both self-professed early risers, volunteered to sleep on the floor in the main room of Shmi Skywalker's house. Shmi had taken her son into his small room and given up her bed for Padmé. It is the most hospitality that Shmi can offer, but the bed is so hard and the desert night so dry that Padmé couldn't sleep.
After an hour of trying not to toss and turn, she gets up to get a glass of water. She steps carefully around the snoring Gungan on the kitchen floor. By the time she cleans her cup and put it away, her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that she could see the outline of Master Qui-Gon, sleeping on his side in the doorway of the house, as though he would protect them from anything that tried to come in.
On the other side of the kitchen, light leaks from under a close door.
Padmé hears soft sounds coming from the other side and wonders if Anakin gotten up to tinker with something. He really ought to be in bed, so Padmé opens the door to check on him.
"Do you need something?" It is Shmi Skywalker, not her son, bent over the table with the parts of several different devices spread out in front of her. She is working on some kind of screen.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Padmé apologizes immediately. "I thought Anakin might have gotten up because he was nervous."
Shmi laughs quietly.
"No, my son sleeps like a rock the night before a race," she admits. "It's me who stays up all night worrying about him. What's keeping you awake?"
Padmé hesitates. She already embarrassed herself in front of her host when the topic of slavery had come up, but that is no excuse to stop being honest.
"I am used to a different bed," she replies diplomatically. "It is taking me a while to settle."
"You are welcome to sit up with me if you like," Shmi offers. "I'm just trying to fix this screen so I can use it at the race tomorrow."
"I'd like that," Padmé says.
They didn't talk very much after that. Padmé watches as Shmi's clever fingers reassemble the screen, each piece falling into place so easily that Shmi might have been doing magic. It is soothing in the way that watching an artist is, and Padmé realizes that this is merely art of a different kind. Eventually, she feels calm enough to try sleeping again, and bid Shmi good night.
Conflicted thoughts override her senses; how can Vader be right? Force, no wonder he detests the Republic; who knows how many people he'd encountered that is in similar predicaments, if not worse, to these people.
Vader nor these people grew up in a comforting home, able to live their carefree days in peace and not having to worry like herself (excluding the fact that the Trade Federation raided their planet and ruining that peace), no they'd to grow up in a place surrounded by violence and having to rely on their tools and devices to survive because they had nothing else.
She feels genuine empathy for Vader, Anakin, and Shmi, but there is more sympathy for Vader than the other two which is surprising, considering how he'd exposed her identity. Anakin and Shmi have each other; they have friends, but what about Vader? Who knows what had happened to his own mother and father? They probably died in his arms, and that is how he became someone who is reserve and secretive to the point where all of his friends either betrayed him or perished too.
Does Vader even know what friendship means, or is it too late to talk reality in him?
Rabé did tell her once about one of the reasons why she became a criminal is because of how her father died and her mother is a drug addict and she had felt like stealing things would have been the right path. Rabé is not a horrible person, she knows; in fact, she had saved her once from a near tragedy, just like Padmé had saved her when she had a broken ankle during heavy handmaiden training.
But what if she had cast judgment on Vader too hastily by not hearing his side of the story and truly attempting to understand?
What if Vader did horrible things because he too is a victim? What if he hopes to redeem himself just because he had wanted to amend his mistakes? Vader is a Sith after all so he had likely destroyed many people and only ran and never look back when the consequences caught up with him afterward. There's been criminals and murders, albeit rare, who had put a bullet to their head or abandon their lifestyles to hide away in self-pity.
A slow realization comes to Padmé; if her suspicions about Vader are correct, he would never harm her handmaiden and he is not an enemy of the Naboo. She might have unintentionally bullied a victim.
She would have to inquire Eirtaé about his attitude when they all simultaneously return to the Nubian. She knows she had made an error in her judgment but hopefully, Vader would forgive her and will still assist the Naboo. He has been rather helpful so far.
Part of her worries about her parents and sister, but her thoughts went to other pressing issues; what if the Jedi ain't the ones who would emancipate Naboo? What if she has to rely on Darth Vader? When the time comes, she wonders if he would help them free Naboo or choose to betray them all and side with the Trade Federation. As much as she detests war, she is willing to take drastic actions at this point.
