Scores To Settle Chapter 12: Friendship and Foreshadow, a star wars fanfic

Chapter 12

The Millenium Falcon zoomed toward the Super Star Destroyer Executor. "Requesting permission to board ship," Han said into his com.

"Transmit security clearance code."

"Stand by, transmitting now."

Captain Ozzel was walking toward the cockpit when one of his aides stopped him. "Sir ... Lord Vader is returning to ship!"

Captain Ozzel was not surprised, but he did wish that his superior would give him a bit more time to prepare. "Allow his ship to enter, and assemble all of our troops. Code Green."

Lieutenant Piett nodded, then strode out of the room.

Captain Ozzel straightened his mustache.

Anakin Skywalker descended first off the ramp to the deck of the Executor, holding hands with his daughter. All officers on board were currently kneeling, and troops stood at attention on both sides. He was followed by Tarra Havanis, restored Jedi Knight, who was supported by the broad shoulders of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa. Han Solo stepped off the ship after them, followed by the two droids.

"Lord Vader, it is a pleasure to see you back with us," Captain Ozzel spoke, emphasizing the first couple of words

Anakin grinned, his men would never stop at calling him "Lord", and well, quite frankly, at times he enjoyed being called "His Lordship", as annoying as it was. "You may rise. All of you," he said loudly, and all officers, commissioned or not, rose from their respective positions.

Turning to Captain Ozzel, he spoke, "That one," jerking his head in Tarra's direction, "needs medical attention. See to it that she receives it immediately."

"Yes, milord," said Captain Ozzel quickly, before turning and relaying the orders. A med team swiftly moved forward, and, upon loading Tarra onto a stretcher, carried her away from the ship, into the ship medcenter.

Emperor Palpatine scowled as he made his way to his private chambers. He had counted upon Darth Petra to remain as his temporary apprentice until he had regained the control over Vader. Her unexpected loss would force him to move quickly. He knew that he would never get Petra back; she would be ingrained within the Jedi forever. Her hate and fears had been maxed out, and she was no longer the reservoir of dark energy that she had been before.

He sat down heavily onto his chair, and sighed. He was usually quicker at forming plans. But this was the first plan he had to make that was essentially an act of desperation. For there were 4 Jedi now. And only one Sith. The odds were not in his favor.

Then again, he mused, he was more than a match for them. Yoda was old, and weakening. The Sith Lord was more than a match for a nine hundred year old Jedi, regardless of how powerful that Jedi was, he knew that to be true.

Kenobi was far too predictable, every one of his moves were classic strikes and counterstrikes. Right out of the book – although this did not make him any harder to kill, it made his movements predictable. Sidious could handle that as well.

Havanis was ... reckless. As Count Dooku said earlier, before his death, "what is power without discipline?"

As for Skywalker ... Sidious' mind turned back to when he was defeated by the former Jedi, former Sith. The boy was the most powerful Jedi alive, he knew that to be true. He was ... arguably invincible, having fully recovered from his defeat at Mustafar – well, with the exception that his left arm and legs were now made of durasteel rather than human flesh – but Skywalker just might be more powerful than Sidious could ever dream to be. Not from a knowledge standpoint, but physically he was probably the most powerful Jedi ... the most powerful Sith ... ever.

And that, he decided, was the reason that Skywalker was perfect for his purposes. That was why he had no choice but to get Skywalker back on his side.

And he would do so. He had to. Although he did not particularly enjoy the fact that he had to do anything, he was perfectly confident that things would go as planned. After all, he was used to getting things his way.

"Good, Leia, good! Feel the Force!" Anakin said, encouraging his daughter. Leia was wearing a visibility-impairing helmet, swinging her small training lightsaber at little blaster bolts that were being shot by an even smaller droid.

Obi-Wan grinned at him, and he grinned back. Life could not be any better than this. He was the commander of his own super star destroyer, with his best friend and mentor, and his daughter, not to mention his two faithful droids. Although C-3PO didn't seem to remember him much – Bail Organa told him that he had the protocol droid's mind wiped. And the Emperor was dead.

Well, at least Anakin thought the Emperor was dead. That endless shaft didn't really seem very kind to a falling body.

