AN: Many thanks to everyone who has been reading this story and my apologies for delay in posting this chapter. I am posting unbeta read so if there are any mistakes then, sadly, they are mine. I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless.
All previous disclaimers for the story still apply...
Insidious
Part Eight
The Jedi
Obi-Wan wasn't sure what woke him. He didn't know if it was the growing wind outside or the anxiety gnawing at his gut, but he was awake, lying on his back and staring through the dark of the night at the bland ceiling of his abode. The wind rattled off the shutters on his window and he could hear the grains of sand rain against the pitted surface of the reclaimed hull plating.
Something was wrong. He could feel it, sense it, even without reaching into the Force. Something was very wrong. There was a change coming… a reckoning… a…
He sighed, sat up, and activated the lights from the panel above his bed. There would be no more sleep for him this night, not when the Force was in such flux, not with the Dark Side pressing in so thick and cloying and gorged with ill-intent. It had not felt this malignant since the day the Jedi were slaughtered in their hundreds, not since his own troopers…
…friends, colleagues…
…had turned against him on Utapau on the orders of their master.
So deep, so dark, that he could barely feel the light; it was suffocating, bludgeoning his senses with rage and hatred and obsession.
He threw his blankets aside and placed his feet on the floor, wincing at the protests from his muscles. He was getting old… barely fifty-five and he was already an old man; thinning grey hair, sun damaged skin and aching bones.
Anakin would have laughed at him, Anakin would have called him a…
Anakin!
A sudden realisation, a sudden horror, slithered through him. The Force… It felt like Anakin! No, not Anakin, like…
Vader!
Luke!
Luke was in danger!
Galvanised, Obi-Wan quickly dressed; drawing on his robes, fastening his belt and fixing his lightsaber to the belt-loop. He wrapped a cloth across his mouth and nose, drew goggles over his eyes and threw up his hood. He unbolted his door, opened it and stepped out into the growing dust storm. He was immediately blinded by the dark of night, by the twisting, swirling sand that pelted his face and unprotected hands.
He paused for moment and closed his eyes as he immersed himself into the Force, wincing at the evil that he felt, the foulness that polluted the living energy. He gagged on it, forcing back the bile that threatened at the back of throat. He ploughed on, centring himself, getting his bearings and started the long journey toward the Lars homestead in the hope that he would reach the farmstead before the spreading malice.
ooOOoo
The Teacher
Palpatine opened his eyes to the dim light of the abandoned building. "Can you feel him, my friend? Can you sense your son approach?"
A regulated breath cycled before Vader answered. "Yes, my master," he intoned, betraying none of his feelings. His voice was monotone, passive, but… oh… the heat scorched within. "He is strong, powerful."
Was that pride in Vader's voice? Pride for a boy he did not know.
Palpatine could not help himself, he ginned; thin lips pulling back against decaying teeth. "Give me your lightsaber," he commanded, immediately feeling Vader's surprise, feeling him turn to look upon him, but there was no protest. Vader unclipped the sword hilt from his belt and handed it to his master. Palpatine took it, held it tight and gestured to the doorway where a Tusken Raider's gaderffii sat propped against the wall.
Sidious could feel the instant revulsion and hatred that rose within his apprentice, could sense, almost see, the fleeting memory of Anakin Skywalker's mother dying in his arms, but still Vader obeyed and lifted the melee weapon, turning it in his hands to feel the weight and balance of it. On one end it had five sharpened flanges with a central spike – a common Tusken design – and the other was curved, thickened like a club, with a smaller spike embedded into the wood.
The Emperor's eyes flashed with delight as he watched the younger Sith move with the weapon and he repeated the words he had commanded Vader seventeen years before. "Do what must be done, Lord Vader. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy."
