Chapter 12
The Falcon and its accompanying Rebel shuttle touched down a hundred meters from the ruins of the Sith fortress. Almost before the gangplanks could be fully lowered, search parties poured from both ships and sped toward the destroyed building. Luke and Vader were both very popular among the members of the Alliance, and hundreds had volunteered to accompany Han and Leia to Byss to rescue the two men.
En route to the ruins, Piett heard a plaintive mechanical whimper, and he halted a moment to aid two astromechs in getting to their feet. One of the greatest weaknesses an R2 unit possessed was that, once they fell down, it was almost impossible for them to get back up without aid.
"Whatever happened to you two?" he asked, not really expecting an answer he could understand.
The first droid, a jet-black unit, gave a shuddering drone, as if it had just experienced something incredibly traumatic. The second, a blue and white unit, didn't answer but shot toward the ruins, intent on helping in their search for its missing master.
"That's odd," noted Piett aloud, watching the astromech go. "I've never seen such devotion in a droid before."
"Yes, but we came here to rescue the Skywalkers, not droids," Jerjerrod told him, stepping aside to let a heavy labor droid go by. "Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader's son… who would have guessed?"
"Who would have guessed we would be joining the Rebel Fleet and flying a B-wing against the Death Star someday?" Piett retorted.
"True," Jerjerrod acknowledged. "I… must thank you… for convincing me to go with you."
"No problem, old friend," Piett replied.
They stepped out from behind the Skywalker's fighters and stared a moment at the remains of the fortress, awed. Though neither man could lay a claim to any Force sensitivity, they were still struck by the profound feeling that a great evil lay dead here, like a slain dragon or a toppled statue after a revolt. Remnants of one wall stood starkly against the scarlet-gold of sunrise, a ragged tombstone. Support beams and pillars jutted from the broken rock like shattered, exposed ribs. Here and there the rising sun caught a fragment of metal or crimson crystal, making the ruins glitter with scarlet like pools of blood. If the two men had harbored any doubt that the Empire was dead, it was erased now.
"Well," Jerjerrod said with a nonchalance he certainly didn't feel, "not going to do any good just standing around, are we?" He clapped Piett's shoulder and strode toward the collapsed fortress.
Piett shook his head and walked after Jerjerrod. "I can't believe we used to serve… this."
"I know," Jerjerrod replied. "But we fight for a better cause now."
The blue astromech halted and squealed for their attention, rocking back and forth.
"What is it…" began Piett, but then he spotted what the droid had found. He thumbed on his comm unit. "We've got a body here! Darth Kain, negative life signs. It must have been thrown clear of the fortress by the explosion."
Jerjerrod stared at the Sith's corpse, stunned. A mere week ago he had thought it impossible for Kain to be killed. To see his dead body now… it was almost more of a shock than watching the Death Star explode.
"Keep searching," Piett advised his friend. "Just because he's gone doesn't mean we're quit of our obligation to find Luke and Vader."
"Let's just hope they're in better shape than him," Jerjerrod muttered.
Break…
"I'm getting life readings in this quadrant," announced Wedge, looking up from his handheld scanner. "Pretty strong too."
Rogue Squadron fanned out, searching the area. They kept on their toes; High Command had impressed upon them that if Luke and Vader could survive the destruction, there was a good chance the Emperor may also be still alive.
"Wedge!" shouted Janson. "I found something!"
"What is it?" asked Wedge, jogging over to where his friend stood, careful to avoid tripping over the jagged rubble and injuring himself.
Janson gestured gravely.
Wedge suppressed the urge to gag. A body had been uncovered by one of the labor droids, but it was so badly charred it was unrecognizable.
"You don't think…" Janson said worriedly.
"It can't be," Wedge insisted, bending down to search the corpse. "It's definitely not Vader, it's too short… yes!" He pried a lightsaber out of the scorched fingers and flicked it in. "Red blade, for one thing, and it's not designed like Luke's. It's the Emperor!"
Janson's smile was more of relief than of joy. "Then he's really dead. It's finally over."
"Wedge, we found him!" came Ar'ya's shout. "Drache and I found Luke! He's going to be okay!"
They turned to see the two women carefully lift their unconscious Commander onto a stretcher. A rush of relief flooded his veins. Luke was injured, but not seriously. He'd make a full recovery.
"Any sign of Vader yet?" he asked.
"Not yet," replied Drache.
Wedge kept walking, sweeping his scanner back and forth. All the volunteers scouring the ruins made it difficult to make an accurate reading of the area. He just hoped he would be able to recognize Vader's signal and not walk right past him.
He gave a little chuckle as he kept going. It had been Leia who had informed the Alliance that Vader was Luke's father… and hers. Years ago he would not have thought such a thing possible. But then, much had changed since then…
His scanner chimed again. The instrument had detected a life form deep beneath the rubble – a faint signal, but still a signal.
He dropped the scanner and began clawing at the rock beneath him, forgetting to don his gloves in his haste. His hands were soon scratched and bloody with his efforts, but he refused to slow down. His frantic efforts soon attracted the attentions of others.