As she pulls the blankets over her, Padmé's mind spin. She knows for quite some time the galaxy was a complicated place, but seeing it, smelling it, living it made her understand how foolish and privileged she had been. She have her own problems right now, and they are massive—much bigger than herself. She can't afford to be distracted by a planet that isn't even her own. And yet, her heart aches for this good woman and for her selfless son, and she knows that it always would.
Midnight approaches. Anakin Skywalker, unable to sleep, slips out of his bed and gone down into the backyard to complete a final check of the racer, of its controls, its wiring, its relays, its power source-everything he can think of. Now he stand staring at it, trying to determine what he might have miss, what he might have overlook. He can afford no mistakes. He must make certain he done all that he can.
So that he would win tomorrow's race.
Because he must.
He must.
He watches R2-D2 scuttle around the racer, applying paint in broad strokes to its polished metal body, aided by a light projecting from a receptacle mount over his visual sensors and a steady stream of advice from C- 3PO. The boy activated the latter earlier on the advice of Padmé. Many hands make light work, she had intoned solemnly, then grinned. C-3PO wasn't much with his hands, but his vocoder was certainly tireless. In any case, R2-D2 seems to like having him around, exchanging beeps and chirps with his protocol counterpart as he scuttled about the racer. The little astromech droid works tirelessly, cheerfully, and willingly. Nothing perturbs him. Anakin envies him. Droids are either well put together or they weren't. Unlike humans, they didn't respond to weariness or disappointment, or fear...
He chases the thought away quickly and looks up at the starry sky. After a moment, he sits down, his back against a crate of old parts, his goggles and racing helmet at his side. Idly, he fingers the japor carving in his pocket, the one he is working on for Padmé. His thoughts drift. He can't explain it exactly, but he knows that tomorrow would change his life. That strange ability to see what others did not, that sometimes give him insights into what would happen, told him so. His future is coming up on him in a rush, he senses it is closing fast, giving him no time to consider, ascending with the certainty of a sunrise.
What will it bring him? The question teases at the edges of his consciousness, refusing to show itself. Change, but in what form? Qui-Gon and his companions are the bringers of that change, but he did not think even the Jedi Knight knows for certain what the end result would be.
Maybe the freedom he dreamt constantly about for himself and his mother, he thought hopefully. Maybe an escape to a new life for both of them. Anything is possible if he win the Boonta. Anything at all.
That thought is still foremost in his clutter, weary mind when his eyes close and he falls asleep.
Many would view this as him actually losing, but little do one who would ever find out about this battle know, Vader could have easily killed him. However, it is not his destiny to defeat him. At least Darth Sidious would give him unimaginable torture for his incompetence.
Truthfully, he finds the display pitiful, and, for the first time since he had time travel, he wishes he is able to laugh at Darth Sidious's face. This is who Darth Sidious would rely his training on. Always did he wish to encounter the first apprentice of his former Master but he'd always narrowly evade encounters with him, which is, in all honesty, the only reason why Darth Maul survived as long as he did on Malachor.
At least Count Dooku is honorable. Dooku was a Jedi Master and, prior to the Clone Wars at least, the best duelist of the Jedi Order — the only one who took lightsaber-on-lightsaber combat seriously, much to his own chagrin. His mastery of the Force was humbling to the Jedi who defeated Maul and comparable to that of Master Yoda, and he was at least somewhat versed in the arts of Sith Sorcery which Maul's master had otherwise neglected to teach him. Even on the Invisible Hand, he had given him some trouble and the man perished with some honor and that is precisely why Vader had concealed Dooku's lair and Holocrons out of the secret esteem he had for the man.
Maul is sequentially an amateurish Sith with an inadequate grasp of the Force and a reliance on pure physicality; even his younger self who was bested by Dooku on Geonosis would have probably been able to beat him and that's saying much as that is the weakest he ever was before he had eventually reached his prime.
For a second, he had pondered how would Dooku and Maul's battle will go and come to a realization. It just wouldn't be a competition. Even with that flashing, spinning, double-bladed lightsaber, Dooku's superior swordsmanship would win out. He would defend and evade Maul's attacks with trivial ease, quickly recognize an opportunity to cut through the double-bladed weapon, disabling it, and then follow up with a decisive attack that would put Maul out of commission. Dooku would swiftly recognize that Maul had a blind spot for Force-based attacks and would incapacitate him with telekinesis, either projecting Maul himself against a hard surface or pelting him with debris in order to distract him.