There was a flutter of uncertainty within the Force, a tiny voice of protest, but his apprentice clamped down on it, silenced it and the Force hummed in anticipation. If the boy was worthy, he would rise to the challenge and live. If not… then he would die by his father's hand.
ooOOoo
The Pupil
There were shapes shifting in the wind and sand and Luke cautiously slowed his landspeeder, watching the figures move, feeling them notice him, take an interest in him, observe him as he drove through them. He could feel them within the Force, could feel the efforts they made to remain upright in the storm, he could feel their curiosity about him, could feel their loyalty to the one who brought them here…
…his master…
Luke squinted through his goggles, drew the Force to him to sharpen his focus as he slowly drove closer to his Master's location. The figures… they looked like…
Imperial Stormtroopers!
Luke pulled the speeder to a halt, allowed the engine to whine and die while he sat still in the cockpit.
The soldiers kept their distance. There were five… no... six… of them, and they carried their guns casually, resting them on their arms but ready move at any sign of hostility or aggression. He didn't understand this, couldn't fathom why Imperial troops were patrolling the area, and…
…still the call of his master came from the nearby building. Sidious's summons was stronger now, more insistent; impatient. If he did not obey then he would suffer the consequences.
He brought his attention away from the troopers and dragged himself out of the speeder. The uncovered portions of skin on his face were stinging, bleeding and abraded by the hard hitting grains and it wasn't the first time that he bemoaned the decision to buy a speeder without a canopy. However, these pains would be inconsequential to those his master could inflect should he delay any longer.
Luke took in a breath through his make-shift mask and walked through the growing winds; his tunic flapped, his hair was caught and blown back from his face. The Force howled, the Force hummed with anticipation.
He paused at the doorway, the soft light coming within…. the stillness of the place… belying the sheer darkness he felt in the Force.
His Master was waiting.
Pulling off his goggles and scarf, Luke stepped inside.
His senses screamed at him.
He ducked down, hand pushing against the sand stone of the doorway as he propelled himself down and sideways, twisting his body to avoid the vicious stroke of the gaderffii. He rolled on the sandy floor, scrabbled to find his feet as the staff and bladed edge arced toward him once more. It missed, cut a groove in the sandstone, as he jumped back placing space between himself and his assailant. He stood up and turned around to face his attacker.
The figure was tall; easily two meters. He was dressed entirely in black from his boots to the angular skull-like mask and helmet. He was armoured and… his breathing… it sounded regulated, it sounded…
"You are unworthy, boy," a gloved hand was raised, a finger pointed.
The voice sliced through him; deep and dark in its tones and intent, and Luke realised the figure had also been using the few seconds to appraise him. He lifted his chin at the accusation. "Unworthy for what?"
Where was his master? Where was Sidious?
"To serve…" the figure growled, the tip of the gaffi stick rising in challenge.
Sudden understanding lanced through Luke and he realised this was another Sith. This was a Dark Lord like his master. This was a test! He licked his lips, glanced to either side of him, looking for Sidious, looking for another weapon, looking for a way to defend himself. There was nothing… just the chair that his master sat within while teaching him. "I'm unarmed," he said unnecessarily, for surely his attacker had already realised that. "It's not a fair fight."
The helmet cocked to the side and Luke was sure he could feel humour from the monster before him and he realised, with a grimace of chagrin, just how much he had sounded like the seventeen year old he was.
"The Dark Side is never fair," the figure rasped, bringing up the weapon again. "One who truly commands the Force is never unarmed. You will fight, or you will die…." and he lunged forward, swinging the heavy end of the gaffi stick.
Luke ducked, rolled to the side, hearing the gaffi thump hard upon the sandy floor, knowing that if it had struck him he would have been incapacitated, or dead. He scrabbled forward, found his feet, turned on his heel to face his attacker and was met by a gloved fist to his face.
He staggered back, a short cry escaping him. This was a familiar setting. This was familiar pain. The taste and tang of blood on his tongue an old reminder of his past hurts. He was the little boy being picked on and bullied by a bigger and stronger opponent. There was no time to think as the Sith closed in, swinging the Gaderffii once more. There was only time to react with the abrupt flame of anger and driving fear.
With a shout, with a loud yell, he threw up his arms and pushed.
