' Tabula Rasa' (Chapter Twelve)
By Ennon
A/N- OK, I'm sorry about all the sad and depressing stuff in the last chap but I beg my loyal readers to hang on through this one (at least) and I welcome any newcomers willing to give this a chance. Here's some individual responses to the most recent reviewers:
Raijan(#11)- Yep, Anakin's existence as per the end of Chap. #11 is quite hideous at that (and this is the 2nd time you've used a diety's name to express your shock and angst). I'm not saying how now but do you really think I'd have gone to the trouble of writing 11 chapters if I'd wanted Anakin to end up like that PERMANENTLY?
Swspacecadet(#4)- Yes, I apologize for the losses there and the sadness but this often happens when innocents are attacked. You've been a good, loyal reader (and reviewer ) and I appreciate you going through these emotions for the story's sake!
Huzah (#3)- Thanks for not thinking this is lame.Truly. I've already read the Star Wars novelizations and this is the feel I've gotten for the storylines and reactions, thank you. As I said to the reader you agreed with, we each can decide for ourselves how we interpret the characters and (I've done my best to characterize them and their speech patterns as close as possible to what I think they'd do in these situations). Apart from the Kamino comeback pool scene with Han, I think I had Anakin BE serious here overall. Sorry, if Anakin reacting to having his armor removed, having Han really dis him, getting new limbs, confronting how badly Palpatine used him, apologizing to his late mother for his actions as Vader wasn't showing Anakin being serious enough for you but I did what I thought was my best here! I'll be nice and not consider your belief that this feels like 'a children's movie or sitcom' to be a put-down. BTW, have you read some of the Rated K stuff in this fanfic category? I think some of them are FAR more like sitcoms or children's movies! Well, glad you're not insulting my story and think it's cute so I hope you can stand the chaps after this one but if not, there are plenty of majorly depressing and dark fics on this site you might prefer!
WTF(#11)- That stands for 'What Terrific Fanfiction', right? LOL. Yeah, heads exploding are rather graphic but that sort of thing DOES happen when innocents are attacked in war and/or by marauders (e.g. read the descriptions of what happens to fallen in the Battle of Armageddon in the Book of Revelations- it's not pretty). Slaughter of innocents is horrible but something we must contend with as reality to deal with to try to minimize if not end! I'm sorry you didn't like that but if you want to hang on, I hope you like the future chaps.
Madame Opera Ghost (#4)- THANK YOU for loving this story and considering it the best. Believe me, it felt FANTASTIC to read your kind words! I hope you like the rest of this fanfic!
CHAPTER BEGINS
In the year 718AY, the Mong marauders (who appeared to look similar to Jabba's warhog guards but with grey skin and dozens of small spiky horns on their heads) had taken the quadrillions of sentient beings from the Corcuscant Galaxy back to their own Quechu-Mong Galaxy 3 million light years (and 1 month via hyperspace) away-having rendered them to be slaves without memories or voices. The Coruscant Galaxy was left completely void of sentient beings with the last stragglers and hiders routed out in a mere five years. Among these tragic groups was the one who had once been known as Anakin Skywalker but was now merely known as N7- the last two digits of a 14-digit combination of Quechu letters and numbers that every single man, woman and child human slave had had lasered onto their shaven scalps upon being captured.
N7's first memory was of being shaven and he thought he remembered that during that earliest memory it wasn't mere stubble but neck-length hair that had tumbled from the sheers that first time. However; every time he tried to remember, he'd get excruciating headaches that rendered him violently nauseated and he'd lose the tasteless but nourishing meal the commissary had fed him before and after his dozens of hours of quarry work. N7 and the others slept out in the open in all climes and temperatures directly on the broken, jagged rocks they had mined for the few hours their captors grudgingly allowed them at the end of the workday- the entire time having to listen to the tedious sounds of more stones being broken by other slaves. Every single day fit this pattern without the slightest variation-unless the captors decided to transfer slaves to other planets. Then, their neck collars would be bolted to the ships' hold walls and they'd be forced to stand upright the entire time until they'd reach the intended destinations. N7 couldn't speak nor could any of the other Coruscant Galactic slaves (derisively called 'Scants' by the Mong) but he was quickly able to learn not just the commands the Mongs expected the Scants to learn if they were to exist another day- but also the rest of their vocabulary when they thought he and the other slaves were too busy and/or stupid to listen. N7 was careful not to pause in his rock smashing or even look in their directions while the Mongs talked but something told him that he was meant for better things than being a slave. What these might be. .and even if there was any kind of existence for him outside the Quechu-Mong quarries was unclear to N7 but he wordlessly came to believe this.
