Chapter 4

"…friggin' sand in my boots, friggin' heat, friggin' cronies of Jabba's picking a fight every chance they get…" Forenze grumbled, earning a tolerant glance from the Tusken seated in front of her. "I hate this planet."

"That's funny," Vader remarked dryly. "I seem to recall a medical officer freezing her tail off on Hoth, wishing we'd establish a base someplace warm like here."

"Shut up," she snapped. She reached up to run her hand through what was left of her crest. "And I had to whack this off to get my head in a disguise, looks horrible, I hope you're happy."

"Hey, I think you look good with short feathers," Luke volunteered.

"Was I asking you?" she snapped.

Han laughed. "You know you've been gone from the Alliance too long when you realize how much you've missed the cranky doctor."

The bantha caravan lumbered on, the Tuskens traveling in a line to disguise their tracks. Luke had never ridden a bantha before, but once one got used to the swaying motions it made as it walked, it was pretty simple. And at least the beasts didn't stink like tauntauns, spit like eopies, or balk and bolt at the slightest disturbance like dewbacks.

"Where are they taking us anyhow?" asked Han.

"We parked the Millennium Falcon, the Desert Angel, and Luke's X-wing out by Beggar's Canyon," Lando explained. "I guess Vader's had his friends watching over the ships for us."

"How did you end up with them in the first place?" asked Luke.

"As I said before, it's a long story," Vader replied. "It started many years ago, before my Sith years, when I was a Jedi Padawan."

"You were a Jedi?" asked Leia.

"Yes, Leia. I joined the Order when I was nine, leaving my mother on Tatooine. The Order preferred younger students, ones who did not have deep emotional attachments to friends or relatives yet. Unfortunately, I had such an attachment – my mother. I always felt guilty for leaving her in wretched conditions and worried for her safety often.

"Ten years later, driven by nightmares, I returned to my homeworld to learn my mother had been abducted by Tusken Raiders. My stepfather and stepbrother had given her up for dead, but I refused to believe them and tracked the Tuskens to their encampment. There, wounded and dying slowly from endless beatings, was my mother." He lowered his head, silent a few minutes. "She died in my arms."

Luke sent a wave of comfort along the Force to his father. He'd heard this story once before, and he knew just how deeply the memory of Shmi's death – and his actions afterward – still hurt him.

"I went mad," Vader continued. "My rage consumed me. I killed every Tusken in the camp, including the women and children. I felt completely justified in my actions then, for these creatures had slain my mother. But later I realized just how severe my crime was. I had tasted of the dark side, and in doing so I took my first step down a black road that led to my fall."

"Ouch," Han mumbled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Darth."

"What's this got to do with…" began Lando.

"I'm getting there," Vader assured him. "When I regained my memory a year ago, I promised myself I'd do all I could in recompense to absolve my actions. And when I joined the rescue mission, I saw my chance to make restitution for that first in a long list of crimes.

"The Tuskens are divided into warring tribes, so it took me a few weeks to identify the tribe of the Tuskens I had killed. Once I'd located that tribe – the Dragon Tribe of the Jundland Wastes – I took a risk and allowed myself to be captured by them. I was taken before their chieftain, where I identified myself as the killer of his people.

"The chieftain knew a measure of Basic – from where I never found out – and he informed me that I owed his tribe a debt – a blood debt. Some species practice the life debt, where they will give their life in payment to one who has rescued them. The blood debt is a different matter. I had shed the blood of his tribe, and only my blood could pay that debt.

"I told the chieftain the truth – that the crime I had committed had haunted me for years, and that I was thoroughly ashamed of my actions. I would gladly pay with my own life if he felt it would settle the matter.

"The chieftain was shocked – he had never before met a being who had wished to willingly pay the blood debt. He declared to his tribe that I had acted nobly, and that to repay that nobility he would alter the terms of the blood debt. Blood would still be required, but only a few ritual drops to seal the matter. For the rest, I would live among his people for nine months, learn their customs, and become a Tusken. And I would free his people from the bondage of Jabba the Hutt, for the crime lord had caused his tribe much trouble.