The problem with Nightbrothers is they easily grow into uncontrollable brutes and it eventually costs them their lives as it did with Savage Opress. Dooku made a veracious choice in choosing a Nightsister as his apprentice since she was able to conquer some of the worse battles in the entirety of the Clone Wars.
He remembers on Malachor when Maul had a clear opportunity to do combat with Vader, yet the fool betrayed and bequeathed his former Jedi student to deal with him while escaping because he is a coward. The fool had left his former Padawan to confront him herself and blinded Jarrus by catching them off-guard.
Whereas Dooku could have retreated from him and Kenobi on the Invisible Hand and run like a coward, he had still not evacuated. He was willing to die and stay loyal to his beliefs. Dooku is a warrior that is worthy of respect and deserving of his reputation even of the present time. Maul is just, in every sense of the word, a clown.
Whereas Anakin Skywalker would have relished into battle, attacking everything in sight and lashing out, Vader is far more controlled and far more powerful, learning from two decades of experience that will never go unlearned. The only features he is attempting to do similar to his younger self is ameliorate his communication skills which is why he's speaking with the younger version of his wife and her handmaidens as talking with Jedi still left a sour taste in his mouth.
"Are you undamaged?" the foreign man inquires, not even turning to them, addressing them as if they were the soldiers and admirals serving him under his time of the Dark Lord.
The two women nod.
"Good," Vader answers the unspoken acknowledgment to his question.
"The Queen will be intrigued with this development." the blonde handmaiden spoke as she approaches. "Are you alright?"
"We should return to the shuttle," Vader commands dryly, noticing his blasted cape on the ground. Damn the kriffing Zabrak cut part of his cape. While Vader is hardly fashionable, he considers all that he wears part of himself and he can't help but scowl in annoyance at the vandalized cape.
The handmaidens simultaneously nod, undoubtedly not wanting to stay on this sandy planet forever. After all, their Queen did give Eirtaé commands to spy on Vader, and that she is not to leave his side under no means necessary. Rabé was just backup. For now, Vader is not revealing the truth to the Jedi nor is making any bargains; in fact, he appears to be here for a mission of his own. Eirtaé would have to fill in her report to Padmé later about how he had saved their lives and his intentions appear to be genuine so far.
Vader doesn't blame them for wishing to leave this dustball of a planet. If it was up to him, he would just run away to Naboo and mediate up to his final days, excluding the fact that there is a Sith Lord in the Senate. But unfortunately, due to a sadistic bastard in the Senate, to formulate plans to stop Sidious without the entire galaxy believing he is a threat, and to ensure at least some of the survivors on the list of Vader at least survives this time.
Oh, why does life have to be so damn complicated?
Vader lifts up his cape and reattaches it around his cloak, assuring it fits perfectly as he stares up at the fleeing ship.
They get on the speeder with Vader and he begins blasting off, the former Sith ignoring the shuttle that ascends in the air moments later and blasts off to hyperspace.
"Are you certain not arresting him is the wiser choice?" Rabé asks, a scowl forming on her lips.
"It is not my destiny to stop him. It is the destiny of someone else. The Force will it." And Vader has a suspecting feeling he knows who that someone is.
The women are evidently confused but they both know that Jedi have their prophecies and that they are each mysterious. Once one believes they know everything about Jedi, the Jedi continuously has the element of surprise that changes that viewpoint.
Not too surprisingly, they are back at the Nubian. They extract from the speeder and they notice rebuilds are still proceeding, but they ignore the engineers as they walk by, not too stunningly meeting Captain Panaka at top.
Panaka frowns at Rabé disapprovingly. "Didn't the Queen ordered for only one handmaiden to watch Vader?"
"Panaka," Rabé replies, shrugging off the comment with an ounce of hilarity in her tone. "We have confronted a creature. He was wielding the Jedi's laser sword."
Vader feels the urge to facepalm. He is well acquainted with the fact that the handmaidens have limited knowledge of the Jedi and Sith so he can't judge them too harshly or too bluntly. Yet, the amount of time he witnessed people, and even the kriffing Jedi, and even sometimes the Sith, referring a lightsaber as a bloody laser sword...
