Chapter 20: Vulnerati Tyrannus

—Part One—

In most beings fear provoked an almost chaotic response. Accelerated heart-rate, shortness of breath, the self-preserving urge to fight or run. But for Vader, it was so much more than that. For Vader, fear was euphoric. A kind of highly addictive narcotic. His very own personal brand of performance enhancing drug that sharpened his senses and strengthened his union with the Force.

Fear —and his Master's alchemic concoction being steadily pumped into his bloodstream— transformed him from powerful Dark Lord of the Sith, into a literal god of war. In this state he felt invincible. And from the tumultuous tremors he sensed echoing through the Force, his soon-to-be victims knew it too.

Cloak swirling at his back, Vader charged across the valley, dodging and deflecting his way through the stream of blasterfire. He glanced to the surrounding rockwalls looking for signs of the rogue Jedi. And was surprised by the number of bright flashes going off around him. The transfer facility was more heavily guarded than he'd anticipated; with shooters set up on the edges of the main clearing and in crevices of the two boundary cliff-faces. Clearly the Wookies and mercenaries were trying to make them work hard for their capture. And if the Jedi were in-fact here, they were doing a good job at keeping themselves well hidden.

Two bolts came flying from somewhere on his left, and he swung his blade to bounce them back. One of the shots striking a mercenary beside a small mound of rocks. Another salvo blazed from the right. On the backswing, he parried those three bolts back toward the broken remains of an old Separatist tank.

There was a warning through the Force, and he jerked his helmet up. Only to see a metallic ball-shaped object flying through the air and coming straight for him. He could tell just by the look of it, that it was a thermal detonator. And although, from the outside they didn't look all that impressive, when they went off, they packed quite a punch. Raising his off-hand, he reached out into the Force and suspended it mid-flight—half a second too late. The thermal was still in his invisible grip when it stopped ticking and detonated. Vader dropped to one knee and braced for impact.

The blast slammed him head-on, the super-heated shockwave pounding his armour in hot flame and burning shrapnel. He lowered his head; the shards of metal casing banging like drums as they hit and pinged off his helmet. Not wanting to stay still for too long, lest he get hit again, he went to stand when another shard suddenly struck him hard in the upper-chest plate. Stumbling back, he grabbed at his chest and sucked in a breath. Thankfully, it seemed to have missed the control panel and after doing a quick check, it looked like the rest of his suit was still holding up.

Growling through his teeth, he shrugged off the impact and kept going, powering ahead through the firestorm. Bolts rained down from all sides of the valley, and he continued to dodge and slash and parry them away. He was getting hammered, and for the most part, it seemed his plan was working perfectly. The Wookies and mercenaries were now throwing everything they had at him, leaving his troopers relatively free to focus on sizing up their targets. Hopefully, soon, these elusive Jedi would reveal themselves and his real mission could begin.

Slipping deeper into the Force and allowing it to guide his hand, he pressed forward, knocking back volley after volley. Through the surrounding roar, he heard Cody's voice ring over his helmet-com. The trooper Commander was hurriedly barking out orders to his men, directing them as they fought to bring up the line behind him. And the troopers called back in-kind; their collective determination and excitement echoing through the Force. The dark side churned with their emotion, and he could feel the intoxicating rush pulsing through his veins, the sudden surge spurring him on into a kind of blood-lusted frenzy.

As he closed in on the battered remains of the old Separatist tank, five heads suddenly sprung up from behind it. What looked to be two wookies and three humans. They lifted their blasters into position and opened fire, dousing the air between and to the right of him in hot bolts of glowing plasma.

Vader whirled on his heel and went in for the attack, repelling and deflecting the slew of bolts with ease. As he strode toward them, two of the humans broke cover and retreated, frantically yelling back to the others as they took off for the facility. The remaining three, however, stayed put, intensifying their assault.

Like a reek at full charge, he gave himself to the Force and thundered toward the wrecked tank at full speed. Feeling the lightsaber thrumming in his hand, he slashed the insidious red blade side to side. Answered every blast they fired. He could almost admire them for their courage, but it wasn't going to help them; he had no intention of stopping. Taking aim, he angled his saber to redirect the next volley, caught one of the bolts and sent it blazing back to its source. And the shot hit its mark. Striking the last human square in the head and knocking them flat. He was roughly twenty metres away when a flash of white suddenly ignited over the facility —one too bright for simple blasterfire. He looked to the sky, and felt his eyes widen.

