GHOSTS
From the command deck of the Victory Class Star Destroyer Revenge, Captain Ozzel watched the brown and red world grow larger as they approached. This, the first of a new class of Star Destroyer, had so far performed flawlessly and the Emperor would undoubtably be pleased. That the Emperor had given him command of his newest vessel spoke highly of the Emperor's beliefs in Ozzel's abilities. However, why they were here in this particular, far away system was a mystery to him.
True, he knew the reason they were here; to test the super laser of the Death Star, the newest, most terrifying weapon the galaxy had ever seen. For months, Ozzel had hoped that when the time came to lead the task force to test this weapon, he would be the chosen commander. When the orders came down from Imperial Command, he was ecstatic. His future in the Imperial Navy looked promising. But why they were here of all places was unknown. There were dozens of other, closer planets that would have served this test just as well as this place.
Ozzel sighed and resigned himself to the fact that his place was not to question orders, merely follow them. And he wasn't the only one who had been curious as to their destination. Many of the other senior officers had come to him looking for answers but he had none to offer. True, Ozzel was the commanding officer aboard the Revenge, but everyone knew who was really in charge.
Darth Vader.
The Dark Lord was the Emperor's right hand and had been for some years now. In darkened corridors and behind closed doors, many had wondered where this menacing enforcer had come from. One day, near the end of the Clone Wars, Vader had simply appeared at the Emperor's side. No explanation, no introduction other than the Emperor's confidant and most trusted aide. As far as everyone in the Empire was concerned, if Darth Vader was present, then the Emperor was present. Vader's authority was surpassed by no one else's. He was seemingly everywhere at once, enforcing the Emperor's will and no one dared oppose him. Those few who had tried had suffered or even died for it.
Captain Ozzel didn't have to feel the tremor in the Force when Lord Vader stepped onto the bridge and approached from behind. The man cast a dark shadow over everything around him by his mere presence. Ozzel wondered if calling him a man was even accurate. The Captain heard Lord Vader approach and quickly stifled his questions. He doubted the Dark Lord of the Sith would appreciate them and he might decide to prevent Ozzel from thinking them ever again. Captain Ozzel did know that the Sith did not take well to outside attention.
Lord Vader stopped once he was beside the Captain. The mechanical breathing of his life support system was still eerie after all this time in the Dark Lord's presence. Ozzel doubted he would ever get used to it.
"My lord, we've arrived in system," Ozzel announced with crisp military precision, his hands clasped behind his back. "What are your orders?" He looked at the Dark Lord from the side of his vision, he could not bring himself to look head-on into that black face mask. He hoped Lord Vader was not aware of that fear.
Outwardly, Darth Vader did not appear to be concerned with Ozzel's petty problems. Had he been aware of the dark thoughts brewing inside the mind of the Sith Lord, Ozzel would have found a man not very much different from him. Would he have seen the monster that everyone else saw? Vader doubted that. He might have seen a man with demons just like everyone else, but a monster? Surely not.
Once, long ago, Vader had hopes and dreams that he wanted to see come true. How he had strived to make them a reality. With all the strength in his heart he had tried. But in the end, he had tried and failed. Whereas once he had thought he could control his demons, make them serve him rather than the other way around, they had turned on him, by giving him what he had thought he'd wanted. After it was all over, he realized that they had destroyed everything his heart had held dear and had nearly cost him his life. His demons had made him kill everyone around him until he was surrounded by ghosts. In fact, it was those ghosts that had brought him here today. Darth Vader, the man once called Anakin Skywalker looked out upon the world before him and remembered.
Mustafar. Once the birthplace of the hideous creature he'd become, now it would serve another purpose as a test subject for the Empire's newest weapon. In his black life support suit, surrounded by armor, his thoughts were as solitary as they could have been. I have returned. "The scene of the crime", as it were. Do you remember me,he asked the planet. Mustafar turned below him. Slowly, eternally, unstoppably.
A molten world of terrible fire and oppressive heat, the planet had never held so much as a penal colony on it in its entire history. The few souls that had visited its surface had crossed paths with someone whom they once knew as Anakin Skywalker. But they were uninformed; Anakin had no longer existed by that point and it was Darth Vader who had dispatched them with ridiculous ease. Their souls had cried out for mercy at the sight of his blue lightsaber blade and it was their souls who cried out to him even now, long after that fateful day. Had he truly been as merciless as he remembered? Yes, I was. And I still am.
