Chapter 7
The desert wind was tearing at his cloak with a lover's passion and the hot gales caressed his cheeks with dry kisses. He stood atop the dunes just West of Mos Espa under the midday sun, remembering a moment long past. Padmé had worn a simple outfit of loose pants and shirt, both her favorite color, a deep red, as dark as dried blood. They had watched the twin suns of Tatooine retreat behind the horizon, their bright lights dimmed for the night, releasing livid darkness into the world. The shadows had grown longer, racing across the desert sea like a swarm of Narkatha fish trying to catch up with the moonlight. The moment they had reached the couple Anakin had felt Padmé shiver in his arms.
"What?" he had asked gently.
"I was just thinking."
"Thinking what?"
"How it all ends."
He had turned her around, pressing her close to him, suddenly afraid to lose her. Why would she say something like that at a time like this? And he could feel her fear, oh yes.
"Padmé," he had begun a bit hesitantly. "Let me tell you something about the desert. This," he had gestured across the endless sea of silver under the light of a full moon, "is my home. The Tusken have another word for the desert, but I cannot pronounce it." He had smiled a bit at the slightly bemused look in her eyes. "Anyway. 'Home' means safety, a sense of belonging, knowing that you can be yourself, that you are accepted. It is here that I feel the Force most. Can you imagine that?"
"I can imagine quite a lot," she had replied softly and snuggled up to him. "But I find it a bit worrying that you love the desert more than you love me, my dear."
He had held her at arm's length, aghast: "How can you say that? I love you more than anything else. Nothing, Padmé, is worth more to me than that love."
"I get it."
"Good."
She had taken a step away, wrapping her arms around her torso, holding her head high. Padmé had studied the glorious scene laid out before them with a keen eye, as if trying to understand what it was that Anakin found so special about it. Of course he had known that she was used to something else, the lush plains of Naboo, the swamps, and even the busy lanes of Coruscant. But to him nothing felt like this. He was at ease here, completely himself. And there was nothing that could distract him.
"Padmé, what I meant was that death has no meaning compared to this. The Tusken don't even have a word for it, did you know that? It is something I find most intriguing, since they are faced with it so often. I mean, life is an endless cycle for them, with no beginning and no end. Just like our love."
"Do you really mean it?"
"Mean what?"
"That our love is forever."
Stepping up to her he had rested his chin on the top of her head gently, had held her close to him. He loved her, and that was the simple truth. And he liked to believe that she felt the same. But he had known what she meant, too. When he had finally answered his voice had been barely a whisper, the quiet words dancing on the cold night air in tiny white clouds that dissipated into the darkness like lonely stars lost somewhere in the universe. Time was like that, as delicate and as hard to hold on to.
"What do you think?"
She had shaken her head slowly: "I do not know. Maybe this is forever. This very moment." Turning around she had looked up and had smiled at him the most radiant of smiles. "Read my mind," she had whispered.
That he could do, no problem.
It was true, the moment had lasted forever. But now the desert was a lonely place without her. Desolate and bereft of emotion. The memory itself had become no more than an image of the feelings they had shared that night, nothing real. And the thought that his beloved had turned into a mere shadow hurt more than he cared for. Even now that he had found someone to ease that pain. Daala was so much like Padmé, and even more like himself. It was strange. In a way he had never quite managed to believe that Padmé, that angel she was, had truly come down from the heavens just to be with him. Of all the men she could have had she had chosen him. It was quite unbelievable. With Daala it was different. With her he had the feeling that she was all his, that he did not have to share her with anyone else. And leaving her behind had created another guilty feeling in his mind, making his heart ache.
He had known very well that he would only return to die, if he returned at all, considering the circumstances. The fact that it would hurt those he loved had made this decision all the harder, and now he felt that his very soul was shackled down with obligations. He was not free, not by a long shot, and not even the desert could ease his restlessness. Heaving a tiny sigh, Anakin started walking toward the distant city, its lights rivaling the few stars that were out tonight. Mos Espa was deserted. For a moment he wondered if it would be the same everywhere his journey would take him. If the Jedi Temple on Coruscant would be as empty as the forests on Endor. No life, no death, simply nothing. It was a frightening prospect. But then the ancient words of the ritual rang through his mind, prompting him to ponder them more closely.
All under Heaven will be yours to command.
She had known. Daala had known the words, but Anakin wondered if she had grasped their full meaning too. No living entity could accomplish that feat, for it demanded much more than this crude matter could offer. It was the kind of enlightenment that led beyond the boundaries of what any mind could fathom. A responsibility that went beyond anything even he could imagine. All of his life had been dedicated to higher causes that had nearly strangled him with their demands and duties. First his commitment to becoming a racer, then a Jedi Knight, a husband, a warlord, a father, grandfather and guardian in the end. And all the while what he had truly desired had been freedom. Freedom to explore the uncharted regions of space, of himself, of the Force, even. But there never had been time for that.