A large fiery trail was blazing toward him. Suspiciously similar to the hailfire missiles that had pounded their gunships over Kachirho. Grinding to a stop, Vader growled and lowered his blade. If it was a hailfire, there was no way in hell his lightsaber was going to be deflecting that. And even with the Force, he doubted he'd have enough time to gather the strength needed to successfully stop it.

Turning back to the tank, he saw the wookies fleeing for cover. They had already crossed the edge of the clearing and were now flat out running up the stone steps leading to the first landing platform. He looked again to the tank; to the large snail-shaped automaton lying broken and crippled in the grass. It was roughly the same size as one of their own LAATs. In theory, something that big and well-armoured should be enough to detonate the missile. If he could get it in range in time.

With no time to waste, he shut down the lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. Then, reaching out into the Force for strength, he raised both hands, heaved the tank high into the air—

And threw it. Straight into the flight path of the incoming hailfire.

The tank exploded in the air spectacularly. The booming blast catapulting pieces of armoured panel and debris off into all directions. Vader paused and watched it disintegrate. The burning shrapnel crashed into the rockwalls, flew back toward the transfer facility, and bounced amongst the grass. Abruptly, the firing ceased, and he took the much-needed moment to catch his breath. The respirator was cycling erratically, and since coming out of his battle focus, he was starting to feel oddly light-headed.

Cody stopped at his side. "No deflecting that one, my lord," the Commander said, tilting his helmet toward the cloud still sparking above them. "You appear to have their attention."

Apparently, everyone's attention, except for that of the blasted recreant Jedi, Vader thought darkly, squeezing his fist. He turned his mask to the trooper. "So, it would seem, Commander," he said. The light-headedness started to ease, the respirator regaining its rhythm. Reaching into the Force, he closed his eyes and stretched his senses out —across the valley clearing ... to the facility ahead ... to the looming cliff-faces either side— and searched for any signs of disturbance. The Dark side was seething around him. The negative energy ripe and charged with the chaos and panic of battle. He slipped deeper and followed the currents. Drew on the waves of fear and used them to sharpen his focus.

A tiny flicker of light pinpricked his vision. Then another. They were only small. And distant. But definitely there. Vader opened his eyes. Glanced past Commander Cody's shoulder to the cliff-face behind him—

And there they were. Two Jedi. Running within the shadows along the base of the valley rockwall. He smiled tightly and narrowed his gaze. The pair suddenly stopped in their tracks, as if feeling his presence and turned to look back at him. So, perhaps he did have their attention after all. Reaching for his lightsaber, he went to take a step forward when the trooper Commander called out from behind him.

"My Lord, what is it?"

Vader paused, but kept his eyes on his quarry. He didn't want to lose sight of the Jedi. Not now that he'd finally found them. And he couldn't trust the troopers to engage them. Cody and the remaining clones of his 212th legion were no doubt still under sway of Order sixty-six, and were yet to be tested. Only once their chips had been removed and their independent loyalty demonstrated would he even consider trusting them. "Nothing you need concern yourself with, Commander," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Go, now. Take your men and secure the command centre. I will deal with this ... myself."

Cody accepted the order without question, just as he'd expected him to. "As you wish, my lord." He returned to his men, relayed the order, and in seconds the fighting resumed.

Slipping into the shadow of a nearby rocky spire, Vader eyed the two Jedi and stretched his senses toward them. They seemed paralysed, unwilling to move. Their fear was palpable. But surprisingly, so too was their anger. Disappointed, but also slightly intrigued, he relaxed his stance and lowered his hand from his weapon. These were no seasoned masters. Their emotions were too free and uncontrolled. Padawans, then? He let out a measured breath, flexed his prosthetic fingers. Sure, padawans would undoubtedly be easier to manipulate ... and there were two of them ... but he'd been quietly hoping for something a little more challenging; something more worthy of his time. Still, his Master had seen fit to send him here, and his Master did nothing without purpose. Nothing. Could it be possible he was missing something? The holo-footage he'd watched in his Master's office back on Coruscant had shown a total of three Jedi taking down the small outpost —not two. So, there was at least one Jedi still at large...