Rov-Prawj, the local Mong breeder saw N7 hammering the large rock fragments into much smaller fragments than his fellow slaves and decided to talk with the foreman Vor-Bladj (in the Mong language which will be translated for the reader from this point on)
"His strength and stamina is quite astonishing!" Rov-Prawj gasped.
"Better than any other Scant human and even most Wookiee slaves we've used over the decades," Vor Bladj replied.
"And you say he's HOW old?" Rov-Prawj asked.
"He was a youngadult when he was brought from the Scant Galaxy. That's all we know," Vor Bladj shrugged.
"But other Scant human slaves who were adults and even younger appear far older and worn out than he. Are you sure that scan of him being fitted for the collar was taken 20 years ago?" Rov-Prawj asked.
"How many times do we have to go over this? All data indicates that he was brought from the Scant Galaxy immediately after the Invasion as a young adult male,"Vor Bladj groaned.
"So why are you reluctant to. ..?" Rov-Prawj asked.
"Look at how he braces the others when they stumble. He often carries the quotas of several others with his own," Vor Bladj sneered.
"That strength, endurance and extended youth could be helpful to the program," Rov-Prawj pleaded.
"But this quarry has others with strength and endurance you could use," Vor Bladj sighed.
"None close to N7's! And he's taken on no diseases or either I've been told," Rov-Prawj beamed.
"No but I think what you have in mind could cause problems," Vor Bladj groaned.
"Problems? These Scant slaves have proven to been more feeble than any others we've taken in centuries. Already their numbers are down by half! If we don't breed more like N7,our forcescould be compelled to invade another galaxy in as brief a time as another century," Rov-Prawj insisted.
"But I tell you, I've seen the looks N7 has given and they're as close to defiant as we can allow without termination," Vor Bladj countered while shaking his Obediance Rod.
"He does the work of quite many and has made no attempt to escape. What else can we want from future slaves?" Rov-Prawj asked.
"Very well, but be warned. I've heard him make guttural sounds after being beaten," Vor Bladj sighed.
"Gutteral sounds? I thought we'd wiped out memories of how to speak. Are you sure he's not just trying to mimic our commands?" Rov-Prawj asked.
"Perhaps. .. and since his welts heal almost instantly, that would likely help in his offspring's endurance as our slaves. You have a deal," Vor Bladj reluctantly pondered as he spat into Rov-Prawj's open mouth to finalize it.
"It's tough work dealing with these savages but the Quechus give us reward enough," Rov-Prawj sniffed.
" I hope N7 satisfies you as a chosen one," Vor Bladj grunted.
N7 was taken to another planet within the month where another quarry existed but this time, there was a difference. He and the other male human slaves were led to the commissary quarters where female slaves who had been selected for breeding had been chained to the floor.
Immediately, N7 started tugging at the chains of one of the females to break her free- only to be stunned into a frozen position.
"Awh. ..uhhh- ah- ay!" N7 snarled- even though an excruciatingly nauseating headache flared up at that moment.
"You are to BREED with this female and consent on either of your parts is irrelevant," Rov-Prawj commanded.
N7 sniffed through his nostrils a bit and then looked back to him.
"Awh.. . uhhh- ah- ay!"N7 snarled again while clutching his head.
"Just DO it! We can tell you're willing and able and she won't survive the day unless she's impregnated by you!" Rov-Prawj sneered as he pointed to the shaven-headed human slave woman called B9 who was about 19 years of age (and had been born as a slave).
B9 raised her right hand and nodded while grunting her consent.
N7 groaned again but then somehow could hear the sound of a woman's loving laughter and could smell the vague scent of roses. Laughter and flowers were something completely alien to everyone in the Quechu-Mong Galaxy but N7 somehow could hear and smell these things- even though the shaven-headed slave woman he was slated to mate with had neither characteristic about her. The pain of these odd emotions were almost as horrific as those excruciating headaches when he felt as though there may have been a life before . . .