He remembered coming here at the direction of his master, Darth Sidious to eliminate the Separatist leaders who had been waging war against the Republic. Anakin Skywalker had had many masters in his life, starting with that miserable collection of flesh, Watto. All the Jedi Masters who had taught him various things in his training - Yoda, Mace Windu and his old friend, Obi-Wan. Yes, Skywalker had been pupil to several teachers. Darth Vader had only one Master and it was he who had sent him here those years ago. The Clone Wars had just been put down by the then-Chancellor and the loose ends had needed tying up.
That had been Vader's task. He arrived on Mustafar and killed them all. Just like he'd killed all the Jedi in the Temple back on Coruscant. Just like he'd killed all the Tusken Raiders in the camp where he'd found his mother on Tatooine. Killing had come easy to him. Had it always been so? He knew the answer to that in his black heart.
Then Padme had arrived with Obi-Wan. He had accused her of bringing Obi-Wan in response to what he'd done at the Jedi Temple. But she didn't understand yet that the Jedi were the true enemies, not the Chancellor. He would have to take her back to Coruscant to make her see. Why was it always so hard to persuade others to see the correct way of things? He knew he was right. Why didn't anyone listen to him? If Padme had only trusted him at his word...
Now, years later, a prisoner inside the black armor, he saw now that his rage had been fueled by the silent, insistent coercion of Darth Sidious. Sidious had spent years cultivating his inner hatred until he would eventually become the perfect apprentice for the perfect master. Seeing Padme and Obi-Wan on Mustafar was the breaking point. The fury he'd struggled so hard all his life to keep in check was let loose upon her.
And he'd killed her.
He'd choked the life out of her and then fought an epic duel with his one-time friend and mentor. That duel had been the hardest fight of his life. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. He was, for all intents and purposes, fighting against his father. Anakin had known Obi-Wan for over half of his life and owed much to him.
But over the years, Chancellor Palpatine had slowly, insidiously taken over that role and had proven to be more of a father figure than Obi-Wan had. Palpatine had understood him better than the other Jedi had. Palpatine had accepted him for who he was without reservation. Palpatine had shown him how to unleash his true potential. Palpatine had allowed him to be what he was always meant to be.
But the father-figure Palpatine had also been the puppet-master Sidious. Anakin had been granted the one thing his heart had asked for all his life, but it hadn't been without cost. Being the most powerful Jedi ever hadn't been worth the cost. Not by a long shot.
In the end, however, all that power hadn't been enough and Obi-Wan had beaten him and betrayed him even further by leaving him there to die in a lake of fire. As his body was consumed by fire on the shores of a molten lake, his heart was consumed by hatred for his former friend and mentor. The flames from the lava were nothing in comparison to the flames of hatred burning in Vader's heart at that moment. And it had burned hotter and hotter every day since then.
He'd come close to dying that day and most certainly would have if his new Master hadn't come to him and taken him from Mustafar. Vader recalled Darth Sidious relating a story about the power to command the Force to keep someone alive. Vader often wondered if his Master had commanded to Force to do just that for him, but he'd never found the time to ask. To do so seemed disrespectful. Respect. Respect for the man who had played me like a Tatooine breath harp and made me turn against my friends. Respect for the a man to whom I'm just a tool, an enforcer. How ironic.
Regardless of how, whether through the will of the Force or by the inner workings of the life support system contained within his black armor, he had lived. The Republic was dead. Padme was dead. But Darth Vader had lived.
Obi-Wan still alive somewhere in the galaxy. Vader knew this. He could sense his old master out there, hiding from him, but that did not matter. Vader had seen their future together
and it pleased him. One day, Darth Vader would have his revenge on Obi-Wan
But right now, Mustafar turned slowly before him.
"My lord?" came Ozzel's careful probe.
What an annoying little man. Still, I suppose every leader needs to surround himself with a few blind followers. Vader sighed mentally, the support suit wouldn't actually let him sigh, and turned slightly to him. The rhythmic breathing lent an atmosphere of evil to his words. "Ready my shuttle. I want to leave the moment I arrive on the flight deck." His voice was deep and resonated within the very bulkheads shaking everyone's bones to the core. Fear leeched from their pores like sweat. Vader turned on his heel and left the bridge, a mass of black cloak flowing after him like an evil cloud.
"Right away, my lord." Captain Ozzel was only too glad to have Darth Vader off of his ship, even for a short while.
The Imperial shuttle touched down on the outer edge of the old Separatist Command Center. It had been built to protect the Separatist leaders during the onslaught of the Clone Wars. It was nearly impenetrable. It was supposed to be a stronghold. It had become their grave instead.