Vader stepped out from the shadow and strode toward the rockwall. He kept his pace steady; not quite a jog, not a casual walk but somewhere in-between. The two Jedi ignited their sabers, twirled the blue blades about in the air, moved forward as if they were about to charge from the valley cliff-face and challenge him. But they stopped. And after two more steps, Vader saw why. Another figure suddenly emerged from a rocky outcropping above, dropped to the ground immediately behind them. Three more steps, and the blue lightsabers extinguished. Sensing their fear surging through the Force, Vader increased his speed, his augmented stride rapidly devouring the distance between them.

Then they turned tail and ran. Headed for a small opening in the base of the rockwall.

And Vader ran after them.

• • •

Haxen cursed under his breath, stared out the transparisteel blast shield of the deserted command centre, tried to see through the cloud of smoke and debris blanketing the valley. But he could see nothing. Only a greyish-blue haze and the darkness of night. And the sounds of explosions and blasterfire were getting louder.

He glanced to the young, pale-faced Zabrak woman stood at his side, his only company in the large, but increasingly claustrophobic feeling room. Her head was accented with small pointed horns, her scalp mostly bald with the exception of a long black ponytail, the length of which terminated by the curve of her hips. She was expressionless, glassy eyes fixed on the smoke outside. She cradled her swollen abdomen, as if trying to protect it from the immediate threat looming before them.

"Have you heard from your friend?" the woman asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Communications are jammed again," Haxen said, shaking his head. Just to be sure, he turned away from the window, headed back to the command desk and checked the controls. But like before, they were dead. He sighed and rested his hands on the surface. "Still nothing but static."

The Zabrak turned to stare at him. "Do you think they stand a chance?"

Haxen chose not to answer. Because as much as he wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, as much as he wished he could reassure her, he knew in his gut that they'd already lost. It was exactly how Organa and that Jedi friend of his had said. The instant that shuttle landed, the second Vader stepped foot on the valley clearing outside, their hope was gone. All Roland and the others were doing now, was delaying the inevitable.

The blast door to the command centre whooshed open. Roland, flanked by two giant wookies and a handful of Gererra's men burst into the room. Haxen spun from the terminal to face them. They were panting loudly, their expressions pained and stressed and their movements rushed.

Roland ran toward him as the others pushed passed. The wookies growled and brayed to each other, their hair-covered hands hurriedly grabbing for equipment and supply crates by the wall. The Partisans ran straight for the blast door behind him, headed for the maintenance lift that led to the upper platform. Roland skidded to a stop by the command desk, his thick girth jiggling with the effort.

"Hax, we've got to go," Roland said, panting heavily. "Imps have taken the lower level —they're coming, Hax." He wiped at the sweat and blood caked on his brow, smearing the muck across his face. "They're coming, now."

Haxen stepped forward, placed his hand on his panicked friend's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "Where are the others?"

Roland lifted his eyes, and Haxen could see the tears brimming inside them. The tank of a man was shaking. "They're gone, Hax. They're ... they're all gone. It's just us."

"They're gone?" the woman asked from the window. "Everyone? My husband?"

The big man's face tightened, and he turned from Haxen to look at her. "Don't know... I ... I never saw him," he said, his voice rough. "Jedi kids did their job, though. They lured Vader away from the battle." He dropped his gaze to the floor and tried to catch his breath. "For all the good it did us."

Haxen could hear the pain and defeat in his long friend's voice, a tone he wasn't accustomed to hearing come from him. "How long have we got?"

"I dunno ... thirty minutes, maybe less," Roland said, his eyes unfocused and shifting everywhere. "Damn clone troopers are fast, and bloody accurate. Much harder to take down than those wannabes on the space station."

"Alright, then we'd better get organised. You go for the packs and I'll grab whatever else useful I can find. I'll meet you back at the ship."

Roland shakily nodded to the Zabrak by the window. "What about her?"

"Her husband left her here for a reason," Haxen said, as she slowly turned to face him. "And I strongly doubt that that reason was for her to end up being captured by the Empire. I think he intended for her to come with us."

"Right..." Roland said giving another nod. He started for the maintenance lift door. "I'll get the ship ready. Don't be too long."

• • •

Vader paused by the blackened hole of a tunnel opening and stared into the darkness. He could no longer see the Jedi. But he could sense them, sensed the fear and anger coursing violently through the Force. They were close. Stretching out, he tried to get an impression of the path laid before him, and smiled as a swell of Jedi panic suddenly filled the air. Their earlier determination had notably changed, transformed into fight or flight. And in his mind's eye, Vader saw the reason for their panic. The tunnel had no exit, it was just a dead end.