There was a strangled sound through the man's vocoder and a dull, heavy, crash as the figure was shoved to the other end of the training room to land hard on his back. Reacting, not thinking, Luke dashed after him, following through his defensive act with an attack. If he could get to the Tusken weapon, if he could wrestle it from the Sith's grasp, he could…
Too late Luke learned that the bulk of his opponent disguised his agility and power. The Sith was off the ground meeting Luke's attack with his own; the air sang as the gaderffii swung his way, the sharp flanges winking in the light. Luke instinctively threw up his arm, yelling in pain as a razor edge sliced through the flesh of his forearm. He fell back, but his tunic was suddenly caught, grasped by the Sith, and he was lifted into the air and thrown across the room.
He thudded into the wall, knocked his head, dropped to the floor. His vision blurred, pain lanced through his skull as he fought to remain awake and keep focus. He moved, lay on his side panting for breath as the room slowly circled around him.
Black boots stepped into his eye line.
"Pathetic," the Dark Lord hissed, disappointment underscoring his words, "you are already beaten."
Luke felt his opponent move, sensed him raising his arms and the weapon to deliver the killing stroke. Fury flared at the taunt…
… wimpy Skywalker…
… go eat worms, Wormie…
"… echuta gaggalak…"
"Wormie… Wormie…."
…and Luke closed his fists, not caring about the blood than wept from the deep slice in his arm, and he tensed his body knowing he would have but a few seconds to react. The gaffi stick swiftly descended.
Luke twisted his body, calling upon the Force to give him speed and strength. His scissored his legs, wrapped them around the Dark Lord's ankles and pulled his knees into his body. The Sith stumbled forward, the gaffi taking a chunk out of the wall, and Luke disentangled himself and scrambled to his feet putting a little distance between himself and his assailant just as the man moved with another sweeping arc of the Tusken weapon that narrowly missed his stomach.
Another sweep, the weapon singing through the air and again Luke dodged and again and again….
He was being backed toward a wall, backed into a corner, herded into a position where he would be easier to control and kill.
Luke could feel his attacker's frustration, he could feel the man's growing ire through the Force and he could feel…
… admiration… pride… and a dull sorrow…
… a growing build up in the Force as the Sith Lord looped the weapon with one hand and thrust out the other toward him and Luke threw up his own hands to meet the force push with one of his own just as the gaffi descended again.
Luke released the Force unused. He staggered and turned away to avoid the blow only to feel the gaffi rake his back. Crying out he stumbled forward, his hands reaching out to stabilise himself and he found the roughly hewn rock of his master's seat. There was no time, he ducked and jinked away, the bladed flanges slicing the air, slicing a few strands of his hair, and cleaving into the sandstone of the chair.
Luke stumbled around it, putting the seat between the Sith Lord and himself, giving them both some respite.
"You are quick," the Dark Lord observed with some appreciation, "nimble. But you are injured and no match for a fully trained Sith. Yield to me and I will end your life quickly, painlessly."
Luke brought up his chin, glaring at the man who towered above him. His arm was throbbing, his face aching and he could feel warm blood trickling down his back. "Never," he rasped. He would not yield as he had in the past to Fixer, he would not relinquish a fight; if he was to die then he would die on his feet just as his master had taught.
There was a beat of time, a pause, then the black mask and helmet nodded; just once. "So be it."
The Sith stepped around the chair, Luke did likewise in the opposite direction, keeping his distance, keeping the stone furniture between them and he had a fleeting thought that they could keep this up for hours like children playing a game of tag. It seemed like the Dark Lord had the same idea for he lunged across the chair, bringing the gaffi stick swiping across the air between them. Luke Jumped back, easily avoiding the swing and as it past, and with his opponent still committed to the movement, Luke vaulted up and onto the armrest of the chair, using it and the Force to boost his leap up and over the Dark Lord. He landed in a crouch, twisted around with a swinging kick to the Sith Lord's back.
The man stumbled forward, fell over the chair and came back around with a furious growl but Luke had moved out of reach and toward the still open door, beyond which the dust storm raged.
"You would run, rather than fight?" The Sith accused, his anger vibrating in the Force.