Still, he clutched his head and used that scent and the laughter of unknown origin to inspire him to be as tender as possible while he did the deed the Mong breeder had ordered them to do. Consent of any kind for any slave wasn't even the remotest possibility but N7 decided right then and there that he was going to make the task as pleasant as possible for the females he was slated to be with between the time in the quarry.
Every time he was to mate the sound of that loving laughter of unknown origin and the scent of roses increased while the intensity of the headaches decreased. Then came the day when B9 (the first female he'd mated with) gave birth. She cried guttural sounds in pain and he somehow could sense it even though he was nowhere near where the sound should be- and was in a sound sleep. Thankfully, the quarry masters were too busy breaking up a fight between two other slaves to notice N7 was missing from his spot on the quarry ground where he'd been ordered to sleep- and he made pulled apart the metal fence to reach the commissary where B9 was on the ground giving birth and he wordlessly held her hand then bit off their healthy newborn son's umbilical chord as he was born into slavery. The brown-haired baby boy had his own barcoded numbers (. .. ..V3)tattooed on his scalp almost immediately but the others noticed how N7 eagerly spent as much time hanging around the slave cribbery to try to wordlessly play with his newborn son. Somehow, he felt this was a wonderful opportunity that he'd missed when. ..
Impossible but why was he now seeing shining and enticing, brown, deep amber colored eyes whenever he was with B9 and the others selected for him to breed-along with hearing the loving laughter and smelling the scent of roses? It wasn't merely being with these female slaves that gave N7 pleasure but he alone out of all the male breeders seemed to understand his biological link to the babies they'd bear- and, even though neither he nor the mothers were allowed to do more than hold the babies much less actually care for them, he finally felt that he now had a purpose in existence besides just pounding rocks into smaller ones, eating tasteless slop and sleeping.
Then, came the day, in which he was separated from B9 and their son V3 after they were sold to another quarry and he cried his guttural cry with more anguish than before- and several guards felt their necks rendered mysteriously tight. He sobbed himself to sleep that night but then something happened that hadn't happened before.
" I want you to know that I love you and am proud of you! Don't ever think you're efforts are futile but they can be used for a good purpose one day! I'll always think of those babies you've sired to be my own children's siblings!" the ghost of Padmé beamed to him while embracing him in the very first dream N7 ever had- and he noticed that the headache he now had was almost too small to even feel.
"Ahw- uh! Ah- MAY!" N7 heard himself say to her while crying tears of joy.
N7 would be moved from planet to planet for more decades to come and put to work in the quarries and in the breeding programs but he somehow was able to sense where all his offspring and progeny had gone to. .including those who had NOT been born of slaves? Impossible, he thought to himself. Still, he was always grateful whenever chance would happen that he'd somehow see them and their mothers again and somehow would feel proud when he'd hear them repeat after him his guttural . .
"Ahw-ah! Pah-MAY!" N7 would grunt- and the other slaves soon learned that N7, his slave progeny and their mothers could voice a large variety of moods, wishes and beliefs with that one phrase and he'd occasionally see the face of that breathtakingly beautiful woman with long brown hair (instead of slave stubble) who'd come to him in his dreams to give him encouragement.
N7 had been on the latest planet for what seemed at least 15 years while working side-by-side with several of his sons and grandsons ranging in age from four to 45 years of age. It frustrated N7's breeders to no end that none of N7's sons or daughters inherited his same phenomenal endurance or agelessness but they were strong enough for the slavers to scatter to different planets.
This planet seemed to be covered with more rocks than the others had been with barely a break in sight. Some loose vines and weeds sprouted up between the rocks but there wasn't any real space where the rocks didn't exist. Still, N7 did what he was ordered but couldn't help but notice many of these rocks had odd patterns and designs on them that seemed impossible for nature to have made. In his 72 years of existence, N7 had seen a few of these types of rocks on different planets but on this particular one, the rocks and metal veins seemed to totally overwhelm the surface- along with rocks that could been seen through. In some of the deeper quarry pits, N7 could see thousands of meters deep yet still not reach the true surface of this planet he and some of his progeny and their mothers had been placed upon. Needless to say, this rubble was often quite unstable as there were constant rockslides and avalanches of debris due to there being virtually nothing to hold these artificially placed rocks, metal veins and clear rocks together.