Hand ready by his lightsaber, Vader strode forward into the darkness, the rasp of his breathing and weighted strike of his boots echoing ahead of him. Again, he felt their fear surge and latched onto it, used the heady sensation to guide him through the passage.

He rounded the next bend, and came to a stop. The passage stretched wide, opened into a vast cavern at least four metres wide and almost three times as deep. The three cloaked figures stood huddled together at the end of it, each with a beam of light exuding from their hands. Heart pounding, Vader stared at the Jedi for a moment, the respirator suddenly very loud in his ears.

Only a few short months ago he would not have hesitated, would have drawn on his anger and unleashed it, channelled it into a series of violent and aggressive blows; each one lethal, each one designed to sever limb from limb. The urge was still there, as was the anger. But the end game had since changed. He needed to take them back to Kenobi alive, and no matter how lost in the battle he became, somehow, he had to find a way of remembering that. Taking a deep breath, Vader widened his stance and stood tall. "You would be wise to surrender," he said finally, emphasising his words through the Force.

The Jedi stared him down from across the cavern. "We're not afraid of you, Sith!" the taller of the three yelled, twirling his emerald blade about and moving into position. Even as he said it, the other two at his sides readied their sabers and dropped into stance.

Retrieving his lightsaber from his belt, Vader held it at the ready, but did not ignite it. "Bravery is commendable," he said, aligning his thumb over the actuator. "Foolishness is not. Lay down your weapons and your lives will be spared."

But his warning appeared to fall on deaf ears, if anything; the statement only seeming to make the boy angrier. "You lie!" the boy yelled back at him. "What about all of the other Jedi you murdered? Did you promise to spare them too?"

Vader growled and clenched his jaw. "My offer is real; of that I can assure you. As is the danger you and your friends will soon be in, if you choose not to surrender. Heed my warning, boy ... for there will not be a second."

Silence filled the space between them, and Vader watched on as the padawans looked between each other. Their emotions were chaotic, flitting between bouts of anger and terror. Keeping their voices low but still clearly audible, they soon started to argue. The shorter two, both female —a young red-skinned Lethan twi'lek, and an even younger, tanned-skinned human— were challenging the taller boy's urge to fight. Then, as if deciding to ignore the protests of his comrades altogether, the boy defiantly locked stares with Vader, his glistening green eyes boring holes into him from across the cavern.

It was a glare Vader knew all too well. Much like the one he'd given Count Dooku, twice. The exact same as he'd given Poggle the Lesser, the bug-eyed Geonosian dug, seconds before he'd Force-choked him into submission during his interrogation. It was obvious this boy had no intention of surrendering. No, right now, all he wanted was revenge.

Tightening his grip on his lightsaber, Vader brought the hilt forward into both hands, and ignited the red blade—

And with a screaming battle-cry, the boy ran toward him.

The crimson and emerald blades clashed in a blinding explosion of sparks and glowing plasma. The booming crack of their impact so loud, it loosed pebbles and dust from the cave-like ceiling above. Vader toyed with the boy, allowed him to drive him backward, all the while effortlessly blocking and parrying his flustered attempt at attack. His anger was strong, and Vader could feel the dark side of the Force stalking beside him, the malevolent energy threatening to swallow the boy whole. The green blade slashed once more for his shoulder, and Vader, struggling to hold back the brunt of his strength, again knocked it aside.

"I can feel your anger, padawan," Vader taunted, taking yet another step backward. He blocked the boy's following sweep and held the green blade in contest. "Your Master has failed you. Just as mine did me."

"Don't you dare compare yourself to me!" the boy spat, his eyes burning, his weight pressing harder into the contest. "You're a murderer and a monster. I am a Jedi; I am nothing like you!"

"So you say..." Vader said lowly, feigning weariness. He pulled back on his defence, drew their hissing blades in close to his chest and leaned over them. "Yet here you are. Blinded by fear. Consumed by your want for revenge."

"What? So droids can feel now?" the boy angrily retorted. "Or is all of that just some clever trick woven into your programming?"

Vader's breathing caught on the hook of sudden anger. In a blink, he lunged forward, snapped his sword arm outward and upright, sliced his crimson blade through the space between them with such brutal ferocity, that it dislodged the boy's hilt from his hand and sent both him and it flying. The boy flew back across the cavern. Landed with a thump at the feet of his comrades. The two girls yelped and descended on the boy in an instant. They grabbed at his robes, yanked on his arms, tried in desperation to pull him to his feet.