"I agreed to his terms, and he drew a knife and slashed my left palm, marking the beginning of my payment. Since then I have served by his side as a shaman, and I have learned much about the Sandpeople and their ways. I have learned about their respect for nature, their unity with their surroundings, and most of all, I learned of their ongoing war with the settlers of Tatooine – an endless war in which my mother and his people were only a handful of many, many casualties.

"I will always retain some anger toward the Tuskens for my mother's death, but it no longer consumes me. There are two sides to every story, and according to their side, this is their planet and the humans are trespassing on their lands. In their minds, they probably felt as justified in their actions as I did in mine.

"Now Jabba is dead. The Tuskens are free of his bondage. My blood debt is repayed, and my mind – and my mother – can rest in peace."

Everyone gaped at Vader in astonishment.

"You could have been killed!" Luke finally blurted.

"I knew that was a possibility," Vader replied. "But I thought it an acceptable risk."

"Now I know you're crazy," Han told him.

Chewie gave a look-who's-talking sort of bark.

Their party crossed one more rise, and the Falcon, Angel, and X-wing came into view. The banthas came to a halt before the vehicles, and the Rebels dismounted. One Tusken also slid down from his bantha and stepped forward to talk to Vader. Luke watched, wary.

Vader bowed as the Tusken approached. A small reptile skull hung from a chain of dragon's teeth around his neck, and his gaderffi was decorated with more teeth and small bones that hung from the weapon's handle on leather thongs. The chieftain murmured a few words, passed a hand over Vader's head, and turned back to his mount.

"What was that?" asked Han.

"Sounded like 'arrraggh-arrrooo' to me," Forenze smirked.

"What did he tell you?" asked Luke.

"That I always have a place among his people," Vader replied. "The debt has been paid, but I am still considered one of his kind and one of his tribe. He knows that I am guilty of many crimes in the galaxy beyond Tatooine, and if there is ever a time that I am not welcome anywhere else, I am free to return to his people."

Luke watched the Tuskens go. He'd never known the Sandpeople to be anything beyond vicious tribal nomads that harassed moisture farmers and Jawa caravans. To see them extend forgiveness to his father cast them in a new light in his eyes.

"You got all of that out of 'arrraggh-arrrooo?'" asked Forenze.

Vader laughed.

"So you rescued me and snuffed Jabba," said Han. "Now what?"

"Now we go back to the Alliance," Leia replied. "The Empire's building a new Death Star, and we need as much help as possible to destroy it."

"Vader and I have some business to take care of first," Luke told them. "With our Jedi Master on Dagobah."

Leia nodded. "Why don't we go with you?" she suggested. "We'd like to meet him."

Everyone agreed, and preparations were made for takeoff.

"Hey kid," Han said, putting an arm around Luke's shoulders.

"Missed you, Han," Luke replied.

"I needed to ask you a question. I asked Vader on the ride here, but he turned me down."

"For what?"

"I'm going to need a best man."

"I'll keep my eyes open for one."

"Is that a no?"

He laughed. "No, I guess it's a yes."

"Thanks."

Luke laughed and climbed into his X-wing.

-

"Get up."

Jerjerrod jerked awake with the aid of a foot to the ribs, completely disoriented. This dim, cramped room wasn't his bedchamber! Bewildered, he sat up and stared blankly at the two stormtroopers that stared back through glowering helmets.

"On your feet," the first trooper, a corporal, barked in a voice that brooked no argument.

He silently fumed as yesterday's events returned to him. Kain had demanded his arrest for treason – simply because the Emperor's pet project was taking longer than he thought it should! He swung his legs over the side of the cot and stood, glaring at the soldiers he had once commanded.

"So I'm to be executed?" he spat. "So be it. What's the method to be?"

If the corporal heard, he gave no sign. "Follow me."