But now that he thought about it, it was odd that nobody had even mentioned the Emperor's death. Nothing on the HoloNet. Nothing from the Empire. Nothing, even from his spies. Everything, according to his men, was running fine, as usual.

Anakin was interrupted in his thoughts with a small cough from the door. "Sir," the officer said, "The Jedi in the med-center wishes to speak with you."

Turning to Obi-Wan, Anakin shot him a apologetic look that said, "Can you watch over Leia for a bit?" and Obi-Wan understood. He had to. He and Anakin were, after all, perfect complements to each other. Perfect halves. Two sides of the same coin.

Then Anakin, his cloak whirling behind him, stepped out the room with the officer.

Tarra opened her eyes when she sensed Anakin near. The door opened and closed automatically as Anakin strode near her, leaning over her bed. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah ... I'm getting better – I'd be out of here if the doctors didn't insist I get extra rest."

"That's good."

"But I want to talk to you."

"What about?

"About why ... about why you saved me back there."

"Back where?" Anakin said, knowing where the conversation was headed.

"Don't play dumb."

"Well ... you did save my life earlier, against the Emperor."

"It's more than that. I can feel it, and so can you."

Silence reigned in the room for a few moments. Then Anakin spoke, and his voice had gone quieter a couple notches – Tarra had to sit up on her bed to hear him.

"Obi-Wan always told me ... that I'm not loyal to the Jedi Order. That I'm loyal to people. And ... that's true, you know, I realize that. Friendship means ... everything to me, Tarra. Friendship ... and love ..."

"Jedi aren't supposed to love," Tarra pointed out.

Anakin nodded sadly. "And that is why I will never truly become a Jedi. I fell to the Dark Side ... because I had to save her... I had to stop death ... and I thought that going to the Dark Side would make my dreams go away ... they didn't."

He paused, and somehow realized that he was wallowing in his grief again – he had gone off on a tangent. "Anyway ... I think the reason I saved you is because –"

"You have compassion?"

Anakin shook his head. "Not compassion. It's ... a reverence for life. Obi-Wan told me the same thing, back in Mustafar. It's ... respect, for the girl – the woman – you were, before you became a Sith."

Tarra's eyes shone with tears. "That's so ... thank you." Then her eyes shifted. "Mustafar?"

Anakin's eyes went dark.

"I'm sorry—" Tarra said quickly, but Anakin shook his head.

"No," he said. "I'm the one that's sorry. I'm sorry for what I did ... I can never undo ... the fall of the Jedi ... but I promise you I will do everything in my power to make things the way they used to be."

His face had a wistful look to them. The look of a pain that has been in him for too long.

Tarra looked at Anakin in awe. How had this man survived the pain of falling to the dark side, the pain of hurting all those close to him ... and yet still as powerful as he could be? How had ... Tarra searched her feelings, looked through those crystal blue eyes of Anakin and saw ...

... "an Angel ..."

Anakin turned sharply. "What did you say?"

Tarra did not answer, but closed her eyes and sank back to her pillow.

Anakin frowned inwardly. He could have sworn Tarra had just said "Angel." His angel. His Padme.

And he stood there for a long time afterwards, battling with his emotions. He didn't know it then, but at that moment, not 3 meters from him, Tarra Havanis fought a similar battle.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan's voice called out through his comlink. "Meeting in room 503, at 0600 hours. See you there."

Anakin picked up his comlink, and whispered, "See you," into it.

At 0559 hours, Anakin Skywalker, with his black robes billowing behind him, strode quickly into conference room.

"You're early, for once."

Anakin grinned. "Hey, I wasn't always late."

"Oh, yes you were. You were late for every meeting, and just about half the missions, as well."

"Was not! That business at Cato Nemoidia doesn't count! I told you, droids held me back, I had to fight them off before I could –"

"You can explain later. We're going to begin now, everyone's here."

Anakin chuckled again, feeling genuinely at ease with his former master. Life now was so different than it had been during the war. In a way, it was better. There were no tensions, no trying to figure out where loyalties lie ... he hated to say it, but he liked life a lot better now than he did before he fell to the Dark Side. There were just too many politics and corruption in that galaxy, he couldn't stand it.

"... so I propose that we send a spy to the Death Star. Any volunteers?"

Anakin snapped to attention. "What?"