The flight down to the planet's surface had been uneventful, as he expected it to be. Vader had meditated, centering his thoughts on quelling a curious eruption of anxiety. The sensation was new to him, or at least it had been a long time since he'd felt it. Then again, he hadn't been back here since that day. No doubt, the very planet was what was causing his anxiety. This planet had changed him into what he was today.
He strode down the boarding ramp and set foot on the reddish/brown Mustafari soil. His life support armor filtered the heat from the air and kept him from feeling the high temperature. In another life, he could recall the feeling of the heat on his skin, the sweat pouring from him as his old master tried to reason with him. Here and now, the audio receptors in his armor heard nothing except for the roar of the distant volcanoes and the rumble of the lava flows. Shouts and screams echoed in his mind as if they were on the other side of the door ahead of him. The clash of sabers and the sounds of the fist against flesh were only memories, incapable of harming him anymore. Not anymore.
A squad of clone troopers flanked him as he entered the Command Center. Bred to obey without question, they had done just that when the Emperor ordered Order 66, consigning every Jedi near a clone trooper to sudden and certain death. Had they known what they were doing on a grander scale, would they have still done it? Had they known the Empire was being born at that very moment, ushering in an iron-clad dictatorship hell-bent on total domination of every person in the galaxy, would they had still killed all the Jedi? Most likely. What reason would they have for disobedience? Unlike me, who had the choice and chose the wrong path anyway. Despite the fact that the entire facility was automated and no one had even been here in years, the troopers entered the facility first, as they were trained to do, clearing it of any possible threats to the Sith lord. Not that there were many of those.
"Remain here. I do not need your protection," Darth Vader ordered. Your weapons can't hurt those who are already dead.
The squad leader saluted smartly with his blast rifle and replied, "Yes, my lord." The clone trooper seemed not even aware of the magnitude of the person who commanded him. It might have been an Imperial officer or another trooper of higher rank who had given him the order. To this trooper, and every other clone trooper in the galaxy, it didn't matter. An order had been given and the trooper showed thought as to its validity or scope. In a moment that would never be heard aloud as long as he lived, Darth Vader was silently thankful for the trooper's blind acceptance. There had been a time when Vader hadn't been so sure of his public
persona.
As a Jedi, as Anakin Skywalker, he had been a hero of the galaxy. The name Skywalker was known by many and his exploits were legendary. He had the respect of his fellow Jedi, well at least Obi-Wan's. He was handsome and he had the love of a beautiful and powerful woman. How much of that was me and how much was Sidious and his manipulations? How can I ever trust my feelings again? Master Yoda would have said love and desire and respect were trivial and not to be pursued by a Jedi. They would lead down the dark path.
Vader chuckled to himself in irony, privately amused. Master Yoda had been right. Then again, Master Yoda was always adept at seeing the future.
But now, he was no longer handsome, no longer had anyone's love, no longer even a man. He was a thing, a tool, a force of darkness. He no longer had respect, but he didn't care for it. He would receive the same attention through fear. He reflected on the first time he had been seen on Coruscant, outside the Emperor's inner circle. Whatever the Emperor had told his guards and advisors, none of them seemed to react negatively at all when they first laid eyes on the dark form. He sensed they feared him and that was a suitable replacement for true respect. In the days it had taken the Emperor's ship to finally make its way back to Coruscant, Darth Vader had grown comfortable in his surroundings. The new Imperial guards in their lush red regalia had treated him with the same regard and deference as they had the Emperor. He felt their fear of him whenever he passed by. Their acknowledgment of his greater power and their inferiority pleased him greatly. It seemed a fitting reaction when in the presence of the most powerful man in the galaxy.
Upon their arrival back at Imperial City, Vader felt an emotion similar to the anxiety at what to expect that he was feeling now. As the shuttle had touched down on the landing platform outside the Senate Building, Darth Vader had been suddenly taken over by a feeling of unknown. How would the citizens of the Empire react to him, this new Dark Lord of the Sith. This being who was as much a machine as he was a man. Despite the ominous appearance of the ebony armor that made him appear every bit the image of a warrior, he wondered if the eyes that looked at him could see through it and see the grotesque creature that Obi-Wan's betrayal had created.
The Emperor must have sensed this hesitation in his apprentice's thoughts, for he had turned on the landing ramp to fix Lord Vader with a most quizzical look. It was a look made of half patience and half understanding. As if the Emperor was well aware of Vader's fear. Fear was what had caused the most change in Vader over the course of his life. But what the Emperor did not know, what Vader had kept locked away in the recesses of his mind, was the unbridled hatred for the dark robed dictator. I have suffered. I suffer now. In due time, "Master", you will suffer.