Rabé continues as she now eyes Vader with an impassive look. "The Queen would probably want an explanation of this." She is not certain if she's talking more to Panaka or Vader.
As if on cue, Sabé emerges. Prominently, she didn't have on her Queen disguise. Well, rationally speaking, no one will wear a long dress with this boiling sandball, nor he highly doubts Padmé would allow her handmaidens to be tortured. Additionally, according to Padmé, infrequently do the disproportionate makeup causes breakouts or begins to grow itchy. If he remembers correctly, in a different time long ago, Padmé told him there was a time where Saché had allergies with one of her makeup which prompted lots of quandaries.
"Hey, you know I know how to knit," Sabé offers, eyeing the cape that is catalyzed; not too damaged but still torn. "I can rectify your cape."
"Who says I need any of your help?" Vader disputes neutrally, raising his eyebrows in genuine exoticism. So far, he has been distancing himself from them on purpose. He failed everyone in his life and had nearly failed his son. Certainly, he teased them, but that doesn't mean he wants friendships of any source with them.
He remembers choking Sabé in endeavoring to inveigle her to talk and reveal who she is. Fortunately, he released and spared the life of the handmaiden, but still, he is furious at himself for nearly annihilating her. Perhaps it was their friendship or her friendship with Padmé, but Vader spared her even after she pressed buttons.
"Listen," Rabé retaliates forcefully, staring hard at his back, "I know you probably have trust issues after your friends betrayed you," extra emphasis, "but you can make friends who wouldn't judge you for your appearance. We of the Naboo are very custom in maintaining respect. While Naboo is problematic with a few rude people, most try to maintain peace and friendship. True friends do not betray one another."
Eyes fall over hers for a moment, and he can see the handmaiden's defiance as she stares at him pointedly. No wonder Padmé and Rabé are also good friends, not as close as Padmé and Sabé or Padmé and Dormé, but still close. Rabé, unlike Motti and Ozzel, is indeed bold but not stupid. If this was the time of the Empire, her neck would have been snapped immediately, but she would have gone out with pride instead of fear. Even in his time as Dark Lord, he would have venerated that.
However, he is no longer Dark Lord of the Sith, he is... well he isn't Jedi Anakin Skywalker, having given up that name when he time traveled to the past...
He could be Jedi Darth Vader.
'Okay that is just a preternatural title,' Vader can't help but think. 'Then again, me time traveling is an unearthly predicament.'
"Very well," Vader concedes with a scowl, part of him unable to believe that he is doing this as he detaches his cape from his back and allowing the handmaidens to grab his cape with genuine carefulness, unequivocally to help Sabé to bring it to their chambers.
For some reason, without the cape, Vader feels less intimidating, feels bare, and he loathes it to no end. He can't help but curse Darth Maul. That Zabrak is beyond powerful; it's no wonder he had survived as long as he did in the other timeline.
"Don't think I'm doing this because I consider you all as my friends. No one is my friend, understand?"
The handmaidens roll their eyes.
Why our of all the people on the ship he happens to recapitulate to communicate with the blasted handmaidens who probably viewed him as an overgrown child in the other timeline?
"I will be in my chambers uninterrupted," Vader declares, putting extra emphasis on the last word, calling off the dark side to send chills down their spines and knowing that they have the message of what would happen - the better word being what may happen.
He can sense Obi-Wan is on board yet the man appears to be here for his own ambitions. He senses the Maverick Jedi sent him here to check his younger self midi-chlorians count yet he chooses not to address Obi-Wan, sensing how he strives to be secretive about their little discovery and endavoring to conceal the truth from him so he doesn't groom Anakin Skywalker to the dark.
He begins contemplating about the Maverick Jedi Master. Vergences, or nexus-points, were places where the Force appeared to, or was felt to, flow freely and strongly. Usually, they were centered on geographical areas. The location on Coruscant where the Jedi built their Temple, as well as the Jedi temples on Lothal, Ilum, and Devaron are vergences in the Force. Another is located in the swamp on Dagobah where Yoda lived, and Luke later trained. These vergences are not confined by the laws of time and space, and could pop up for an instant, or last for millennia, or even appear inside a person. Qui-Gon breaks with the Council on many traditions, and apparently was a stronger believer in the more mystical aspects of the "living Force" than some other Jedi Masters. Being roguish like himself when he was a Jedi within the Order allows Qui-Gon to take these kinds of things on faith, rather than a more hard-evidence type of individual like Mace Windu.
