Chapter 3
Entrance
Author's Note: I'm not one to usually add things before chapters (such as this)… but this is important. For everyone who is interested in seeing this story through (and I will have you know that it will be long, and I promise more engaging once I get the boring shit over with) I want to account for any problems with the next few chapters I may update. I am fighting depression at the moment, and even writing, which I love to do, has been a pull for me lately. And, I wanted to apologize for any lack of substance the following chapters may hold. I'm trying my best… and hopefully I'll be back on my feet in a few weeks. Cheers.
He was weightless. It was the strangest feeling – he tried extending his hand, but couldn't feel much more than a mild vibrating. But it was pleasing, and he sighed, letting the slightly shifting air engulf his tired body.
Obi-Wan felt himself moving, following a gentle path that gently nudged him further, and he let the current take him, the pleasant feeling running through his fingers and hugging his skin.
Carefully, he opened his eyes, struck with the cool moist atmosphere and clear white lights that twinkled and moved all around him. The edge of his vision was fuzzy and black, but as he blinked slowly, it cleared.
Obi-Wan, yet again, raised a hand, and spread his fingers in front of him. This time, he was able to see his bright skin, and happiness spread over him.
Slowly, he tried to walk, and felt as if he was gliding through the misty white Force, the benevolent and selfless power around him pulsing gently. He had been walking until he reached what felt like soft grass beneath his feet, and he looked up – through the shimming Force saw the true Jedi Temple – erected in the core of The Force, standing proud and munificent.
Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed, contentedly for the first time in a long time – He was home.
Anakin was laying, restless, on his bed, staring at the dark ceiling, a thin slits of light filtering in through the shades and cutting strips of light across his body. He took a deep shuddering breath – feeling his still healing body twinge at the movement of his chest heaving.
Anakin closed his eyes against the light, pain still tweaking his body and pinching his muscles. It hurt to breathe, both emotionally and physically, the pain in his charred throat a reminder of what he had done – and the rasp as he exhaled a shadow of his hardened resolve. The tainted whisper of Darth Vader.
Slowly, he opened his eyes once more, his vision slightly blurred and he glanced across the room, head moving to the side – and his gaze fell on the top of the dresser – and a malevolent light saver that was illuminated by a slat of light.
Painfully, Darth Vader stretched his arm in front of him, and summoned the weapon to his hand, feeling its power coursing through him as it ignited, the red blade whirring to life and swishing through the air with a familiar buzz as Anakin moved his wrist and let it cut through the air.
The glow of his new lightsaber put a red sheen on his now waxen skin – the color that had given life to his features drained from the physical sickness he had endured as well as the suppressant dark side. As he followed the deadly fluorescent weapon, his hand tightened on the hilt, and he quickened his movements, the light hum of its power creating a rhythm with each rasping breath of Anakin – his lungs releasing air with a low and labored wheeze.
And it was painful. Every movement he made – except for the circular movements of his wrist – sent tiny needles of pain through his joints and muscles. The aftermath of his duel with Obi-Wan still tormented his body, not for a minute letting him forget it. And with each tinny pain a corresponding wave of despair and hate blanketed him like a suffocating cloud of anger. He had sat with his new master, trying desperately to harness the dark side – to force himself to focus this anger, but the pain he had endured was too great.
Restless and alone, Anakin sat up, gasping with a hard hiss and clutching his bruised rib cage. The pain was excruciating once again, and he put his head in his hands letting the waft of pain subside before opening his bleary eyes once more, and standing up with wobbly legs. He delicately placed his lightsaber in his belt, and raised two fingers, pushing the door to the cell-like room open with a metallic buzz and walking into the hall, the Clone forces that inhibited the corridors of the Empire's Star Destroyer parting to let him pass.
"Lord Vader," one of the metallic voices of a Clone trooper said behind him, and Anakin sighed, turning around and looking into one of the white helmets of the new age Imperial Storm Troopers.
"Yes, General," Anakin replied impatiently, feeling the twinge of his nerve from turning around too sharply.
"The Emperor," he said, and Anakin winced, "says that you are to be kept on the ship."
"And why is this?" Skywalker returned, irritated, "he cannot keep me here."