By now Anakin had realized why he had not been able to make any progress in learning more about Life. Because he had not known himself, had not been himself. To be independent of all obligations was true freedom, but it cost much to overcome the basic desires of a human heart and soul. Love, friendship, peace. All that meant nothing to the Force and was of no importance to the enlightened being. Because all these things defined what he was, were one with what he had to be. All under Heaven. Of late though Anakin had started to doubt his own reasoning. For that was all it was. How was he supposed to know, truly know, what it meant to be in command of the Force? It was mere speculation. And yet. His hunger for knowledge had to be satiated any way he could. But Anakin had long come up against the limits this existence set for him. He had died twice, dissatisfied with his accomplishments, sensing that there was far more than what even the path of the Jedi could offer. Or that of the Sith, for that matter.
Yours is the Darkness. Yours is the Light. One with the Force, there is no death, there is no life.
Hanging his head he sighed once more. What was left then? No way back, no way forth. He was stuck solid. While his body was slowly slipping towards death, his mind was straining to reach the light of eternal being. Torn that way he knew that he could not ever reach his goal without being broken apart in the process. It was his to decide which path to choose, as it had always been his choice, no matter what people like Gita Deron might believe. Anakin had tried to teach his son that one's commitment to either side of the Force was no shield against harm, was no guarantee for happiness and fulfillment. One had to strive to achieve a state of being one with the Force, with oneself, with everything. Including the Dark Side. Including death.
Sitting in the President's office together Daala, Palleon and Luke Skywalker were facing both Leia and Gita Deron, who had taken refuge behind the desk. The two women were leaning over the datapad's screen, and both looked pensive. Daala had her arms crossed in front of her chest and Luke could see that her thoughts were far, far away. Next to her Palleon's fingers were tap-dancing on the table top impatiently. It was, Luke thought, a bad sign that these two warriors were so unlike their usual selves. But then, this was no ordinary battle. Gita had told them of her findings concerning Cellcorp and Leia had decided that they should focus on that single corporation. As Luke had found out, it had been Celltec that had supplied the now supposedly malfunctioning transmitter, but he had no authority with the company. As a Jedi Master he found that most people did not give a damn for his title. And he knew that this would have to change fast.
The government had to side with the new Jedi Order officially, and Tionne was already working on the conditions under which that sort of teamwork would be acceptable. Still, Luke did not want the Jedi to become the New Republic's elite force. The Jedi were supposed to be guardians and they had to remain independent. But as it turned out, this independence had a lot of disadvantages. He had vowed to himself that once this crisis was solved, he would concentrate on establishing the sort of reputation that the Jedi had enjoyed in the Old Republic. Well, maybe slightly different. He remembered his father's lessons vividly, especially his teachings concerning the Dark Side. There is no darkness, Anakin had insisted. All was one, in his mind.
And he was right, Luke knew.
Leia looked up and smiled at him reassuringly. She must have sensed his uneasiness. But she was worried too, that he could feel. Everything had gone so fast today, first the arrival of Kyp and Gantoris, then the new details on Cellcorp. And that nagging feeling that they were overlooking something essential. What had his father planned to do? He must be have been aware of the magnitude of this conspiracy. And he must have known that he could not take on them on his own. But then, he wasn't alone. Jixton was with him, after all. Tonight though was the night their enemies could strike at them in earnest. The J.A.F. MediaGroup had announced a special on 'Coruscant Daily' for this evening. Luke had a good idea of what they would make of this most recent news. Add the death of Firek Nab and Turve Glat's close encounter with the Dark Lord on Nar Shadaa and that, along with the attack on the NRI special commando, was enough material to nail the government down, if they played it well. And that they would, Luke was certain of it.
"Fact is," Gita Deron began, "that we can't move at the moment. They are shielding themselves well and they will delay the inevitable for as long as they can get away with it. Which won't be all too long, but still, tonight is the night, so to say."
"What about that reporter?" Palleon asked quietly. "According to our information he is not only on our side, but also live on the show."
"And he won't leave the studio alive if he stands up to his boss today," Leia put in.
"Who cares?" Daala asked coldly.
Luke turned to look at her and shook his head. "Maybe he has more courage than we think, and besides, I am more worried about Gita's safety than his."
"Thank you for your concern. Another point. We have no idea where your father is and what he is doing, and—"
"He is injured, I know that," Leia said quietly.
"Worse than that."
All eyes turned on Daala, who rose abruptly to walk over to stand at the viewport. Folding her hands on her back she kept quiet. Luke shared a glance with his sister. But she only shook her head. So, Daala had not talked to her friend and apparently she was not willing to share her thoughts with the rest of them either.
