Penpals 29
Author's Note: I've been getting requests to continue this story so here is another chapter. Hope it's as good as the other ones were… I'll try to get another chapter of this and "Wish Upon a Droid" up soon. Please be aware I'm trying to update 8 stories in two fandoms. Crazy, I know…
Chapter 29: Luke Skywalker
Luke sat nestled with his X-Wing, his mind and body still in a state of shock. Somehow he had managed to slip past the Empire's fleet of Star Destroyers with what had seemed like ease, but the scary thing was he didn't remember doing it. The last thing he did remember was climbing up into the ship with Artoo beeping at him in a mild state of panic. He must have buckled his harness and taken off, because he was now floating out in space somewhere.
/What have I done?./
He would have preferred not to answer his own question, for he knew all too well exactly what he had done.
/You've single-handedly destroyed the Rebellion, that's what!./
No! Luke shook his helmeted head in denial as the harness pressed painfully against his shoulders. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone! He cared about his friends that had lived in Echo Base and even those he didn't know. The thought that even one person had died in that artic wasteland because of him, it was too much to stand. Letting his head droop forward, he beat on the control panel with his fists uncaring what controls he may hit or trigger. Hot tears burned his eyes and he allowed them to leak down his face unheeded. What did it matter if the canopy sprung open and the air rushed out into the cold vacuum of space? He had betrayed his friends!
Artoo whistled in worry and words flashed across the computer screen but Luke didn't even see them through his blurred vision.
"It's … its all my fault!" Luke cried as mucus dripped out of his nose and ran over his lips. His body shook with each loud sob and he weakly slammed his fist against the controls again. But even in his sad state the Force was with him and nothing disastrous happened. "I … I just wanted my father! Is that so wrong?"
/YES!./
Luke weakly shook his head, his eyes tightly closed. His eyelashes were glued to his cheeks, wet from all the tears that had run out of his eyes. His bright orange flight suit was getting damp but it didn't matter at the moment. The large gaping hole where his hear used to be was far more important.
/He's an Imperial! He's Vader! You knew that!./
Yes, he had known that Anakin was an Imperial and Han had guessed he was Vader. But none of that had mattered at the moment. His father had lived an awful life where everything had gone horribly wrong right from the beginning and he had wanted to help the man. Helping people was never wrong or so he had thought. Eveb Leia had agreed with that, hadn't she?
/But how many people are now dead because of you? How many innocent lives were snuffed out in their prime because of your infantile need for a father?./
The young Jedi knew the answer all too well.
/Too many./
He remembered the shaking and rattling as the ATATs attacked the base, the sickening loud crack as ice broke and fell to the ground with an echoing boom. He saw again in his mind the angry red laser blasts that flew past him, some missing by mere inches. Hw many of his fellows were unlucky? How many got crushed under tons of ice or burned by the blasts that had missed him? How many had perished in the battle with the ATATs, their fighter craft either blown up or stepped upon? And for a brief moment, he was there, trapped in a broken craft as he struggled with a stuck harness as a giant metal foot slowly descended directly at him. It blocked out the weak sunlight until it was the only thing visible. His world turned metallic gray and then darkened into charcoal gray as it grew closer and closer. He screamed and fought the harness but to no avail. Then the transparent canopy smashed and it was over…
An icy chill revenant of Hoth ran down his spine and he shivered. Was that what he had forced some poor Rebels to go through? Their last moments of life would have been horrible. Were their lives worth it to save one man, a man who had already done so much evil in the galaxy? Would they have given their lives so freely if they had known he had brought the Empire done on their heads?
/They would have dragged me outside and fed me to another ice monster themselves!./
The Rebels hated Vader far more than they hated the Emperor. The Sith Lord was more visible. He was the one in charge of the Imperial Fleet and the one they often tangled with. It was he that the younger rowdy men used as a target for their dart game. They took pleasure in shooting the sharp metal points through the image of his hated black breath mast or through his chest. They shouted rude words at him, challenging the image to a duel while all the time knowing they were quite safe. They hated the sounds he made as he breathed, hated the mask that breathed fear into every nerve of their bodies. They would never forget the worlds he had attacked with the Fleet, the worlds bombarded from orbit that had somehow denied Imperial Law. The Stormtroopers were also a constant reminder of Vader, for they too wore masks. And perhaps most of all they hated him for the power he held, both the Force and that he was in charge of the Empire. He seemed untouchable. Simply raising a hand blocked laser blasts and that created fear for no one understood how he did it. People feared what they didn't understand.