With cool and smooth agility, Vader turns his back on them and storm off towards his temporary quarters, requiring a much-needed meditation.
Anakin Skywalker dream that night, and in his dream, he is of a different, but indeterminate age. He is young still, though not so young as now, but old, too. He is cut from stone, and his thoughts are emblazoned with a vision so frightening he could not bring himself to consider it fully, only to leave it just out of reach, simmering over a fire of ambition and hope. He is in a different place and time, in a world he did not recognize, in a landscape he have never seen. It is vague and shadowy in his dream, all flat and rugged at once, changing with the swiftness of a mirage born out of Tatooine's desert flats.
The dream shimmers, and voices reach out to him, soft and distant. He turns toward them, away from a wave of dark movement that suddenly appears before him, away from the sleep that gives his dream life.
"I hope you're about finished," he hears Padmé say.
But Padmé is at the head of the dark wave of his dream, and the wave is an army, marching toward him...
And then a man clouded in black armor, robes, and a cape, marching in the similar residence, a cylinder hilt on his belt that is similar to Qui-Gon sir... surrounded by flames?
R2-D2 whistles and beeps, and C-3PO chimes in with hasty assurances, saying everything is done, all is in readiness, and he stirs again.
A hand touches his cheek, brushing it softly, and the dream fades and is gone. Anakin blinks awake, rubbing at his eyes, yawning, and turning over on his side. He is no longer stretch out by the parts crate where he had fallen asleep the night before but is back in his own bed.
The hand lifts away from his cheek, and Anakin stares up at Padmé, at a face he finds an angel it brings a tightness to his throat. Yet he stares at her in confusion, for she had been the central figure in his dream, different from now, older, sadder... and something more.
"You were in my dream," he admits, swallowing hard to get the words out. "You were leading a huge army into battle."
The girl stares at him in wonder, then smiles. "I hope not. I hate fighting." Her voice is merry and light, dismissive in a way that bothers him. "And?" She asks, having an instinct due to seeing that look in Yané's eyes when she uses to committing pranks on herself and the handmaidens, and when caught, Padmé always is able to get her to talk.
Anakin is catch off-guard, knowing she has that mother instinct within her. She would make a perfect mother. "There is also this strange man clouded in black and flames," he replies, uncertain how to describe them.
Padmé frowns. "Your mother wants you to get up now. We have to leave soon."
Anakin climbs to his feet, fully awake. He walks to the back door and stood looking out at the anthill complex of the slave quarters, at the bustle of slaves going about their daily work, at the clear, bright early morning sky that promised good weather for the Boonta Eve race. The Podracer hangs level before him on its antigrav lifts, freshly painted and gleaming in the new day's sunlight. R2-D2 bustle about with a brush and can of paint, completing the final detailing of the craft. C-3PO, still missing most of his outer skin, his working parts clearly visible, followed along, pointing out missed patches, giving unsolicited opinions and bits of advice.
Still, in the back of his mind, he wonders who is the man in his dream? He never seen him before but he seems particularly familiar. His figure awe the boy, and it feels strangely familiar.
The sharp wheeze of an eopie brings him around to find Kitster riding toward them on the first of two of the beasts he commandeered to help haul the Podracer to the arena. Kitster's dark face is aglow with expectation, and he waves eagerly at Anakin as he approaches.
Anakin waves back, shouting, "Hook 'em up, Kitster!" He turns back to Padmé. "Where's Qui-Gon?"
The girl gestures. "He left with Jar Jar for the arena. They've gone to find Watto."
Anakin sprints to his bedroom to wash and dress.