"Daala, if you have any information that might be helpful, then this might be a good time to tell us," Palleon tried, appealing to reason.
Whirling around she shot them a venomous glare, her green eyes spitting laser-bolts of red-hot fury. She clenched and unclenched her hands, unsure of what to do or what to say. Finally she dropped back into her chair and closed her eyes.
"I had a dream yesterday. I saw him. He is...gone."
"Gone?" Luke jumped up, aghast. "What do you mean?"
"He told you about the desert, right?"
"Yes. So?"
"That's were he is, in the desert."
He stared at her, disbelieving. Why the desert? Anakin wasn't dead, or was he? Groaning softly Luke shook his head in dismay.
"This cannot be right. I would know if anything had happened to him!"
"Maybe it was just a nightmare," Leia injected soothingly. "Whatever it is," she continued a bit shakily, "we cannot count on him, that is for sure."
Luke gave her a long look. But he did not reply, even though there were a million thoughts going on in his head. Father could not be dead. If he were... No, better not to think of that. They had lived with that fear long enough, that they would lose him again. No more. Mara had told him that death might be something else for Anakin than it was for his son. Maybe she was right. Maybe the desert was not what he thought it was. And perhaps there was a way back.
He had to admit that he was nervous. But then, he was planning on getting very famous today. And if he wasn't careful, he would also be very dead. Turve stood in front of a full-length mirror, trying to ignore the fact that the finely cut suit could not disguise his heavy bulk. Well, and his short size. Sighing a bit, he resorted to studying his face, which seemed acceptable. And hopefully people would listen to his words and not judge him by his appearance. Judgement. He remembered Vader in the court-room and compared that man to the Dark Lord he had met on Nar Shadaa. And he really pitied whoever got in the Sith's way. Straightening his suit Turve smoothed down his hair again. Well, he had done all he could. Now was the time to see if his gamble would really turn out the way he had planned.
Jix had dropped down to the floor and was watching Loaz pensively. The Anzat was bent over the Dark Lord who had been strapped down on his 'bed' again. Various cables connected his body to even more panels and monitors and five equally white-clad aides were fussing about Loaz and the 'patient'. Two guards were looming over Jix, but he paid them no heed. Now was not the time to fight. Not that he could have. Loaz was eyeing him from time to time, a thin smile on his lips. And the Corellian could well imagine what was going on in the alien's head.
"Brain activity has increased again," one of the aides informed them quietly.
"Pulse and heart-beat?"
"Slowing down."
Loaz closed his eyes for a moment: "All symptoms point toward a coma, but, considering the brain activity, that cannot be." Leaning very close to the seemingly unconscious prisoner he whispered: "I promised that I would find out what you did, remember? You cannot hide from me, wherever you are."
Jix' ears perked up. What did the doctor mean? If he found a way to control Vader's mind...
"Sir, the chip..," one of the aides began tentatively.
"No. We cannot possibly convince the New Republic to control the Jedi that way. Not yet, that is. But once the Princess and her brother are out of our way... And that annoying Deron." He turned around to smile at Jix openly. The agent shook his head.
"Don't even think about it," he told the Anzat.
"Ah, but it would be poetic justice. You will kill his children."
"Sure. Where's the justice in that? Not even to speak of poetry. Empty words and empty threats, Loaz. Those never worked on me before either."
"Quite the philosopher, aren't you. You have no choice, Jixton. And you will be away from me. Can't I goad you with even that?"
"You aren't afraid that I might slip away again?"
"Not in the least."
"Tell people about all this?"
The Anzat's eyes narrowed dangerously. "There is that danger, yes. But I am not so stupid that I would let you go just like that. " He smiled a bit. "You are an investment, Jixton, nothing more."
"So?"
"I daresay that we have the means to force you into obedience. We will take care of the details later tonight or maybe tomorrow. After all, we have all the time in the world."
"Don't be so sure about that," Jix warned. "The New Republic is already on your trail."
"And what do you think they can do? We are safe here. They will not risk a conflict with the Hutts, not now. That would only blunt their strategy. I do not believe that the Princess will risk being portrayed as another Emperor Palpatine."
"What about Vader?"
Loaz reached out to trace his right hand along the Dark Lord's neck slowly. There was a dreamy look in his eyes, paired with a tiny glint of something more. Apparently he was bent on solving the Sith's secret. And frankly Jix wanted to know what was going on too. Vader had done this before, after the Anzat's first attack, as if his mind had broken free of his body. Jix imagined a great beast running the length of its leash until it was stopped short by the cruel chain. Right now Vader was running again and the agent hoped sincerely that he could escape this time. That was, if Loaz did not catch him first and dragged him back.
"A very intriguing tactic," the Anzat mused. "But he is overlooking something essential. His mind is part of his body, not a separate entity."