Pinching the thumb and forefinger of his left hand together, Vader let loose a growl and seized hold of the boy's throat with the Force. He lifted him from the ground —high enough so that his feet were dangling— and held him there, suspended. The padawan groaned in agony, pawed at his neck and kicked helplessly at the air in an effort to break free.

"Foolish boy..." Vader snarled, holding his lightsaber at his side and stalking toward him. "I see and feel more than your insolent Jedi mind could possibly comprehend."

The two girls pounced to their friend's defence, stood between Vader and the choking boy, brandishing their blue lightsabers, the human girl trembling, the red-skinned twi'lek baring her teeth.

"Stop. Don't come any closer!" the twi'lek hissed, her lekku flushing a deep crimson beneath her hood.

"Please, I'm begging you ... please, let our friend go," the human pleaded.

Vader paused and stared at the two Jedi. "I will give you the same opportunity I gave him. Lay down your weapons and your lives will be spared."

The human girl stared up at him, tiny, not more than eleven years old, tears welling in her big doe eyes. "Will ... will you spare him if we do?"

"He made his choice," Vader said flatly. "But if the two of you surrender now, I may just consider it."

"Don't listen to him, Tilli!" the twi'lek said, pushing closer to her side. "He's a Sith. All they do is lie. The instant you put down that lightsaber, he is going to kill you."

Vader snorted. "Take a look at your friend, twi'lek." She glanced over her shoulder, saw the boy still fighting, and sagged in defeat. "Now, tell me, padawan... Do you honestly believe that lightsaber will be enough to save you—"

The rest of the statement died in his throat. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. Pain. Excruciating pain radiated along his right side —a burning, cramping, aching sensation that stretched from his back down to his hips. The pain was intense, so intense he struggled to concentrate, struggled to hold awareness of the space around him.

Distracted, Vader hissed and dropped the boy. He deactivated his lightsaber, shook his head and tried to clear his mind. Had his lung collapsed again? Had its healing slowed after his Master's punishment? This pain felt ... similar ... but was it the same? He mashed at the controls for the suit's med-unit, activating the inbuilt injectors to administer more of the serum. The rush of heat pulsing through his veins, damper than usual, but still having the desired effect. Even as the serum pumped throughout his bloodstream, he could feel his connection to the Force growing stronger, could once again seize hold of his pain and channel it into power.

And as his strength grew, so too did his awareness, not just of himself and the Force, but of the cavern, of the walls around him... and more specifically... of the four... Jedi?

He thought on it for not longer than half a second. Of course, there were four; padawans naturally sought out masters in times of uncertainty. And this pain was not new —it was old. Nothing but some cheap Jedi parlour trick designed to make him believe he was in severe pain in order to disorient him. And he knew of only one Jedi who'd ever employed such underhanded tactics.

Vader whirled around in an instant, thoroughly enmeshed in the dark side, lightsaber back in hand. He glared up the passage, saw his fourth Jedi; a tallish figure poorly disguised amongst the shadows, fully cloaked and stood arms akimbo.

The cloaked figure stepped forward and lowered his hood. It was a face that, as a Jedi, he hadn't been able to stand looking at. Mostly because his features were too similar to those of Qui-gon's murderer: Darth Maul. Sure, he didn't have Maul's iconic red skin or tribal tattoos, and he had long dark brown hair —whereas Maul was bald— but he was still a Zabrak. Had those same horns on his head, that same calculating stare, the same... It didn't matter.

He still hated him.

Vader gave a derisive snort. "Crucitorn..." he said, slamming his defensive shields up. "Nice try, Eeth Koth."

The Zabrak flashed his teeth. "It served its purpose."

"Really? And what purpose was that?"

"Distraction," Koth said smugly, then he nodded.

It was a subtle and almost imperceptible gesture, but Vader caught it. And before he could respond, the sudden snap-hiss of a lightsaber sounded from his back. Then another, then a third. He angled his head, looked over his shoulder to see the three padawans charging toward him. You coward, Vader thought in disgust, watching them draw closer. He couldn't believe it. Was Koth just going to stand there and let these misguided kids die for him?

