Chapter 6
Tensions were running high in Mothma's office as Ghede reported the day's events to her. The Chiss' face was an interesting shade of lavender, but otherwise he was doing an excellent job of keeping his anger under control. Luke, Han, Chewie, and Vader sat anxiously, awaiting whatever lay in store for them.
Luke was especially antsy. Was he to be disciplined for disregarding Ghede's orders? He felt he could tolerate that only if Vader was also punished for his role in this whole mess. Though he still didn't know why Han had allowed Vader behind the Falcon's controls in the first place. He'd have to get him alone later and ask.
"So you claim that Vader maliciously attacked your squadron and disrupted their training?" she asked.
"That's about the gist of it," Ghede replied.
"'Attacked' is a rather strong word," she said. "Vader, can you explain what happened?"
Luke tried not to stare at Vader as he stood to defend himself, but it was impossible. The man was laughably out of place in the Rebellion, standing out like a Tusken Raider in Corusant's metropolitan district. Wherever he went in the Massassi Base, he called attention to himself.
"Han and Chewbacca wished to take the Falcon for a test flight," he explained. "I accompanied them, and he offered me a chance to fly. I took him up on it. I'm afraid I did get somewhat carried away, but I had no intention of taking or endangering lives. I apologize."
"Apology accepted, Vader. Simply exercise caution while flying from now on. Your bodyguards can inform you when you're beginning to take risks."
Bodyguards? Luke cast an inquiring glare at Han. The smuggler shrugged and nodded at Mothma. Evidently she'd decided to put him to work if he was going to be using the Rebel base as a long-term pit stop. But what an unusual assignment for him.
"Thank you, my lady." Vader sat back down.
"Which brings me to the second matter," she went on. "Han and Chewbacca, you have observed Vader's piloting?"
Chewie growled assent.
"Guess you can say that," Han replied.
"And what would you say his skill level is?"
Han grinned. "Expert."
"Thank you." She turned to Ghede. "I believe I have found you a new pilot for Life Squadron."
She might as well have reached into Luke's abdomen and squeezed his stomach in a death grip. She wouldn't assign Vader to their squadron! She couldn't!
Ghede seemed to echo his sentiment. "Absolutely not!"
"You requested me to keep an eye out for older, more mature pilots," she countered. "I believe Vader fits those requirements. And he has considerable talent..."
"I refuse to allow his enlistment," Ghede replied harshly. "I have that right, I'm sure you're aware."
"And I have the right to override your refusal," Mothma replied, an uncharacteristic iron edge to her voice.
Ghede and Mothma glared at each other, two stubborn souls vowing to go down fighting. Vader somehow managed to look quite sheepish through his mask and glanced around the room as if searching for a hiding place. Han and Chewie, to Luke's amazement, seemed angry at Ghede's unwillingness.
"Vader is dangerous," Ghede insisted.
"I am not," Vader retorted vehemently. "My days as an Imperial are behind me."
"That's not what I meant," Ghede told him. "You are reckless and take ridiculous risks in your flying. You would put the squadron in unnecessary danger if you ever flew with us in combat."
"One leisure flight is hardly enough to judge his entire flight career," Mothma replied.
"I didn't see him taking any ridiculous risks during the Death Star battle," Han pointed out.
"Perhaps we should ask the man," Mothma suggested. "Vader, would you be willing to join Life Squadron?"
"I would..." he began.
"As long as I'm Commander, he'll not join!" Ghede insisted.
Chewie bellowed.
"Boy, you said it, Chewie," Han replied, clearly incensed. "The best pilot to join the Alliance since Luke and no one wants him."
Luke had had enough. He stood.
"If Vader joins Life Squadron, I quit."
Five pairs of shocked eyes turned to regard him.
"Skywalker, I wouldn't be so rash..." Mothma began.
"I refuse to serve alongside the man who killed my father!"
Vader recoiled, stunned. "I what?"
Luke lost all composure. The emotions he'd been holding in for days came exploding forth. "My father was Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Knight. You betrayed and murdered him! You may not remember doing the deed, but it doesn't change the fact that you did it!"