"How do you know?" Jix challenged him. "I daresay that I could rip your head off, root around in your brain and still not find a trace of your mind."
"I know what you mean, believe me, without you putting it in so graphic detail. I of all beings should, don't you think? I have tasted him, tasted his very soul and being. He cannot escape me."
"But you haven't managed to catch up to him yet."
"Not yet, that is true. But I will convince him in the end."
"Sir, we have the means to bring him back easily..."
"He is a Sith, no ordinary man."
"With permission, he has been easy to handle up until—"
"Easy to handle?" Rounding on the unfortunate aide Loaz snarled: "He has managed to break out once and if I had not paralyzed him he would do so again. His mind is what we have to fight, not his body. And he is guarding himself well."
"You won't get around those defenses," Jix told him confidently.
"We shall see."
But Jix merely shook his head. Rising slowly he nodded at Loaz and let himself be led away. Throwing a last look at Vader he wondered what the Dark Lord was up to. Or if he was truly defeated. Well, he surely did not like Loaz' plans for him and he vowed to himself that he would not let the Anzat dictate his actions. Yeah, as if he had a choice. He had to warn the New Republic. But how?
Luke was sitting on the sofa, bent over his datapad pensively. He had been able to make some progress this afternoon at least and that was mostly thanks to Leia and Mara. Leia had let him have a look at the morgue to question the doctor who had overseen the autopsy of Firek Nab and quite a few interesting facts could be found there: first, there were two reports on the autopsy. One official version and another one. The doctor he had questioned had implied as much, although he had seemed loath to give the secret away. But, Luke thought in satisfaction, being a Jedi Master still seemed to impress some people after all.
The doctor had told him that the judge's death seemed like a natural one, but that there had been an extensive damage to her brain. The man had not been sure how such a thing was possible, but after checking with Mara the Jedi Master now knew more. Apparently there was an alien species, the Anzati, who killed their prey exactly this way, by devouring the brain.
Second, the fact that the official report had made it through the channels narrowed the range of suspects down to those who had or might have access to that sort of information. Most of them could be found in the government's legal department and the Court. It made great sense for his opponents to have allies in these areas. Which led to a very interesting question: had Firek Nab been one of the conspirators? He had thought very hard on that possibility, especially in regard to the malfunctioning transmitter. What purpose did the thing have anyway? If Anakin had been sentenced to death, why would they need to track him? Had they anticipated his bold move or had they expected another sentence? In that case the judge's death became something more than a senseless murder.
And Leia had reminded him of the fact that Firek Nab had had a doctor title in genetic engineering and Mara had found out that Nab had had quite an extensive work record with Celltec before she had gone into legal business. Interesting indeed.
Right now he was trying to find a connection that could prove that the judge had ordered the Dark Lord to be implanted with the transmitter. Unfortunately the court documents were on loan to the J.A.F. MediaGroup for preparation of tonight's show and the Court's server was being serviced right now. A remarkable coincidence. But Gita had warned them, hadn't she. Luke had the sinking feeling that everything depended on Turve Glat. Not a very comforting thought.
His comm chimed at him suddenly and he answered the call, a happy smile appearing on his face when he saw who was calling.
"Mara! Any progress?"
"You bet," she told him grimly. "Karrde and I have spent the whole day rooting through their system."
"And you found what?"
"A message sent over Karrde's account. But he never wrote it."
"And?"
"It was by chance, really, because Karrde got bored and checked his comm account. Someone must have hacked into the system, but was interrupted before he could cover his traces. Maybe whoever he talked to cut the transmission short and spoiled the program. Anyway. It was no professional."
"Do you know who?"
"No. We do know it was a live link and it was sent to your father's special account on Nar Shadaa. Only someone who knew his codes could have activated the link."
"Then they were expecting him there."
"Apparently."
"He has found them, then. Thank you. Nothing else?"
"Not yet. We are trying to trace the link and have a look at the program."
"Good luck."
"Are you going to watch Coruscant Daily tonight?"
"Sure. Why?"
"Because someone has to keep a watchful eye over our reporter friend. If he makes his move tonight he'll be in big trouble."
"I have asked Kyp and Gantoris to take care of that. He knows them, after all."
"Alright. I'll be back home soon."
"Great! I'll be waiting for you. We can go over to Leia's office together."
"Sure. See you later."
Luke's smile died abruptly once she had cut the transmission. This whole affair was taking too much of their time, he just knew. And he hated the fact that he and Mara were always too busy to meet during the daytime. The same as Leia and Han. She had already complained to her brother that she was feeling bad because she was neglecting her children and her husband. But there it was. That was the price they had to pay. And sometimes he asked himself for what they were paying at all.