He waited until the padawans were almost within striking range. Then, as if swatting away an annoying insect, he flicked his wrist, and used the Force to fling them back across the passage. With a resounding thud, the boy and twi'lek crashed into the far wall. Their heads slamming against the rock, their limbs floppy, bodies slumping, collapsing to the floor in a motionless heap. A groan came from the ground immediately below him, and Vader looked down, saw the young dark-haired girl curled up in a ball right beside him. She was trembling, and a small river of blood had started to ooze from her scalp. Being slightly closer to him than the others when they'd launched their attack, she must've bounced off the wall when he'd cast them aside, her tiny body finally coming to rest by the heel of his boot.

Vader growled and shook his head, then turned to glare at the Zabrak Jedi in disbelief. "That was your plan?" he snarled, barely containing his simmering outrage. "To hide behind these children like some sort of coward?"

The girl groaned again, and the Zabrak's eyes, as cool and calculating as always, darted toward her. A tremor of fear rippled through the Force from the former master, but it soon twisted into anger. Then, as if finally making his mind up about something, Koth squared his shoulders, shrugged off his robe, and grabbed for his lightsaber.

"Tileeni, run!" Koth called to the girl, igniting his green blade. "Find Mira, and tell her to take off with the others. Hurry!"

Vader again looked to the girl beside him. She stumbled uneasily to her feet, wobbled, then stared between Vader and the Zabrak, weary-eyed and stunned.

"M‐master?" she whimpered.

"Now, Tileeni!"

The girl ran, and as Eeth Koth bounded forward to engage him, Vader gave himself over to the Force, braced for the attack, and activated his red blade.

• • •

Panting heavily, Haxen pulled both himself and the protesting Zabrak woman to a stop, huddled them in close to the maintenance lift's outer bulkhead. The upper platform was alive with blasterfire. Clones were firing on mercenaries. Mercenaries were firing back at the clones. The wookies wildly discharging the heavy bolts from their bow-casters as they scrambled to ready their ships. Five small freighters remained on the landing platform. Two were Gererra's, two were small quad-winged wookie transports, and the other one was theirs.

"Let me go!" the woman snapped again, yanking hard on his arm. "I need to find my husband. I can't leave him here, please just let me go!"

Haxen cursed and glanced back at her. The woman was strong and her sharp pointed nails were digging holes into his skin. "He left you with us for a reason, Mira," he said, trying to put some understanding in his voice but failing miserably. "Look around you. There is no going back."

"There has to be!" she argued, pulling on him again.

Haxen put his free hand up to silence her, as a loud whistling sound filled the air. He looked through the cross-fire, tried to see where it was heading, when one of the wookie transports suddenly exploded. With a reverberating boom, the ship burst into a giant ball of scorching flame and heat. Pained howls chorused through the chaos as two massive wookie bodies were catapulted high into the air and hit the ground, the smell of singed fur and electrical fires stinging his nose. Mira jumped and jerked beside him, still fighting his grip.

Through the smoke and frenzied fighters, Haxen again caught sight of their freighter. The engines were ready, the ramp was down and Roland was hanging on to one of the hydraulic struts, firing his shoulder-slung rifle at anything that moved. He spotted them by the lift, let go of the strut and started to frantically wave them over.

"Come on, Hax!" Roland yelled out over the din. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

Haxen grabbed at the rucksack by his feet with his free hand and pulled at Mira with the other. He went to run, when again she resisted. He whirled on her then, his eyes pained and jaw tight. "Don't be foolish, woman," he scolded, staring into her furious, tear-filled eyes.

She yanked on his hand, throwing her full bodyweight into the attempt and her fingers slipped free of his grasp. Haxen lunged for her as she tumbled back, his open hand grabbing at nothing but air. Sobbing, Mira scrambled to her feet and ran back into the lift.

"Mira, don't!" he called after her, but was ignored as the lift door quickly closed her inside. Haxen loosed a string of expletives into the air in frustration, grabbed the rucksack again and turned and scurried for the ship.

He ran through the firestorm of blasterfire, dodging and ducking, jumping over fallen bodies, skidding and weaving between the constant flurry of hot bolts, adrenaline pushing his heavy legs on further across the platform. The was a roar from above as one of Gererra's ships powered up their main thrusters and took to the sky, the ensuing blast almost knocking him from his feet.

"Hurry up!" Roland yelled, reaching his hand out as if to catch him. "We gotta get this bird airborne before she gets blown to smithereens."