Qui-Gon Jinn strolls through the main hangar of the Mos Espa Podracer arena, glancing at the activity about him with seemingly casual interest. The hangar is a cavernous building that house Podracers and equipment year-round and served as a staging area for vehicles and crews on race days. A handful of racers are already in place on the service pads, dozens of aliens who had found their way to Tatooine from every corner of the galaxy crawling all over the Pods and engines as pit bosses and pilots shouts instructions. The clash and shriek of metal on metal echoes in an earsplitting din through the hangar's vast chamber, forcing conversations to be held at something approaching a shout.
Jar Jar hugs one shoulder of the Jedi Master while Watto buzzes close by the other. The former is his normal fretful, nervous self, eyes rolling on their stalks, head twisting this way and that with such frantic concern it seem certain it must soon twist-off altogether. Watto flies with blatant disregard for everything but his own conversation, which rambles on and on, covering the same points endlessly-
"So it must be understood clearly that our bargain is sealed, outlander," he repeats for at least the third time in the last ten minutes. His blue-snout head bobs with emphasis. "I'll want to see your spaceship the moment the race is over."
He makes no bones about the fact that he believed that gaining lawful possession of the Naboo transport was only a matter of time. He did not once since Qui-Gon had found him at the betting booths suggested that things might work out otherwise.
The Jedi Master demure with a shrug. "Patience, my blue friend. You'll have your winnings before the suns set, and my companions and I will be far away from here."
"Not if your ship belongs to me, I think!" Watto snorts and gives a satisfy laugh. Just as quickly, his sharp eyes fixed on the Jedi. "I warn you, no funny business!"
Qui-Gon has to resist a smirk. 'Well, we might have to use Vader if this goes wrong. The Force cannot wrong however.'
Qui-Gon keeps walking, his gaze direct elsewhere, carefully baiting the hook he had set for the Toydarian. "You don't think Anakin will win?"
Watto flies around in front of him and brought them all to a stop. Wings beating furiously, he motions to a bright orange racer park close at hand, its engines modify so that when the energy binders were activated and the engines joined, they formed a distinctive X-shape. Sitting to one side of the racer is the Dug who attacked Jar Jar two days earlier, Sebulba, his wicked eyes fix on them, his slender limbs drawl up in a vaguely menacing gesture. A pair of lithesome Twi'leks work diligently massaging the Dug's neck and shoulders. The Twi'leks are humanoid aliens from the planet Ryloth; they have pointed teeth, smooth blue skin, and twin tentacles that drapes gracefully from their hairless heads down their silken backs. Their red eyes lift to Qui-Gon momentarily, interest flickering in their depths, then returns quickly to their master.
Watto snorts. "Don't get me wrong," he announces, shaking his head in an odd cocking motion. "I have great faith in the boy. He's a credit to your species." His snaggletooth mouth tightens. "But Sebulba there is going to win, I think."
Qui-Gon pretends to study the Dug carefully. "Why?"
"Because he always wins!" The Toydarian breaks into a fit of laughter, consume by his own cleverness. "I'm betting heavily on Sebulba!"
"I'll take that bet," Qui-Gon says at once.
Watto stops laughing instantly, jerking away as if scalded by hot oil. "What?" He shakes his head in astonishment. "What do you mean?"
Qui-Gon advances a step, backing the Toydarian away. "I'll wager my new racing Pod against..." He trails off thoughtfully, letting Watto hang. "Against, say, the boy and his mother."
Watto is aghast. "A Pod for slaves! I don't think so!" The blue wings are a blur as he flitted this way and that, head cocked. "Well, perhaps. Just one. The mother, maybe. The boy isn't for sale."
Qui-Gon frowns. "The boy is small. He can't be worth much."
Watto shakes his head decisively.
"For the fastest Pod ever built?"
Watto shakes his head again.
"Both, or no bet."
They are standing near the front entrance of the hangar, and the noise of the crew work had lessened. Beyond, the arena stands rose against the desert sky, a vast, curve complex complete with boxes for the Hutts, a race announcer's booth, course monitoring equipment, and food stands. Already the stands are beginning to fill, the population of Mos Espa turning out in full force for the event, shops and stalls close, the city on holiday. Bright streamers and banners fly, and approaching racers flames with the reflection of sunlight and polish.