Daala had declined Leia's offer to join her family and friends to watch this night's report on Coruscant Daily in her office. Instead she had curled up on her sofa, a thick blanket wrapped around herself, and stared moodily into the distance. The dream had disturbed her mightily, and she could not forget the look in those blind blue eyes. She liked to believe that it had not been her desperate call that had somehow reached him, but that he had decided on his own to come to her. He had told her about the desert, about Tatooine folklore and the Tusken raiders. And Daala understood that to him the desert was both a place of peace and safety as well as a challenge, the ultimate one. A place of life and death, somehow inbetween heaven and earth. Looking at Anakin, at his deeds and at his views she could easily identify that contradiction in his life too. He was craving challenges and action the same as he was craving peace and freedom. Nothing seemed to satisfy him and his restlessness was unbroken. Daala could well imagine him like a comet streaking across the sky, beautiful to look at and deadly, and she was torn between wanting to hold him close and keeping her distance. "Anakin," she whispered, wishing that he would come to stay. But this time there was no answer.
Feeling Han's hands on her shoulders Leia tried to relax, but not even her husband's massage could ease the tension. Her eyes were fixed on the holoscreen and like everyone else present she had to fight to keep her agitation from getting the better of her. Even Fey'lya seemed tense. For a moment Leia felt a pang of guilt that she had had no time to try and convince Daala to join them. She should not be alone now. On the screen the anchorman of Coruscant Daily had just made his appearance. At her side Luke folded his hands in his lap and sat up straighter while Mara shot him an almost motherly smile. Next to her Gita Deron frowned deeply and straightened her glasses, then leaned forward to see better. Leia gave them all a small smile.
"Are you all ready for the big one?" she asked with just a hint of irony in her tone.
They nodded absent-mindedly, one by one. Han leaned down to kiss her cheek, then sat down beside her, trying not to disturb the children who were cuddled together on the sofa usually reserved for guests. But Leia would not let them get out of her sight again. Anakin had warned her explicitly and she knew that taking her father's advice was always reasonable.
"Gentlebeings of the New Republic, welcome to this special report of Coruscant Daily," the Twi'lek newsspeaker began with a smile. "Fifteen days ago Coruscant was once more the focus of attention." He flashed another smile. "But instead of political intrigues and never-ending Senate scheming, the New Republic center had one common goal it shared with the people of the New Republic. This one goal was justice. Justice for the horrible deeds done by one man: Anakin Skywalker, better known as Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith and trusted right-hand man of the late Emperor Palpatine."
Folding his hands elegantly on the top of his desk the Twi'lek's face turned solemn: "Darth Vader was sentenced to death fifteen days ago. Now he is roaming free again. Why, we ask ourselves, has the New Republic not been able to control him despite knowing what he is capable of? There are many possible answers to this question and in this special we will explore them all to our best knowledge. As our first report we have Turve Glat on the happenings on Nar Shadaa."
Leia leaned back to rest her head against Han's chest, feeling his heart-beat. They could only watch now, there was nothing they could do. Not anymore. On the screen the corpulent reporter appeared in a short trailer before the image swirled into a set of small films with his voice commenting on the happenings.
"Fellow gentlebeings, the events on Nar Shadaa can only be described as astounding. Your faithful reporter was kidnapped by the convicted Anakin Skywalker and his accomplice, the known assassin Wrenga Jixton, on Coruscant shortly after the convict had made his escape from prison. After an incident with New Republic security that resulted in the deaths of three inspectors at the hands of Wrenga Jixton, we spent approximately two days in waiting at Nar Shadaa. And what followed..."
Next was the confrontation at the hangar bay filmed by security cameras. Leia watched Luke lean forward in interest, his eyes fixed on the battle between Anakin, Kyp and Gantoris. Gita Deron was frowning at the hardly visible form of Wrenga Jixton, who was moving through the NRI team like a whirlwind. He was quite impressive, Leia had to admit. She heard Luke bark a short, incredulous laugh and when she looked over at her brother he was smiling.
"They are a great team, those two," he commented fondly. But Fey'lya shushed him immediately when Glat proceeded with the follow-up report.
"The astounding news is this," Turve was just saying. "The Dark Lord has told me specifically, and the survivors of the NRI team can confirm this, that he will return to Coruscant at the date set for his execution. Fifteen days from now we shall see if he will keep his promise. Thank you for your attention. This is Turve Glat, reporting for Coruscant Daily."
As the first block of commercials droned on Palleon shared a glance with Leia and leaned back in his seat, looking disappointed. "He did not even mention the transmitter or the transmission from Karrde's account," he told them.
"Chances are that he had no idea about either," Luke put in reasonably, but Leia shook her head.
"No. Remember what Glat told us? That Father wanted him to act as a diversion. But he knew that there was no way the reporter would let a chance like that slip away. So Turve called his boss, who initiated the link, only waiting for Anakin to check his account."