"Wedge!" Leia exclaimed, stooping beside him and helping him roll back a particularly large boulder.
"Your Highness, don't hurt yourself…" Wedge advised.
"My father's under there!" she replied fiercely.
More volunteers joined him – Han, Chewbacca, Forenze, Zev, Rocky, Mela, and others. At last Han and Ar'ya lifted a battered slab of steel floor plating to reveal Vader's body from the chest up.
Wedge inhaled sharply. Vader's mask was badly damaged. His breath was little more than a weak wheeze, and his neck was bent at an odd angle. He felt sick at the sight. How under the stars had he managed to survive this long? By all odds, he should have been dead hours ago.
Forenze was the first to act, kneeling at the Second Commander's side and fitting a neck brace over his throat.
"Get the med squad, Antilles," she ordered roughly. "I don't want him moved any more than absolutely necessary."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied.
Break…
Luke had wanted to be there at his father's side while he was undergoing treatment, but Forenze wouldn't allow it. She understood his concern, but she couldn't permit any unauthorized personnel in the operating room. She did promise him the opportunity to visit him the moment they had him stabilized.
He'd spent the last four days in the guest lounge of the medical cruiser, his head bandaged and his left arm in a sling. The staff called him lucky – the concussion and broken limb had been his worst injuries. But Luke would have gladly traded positions with his father. Vader had undergone enough physical damage in his life. He didn't need this on top of it all.
Han and Leia had spent much of the time in here with Luke, with Chewie and the Rogues stopping by occasionally to talk or bring meals. Little was said – but there was little to say anyway.
The morning of the fifth day of their vigil, Forenze emerged from the medbay, looking exhausted. The audience in the lounge consisted of Luke, Han, Leia, Chewie, and Mon Mothma, who had stopped by to offer her condolences for the Skywalker's ordeal.
"How is he?" asked Luke hesitantly.
She tried to evade the question. "Not good."
"Spit it out, birdbeak," Han advised. "How good's not good?"
She gave Luke a look of profound sympathy, and he immediately wished Han had not pressed the issue. Forenze was not without compassion – far from it – but neither was she given to instilling false hope in her patients or their families. She spoke with blunt and even brutal honesty, and when asked a patient's condition, she wasted no breath on sugar-coated half-truths or outlandish predictions.
"He's paralyzed from the shoulders down."
Luke collapsed on himself, doubling over and shaking with emotion. How could this have happened? He'd tried to protect his father during the explosion… yet he'd somehow fallen out of the protective shield. And now, he was almost worse than dead.
Leia embraced him tightly, tears flowing down her face. He leaned against her, taking some strength from her presence.
"What can you do for him?" asked Mothma quietly.
"He's suffered massive internal trauma in addition to the neck fracture," Forenze replied gravely. "We'll have to treat those injuries first – and they're pretty damned serious. Once he's out of danger, we'll begin physical therapy. He may retain some use of his hands."
"Will he walk?" asked Leia.
Forenze took a deep breath. "That remains to be seen. Part of that depends on how severely damaged his spinal cord was. The body cannot regenerate lost nerve cells, and we have yet to successfully clone or regenerate nerve tissue. But if the spinal cord wasn't torn too badly, he might retain some control over his limbs." She closed her eyes. "But to be perfectly honest, I don't think he'll ever walk again."
"Don't say that," Han snapped. "He'll lick this! He's licked everything else that's come his way! He always has! You're a doctor, can't you do something to fix him?"
"There's nothing more I can do, Solo," she replied firmly. "Nothing. I. Can. Do. If there were a treatment option open to us, however risky, I'd pursue it. But there isn't." Her voice softened. "You can go see him now, Luke, but I advise against it. He looks pretty bad."
"I don't care," Luke replied hoarsely, getting to his feet. "I have to see him."
"I'm going with him," Leia added, taking Luke's hand.
"Typical Skywalkers," muttered Forenze. "Follow me."
Forenze had been correct in saying Vader looked bad, but that still left Luke unprepared for what he saw. Vader was maskless, motionless, surrounded by so many monitors there was hardly room for Luke and Leia to sit by his side. His face, naked to the world for the first time in so many years, was white and sickly, with dark eye sockets and deep, disfiguring scars marring the features. A small oxygen mask and breathing tube, a fragile-looking lifeline, obscured his mouth. His scarred body was streaked with new burns inflicted by Kain's lightsaber and Force lightning. Leia gasped in shock and sympathy. Fresh tears flowed from Luke's eyes upon seeing his father, looking so weak, so helpless…
"Mask was pretty much shot," Forenze said in her gruffest voice, which meant the sight cut her as deeply as it did the others. "We'll work on a replacement." She turned away. "Stang, there should be a law keeping doctors from treating their friends…"
The door shut, leaving Luke and Leia alone with their father.
/Children./ Their father's touch in the Force felt exhausted, filled with pain, yet grateful for their presence.