Vader stared at him a long time. "Then why did you save me?" he asked quietly.
The question caught him off guard. "I... don't know..." He turned and stormed out of the office. Han called his name once, but he ignored him.
Wedge had been waiting just outside the office for him, and he started to ask how things had gone. He brushed by him and continued on his way. Wedge, too, shouted for him to wait up, but when Luke didn't answer the pilot simply let him go.
He swiftly made his way to the main hangar, brushing past startled passerby, head down so he wouldn't have to look anyone in the face. When he reached his X-wing he hopped into the pilot seat, strapped himself in, and lowered the canopy. He'd fly his frustration off. Maybe he'd blast a few trees, too, and imagine they were TIE fighters. Anything to take his mind off of having Vader foisted onto Life Squadron.
But once in the semi-privacy of his fighter, his emotions got the better of him. Instead of starting the X-wing up, he simply slumped over the controls and wept bitterly, his grief hot and fresh as all that he had learned or that had happened since intercepting Leia's message caught up with him.
***
"Mechanic's quarters," said Han, opening the door to Vader's room. "Not much, but it's home."
It took Vader's holographically-enhanced eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light in the chamber. It was rather cramped, with a repulsorbed, a cracked unframed mirror, and a tarnished durasteel trunk the only furnishings. The walls were smudged with engine grease, and the last mechanic to inhabit this domicile had evidently had a spice problem judging from the unpleasant smell.
He gave a mental sigh and tossed the bag of tools -- a gift from Dr. Forenze -- onto the bed. "I can't believe they denied me a place in the squadron."
"Well, it's gonna take some time for Ghede and the kid to realize you're harmless," Han replied, leaning against the door frame. "And sooner or later Mothma'll pull some strings to get you in."
"Why is she bothering? I'm an Imperial cyborg whose memory is shot to chaos and has a murder record fit to short-circuit the central computers. Why does she want me in the Alliance so badly?"
Han only shrugged.
"At least I can count you and Chewbacca among my friends," Vader told him. "My only friends, apart from Forenze."
Chewie gave a little growl and placed a massive paw on his shoulder.
"Chewie says to cheer up," Han replied. "And I agree. Complaining isn't going to do you any good."
Vader smiled a little. "You're correct, Han. Thank you."
Han managed to fit a "you're welcome" around a massive yawn.
"Go to bed, Han. We'll need our rest if we're going to do something about that bucket of bolts of yours."
"G'night," Han mumbled as he and Chewie left.
Vader sat down on the bed, lost in his thoughts. What a day. Not only was he the most controversial member of the Rebel Alliance, but it turned out that the man who had saved his life and was the only link to his past was the son of one of his victims! Fate had a cruel and twisted sense of humor.
The decision to bar him from Life Squadron pained him -- he would have enjoyed flying one of the Rebellion's nimble, versatile X-wings -- but he realized it was necessary for now. It would be difficult to serve in the squadron when its two commanding officers hated him so fiercely. But he could have tolerated Ghede's displeasure; it was Luke's hatred he wanted so desperately to work around.
/The boy is an enigma/ he mused. /He hates me, but he also feels so strangely familiar. I know that name, Skywalker, and not just as a murder victim./
He closed his eyes, withdrawing to that quiet center. A few flashes of memory resurfaced, but he wasn't able to grasp anything significant. A podrace, a saber duel, the stunningly beautiful woman who occasionally haunted his more bittersweet memories...
"Owen," he breathed. "Owen Lars." That was the round-faced young man he had remembered. A relative of some sort, perhaps a cousin or stepbrother. He wasn't exactly sure, but perhaps the name was a link to other, more pertinent memories.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring at the mirror. Anger welled up in him at the sight of that grotesque ebony mask scowling back at him. He hated that face, hated the fact that it branded him as a war criminal to all who looked upon him. Stranded among enemies, bereft of his memory, but constantly wearing a hideous reminder of his past... and the worst part was that there was nothing he could do to undo what he had done.
/Probably not, but you can work to improve your image./
Vader whirled but saw no one. That had come from inside this room!