"But the message was sent a week before they even arrived on Nar Shadaa," Mara mused pensively.
"Then they were expecting him to be onplanet before that?" Fey'lya seemed aghast. "Why?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Everyone turned to look at Gita Deron who was watching the commercials with a deep frown. "Firek Nab worked for Celltec and if we assume, and I think we can safely do that, that she had the transmitter implanted, but chose not to activate it, where does that leave us?"
"What you are saying then," the Bothan senator began, "is that the judge had a sudden change of heart and sentenced him to death rather than whatever she had planned before? A judge who was truly dedicated to justice. Amazing."
Ignoring his sarcasm Leia rose abruptly. This was it, she just knew. And from the look in her brother's eyes she could see that he felt it too. The truth. They were so close to uncovering the scheme! "They expected him to be free and maybe even to get on their trail. The transmitter would have served as a means to track his progress. But why? Why not simply have him executed and be done with it? What was the purpose of all this?"
Mara shrugged. "If we could talk to your father or Jixton we might learn more."
"Which leaves the big question," Palleon finished for her: "Where are they?"
"Ssh. The break is over."
Leia resumed her seat quickly. The Twi'lek newsspeaker appeared again, this time standing in front of the Senate Chamber. Behind him a few senators and aides were giving him curious looks and threw a few smiles at the recorders, but he did not seem to be fazed by the attention. Turning toward his audience calmly he gave them a solemn nod:
"The revered Senate Chamber became the court-room where the trial of Darth Vader took place. This decision was made by the Court to accommodate the vast crowd of onlookers this public trial attracted. It was the first in the history of the as of young New Republic and we all remember the happenings and events accompanying the proceedings. The New Republic government at first refused a public trial, but the Court could make its claim legitimate, that this trial was more than any other conviction, but in the interest of all people of this galaxy."
The image faded into a recording of the live coverage done by Coruscant Daily during the trial, focusing on Gita and Ur'tek before a camera swooped low to capture the cool expression on the defendant's face. All the while the Twi'lek droned on with his tale.
"Here the battle between the prosecution headed by Mister Ur'tek and the defense lead by Miss Gita Deron was ended very abruptly by the defendant himself. An unexpected move. But a closer look at the events shows that it might only have been instinctive. Three days previous to that show-stopping incident former Imperial Admiral Daala, reportedly the defendant's consort, had been attacked by an angry mob and severely injured. The attack had sparked an equally violent reaction on the part of the Dark Lord, an outbreak that left one man injured: his own son, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker."
A dramatic pause ensued during which the recording showed the tumultuous chaos in front of the prison after Anakin had already been overwhelmed by an exceptionally courageous or alternately highly suicidal guard. Newsdroids and newsspeakers could be heard jabbering away in the background over the howling of sirens and the shouting of security personnel. It did look quite dramatic, Leia had to admit, even though nothing had really happened, thanks to her brother's intervention.
"Two days later Anakin Skywalker was sentenced to death and he would have died exactly today, if the defense had not been able to appeal to Judge Firek Nab to postpone the date of execution by fifteen days. Fifteen days, my fellow gentlebeings, fifteen days are left until that date. Now, let us examine what happened right after the sentence was spoken."
Tensing slightly Leia felt Han's hands on her shoulders again, trying to soothe her. But she shook him off and leaned forward almost eagerly. Across the room she could see Fey'lya react the same way although he tried to disguise it. An older recording of Coruscant Daily appeared on the screen: the Twi'lek reporting on the new regulations the President had proposed and had managed to get past the Senate. The image turned into the newsspeaker standing in front of the new Cellcorp headquarters on Coruscant. Gita groaned softly in exasperation.
"Immediately after her own father's conviction President Leia Organa Solo seized the opportunity to make changes in the Trade Charter. Internal sources report that it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, not a program planned beforehand. What had happened? Senator Borsk Fey'lya, representative of Bothawui and stound opposer of President Organa Solo's politics, was so gracious as to give us a comment."
The Bothan harrumphed once and shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he watched his own image tell the audience quite smugly that he suspected a conspiracy by the President and her former Imperial allies. The comment was a fluke, of course, but apparently it had not failed to make the impact they had desired. Fey'lya elaborated on the President's arguments and tried to criticize their validity. But to the spectators' it must seem that he was making a complete fool of himself, citing economic numbers, budgets and agricultural catastrophes that Gita had uncovered concerning Agracorp and Celltec. Why, they had to be asking themselves, can't he see the connection there? It surprised Leia really that the editors on Coruscant Daily had failed to notice the ruse.
But maybe they believed that it could not harm them anyway. Next was part of the recording of a press conference Leia had given on the subject and a podium discussion featuring a heated argument between herself and the Bothan. It was great, a real comedy played almost to perfection. Leia could feel Han's smugness and satisfaction as well as she could feel her own. As the commercials started flirring across the screen again she could not suppress a relieved laugh and she could see Mara grin too.