Luke didn't answer, didn't respond to the accusation of cowardice for that was not why he had moved for the door and he was unsurprised to find his way block by two of the Imperial Stormtroopers who had watched him enter. Their blasters were raised and Luke could feel their relief to be sheltered from the storm, even if only for a short while.
"There is nowhere to go, boy, nowhere to run," the Dark Lord pursued him, hefting the gaderffii into his hands, intent on ending the one-sided fight.
Luke was determined to even it.
He lifted his hands in capitulation and turned around to face the approaching Sith. He could feel the man's satisfaction…
…disappointment, regret…
…as one of the soldier's prodded him in the back with his blaster forcing Luke to take a step forward and he hissed and grimaced with pain as the wound on this back protested the push.
Luke swallowed, watching carefully as his opponent neared, the gaffi stick balanced in his gloved hands. His heart hammered and he glanced to the floor, dropping his head as though preparing himself for the final blow.
"I offered you mercy, child," the Dark Lord taunted, "That time is past. You will not have an easy death."
Keeping his head down, keeping his true feelings hidden and supressed as his master taught, Luke whispered, "Neither will you."
It was fast, faster than he had ever had to act before; ducking down and with the Force he yanked one of the soldiers forward and over him to crash into the Sith Lord. The duo clattered back, falling to the floor in a twist of arms and legs and armour; the gaffi stick discarded. In that same instance Luke grabbed the blaster of the remaining soldier pulling it to him as he pushed the man back and out of the building and into the raging storm. With a flick of his wrist Luke forced the door shut with a resounding bang and he stalked forward with blaster in bloodied hand.
ooOOoo
The Jedi
Obi-Wan crouched down, pressing himself into the nook in the wall of the canyon as the dust storm raged. He could go no further; the winds were too strong and they had beaten down his Force shields and driven him to seek refuge from the worst of it.
In his seventeen years on Tatooine he had never experienced a storm so bad, so vicious and intense and he suspected…
…he knew…
…that the Dark Side was the cause of it and that Luke was in terrible danger.
Anakin don't…
Helpless, bereft and alone, Obi-Wan could only cower from the storm.
ooOOoo
The Father
His son was strong!
His son was clever, talented, quick of mind and fleet of foot and he could not supress the pride that arose within. Even wounded and in fear of his life, the boy had prevailed and fought on, overcoming the anguish of his injuries, using the pain to strengthen his resolve, using the hatred and fear of his attacker to intensify his connection to the Dark Side and Vader had to remind himself that Palpatine had been training Luke from a young age.
He pushed the Stormtrooper from him, used the man's still living body to shield himself from the rapid burst of blaster fire that Luke loosed upon him. With the Force he launched the corpse toward his son, and drew himself to his feet, using the few milliseconds that Luke was distracted to reach out for the gaderffii that lay on the floor where he had dropped it. The weapon flew into his hands.
Another shot and Vader deflected it with his hand, clearly surprising his son with the act. He saw the blue eyes widen, then narrow with grim determination and another rapid series of fire was directed toward him.
Again he repelled the shots, ricocheting them into the walls of the building and making Luke duck to avoid his own shots. He walked forward, swinging the gaffi stick. "I am not so easily killed," he informed his son, jerking his hand up, causing Luke to do likewise and the next shot was into the ceiling, sending a shower of blasted sandstone falling to the floor between them. He rushed the boy before he could recover, catching his arm and wrenching it down, twisting the wrist, cracking the bone and Luke howled in pain; dropping the blaster.
Vader jerked the boy around bringing his arm behind his back and his body close to his. He swung the gaffi stick around pressing the staff tight to his son's throat. Luke choked against the pressure, his free hand grasping in vain at the weapon that was constricting his air way. He struggled, kicked, gasped and gurgled, all bravado lost as he truly fought for his life.
The Dark Lord held his son close as the Force raged around them much like the storm outside, swirling patterns of energy stretched out as Luke reached for anything… anyone… to save him. The boy's mind screamed, futilely called out…
Master! Help me!
It was a call that would go unheeded and unanswered.
The pressure within the Force intensified, a build of power as Luke's struggles weakened, and Vader released Luke's arm only to grasp at the gaderffii with both hands to increase the pressure and hasten his son's death.