/Relax. I'm an old friend./ The voice was clear and kind, suspiciously familiar, but not audible. It was as if it were being inserted into his mind by a mysterious power.
/By the Force/ the voice continued. /You once had an impressive command of it, but your training was obliterated along with your memory. Someday you will have to be retrained./
/Are you the Force?/
/No, but I am one with it. I am an old friend of yours. I am Obi-wan Kenobi./
He shook his head. /I'm sorry, Obi-wan. I don't remember you./
/Does this help?/ And an image was called forth -- a thirty-something bearded man wearing simple light brown robes, with golden-brown hair and intensely inquiring eyes.
/Somewhat./ He strained to recall. /Yes, I remember something. It was in a nightclub. We were searching for something. You said "Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?"/
A pang of regret. /A macabre joke that I wish I had never uttered./
/I killed you too? Is there no life in this galaxy I haven't tainted?/
/Calm yourself, young one. You were not the man you are now. Before your accident you were a creature of fury and darkness. You are not that being now./
/No. I'm a burden now. A bag of refuse that keeps getting passed around the base. Without my memory, I'm useless to the Empire and only a liability to the Rebellion./
A mental chuckle. /Don't think of yourself as having lost something, young one. Rather, think of yourself as having been scrubbed clean. You have the opportunity to begin again, start anew, without the memories of your former life to complicate you. Few people have this chance. Make the most of it./
He nodded. /Yes. I have been looking at it wrong. You're right, Obi-wan. I should concentrate on building a new life and not regaining an old one I'd rather discard anyway. But where do I begin?/
/Where do you think?/
He touched his face. /My mask. It's the most painful reminder of my past. I want it removed. But how.../ He stood and left his quarters.
Forenze looked up from her computer as Vader walked into the med center. The pale glow from the screen illuminated her face in a ghostly light. "Problem?"
"Can you upgrade my life-support?"
"What, tonight?"
"As soon as possible."
"Whoa, kill the thrusters, pal. What's the rush?"
"I hate this mask," he replied, kicking a stray scrap of metal across the med center floor. "I hate the baggage it drags into my life. I hate being seen as a murderer wherever I go. I want to be rid of it once and for all."
She nodded. "I see your point. You do understand it'll take several operations to give you a complete overhaul, and they'll all be painful."
"I'm willing to endure it."
She looked about to say something but thought better of it. "Can't promise you top of the line, but I'll do what I can with what the Alliance has. I'd like to start with the pacemaker, since whatever we have on hand'll be better than what you've got now." She sighed as she stood. "Go lay down. The droids'll prep you. You're in for a rough night, friend."
***
Palpatine betrayed no emotion as he reclined on his throne, listening to his spy's report. Indeed, he felt little emotion at the news. Never mind that the Death Star, the crown jewel of the Imperial Navy, had been destroyed days after her maiden voyage. Never mind that it was his fool apprentice's until-now-anonymous son that had dealt the fatal blow. Never mind that said apprentice had managed to botch his latest mission and was now an amnesiac in the hands of the Alliance.
Such matters were trivial. He had bigger mynocks to vaporize.
There was silence from the holo before him. The Emperor's Yavin agent didn't know that much of the report was old news to the monarch. He had felt Skywalker's attack on the Death Star and its subsequent explosion through the Force. When Vader's presence had abruptly snuffed out, he'd attributed it to the Dark Lord's death. Discovering that he was very much alive, if without his memory, had been a surprise, but in the end it made little difference.
At any rate, he had to find himself yet another protege. He snorted in irritation. First Maul, then Tyranus, then Vader... was Sidious going to go down in the Sith Archives as the Master with the most failed apprentices in the history of the Order?
"Continue to update me on further plans of the Alliance," he told his spy. "Especially anything that pertains to either Vader or Skywalker. And keep an especially close watch on Skywalker."
"Your Highness?" came the reply. "What of the Rebel base?"
"From what you have told me, it doesn't sound like the Rebels are in any hurry to leave Yavin," he replied. "Once I have found a suitable replacement for Lord Vader, I will send him or her to lead an all-out strike on the Massassi temple. They will be no match for us."
"Yes, you're Highness." The holo winked out.