"The new emperor," the Storm Trooper general said pointedly, "can request what he wants. Do not forget that you are under him."
Anger surged through Anakin once more, and his hands, now under his robes, clenched into fists. He would soon see… he would soon see.
"Yes," Anakin said as calmly as possible, but focusing the anger, as his foolish master had taught him, into writhing and unbridled power, "but you are not."
Anakin thrust his hand forward, and clenched it in the air, hearing the Storm Trooper's breath release from his lungs with a gasp. The other troops had trickled from the corridor, so he was alone with the Storm Trooper who was vainly clawing at his throat, rasping as Anakin force choked him, slowly constricting further around his windpipe, and collapsing his lungs.
Through the force, Anakin was feeling the spark of life from the Clone's spirit slowly flicker, like a candle in the wind, until it went out. Anakin released him, and with a clash of the uniform on the ship's floor.
Anakin was breathing hard again, the rasp echoing around the hall, and an image of Padme flashed in his mind – the remind her of what he had done. Anakin backed up slowly and hit the wall, putting his head in his hands once again, breathing hard and feeling the acrid leather of his glove reach his nose.
Slowly, and on shaking limbs, once more, Anakin stumbled down the hallway.
Cold sweat beading on his forehead, and his whole body was shaking from exhaustion – it was if he had run the full length of the Star Destroyer. He reached the hangar, and pounded on one of the control panels, opening the hangar doors to get ready for his departure.
Anakin looked around, his eyes tired, but his old Jedi Starship – although it was still in the hangar bed - beaten and broken. And surely, if he were to drive it, he would be shot down by bounty hunters or unknowing Imperial Troops.
"Damn it," Anakin muttered under his breath, looking around. He closed his eyes, a wave of nausea hitting him and he stumbled backward. But what he felt made his heart stop.
He looked around. About four dozen troopers were making their way toward the hangar… he couldn't see them, but he could feel it. Was his master really trying to stop him? For an unknown reason, Anakin felt panic. Would Palpatine really try something? He was treacherous… it was his plan to commit treason, was it not? Why couldn't Palpatine be doing the same…
"No," he said to himself, but he had to get out of there. Clear his head.
He stumbled forward, feeling his outfit weighing down on him again, and flinching at the noise his heavy jackboots made on the steel floors, but luckily he made it to one of the sigh starfighters before the troopers made it to the hangar.
Skywalker prompted the ship open with the Force and leapt inside, pulling levers ruthlessly and hitting a variety of buttons before resting his hand on the blaster trigger. For good measure.
"Anakin," a familiar voice said from behind him, and Anakin jumped. There was no time he could get back in time.
"Anakin," a distressed Palpatine said again, striding quickly across the hangar, and followed by several blaster wielding storm troopers.
"You are not thinking clearly," the emperor said gently, but his damaged vocals still settling eerily on the air, "Anakin you are angry. Very angry, and I understand. Please, let me help you."
After a moment of indecision, Anakin turned, looking at Palpatine with wide, now reddened and bloodshot eyes, "I will be back, my master. I give you my word."
"Stun him," Anakin heard one of the muttered voices of the troops, but it was too late. Anakin has lowered the hatch, and started the engine, the Imperial Fighter lifting from the ground and shooting off across the hangar.
Anakin, not used to this ship, felt it tip slightly, before leveling off. One of the troopers had triggered the door to the hangar, and, with corresponding 'ka-thunks,' as he raced toward the quickly shrinking opening.
"Shit, shit, shit," he repeated, scared that he wouldn't make it. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to clear it, Anakin tipped the ship completely on its side, relieved that he hadn't eaten anything that day.
Anakin tore out of the ship, a shower of sparks and a sickening crunch resonating through the hangar as the wings of the ship grazed the closing door.
Darth Vader cursed again, realizing that he didn't have a Droid on board and feeling his heart sink further, but his resolve hardened tenfold. After a moment of indecision, Anakin pressed some coordinates in his navigation computer, and prepared to make the leap into hyperspace, hoping he was going in the right direction. But it was too late now.
Star Wars does not belong to me… but the wonderful George Lucas and all the other people that built upon his galaxy. Thanks for letting me mess around with them for a while.