Haxen reached the ramp, slipped on the tread and fell flat on his face, the rucksack tumbling from his hand, spewing its contents out onto the floor around him. Panicked, he scrambled to his knees, cursing and scooping the contents up, shoving the ration bars and medical supplies deep into the bag pockets.

"Just leave it, we're out of time," Roland yelled furiously from atop the ramp. "Hax, come on!"

Throwing the refilled rucksack over his shoulder, Haxen rose to his feet and looked back at the lift. His jaw dropped. Mira and one of the small Jedi kids were running toward them —the young girl hurriedly batting at the blasterfire with her glowing blue blade. He yelled across the platform. "Mira! Hurry!"

Miraculously unscathed, they reached the ramp and Haxen leaned forward, once more grabbing for the Zabrak woman's hand. He pulled her up and guided her into the ship. The Jedi girl stopped, turned, knocked back a few more of the bolts as the ramp lifted, then quickly followed the others into the cabin. A minute later, and they were airborne.

• • •

The thrum and whoom of contesting lightsabers filled the tunnel. Flashing red against green, dark against light, Sith against Jedi. They swung and blocked. Parried and riposted. Jabbed and slashed, spun and twirled and lunged at each other in a furious dance. The Zabrak was tiring. Vader could feel his defences weakening, the knowledge of the former Jedi council member's impending defeat only serving to surge him on and push him harder into the duel.

With each block of Vader's blade, Koth gave ground. Vader chased him down, driving him deeper into the cavernous opening and back toward the two unconscious padawans still lying on the floor. Vader slashed across Koth's midsection; his crimson saber angled to open the Zabrak up from hip to hip. Koth lurched backward, his sword arm going high and wide as he tripped over one of the sleeping boy's legs and tumbled back. Unwilling to further damage the Jedi boy, Vader paused his attack and waited for Koth to get back on his feet. The Zabrak rolled to the side, his hand clutched at his lightsaber, his cold, callous eyes wide and staring up at him.

"What are you waiting for, Vader?" Koth spat, pulling to his knees. "An invitation?"

"I hardly need an invitation, Master Koth," Vader answered flatly, pointing the tip of his bloodshine blade to the ceiling, gesturing for him to stand.

Koth cocked his brow, cautiously eyed the waiting Vader as he rose to his full height. "I'm not a master anymore," Koth said scornfully, slowly sidestepping toward the tunnel. "The Jedi and their order are dead to me."

"Then why do you protect them?"

The Zabrak snarled and twirled his emerald blade back into defensive position, the green light sparking in his eyes. "I'm not. They were here, and I needed a distraction. They served their purpose."

Vader got it then. "You used the padawans as bait to lure me from the battle," he said, feeling the truth of it ring through the Force. "Mira. The one you sent the girl away to find. She means something to you —she was who you were protecting."

"Stay away from my wife!" roared Koth, and he lunged forward with his lightsaber, sliced diagonally down at Vader's shoulder, aiming for his neck.

In preternatural speed, Vader countered the blow with a powerful upswing of his own, using the full bulk of his bodyweight to drive the green blade high into a sweeping circular arc then down to the ground. He followed up and chopped for Koth's neck, and the former master blocked, left and then right, their lightsabers a sizzling and crackling blur as they darted back and forth around the Zabrak's head.

Koth continued to back up, and Vader continued to follow; constantly attacking, varying his strikes between powerful overhanded chops and brutal slashes. The tunnel was narrowing, and Vader could feel the rock snagging his blade as it chewed tracks into the walls either side. He raised his arms high, readying for his next attack when the tip of his lightsaber gouged a hole in the tunnel ceiling, raining dirt and rubble down onto his helmet. Momentarily distracted by the dirt, he missed an incoming jab from the Zabrak, and shouted in pain as the green blade burned through the suit and grazed the skin of his left arm.

Blinded by rage and fuelled by pain, Vader lunged forward, grabbed hold of Koth's sword arm by the wrist and slammed the hilt of his lightsaber across his face. Stunned by the blow, Koth staggered and wrenched on his Force-grip. Vader ragdolled him back and hit him again.

Bloodied, bruised and beaten, the former Jedi council member fell to his knees. Vader stood over him, respirator echoing in the darkness, his thrumming saber poised and ready to deliver the final blow. Then, he swung the blade down. Sliced through the flesh between Koth's wrist and forearm. And the Zabrak hand, neatly cauterised and clutching at the lightsaber, tumbled to the ground.