Hopelessness settled over Luke as the tears dried up and slowly vanished.
/It's impossible!./
How could he have ever thought it would work? His comrades hated his father. They'd crucify him if they ever got their hands on him. The dart game was evidence of that.
Snuffling, Luke took his gloves off and wiped at his aching eyes. He had thought once he had confessed his sins to someone that he'd be free of the emotional roller coaster but it wasn't to be sure. Not only did he have more blood on his hands now but he had a new worry as well. How could he and his father ever be together in this cold-hearted world?
/I guess I must be growing up…/
Maybe he was, but he didn't like it. Were the Rebels he had just cried over any better than the Empire they fought? Had they no pity, no compassion? When a man was lying broken and bleeding, would they beat him more? Or would they find forgiveness in their heart and help him to his feet, patch his wounds? Was this what Anakin had tried to tell him in the letters about the Rebels? He had called them petty criminals that sought power and used a humanitarian excuse to draw followers to them. Could he be right?
/They'll never accept Father with open arms…/
In fact, they'd be all too eager to lope off his head with his own lightsaber.
/I don't know what I'm going to do…/
What could he do? He wanted to help Anakin but how could he when his fellow Rebels were all so close-minded. Didn't they feel the things he did? Didn't they feel guilt for taking a life or did the idea excite them? They all cheered him and called him a hero, but he knew he wasn't a hero. If anything, he felt like a mass-murderer! Why did they exalt bloodshed and explosions? Yes, he realized some people had to die but did they even try another way? What was the battle really about? Who had started it and when?
/Why am I so different then they are?./
He was sure they didn't feel like he did. Even Han seemed emotionless when it came to taking a life. He acted as if he were simply squishing a worthless bug; a mere insect. But even insects had the right to live, didn't they? Tatooine had possessed much insect life and he once remembered finding a huge hive of some many-legged bug. It had been one of the rare peaceful moments he had spent with his uncle. His uncle had explained to him how all the insects in the hive lived in harmony with each other, each one with a job to do. No one was more important than another, except for the queen. All the others worked so they could feed her and keep her alive and she in turn laid eggs to produce more workers. He remembered how Bed had told him that life created the Force. Surely that meant each living creature, no matter how big or small, deserved to live in peace? All life was precious. So how could his fellow men be so callous with it? This was no video game they were playing to rake up points; the casualties were real.
Were people on Tatooine different than other places in the galaxy? Were they the only ones in the big galaxy that still had old-fashioned values? Had no one ever taught the others right and wrong? Or did the Alliance just attract the wrong kind of person? Is that why he felt so left out and different?
Was the Empire any different? Did the people there care for one another or were they just like the Alliance, simply with a different uniform? Anakin had told him what the Old Republic had been like with everything for the rich and criminals free to do whatever they pleased. Palpatine had put a stop to that. Surely that was a good thing, wasn't it?
/But how can a Sith Lord do a good thing?./
There were just too many different viewpoints with the truth existing somewhere in between the two, no doubt. And no matter who was right or wrong, he still needed to find a way to help Anakin.
But how? Where could he and his father exist together without either being in danger from the other side? Moaning, Luke closed his tired eyes and rubbed at them. He wasn't even too sure where he was or where he was supposed to go. Was the Alliance supposed to meet somewhere, some secret new base?
/I really screwed everything up!./
He had wanted to meet his father for years and then when the opportunity presented itself, he had run!
/I'm such a coward/
Self-doubt began to gnaw at his mind. Was he really cut out for this Jedi stuff? Did he have what it took inside him? And what was required to be a Jedi anyway? Anakin had never really gotten a chance to explain it in any detail. So far he only had a vague idea of some dashing young man running around with a lightsaber. When Ben had presented him with the ancient weapon back on Tatooine, it had been very exciting. Part of him had thrilled at the old hermit's offer. He had wanted to race off to the stars and become a hero. But that image had mainly been based on exciting stories he had read or from watching holodramas. He hadn't considered the matter seriously. In truth, he had been more of a kid playing with a stick pretending he was fighting a fierce fiend over the fate of the galaxy; except his stick had been a real lightsaber. But was he really hero material?
/Maybe I'm not cut out for this hero stuff…./
All heroes had bravery and courage. Luke knew he had those. He had successfully stormed the Death Star, rescued a real Princess and then destroyed the evil super-weapon.