Yet, as odd as the rocks on this planet were to N7, there was something comforting about them for reasons N7 couldn't quite put together. He almost felt as though the place may have been familiar but he knew he hadn't been there before he'd been sent to smash, carry and clear rocks.
N7 and his crew were sent to the deepest level of one of the pits and almost as soon as they reached the base, some of the walls and scaffolding where the other quarry slaves were carrying debris started to crumble atop the head of N7 and the other slaves at the base of the pit-sending dozens of slaves ready to fall and . Without thinking, N7 willed that the walls and scaffolding be stabilized just by pointing his hand to those walls that were on the brink of collapse. Everyone grunted their astonishment (for none of the 'Scant slaves could verbalize their thoughts) but the Mong foreman insisted on everyone continuing to work and keep digging until they reached the last of the loose rocks .
The Mong foreman ordered several of N7's sons (and a Wookiee) to move the last loose rock from this base but they could not budge it.
" You stupid Scants are worthless!"the Mong foreman sneered and started to bring his Obedience stick down on the Wookiee.
At once, N7, pointed to the Obedience Stick and made it fly out the Mong's hand, past the sides of the quarry pit and into the open sky.
The Mong was about to comlink for backup when N7 physically pushed the last broken quarry stone onto the Mong to pin him against the quarry wall- and then felt something on the basalt surface- his OWN bare footprints embedded there that he had created many lifetimes before for slaves wore no footwear and N7 was lucky to be a breeder and given a breechcloth to protect the slavers' future investment.
Suddenly, N7 felt an intense wave almost overwhelm him as many wondrous and horrific sights and sounds of 759 years surged into him from the soles of his feet into his head.
"You carry all our hopes!" N7 suddenly remembered that beautiful brunette who'd guided him in his dreams exclaim.
"I LOVE PADMÉ!" N7 suddenly shouted aloud as he remembered her name and what she meant to him thenstraightened up his slumped posture while everyone else looked at him quite oddly.
"I know how strong you are! I know you can do this!" N7 remembered his. ..mother(!) Shmi exclaim.
At that N7 split apart the solid metal slave collar around his own neck with his bare hands and those of every other slave he could see in the quarry pit with the Force while he also used it to will his scalp stubble within mere seconds to grow his thick blond hair back s to the length of his neck that he'd always worn whenever possiblefor over 7 centuries-for that length was how Padmé had loved it most.
"YOU were the Chosen One! You were supposed to bring balance to the Force. NOT leave it in darkness!" N7 remembered a very angry yet very heartbroken bearded man named.. . . .OBI- WAN shout at him over a pit of lava.
"What am I supposed to do? What is my name?" N7 asked aloud-surprised at hearing the sound of his own voice again.
"You were once Anakin Skywalker, my father- the name of your true self. You have only forgotten!" N7. .no Anakin suddenly remembered hearing from inside a horrible,suffocating cage the words of his firstborn son. .His True Master and Savior Luke Skywalker who'd saved him from that fate and had helped him return 782 years before to his real body, true strength, youth and. .. TRUE SELF!
"My Son and True Master! I'm on Coruscant. I'm a person not a slave and a New Jedi named Anakin Skywalker! I remember everything now and it no longer hurts!" Anakin exclaimed- as he fell to his knees.
"You're almost there! Use the Force to read the words written on the First Jedi Temple Foundation next to your own footprints!" the Force Ghost of Luke Skywalker urged his father to do as he became visible with a blue aura.
"But New Jedi scholars tried to translate them for centuries after I found them but couldn't. ." Anakin gulped- recalling the 45,000 year old pictures sketched in rock he'd found after he disabled the Coruscant Doomsday Bomb Cable.
"It wasn't necessary before," Luke's Force Ghost explained.
" I understand . .and I know what the words say! Oh, Light Side, help me to re-awaken everyone else!" Anakin exclaimed with a gulp as he concentrated before he chanted the words he suddenly now understood.
"The Force Lives In Us!"Anakin chanted in a rich baritone voice (in the exact pitch and inflections as a certain five-note tune that would, by some astounding co-incidence ,become famous in 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind').
"Come on, Light Side! Re-awaken everyone!" Anakin pleaded via the Light Side before he was ready to chant again.
"Patience, My Brother!" Obi-Wan's Force Ghost with a blue haze pleaded as he became visible to Anakin while Luke nodded.