Tensions were running high in Mothma's office as Ghede reported the day's events to her. The Chiss' face was an interesting shade of lavender, but otherwise he was doing an excellent job of keeping his anger under control. Luke, Han, Chewie, and Vader sat anxiously, awaiting whatever lay in store for them.
Luke was especially antsy. Was he to be disciplined for disregarding Ghede's orders? He felt he could tolerate that only if Vader was also punished for his role in this whole mess. Though he still didn't know why Han had allowed Vader behind the Falcon's controls in the first place. He'd have to get him alone later and ask.
"So you claim that Vader maliciously attacked your squadron and disrupted their training?" she asked.
"That's about the gist of it," Ghede replied.
"'Attacked' is a rather strong word," she said. "Vader, can you explain what happened?"
Luke tried not to stare at Vader as he stood to defend himself, but it was impossible. The man was laughably out of place in the Rebellion, standing out like a Tusken Raider in Corusant's metropolitan district. Wherever he went in the Massassi Base, he called attention to himself.
"Han and Chewbacca wished to take the Falcon for a test flight," he explained. "I accompanied them, and he offered me a chance to fly. I took him up on it. I'm afraid I did get somewhat carried away, but I had no intention of taking or endangering lives. I apologize."
"Apology accepted, Vader. Simply exercise caution while flying from now on. Your bodyguards can inform you when you're beginning to take risks."
Bodyguards? Luke cast an inquiring glare at Han. The smuggler shrugged and nodded at Mothma. Evidently she'd decided to put him to work if he was going to be using the Rebel base as a long-term pit stop. But what an unusual assignment for him.
"Thank you, my lady." Vader sat back down.
"Which brings me to the second matter," she went on. "Han and Chewbacca, you have observed Vader's piloting?"
Chewie growled assent.
"Guess you can say that," Han replied.
"And what would you say his skill level is?"
Han grinned. "Expert."
"Thank you." She turned to Ghede. "I believe I have found you a new pilot for Life Squadron."
She might as well have reached into Luke's abdomen and squeezed his stomach in a death grip. She wouldn't assign Vader to their squadron! She couldn't!
Ghede seemed to echo his sentiment. "Absolutely not!"
"You requested me to keep an eye out for older, more mature pilots," she countered. "I believe Vader fits those requirements. And he has considerable talent..."
"I refuse to allow his enlistment," Ghede replied harshly. "I have that right, I'm sure you're aware."
"And I have the right to override your refusal," Mothma replied, an uncharacteristic iron edge to her voice.
Ghede and Mothma glared at each other, two stubborn souls vowing to go down fighting. Vader somehow managed to look quite sheepish through his mask and glanced around the room as if searching for a hiding place. Han and Chewie, to Luke's amazement, seemed angry at Ghede's unwillingness.
"Vader is dangerous," Ghede insisted.
"I am not," Vader retorted vehemently. "My days as an Imperial are behind me."
"That's not what I meant," Ghede told him. "You are reckless and take ridiculous risks in your flying. You would put the squadron in unnecessary danger if you ever flew with us in combat."
"One leisure flight is hardly enough to judge his entire flight career," Mothma replied.
"I didn't see him taking any ridiculous risks during the Death Star battle," Han pointed out.
"Perhaps we should ask the man," Mothma suggested. "Vader, would you be willing to join Life Squadron?"
"I would..." he began.
"As long as I'm Commander, he'll not join!" Ghede insisted.
Chewie bellowed.
"Boy, you said it, Chewie," Han replied, clearly incensed. "The best pilot to join the Alliance since Luke and no one wants him."
Luke had had enough. He stood.
"If Vader joins Life Squadron, I quit."
Five pairs of shocked eyes turned to regard him.
"Skywalker, I wouldn't be so rash..." Mothma began.
"I refuse to serve alongside the man who killed my father!"
Vader recoiled, stunned. "I what?"
Luke lost all composure. The emotions he'd been holding in for days came exploding forth. "My father was Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Knight. You betrayed and murdered him! You may not remember doing the deed, but it doesn't change the fact that you did it!"