They led him out of the cell and away from the detention block. All the while he wondered what his fate would be. The Republic's preferred method of execution had been lethal injection, but the Empire embraced harsher means such as electrocution, firing squads, and carnivorous beasts. If, of course, the doomed wasn't first interrogated and/or murdered by a deranged Sith. Knowing his luck, the last option would be his end.

How dare he be subjected to this, though? He'd served the Empire faithfully for fifteen years, moving from ensign to Grand Admiral over the course of his career. He'd led the Imperial Fleet to victory at the Battle of Malastare, crushed a Rebel cell on Sullust, and successfully routed a coup within the Council of Moffs. How could his services to the Empire be nullified by a simple delay and a Dark Lord's whim?

/If that's how he wants to play, then I can play his game/ Jerjerrod thought with macabre glee. /If I could escape, I could show him a thing or two… sabotage the Death Star… maybe commandeer a Stardestroyer and blast it to pieces with him aboard…/

The other trooper, a private, suddenly shoved him into a supply closet. He gave a startled shout that was promptly smothered by a gloved hand.

"Now listen closely," the corporal whispered. "I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth, and you're going to stay quiet. Understand? I have a stun gun to your back, so we can take that route if you want, but it'll be worse off for all of us."

The hand dropped. He didn't dare antagonize his captor by calling out or asking the questions that flooded his mind, but he had to wonder at this clone soldier's audacity.

"Good," the corporal noted. "Now if you want to get off this station alive, do as I say."

"Now wait a minute…" protested Jerjerrod, taken aback at this man's lack of respect.

"Ssshh!" the corporal hissed. "Unless you want our cover blown!"

"We're trying to help you," the private added. "We need your cooperation to do it, though."

Jerjerrod stared at the lower-ranking stormtrooper a moment. He knew that voice. He'd heard it before, a long time ago… but where?

"Get dressed," the corporal ordered, dropping a bulky sack that clattered loudly at his feet.

"In THIS?" demanded Jerjerrod, pulling the sack open to find a stormtrooper helmet frowning up at him.

"In that," the private replied. "Hurry."

With a great deal of misgiving he stripped off his military uniform, then zipped into the bodyglove and strapped on the various pieces of armor. The corporal looked him up and down critically and nodded once before thrusting a blaster into his arms.

"Good enough. Let's go."

Jerjerrod pulled on the helmet and followed his captors/rescuers down the hallway, trying his best to imitate the gait and posture of a stormtrooper.

/I can't see a thing/ he thought, squinting behind the inadequate lenses of the helmet. /No wonder stormtroopers can't hit the broad side of a Hutt/

No one gave the three of them a second glance, even when the corporal led them to a hangar and toward a waiting shuttle. Troopers were a common sight, and they were constantly traveling to and from this station. And if some highbrow Moff or Admiral had requested a few of them to accompany him off the Death Star, so be it.

"Get in," the corporal ordered, suiting actions to words by climbing the gangplank.

"You can't get away with stealing a shuttle!" protested Jerjerrod.

"Ha, watch us," the corporal replied.

Jerjerrod and the private climbed in. He ripped off his helmet and stared at the two creatures that occupied the pilot and co-pilot seats of the shuttle.

"Rebels," he grumbled. "Why did it have to be Rebels?"

"Oh, he says it like it's such a bad thing," the Mon Calamari woman said with a laugh, smiling at him from the pilot seat. "My name's Mela. My co-pilot is Sophronia, but we call him Rocky."

The Wookie growled something that a translation device interpreted as "You'd prefer to be called Rocky too if your idiot parents named you Sophronia."

"I'm Wedge Antilles," the fake corporal greeted, pulling off his helmet to reveal untidy black hair and a boyish face. "And for your information, you've been liberated, not by any ordinary Rebels, but the Rebellion's finest – Rogue Squadron."

He groaned as if in pain. Rogue Squadron was notorious for its hit-and-run tactics, and they had caused untold damage to the Empire.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Mela asked.

"Why me? What does the Rebellion want with me?"