/And that's when I fell apart…./
He was too softhearted. Were Jedi supposed to be softhearted and compassionate? If they were, how did they live with themselves afterward? How did they get rid of the guilt of taking a life? Or had they all grown coldhearted over time?
/I don't think I want to be like Han…./
No, the smuggler blasted people to death without blinking an eye. Oh, he loved his friend dearly; that much was certain. But he hoped he wouldn't end up so callous. When had the galaxy grown so dark that no one cared for anyone anymore? Or had it always been that way? And more importantly, was there any way to fix it?
/Do I really want to take that on? How can I be thinking of saving the galaxy when I can't even save my father?./
Yes, the idea was ridiculous.
Luke leaned back in the seat of his X-wing and stared out at the sight before him. The stars glowed brightly, each a slightly different tint. Here there was no interference from an atmosphere and so they shone steadily. It was a planet's atmosphere that caused the twinkling affect one saw. They were, he had to admit, beautiful. Staring upward through the thin material that kept his life intact, he felt almost weightless. It was like staring into eternity. It was also quite humbling. A mortal's life was like a bright fleck of sand compared to the cosmos. Did the stars even know or care about the battle being waged between the two forces? Most likely not. No matter what happened they'd keep burning until they died in the glory of a supernova; with a few fated to become black holes.
Sighing, he sat up and glanced at his controls. He couldn't just sit here and feel sorry for himself. He had to do something. The problem was, he didn't know what to do. Too much hatred existed on both sides for peace to ever exist. Was peace even possible?
/Who am I fooling? I'm just one man! I can't stop a war!./
The thought shocked Luke to his very core and he sat frozen in place, only his loud breath hissing within the confined space of his cockpit.
/Where had that thought come from?./
He had no idea and that scared him. Surely he couldn't be actually thinking of trying to stop the war, could he? That would be sheer madness! Both sides would crucify him! The Empire would want his head on a plate for blowing up their precious Death Star and the Alliance would want the same for bring the Empire down on them.
/I'm doomed no matter what I do!./
Could he even go back to the Alliance now? Did Leia tell anyone or was his secret still a secret? He had no way of knowing and just traipsing in hoping for the best was foolhardy. He could very well end up in a cell for treason and how would that help anyone? It certainly wouldn't help Anakin!
Everything seemed like such a big tangled mess, like a box of knotted yarn. You could pull on this piece or that strand but in the long run you got nowhere at all. The Rebels would refuse to see Anakin as nothing but the enemy and he was sure the Empire felt the same way. Then a memory flashed before his eyes. Once again he was in his Uncle's garage seeing the recording for the first time. Princess Leia's voice rung out loud and clear: "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You are my only hope."
With Ben dead, did that mean he was the galaxy's only hope?
/But what can I do? Even if I have the Force…./
What would a Jedi have done, a real Jedi? Luke pondered it for a moment and decided they would have tried to kill the Sith. But Vader was a Sith and he didn't want to kill Vader but to save him…
And Anakin had mentioned a prophecy. What was that all about? Was the prophecy the thing that had destroyed his father's life? Oh, Luke knew Anakin had said it was his emotions that had run away with him, but surely that prophecy had something to do with it as well? Who had spoken it, anyway? How did the Jedi know it was true? When it came down to it, a prophecy was nothing but words and to most people words were cheep. They lied and said untruths, twisting everything around until up was down and down was up. Too many people only cared about themselves.
The whole galaxy was corrupt.
Had the Jedi been corrupt as well? Did the galaxy want them all to die out? How could his father come to be without having a father himself? Was that even possible? Luke didn't know and he doubted if even the Jedi of old knew the answer to that. But what if Anakin really didn't have a father? Could it be he was meant to fall to the Dark Side? Did some invisible force really control people's lives? He had never really thought of it before, but sitting here among the stars had put him into a certain state of mind and he pondered the existence of Fate. Was Fate even now playing with his life string as she weaved a tangled web of threads? Would he and Anakin ever be together or was that just a hopeless dream?
/I want that dream to become reality…/
It was what he had always wanted. Oddly enough, it was what Anakin had always wanted, too. Surely that could be no coincidence? But was it enough to save an entire galaxy?
/It'll have to be…/
Just then Luke's comm. squawked loudly and he knew he was no longer alone.
"Hey, Kid!" Han's voice called. "You're really hard to find, you know that? Anyway, we have got to talk. I'm afraid I have bad news for you."
"Bad news?" Cold dread crept into Luke's heart.
"Leia was caught by the Imperials. There was nothing I could do about it, but maybe you can."
To be continued…