Captain Ozzel calmly turned to Anakin and repeated what he had just said. "We need more information if we are to stop the Empire. We need to know the Death Star's weaknesses. We need to know if the Emperor's really dead. So I suggest we send a spy there ... and do please try to pay attention next time."

At Anakin's harsh gaze, the captain of the Executor hastily added a "sir" to his statement.

Anakin stood up from his seat.

"No."

Obi-Wan was perplexed. "No what?"

"We're not going to send a spy."

"What? Why not?

"Because the Emperor will know. You can't use spies against the Emperor. He knows. Our deepest thoughts are to him apparent. We need someone, or something that will display no emotion whatsoever."

"But only leaves us with –"

"Two choices. We can send the Jedi. Me, Obi-Wan, or Tarra, it doesn't really matter at this point. Now, since I am the leader of this—"

"No, Anakin, it's too risky and you know it. Don't let your hatred for Palpatine mess up everything."

Anakin growled, but relented. Obi-Wan was, as usual, right. "Fine. The second option ... is to send a droid."

All eyes swiveled to C-3PO on the spot.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, dear."

For the next two weeks, Anakin shut himself in the maintenance room, working on his golden droid. Of course, the golden armor wouldn't do, and they were replaced with Storm trooper uniforms. That droid was all that was on Anakin's mind for a long time.

And Anakin was all that was in Tarra's mind.

Tarra watched from a distance as Anakin worked, now and then popping her head through the door to offer food or help. Each time, Anakin would grin at her, say "thanks, but no thanks," and she would leave, coming back at another time. It worked like clockwork. Everyday. Perhaps ... perhaps today would be different. That was what she said to herself every time she tried.

"Anakin ... I brought you some food."

"Thanks, Tarra ... just set it over there, I'll get to it when I'm done."

"Honestly ... can't you take a break? That droid is all you've been working on for the past week!"

"Two," came the nonchalant reply.

"You are impossible!"

Anakin's head poked out from inside the droid he was working on – what used to be C-3PO. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. He put down his tools and sat down next to where Tarra was. "Was there something ... you wanted?"

Tarra looked at the ground. She hadn't expected Anakin to actually talk to her this time – she just kind of went with the routine. "I ..." she started, then ended.

"What is it?" Anakin asked, concern etched on his face. "Spit it out."

"I ..." Tarra started, then changed her mind. "I hope you enjoy the food."

With that she ran top speed out of the room, leaving a very confused Anakin with his ... uh ... food, and a half functioning droid. It kept twitching.

This is how it feels to be C-3PO. That is, if a droid could really feel. But C-3PO was designed to be as human as droidly possible, anyway.

Your optical lenses lighten and focus. But something's wrong.

Your world is blocked by a shade of gray. You lift your arms, wiggle your fingers. Things still work.

"Well, Threepio," a voice asks, "How are you?"

"Master Anakin," you try to say. But it is not your voice that speaks.

"Commander," a rough voice echos in your head. What? That wasn't what you said!

"Master Anakin, I don't think is a good idea," you attempt to speak again.

"Commander," the voice says. Nothing more.

"Hello, Threepio," Anakin grinned. "How do you like your new body?"

Hello, I – you stop as you realize your right arm is reflexively jerked upwards to your head in a salute position. "Sir, yes, sir!" you call out.

Oh, but this is all wrong! You think, not even bothering to try to speak now. Anakin's grin was undecipherable. "Yeah, you got it right, Threepio," he said, laughing. "Don't say anything, and you'll be safe. Now all that remains as a problem is how to get you on the Death Star."

That didn't sound remotely safe at all.

Oh dear.

A/N: End of chapter 12. Read and Review. I felt I needed some comedy in here, so I brought in Threepio for a chapter or two, until ... well, you'll find out won't you? Personally, I think Anakin's not very nice to send Threepio into the Death Star, but hey, that's his decision. I don't think he's that cruel, though, he'll probably copy C-3PO's memory files and store them somewhere safe until that ol' protocol droid gets back, if he gets back. As for the developing Tarra-Anakin "relationship" if you can call it that ... it doesn't seem much, and I don't plan on making it develop anytime soon, but all the same it's an important relationship, one that affects the course of history.