/Father…/ Luke fell to his knees beside the bed and clutched one limp hand, sobbing. /This is my fault/
/Don't talk that way, my son/ Vader chided. /This is none of your doing./
/If I hadn't gone back to the Archives…/ Luke protested. /If I hadn't left you alone with the Emperor… if I'd helped you face him down…/
/How could you have not gone, son? You forgave Fett of his crimes. He is redeemed. And if you hadn't been there, you would not have obtained the Holocron – and the means of protecting yourself from the self-destruct. We would have both died./
Leia took his other hand. /I wish I could have been there with you two. I might have been able to help…/
/My sweet Leia, there is nothing that you could have done. And Luke, please stop torturing yourself over this. This is not your fault. Not. Your. Fault. If it's anyone's, it's mine. I should have known that zombie had one more trick up his sleeve./
/Father…/ Luke struggled with what he had to tell Vader. /Forenze says you're paralyzed. She says you'll probably never walk again./
/Yes, I gathered that./ A deep stab of pain, fear, sorrow. Then a sense of acceptance. /But I shall just have to learn to adapt, won't I/
Luke felt a peculiar sensation around his hand, and he looked down. His father's hand was closing slowly around his – just barely, but the movement was there. Beads of sweat stood out on his father's pale skin with the effort, but Luke couldn't have been happier than if he'd just lifted a Dreadnaught.
/I have my children/ Vader said with a burning pride that warmed them all. /That's all I need to be happy./
/Father, I love you/ Leia sent.
/Me too/ added Luke.
/I love you, my children. Now let me rest. I'll need my strength to recover./
/Please, let us stay here/ Luke pleaded.
A mental laugh. /Very well. I could use the company./
For the longest time Luke knelt at his father's side, holding his hand, weeping silently. He didn't care what tomorrow brought, what challenges they would face. All that mattered now was being in his father's presence, imparting a silent hope. If there was any way for Vader to walk again, he was sure he'd find it. After all, they'd accomplished the impossible before.
It may have been the heat in the room, or it may have been that Vader's fatigue was somehow mentally transferred to his children. Whatever the reason, eventually first Leia, then Luke, dropped into a doze.
Break…
Luke blinked, puzzled. The light in the med center hadn't been this bright before…
"Luke?"
He turned. "Leia, what is it?"
She looked bewildered. "Where are we?"
"That's a good question."
They were in a chamber reminiscent of a courtroom, paneled in a pale honey-colored wood and suffused with an ethereal light. There was no witness stand or jury box, and the judge's seat was positioned lower than in a normal courtroom. At the moment they were alone, but the murmur of voices indicated that others would soon be entering.
"It's okay," Luke told Leia. "This happened to Father and I once. We shared a vision in the Force through a dream."
The doors swung open, and two familiar figures entered – Qui-gon Jinn… and a lovely woman that Luke remembered only from the faintest of memories.
"Mother?" Leia breathed.
Padme looked up at Qui-gon as if asking permission. He nodded and indicated she could go, and she ran to close the gap between them, hugging Luke to her and crying.
"Luke," she sobbed. "You've grown so much."
Tears fell down his cheeks as he returned the embrace. "Mom…"
Qui-gon allowed the three of them a few minutes for a tearful reunion before he interrupted. "I'm glad you have come, Luke and Leia. But I'm sorry you have to see this."
"See what?" asked Leia.
The doors opened again, and robed figures trickled into the room, talking softly amongst themselves.
/Jedi/ thought Luke with a twinge of alarm – why, he wasn't sure.
A dark-skinned Jedi with a shiny bald head stepped up to the judge's seat, not even glancing at Luke and Leia. Other Jedi passing by gave Luke strange expressions – pride shone in some faces, while others looked at him with suspicion or even outright disgust. He wondered if his and his father's alteration of the Code had ruffled a few feathers.
"Order in the court!" barked a young Jedi Knight, a Tusken, who seemed to be acting as bailiff. "Jedi Master Mace Windu presiding. Everyone please be seated. That includes you too," he added, gesturing toward Luke and Leia.
They took a seat on either side of their mother, with Qui-gon having a seat nearby. Luke was surprised to note Obi-wan and Yoda's presences as well, though they sat a few seats over, conferring between themselves.
"We all know why this meeting has been convened," Mace Windu stated smoothly, letting his brown-eyed gaze sweep the room. "To discuss the actions of Anakin Skywalker, both his crimes against the Order and the galaxy in general and his efforts to correct his damages, and to decide on an appropriate penalty, if applicable." He nodded toward the bailiff. "Bring him in."
Shocked, Luke and Leia turned to look at the doors. The Tusken Jedi strode to the back of the room and escorted a robed man to the front. Luke couldn't take his eyes off the man, an older, sadder, more mature version of himself, who walked with a resolute step and kept his gaze leveled forward at nothing in particular. There was a heavy expression on his face, the expression of one who knew he was about to be heavily punished but was determined to face it bravely.
Luke's gut clenched painfully.
Anakin was on trial.