"We need information," Wedge told him. "Information we can use to destroy the Death Star. And since you obviously aren't wanted by the Empire anymore, you can provide it to us without fear of too much retaliation."

Jerjerrod took a deep breath. This was the chance he'd been seeking, wasn't it? To blast this station into oblivion right in Kain's armored face? But to aid the Alliance, the organization he'd considered to be the enemy for so long…

The private, who'd remained silent all this time, spoke up at last. "This is an opportunity for you, Jerjerrod. An opportunity to gain vengeance for the loss of your position in the Empire. And an opportunity to finally strike a blow for freedom and justice in the galaxy."

Again Jerjerrod recognized that voice, but he couldn't for the life of him place it. "Who are you?"

"An old friend," he replied, sliding off his helmet.

Jerjerrod gaped… then burst out laughing. "Piett! Good stars, I haven't seen you since our days in the Senate! Where have you been?"

"Oh, around," Piett replied, sharing a friendly embrace with him.

"You know each other?" Wedge asked with an expression of pleasant surprise.

"Know each other?" Jerjerrod repeated. "We were best friends and the two most infamous pranksters in the entire Senate Guard! Oh, the stories we could tell…" He laughed easily. "But how did you end up with the Rebellion?"

"It's a long story," Piett replied. "But first we need to know your allegiances, my old friend. Will you join the Alliance?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I haven't much to go back to in the Empire. And I do have a grudge to work out."

Piett smiled. "Then welcome aboard, my friend. Now for my story…"

-

Kain entered the Emperor's throne room on the Death Star and knelt before him, waiting for his master to acknowledge his presence. Palpatine gazed out the window, hands clasped behind him, silent and brooding.

"What is it?" the dictator demanded.

"A party of Rebels has infiltrated the Death Star," he reported.

"Yes, I know," Palpatine said dismissively.

"They have liberated former Admiral Jerjerrod and are taking him with them."

"He's of no consequence. As far as I'm concerned, they can have him."

"Permission to capture and destroy the Rebels."

"Denied."

"Master, they are Rebels…"

"They are beneath my notice, apprentice. I have other needs for your services."

Kain ground his teeth angrily. His master was just going to stand there and let these traitors to the Empire go free? If Kain had his way, the Rebels would have died excruciatingly within ten minutes of their arrival.

"Patience, young one," Palpatine advised. "The Rebellion will be crushed soon enough."

/It's not the Rebellion I wish to see destroyed/ Kain thought, clenching his cybernetic hand. Hatred pulsed through his bloodstream, stoking the flames of the dark side until they threatened to consume him. Skywalker had done far more than cut off his hand that fateful day a year ago – he had torn a deep wound in his pride. And having been denied the right to kill the Jedi by his master only made the wound fester.

"You are aware, Kain, that the Skywalkers have grown powerful," Palpatine went on.

"Yes, my master." One would have to be completely Force-blind to miss that.

"Their relationship as father and son only serves to strengthen their powers," Palpatine added. "It will take both of us to turn them."

Kain knew better than to verbalize his displeasure with the plan. But didn't the Emperor know the most basic commandment of the Sith Order – "always two?" Three or more Sith would plot against each other and lead to the Order's destruction, just as the original Order had done during the Sith Wars. "Always two" ensured that there would always be a master and an apprentice – one to instruct and plan, the other to learn and obey. A third would only serve to weaken and divide the order.

"But we can take steps to ensure Luke Skywalker progresses no further into his training," Palpatine said. "To keep him growing too powerful. And you shall take action to ensure this, my apprentice."

Kain did not lift his head or otherwise acknowledge the assignment, but his breath quickened at the prospect of just such an assignment. If his master was truly granting him permission… it wouldn't be quite the same as destroying Skywalker, but it would weaken him, strike a blow that wouldn't soon heal.

"Go now," Palpatine ordered. "When you've finished your business on Dagobah, meet me on Byss. If we are to overcome the Skywalkers, we must meet them on our own territory. That way, they will be no match for us."

"Yes, my master." He stood and strode out.