Do what must be done…
ooOOoo
The Pupil
He couldn't breathe, couldn't get away, couldn't loosen the Dark Lord's grip. In desperation he clawed at the staff that pulled against his throat, tried to tear it away from his neck. He kicked against the Sith's armour, but he was lifted off his feet as the Dark Lord heaved him up and held him tighter to his body while strangling him with the gaffi stick.
Master! Help me!
But there was nothing. No reply or acknowledgement.
The dark side deepened and darkened much like his vision. He was in agony, he was dying and…
… he reached out, frantically looking for anything to latch onto, anything that would loosen the Sith's grip on him, anything that could free him from the death that was fast approaching. Anything that would….
…there… there… do it… do it… do it now!
He closed his eyes, relaxed his struggling body even as it screamed for oxygen and release, and grasped at the only thing his frenzied senses found.
His master's chair exploded in rush of energy and sound; clumps of rock and shards of stone blew out in every direction and both he and his assailant were pummelled by the blast and by the debris. The Sith cried out, the sound torn and distorted by the black mask's vocoder, and Luke was dropped to land among the rubble on his back.
He heaved in a breath, tasted blood and sand, and he coughed, the air barking painfully through his damaged throat. He drew in another, his chest hauling in air while his mind screamed at him to move, to get up, to get out before the Sith could recover.
His good hand searched beside him and his fingers curled around a large chunk of sandstone. He dragged himself up, staggered, almost fell but the sight of his adversary pulling up from the floor spurned him on, caused adrenalin to spike, and sudden hatred surged through him. A Force push sent the man coasting back to smack into the wall where the shadows were the deepest and Luke limped after him, blood running down his arm to coat the stone he carried with bright crimson.
Again the man moved, again he tried to rise and again a cry of rage from Luke sent him back down and he leapt at him, kicked him onto his back, straddled him. He brought the rock down hard upon that black mask and helmet, bludgeoning his enemy again and again. Smashing the rock against the mask of the man who had tried to kill him, crying out in blind rage with each vicious strike.
The dark side sang, resonating with his mindless fury as he took his revenge upon the Sith who had deemed him unworthy and who had hurt him so much, and…
… a sudden agony punched into his back, pitching him forward with a rough cry and he fell across the Sith Lord. The man beneath him moved, pushed him off, and he landed face down in the sand and debris gasping and heaving for breath with the gaderffii embedded deep in his flesh.
On the fringes of his vision the shadows gathered and coalesced into a figure that slowly picked its way passed the Sith Lord who was rising from the rubble with a dented and dusty mask. Luke blinked, scratching his eyes with sand and grit, tears streamed down his face and gathered with the blood that was spattered on the floor. The figure crouched beside him and gently swept aside the hair that fallen over his face.
"Oh, my child," his master soothed, "you fought well, you fought bravely…" he paused as Luke's body jerked and the boy cried out his agony, speaking again only when his apprentice had settled to gasp in short breaths, "… but you forgot to be mindful of the room, in your rage you forgot to control your anger. You forgot that you opponent was also strong in the Force, you forgot about the weapon that lay discarded at your back."
A second shadow fell over him and he knew that his victor was standing behind his master and looking down on him.
"Lord Vader did not forget and that is why you have been beaten."
Luke shivered, gasped as a sharp, exquisite, agony burned through his back from where the gaffi stick was rooted. The pain spread out across his shoulders, into his veins and sweat pinpricked his skin as he grunted out, "venom."
Sidious grinned, thin lips pulled back from rotten teeth. "I'm afraid so," he confirmed with faux sympathy, "like many Tuskens the late-owner of this weapon dipped the spike in sand-bat venom."
Luke's muscles cramped and he groaned. "I… I'm… sor… sorry… I f..f…failed you."
His master chuckled. "You have not failed me, my boy. Not yet… if you survive this night. If you live… if you overcome death, then you may serve me…" he briefly glanced up at the man towering over him, "…just as your father serves me."
Father…
ooOOoo
To be Continued….