"You know," a pensive Luke said suddenly, "he asked why the government could not control him despite knowing his capabilities. I was just thinking... What if Celltec was planning something that could have controlled him?"
"A new product?" Gita asked, looking doubtful.
"Why not? Just as Leia could profit from the trial to push her program through, they could have had a test object for — I don't know. Whatever."
Fey'lya shook his head gravely: "I believe that you are going a bit too far with that assumption, Master Skywalker. We have found no evidence anywhere that Celltec was planning to introduce a new product."
"Which doesn't mean that they might not have planned it."
"You are thinking of the transmitter, aren't you?"
"Exactly."
"Still, we have no proof. And I daresay that we won't find any even if we acquire a search warrant for their headquarters."
"You are right. It was just an idea."
For a while they kept silent, the only sound the endless jabbering and jingles of the commercials and a few sighs from one or the other of the small assembly. They did not even look up when the special continued, each deeply immersed in their own thoughts. It was astounding that the mood had changed so suddenly, but somehow the uncertainty concerning Anakin's fate had put a blanket of worry over all of them. Leia heaved a deep sigh, trying to concentrate on the report again.
She lifted the half-filled glass of Corellian brandy to her lips slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen. A small voice of reason told her that she had drunk too much, but Daala did not care. She did not want to care about anything, all she wanted was just one blissful hour of peace, without her fear constantly nagging at the back of her mind. Taking another sip she hugged her knees closer to her chest. It was unfair, so unfair. When she moved her hand to place the glass on the small table next to the sofa she lost her grip and watched it shatter on the floor with a loud thud and jingle. Daala stared at the coruscating splinters dumbfounded. Then, very slowly, she put her bare feet on the floor and walked over to the holovid to turn it off. But then something caught her attention. The report was showing a poll on the public opinion on the government and frankly it did not look too good. Still, the comment spoke of a crisis. A crisis.
Daala huffed a mirthless laugh and stepped back, feeling dizzy. The sharp pain cutting into the sole of her left foot brought her out of her stupor sharply and her eyes flew wide open when she saw a tall alien appear on the screen. The spokesman for the Research and Development Division of Cellcorp. An Anzat. Daala froze. Dropping back onto the sofa she ignored her bleeding foot. But then the report finished with a range of public statements on the whole affair citizens from all over the galaxy voiced there opinion either timidly or vehemently, but none seemed to have a neutral position. Not surprising to the former admiral. She cast her eyes down and turned off the holovid with a flick of her hand. The silence took her into its cold embrace. So cold. Shivering a bit she rose and went to the fresher and immediately to bed afterwards. Only when she noticed the red foot-prints in the light colored carpet did she remember the glass splinters. Tears began streaming down her cheeks as she sat on the bed heavily, the drink making her feel more sentimental than she wanted too. But it was simply too much for her.
Jix glared at the construct he had been strapped into, testing the metal shackles listlessly. He could not even move his head. At the other end of the room Loaz was busy with some nasty looking instruments and two of his interchangeable aides handed him more of those things. For a brief moment the Corellian wondered if the Anzat was going to use all of them on him. The doctor walked over to him with an absent-minded expression on his dark face.
"You are in perfect shape. The slight modifications should not interfere with your mobility."
"Modifications?" Jix asked, not understanding.
"Of course. We only needed to add a few programs to the chip. What we have to do now is prepare you to act as interface."
"One question. Loaz: why not simply take a cyborg?"
"Because you are human. You have your instincts, your inborn desire to survive. You are intelligent and you know when to stand back. All I need to do is guide your actions a bit."
"Great. What if I don't want that guidance?"
"Ah. You are an independent creature, of course, but unfortunately I have neither the time nor the desire to gain your trust first."
"You wouldn't get it anyway."
"Just what I thought. So. What we are going to do is this: the chip allows us direct access to your nerve centers. I can, if you will, even see with your eyes. But there are a few precautions we have to take. Speech, for example. As you have stated yourself we cannot just let you tell people about all of this. So, this will hurt just a bit."
Raising the sharp scalpel he had hidden in the pocket of his long, white overcoat Loaz stroked a hand gently over Jix' throat. The agent froze. Damn! What was the doctor doing there? The sharp pain made him scream, but to his great shock his vocal cords refused to work.
"Ssh. Don't try to talk. The wound will heal and if you behave I will repair the damage again."
Jix' face turned into a wild grimace of fury. But he refrained from giving the Anzat the satisfaction of getting him riled enough to try and kick him. Loaz smiled at him: "Good. Good. You really are a quick learner. And you will find that this will become easier the less you struggle against it. Your cooperation will be rewarded and your resistance..," he smiled slowly, "will be punished."