Vader stared at him a long time. "Then why did you save me?" he asked quietly.
The question caught him off guard. "I... don't know..." He turned and stormed out of the office. Han called his name once, but he ignored him.
Wedge had been waiting just outside the office for him, and he started to ask how things had gone. He brushed by him and continued on his way. Wedge, too, shouted for him to wait up, but when Luke didn't answer the pilot simply let him go.
He swiftly made his way to the main hangar, brushing past startled passerby, head down so he wouldn't have to look anyone in the face. When he reached his X-wing he hopped into the pilot seat, strapped himself in, and lowered the canopy. He'd fly his frustration off. Maybe he'd blast a few trees, too, and imagine they were TIE fighters. Anything to take his mind off of having Vader foisted onto Life Squadron.
But once in the semi-privacy of his fighter, his emotions got the better of him. Instead of starting the X-wing up, he simply slumped over the controls and wept bitterly, his grief hot and fresh as all that he had learned or that had happened since intercepting Leia's message caught up with him.
***
"Mechanic's quarters," said Han, opening the door to Vader's room. "Not much, but it's home."
It took Vader's holographically-enhanced eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light in the chamber. It was rather cramped, with a repulsorbed, a cracked unframed mirror, and a tarnished durasteel trunk the only furnishings. The walls were smudged with engine grease, and the last mechanic to inhabit this domicile had evidently had a spice problem judging from the unpleasant smell.
He gave a mental sigh and tossed the bag of tools -- a gift from Dr. Forenze -- onto the bed. "I can't believe they denied me a place in the squadron."
"Well, it's gonna take some time for Ghede and the kid to realize you're harmless," Han replied, leaning against the door frame. "And sooner or later Mothma'll pull some strings to get you in."
"Why is she bothering? I'm an Imperial cyborg whose memory is shot to chaos and has a murder record fit to short-circuit the central computers. Why does she want me in the Alliance so badly?"
Han only shrugged.
"At least I can count you and Chewbacca among my friends," Vader told him. "My only friends, apart from Forenze."
Chewie gave a little growl and placed a massive paw on his shoulder.
"Chewie says to cheer up," Han replied. "And I agree. Complaining isn't going to do you any good."
Vader smiled a little. "You're correct, Han. Thank you."
Han managed to fit a "you're welcome" around a massive yawn.
"Go to bed, Han. We'll need our rest if we're going to do something about that bucket of bolts of yours."
"G'night," Han mumbled as he and Chewie left.
Vader sat down on the bed, lost in his thoughts. What a day. Not only was he the most controversial member of the Rebel Alliance, but it turned out that the man who had saved his life and was the only link to his past was the son of one of his victims! Fate had a cruel and twisted sense of humor.
The decision to bar him from Life Squadron pained him -- he would have enjoyed flying one of the Rebellion's nimble, versatile X-wings -- but he realized it was necessary for now. It would be difficult to serve in the squadron when its two commanding officers hated him so fiercely. But he could have tolerated Ghede's displeasure; it was Luke's hatred he wanted so desperately to work around.
/The boy is an enigma/ he mused. /He hates me, but he also feels so strangely familiar. I know that name, Skywalker, and not just as a murder victim./
He closed his eyes, withdrawing to that quiet center. A few flashes of memory resurfaced, but he wasn't able to grasp anything significant. A podrace, a saber duel, the stunningly beautiful woman who occasionally haunted his more bittersweet memories...
"Owen," he breathed. "Owen Lars." That was the round-faced young man he had remembered. A relative of some sort, perhaps a cousin or stepbrother. He wasn't exactly sure, but perhaps the name was a link to other, more pertinent memories.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring at the mirror. Anger welled up in him at the sight of that grotesque ebony mask scowling back at him. He hated that face, hated the fact that it branded him as a war criminal to all who looked upon him. Stranded among enemies, bereft of his memory, but constantly wearing a hideous reminder of his past... and the worst part was that there was nothing he could do to undo what he had done.
/Probably not, but you can work to improve your image./
Vader whirled but saw no one. That had come from inside this room!