• • •

Standing on the transfer facility's second platform, Vader watched as the gunship carrying Commander Vil and his newly acquired prisoners ascended into the sky. The sun was rising. Beams of yellow light were starting to peak through the gaps of the valley rockwalls, and Vil's gunship disappeared amongst them. Vader shifted his gaze to the clearing below, to the hundreds of shackled Wookies being herded up the ramp of a large transport ship. Imperial officers and more of the recruited storm troopers surrounded the herd. Some of the officers were holding stun batons, long electrical probes that they used to shock the more defiant wookies back into submission. The sight made his skin crawl.

Slaves.

The word rose in his mind like hot sand whipping his back. His thoughts drifted to his mother, to Tatooine, to the junkshop. To the long days spent tirelessly cleaning, sorting and fixing the different piles of scrap that made up Watto's store. Then the memories went dark, very dark. His mother. The sand people. The slaughter. He tightened his fists and pushed the images down.

"Quite the remarkable species, aren't they?" a cool, calculated voice said from his side.

Dragged from his macabre thoughts, Vader turned to regard the man stood next to him: Governor Tarkin. Physically, he wasn't much to look at; aged skin, cold, sunken blue eyes, grey hair combed neatly to the side, and a slim physique. But mentally, the man was as intelligent as they came.

"What?"

Unintimidated, Tarkin simply nodded toward the clearing. "The wookies," he said, clarifying. "Despite their primitive nature and somewhat dog-like appearance, they are surprisingly inventive."

Vader folded his arms below his chest plate and looked back to the clearing.

Tarkin continued his speech, undeterred by Vader's lack of response. "They are rumoured to be rather formidable opponents, with each full-grown adult reported to have enough strength to tear a human man apart limb from limb."

"Indeed," Vader said, and he wondered if there was actually a point to the man's rambling. He instantly killed the thought. Of course, there was a point. With Tarkin, there was always a point.

There was a brief pause, a moment of silence, then Tarkin let out a breath and carried on with his dissertation. "I suppose it just proves the point that even the strongest, most powerful of beasts can be brought to heel if given the correct motivation. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Vader?"

Vader stared at him a long moment. "Given the "correct" motivation. Yes," he said finally, putting an edge of threat behind his voice.

Commander Cody crossed the platform and stopped beside him. He turned to Vader. "All units are ready and waiting in the gunships, Lord Vader. Permission to depart for the Exactor?"

"Good work, Commander. You may proceed."

Cody nodded then saluted. "Thank you, my lord." He about-faced and headed back to the rest of the LAATs waiting on the facility's first platform.

Feeling his discerning stare and his want for an explanation, Vader turned back to Tarkin and squared his shoulders beneath the armour.

"You are taking the clones back with you to Coruscant?" Tarkin asked, his eyes narrowing.

"That is correct, Governor. CC-2224 and what remains of the 212th are being reabsorbed into the First Legion," Vader said matter-of-factly. "You may consider it payment for services rendered here on Kashyyyk." Then, with a flourish of his cloak, he whirled on his heel and started for his shuttle, turning his back on Tarkin. When he reached the boarding ramp, he spun back around and propped his fists on his hips. "I trust you find that to be a suitably equitable arrangement?"

Tarkin stroked his angular chin, then finally nodded in acceptance. "Yes. Yes, quite so, Lord Vader."

"Good." Then he strode up the ramp into the cabin, took his seat, and waited for the shuttle to take him back to his flagship.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

That's it for the action for the moment. Part two: Coruscant and the husband and wife's reunion. Thanks everyone for reading and for your follows/favourites/reviews, they are truly humbling.

princesselsaamidala22: Unfortunately, Padmé knew she couldn't go after him, not with the compulsory Senate meeting the next morning and her marriage to the Dark Lord having to be kept a secret. She was worried sick and had just had enough of being surrounded by people hell bent on killing her husband.

Sfloresf: Yes, Bail was testing Padmé, to see if she knew who Vader truly was. He already has confirmation from Obi-wan that Vader is actually Anakin. As for Sidious and the pregnancy... well, I'll leave that alone for now, lol.

Guest: I had never actually intended for this story to be a slow burn, but it's funny how things turn out.

As always, MTFBWY.