Jix ground his teeth. Well. There was really nothing he could do about it. So he willed himself to relax, closing his eyes to avoid the sight of Loaz' satisfied expression. He had to do something!
But not just yet.
It was nighttime and the stars sprawled across the sky were blinking like diamonds on velvet satin. He was leaning his head back and closed his eyes, drawing in the dry, cold air hungrily. Looking down he was a child again, standing at the edge of the small town, his gaze fixed into the distance longingly.
His mother was calling his name but he did not turn around or answer. Scurrying out, further into the dunes, he could feel the night air wrap itself around his small body like a cold blanket. The sky was covered with stars, millions of them sparkled in the darkness.
He had been awestruck, Anakin remembered, just like he was now, and had stared up at the universe for an eternity. Nothing had disturbed the silence of that moment and he had only gradually become aware of the sound of trickling sand.
Little Anakin shook his head in bewilderment, feeling dizzy, and tried to find the source of his sudden uneasiness. But the night was full of shadows. And the voice was too soft to hear at first. It caressed his face with the gentle touch of the warm desert wind, the words like hushed whispers. He stood in the dark, shivering, as the figure came toward him slowly, its long cloak flapping in the wind like the wings of a giant black bird. Craning his neck Anakin tried to make out the stranger's face, but it was hidden in shadows.
"Hello, little one." The voice was the most beautiful Anakin had ever heard.
"Hello," he answered timidly.
"Have you lost your way?"
He shook his head no and pointed: "I live over there."
"I see. And you are out here all alone? Are you not afraid?"
Again a negative. Anakin was curious: "Who are you?"
"A friend."
"Really? Whose friend?" he asked innocently.
"Those who wander the desert alone sometimes lose their way, their selves even."
"And you bring them back home?"
"In a sense."
"What if they have no home?"
"The desert is their home. I am their guardian."
"Do you come to the little Tusken too when they are lost?"
"You know a great many things, for one so young."
Anakin nodded eagerly. "When I am grown I will travel to all the stars in the galaxy."
The stranger laughed quietly, the chiming sound lifting the boy's heart higher.
"All under heaven are one, little one. What do you need the stars for?"
"I want to see them."
"But you can see them now, can't you?"
"I want to see them real close."
"Ah." Kneeling in front of him the other nodded slowly. "You are curious. That is good. But keep this in mind: your focus determines your reality, little one. Imagine the stars looking down at you. What would they see?"
Anakin stared at him, dumb-founded.
"They would see the universe and the desert. Everything," he answered, an adult once more, and looked down at the kneeling stranger. "And they would see me, just as I see you too."
The being smiled up at him, blue eyes clear and alert. "You have learned, Anakin Skywalker."
"It took too much time."
"Time, my son, has no meaning. You know that, don't you?"
Anakin shook his head gravely: "We are creatures of life and death. But you are right, the moment itself is forever."
"Tell me then what forever means to you."
"Existence, nothing less. Pure being, free of any restrictions. To see all, be all, feel all."
"All under heaven—"
"Are one with the Force," Anakin finished.
"As you will be too. I will be waiting for you, my child."
"I know."
They shared a smile and then he turned around, content once more. He had found his way and now there was just one last thing to do, one final mission to accomplish. Behind him he heard the rustle of cloth as the desert being rose slowly. But he would not look back. He had faced death often enough. Now was the time to return to the living.
She must have fallen asleep after all. But the cold air blowing over her scantily dressed body brought her back into consciousness again ever so gently. Blinking her eyes Daala stared at the wall opposite from her muzzily. A hand was moving down her left thigh tenderly, the delicate touch paralyzing her for precious seconds. Her heart was pounding in her ears when she felt the caress continue over the soft curve of her hip and waist. Then it was gone again, leaving her shivering in the dark. "Anakin?" she whispered, her voice trembling with hope and despair. He kissed her, tentatively at first, then with greater passion, and she could feel the tears flowing again, the salty taste of them on her lips mingled with the taste of him in her mouth.
She had closed her eyes, not wanting to open them again only to discover that he was not really there, that it had all been an illusion. When he cupped her chin in his left hand she slid her cheek over his palm slowly, savoring the warmth of his touch. She could hear him sigh deeply and the sound brought a smile on her lips. But that was not enough for her. She wanted to touch him too, wanted to believe that he was not just another dream. The relief suddenly pouring through her very soul made her shake uncontrollably until he stopped the shivers by wrapping her in his arms gently. Daala gasped softly as the tension fled from her.
"Anakin," she said again and felt his face so close to hers that she simply had to kiss him. She could feel his smile under her lips.
"What?" he asked and the warmth in his rough voice electrified her like the soft caress of the hot desert wind.
"I think my heart just stopped."
TBC