Qui-Gon catches sight of Anakin appearing through the crowds, riding an eopie with Padmé up behind him, towing one of the massive Radon-Ulzer engines. His friend Kitster follows on a second eopie, towing the other engine. The eopies are gangly, long-snouted pack animals with tough, leathery skin and short fur particularly well-suited to resisting the Tatooine desert heat. R2-D2 and C-3PO trails the little procession with the Pod and Shmi. The Jedi Master deliberately turns to watch their approach, drawing Watto's gaze after his own. The Toydarian's eyes glitter at the sight of the boy and the racer.
His Padawan is fumbling at the other side of the shop, shooting uneasiness glances at the boy every-so-often, believing no one sees him and looking away. He can sense his Padawan's displeasure at putting such a kind little boy at risk.
He is interrupted by his musing when the slaver looks back at Qui-Gon and gives an anxious snort. "No Pod's worth two slaves... not by a long shot! One slave or nothing!"
Qui-Gon folds his arms over his chest. "The boy, then." Watto huffs and shakes his head.
He jerks with the tension, his deliberation is generating inside his pudgy blue body. "No, no... " Then abruptly he reaches inside his pocket and produces a small cube, which he tosses from one hand to the other as if it are too hot to hold. "We'll let fate decide. Blue, it's the boy. Red, it's the mother."
Watto cast the cube to the hangar floor. As he did, Qui-Gon makes a small, surreptitious gesture with one hand, calling on his Jedi power to produce a small inflection in the Force.
The cube bounces, rolls, settles, blue side facing up. Watto throws up his hands angrily, his eyes turning narrow and sharp.
"You won the toss, outlander!" he sneers in dismissal. "But you won't win the race, so it makes little difference, I think."
"We'll see," Qui-Gon replies calmly.
Anakin and the others reach them, entering the hangar with the Pod and engines. Watto wheels away from Qui-Gon in a huff, pausing long enough to snap irritably at the boy.
"Better stop your friend's betting," he declares with an angry snort, "or I'll end up owning him, too!"
One of the eopies sniffs expectantly at him, and he swears at the beast in Huttese with such ferocity that it back away. His wings beating madly, Watto gives Qui-Gon a withering glance and flies off into the hangar shadows.
"What did he mean by that?" Anakin asks as he slow the eopie beside Qui-Gon, glancing after the retreating Toydarian.
Qui-Gon shrugs. "I'll tell you later."
Kitster pulls to a stop beside Anakin, his face alight with excitement as he looks around. "This is so wizard! I'm sure you'll do it this time, Annie!"
Padmé's gaze shifts from one to the other. "Do what?" she asks suspiciously.
Kitster beams. "Finish the race, of course!"
The girl pales. Her eyes burn into Anakin. "You've never even won in a race?" she demands incredulously.
The boy blushes. "Well... not exactly." His mouth tightens with determination.
"Not even finished?!" She asks in horror.
"But Kitster's right. I will this time."
Qui-Gon takes the eopie's reins in his hand and pats the boy's leg. "Of course, you will," he agrees.
Padmé Naberrie just stares at him wordlessly, staring at the Jedi Master as if he had just grown a double head. Her people are in danger! And they are relying on someone who never even won a race to get them a kriffing starfighter part?! Oh, they would definitely be having words later!
Arthur's note: I'm going to be honest with you all, I am a little biased towards Vader and Dooku. While I prefer the former over the latter, I find both honorable in their own right or in terms of being warriors. I find Maul pathetic to be honest in terms of a Sith. All he does is stab people in the back; at least Vader and Dooku confront rivals head-ons such as Vader with Kirak Infil'a and Dooku with Skywalker and Kenobi. Even Ventress is more worthy than Maul. Maul only encounters highly-skilled Padawans and lowly skilled Knights while Vader, Dooku, and even Ventress killed/bested experienced Knights and Padawans. I know at least one Dooku fan must have smirk when I praised Dooku so I'm pleased with that. Sorry, Maul fans.
Dooku's fortress wasn't determined in Legends or Canon so I decided to create my own fate for it and say out of some respect Vader had for Sidious's final apprentice before he kept the fortress protected. It is not above something Vader would do as he is honorable, especially after his time as Dark Lord and I feel like part of him would respect Dooku's beliefs.
Besides, it was said that as each generation of the Sith pass, the Sith would grow stronger. And while Vader is not technically a Sith, he was one so the logic still exists.
May the Force be with you all always.