/Relax. I'm an old friend./ The voice was clear and kind, suspiciously familiar, but not audible. It was as if it were being inserted into his mind by a mysterious power.
/By the Force/ the voice continued. /You once had an impressive command of it, but your training was obliterated along with your memory. Someday you will have to be retrained./
/Are you the Force?/
/No, but I am one with it. I am an old friend of yours. I am Obi-wan Kenobi./
He shook his head. /I'm sorry, Obi-wan. I don't remember you./
/Does this help?/ And an image was called forth -- a thirty-something bearded man wearing simple light brown robes, with golden-brown hair and intensely inquiring eyes.
/Somewhat./ He strained to recall. /Yes, I remember something. It was in a nightclub. We were searching for something. You said "Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?"/
A pang of regret. /A macabre joke that I wish I had never uttered./
/I killed you too? Is there no life in this galaxy I haven't tainted?/
/Calm yourself, young one. You were not the man you are now. Before your accident you were a creature of fury and darkness. You are not that being now./
/No. I'm a burden now. A bag of refuse that keeps getting passed around the base. Without my memory, I'm useless to the Empire and only a liability to the Rebellion./
A mental chuckle. /Don't think of yourself as having lost something, young one. Rather, think of yourself as having been scrubbed clean. You have the opportunity to begin again, start anew, without the memories of your former life to complicate you. Few people have this chance. Make the most of it./
He nodded. /Yes. I have been looking at it wrong. You're right, Obi-wan. I should concentrate on building a new life and not regaining an old one I'd rather discard anyway. But where do I begin?/
/Where do you think?/
He touched his face. /My mask. It's the most painful reminder of my past. I want it removed. But how.../ He stood and left his quarters.
Forenze looked up from her computer as Vader walked into the med center. The pale glow from the screen illuminated her face in a ghostly light. "Problem?"
"Can you upgrade my life-support?"
"What, tonight?"
"As soon as possible."
"Whoa, kill the thrusters, pal. What's the rush?"
"I hate this mask," he replied, kicking a stray scrap of metal across the med center floor. "I hate the baggage it drags into my life. I hate being seen as a murderer wherever I go. I want to be rid of it once and for all."
She nodded. "I see your point. You do understand it'll take several operations to give you a complete overhaul, and they'll all be painful."
"I'm willing to endure it."
She looked about to say something but thought better of it. "Can't promise you top of the line, but I'll do what I can with what the Alliance has. I'd like to start with the pacemaker, since whatever we have on hand'll be better than what you've got now." She sighed as she stood. "Go lay down. The droids'll prep you. You're in for a rough night, friend."
***
Palpatine betrayed no emotion as he reclined on his throne, listening to his spy's report. Indeed, he felt little emotion at the news. Never mind that the Death Star, the crown jewel of the Imperial Navy, had been destroyed days after her maiden voyage. Never mind that it was his fool apprentice's until-now-anonymous son that had dealt the fatal blow. Never mind that said apprentice had managed to botch his latest mission and was now an amnesiac in the hands of the Alliance.
Such matters were trivial. He had bigger mynocks to vaporize.
There was silence from the holo before him. The Emperor's Yavin agent didn't know that much of the report was old news to the monarch. He had felt Skywalker's attack on the Death Star and its subsequent explosion through the Force. When Vader's presence had abruptly snuffed out, he'd attributed it to the Dark Lord's death. Discovering that he was very much alive, if without his memory, had been a surprise, but in the end it made little difference.
At any rate, he had to find himself yet another protege. He snorted in irritation. First Maul, then Tyranus, then Vader... was Sidious going to go down in the Sith Archives as the Master with the most failed apprentices in the history of the Order?
"Continue to update me on further plans of the Alliance," he told his spy. "Especially anything that pertains to either Vader or Skywalker. And keep an especially close watch on Skywalker."
"Your Highness?" came the reply. "What of the Rebel base?"
"From what you have told me, it doesn't sound like the Rebels are in any hurry to leave Yavin," he replied. "Once I have found a suitable replacement for Lord Vader, I will send him or her to lead an all-out strike on the Massassi temple. They will be no match for us."
"Yes, you're Highness." The holo winked out.