In that moment, Darth Vader remembered something that Master Yoda had said to him a long time ago. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. Those words still rang true.
It seemed that fear had lived in his heart in one way or another for most of his life. Fear of change. Fear of loss. Even Master Yoda had seen it in him where as he had not. He had even gone so far as denied its existence within him. Why hadn't Master Yoda stopped me? Within the black helmet, Vader hung his head in shame. He tried to.
He had been afraid to leave his mother on Tatooine. But he did and had paid the price for it with her death. He had avenged her, but it had been too late. He had been afraid to leave Padme on Naboo without consummating their love. He had married her, but he had to hide his love for her from all those around him. It was forbidden for a Jedi to love an individual, any individual. A Jedi had to be able to let go of everything and anything in order to do his duty. Attachment to anything was a distraction that would cloud a Jedi's mind to far more important things. Anakin Skywalker had feared that Obi-Wan wouldn't understand.
Obi-Wan hated what Anakin was becoming. He hated that Anakin was stronger than him. He hated that Padme loved Anakin instead. He hated that the Republic was over and that the Chancellor was right. And because of that hatred, Darth Vader had suffered at his hands. Now Darth Vader hated Obi-Wan. Worst of all, Padme had suffered. At Anakin's hands. Mercifully, Padme's suffering was done. She was with the angels that he had first mistaken her for as a young boy. Darth Vader's suffering was just beginning.
Inside the mind of the Dark Lord, he made his decision for the last time. Fear had cost him too much. Fear had cost him Padme's love, Obi-Wan's respect and nearly his very life. Fear would have no hold over him ever again.
He was Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith and all those who ever laid eyes on him would tremble at the sight. Fear would be their problem, not his. He walked off the shuttle's landing ramp on the Coruscant landing pad and stood by his Master's side. After thousands of years of waiting, the Sith were finally in power.
Now, in the Mustafar Command Center, Darth Vader looked around the room where he had slaughtered so many those few years ago. Their bodies had been removed, of course, but the tables and equipment still bore evidence of his lightsaber blade. In his head, he could still hear the cries for mercy from the piteous Separatists. He walked through the room, subconsciously following the path of death that he'd made. Had that really been him? It most certainly had been.
Vader made his way outside to where the ray shield kept the lava lake at bay from the collection plant. During their duel, the ray shield had dropped, allowing them access to the fire lake. It was to the shore of that flaming pool that he now made his way. As he walked to the edge of the lake, Vader could hear the cries of his ghosts calling out to him, taunting him with every cruel word they could conceive. Just go away! I'll pay for my sins for the rest of my life, now leave me alone!
The ghosts obeyed him for the moment and left him to remember his downfall in solitude. Alone, Vader stood on the very precipice where Obi-Wan had stood as he watched him burn alive. He could recall with crystal clarity the agonizing torture of the flames as they licked first at his exposed skin, then as they began to burn his clothing from his body. His hair had gone up almost instantly, the very air was hot enough for that. The bits of metal on his belt, the buckles of his boots, the alloys of his mechanical right arm had all melted on his bare skin until that, too, had begun to char and burn.
Obi-Wan had yelled something to him about loving him and believing in him. His mind blocked out the actual words as a type of mental protection, to spare him more pain. Where was the celebrated Jedi compassion then? Where was the appreciation for life?
I HATE YOU! Vader had screamed as loud as his scorched lungs would allow him. His hatred burned a thousand times hotter now that it had then. Years of silent contemplation had fanned the flames as hot as they could be. Part of him hoped Obi-Wan was dead; that he had gotten what he deserved by the thousands of clone troopers scouring the galaxy for the few remaining Jedi, but part of him hoped that he was still alive, so that he could be the one to kill him. He wanted to be there and see the look in Obi-Wan's eyes in the final moments before he took his life, to let him know that he had failed when he left his former Padawan to die on these shores.
Darth Vader looked down at the blackened glass sand and ash that covered the ground at his feet. There, only three meters below him, he could see the rough outline of an irregularity in the sand. It did not look like the outline of a body, but he was certain this was where he had fallen. From there he had called for Obi-Wan's help. From there he had heard the refusal.
After that, he could not recall much. The pain overwhelmed him and he had surrendered to it. He had surrendered to the Force, begging it to end his life, his suffering. Master Yoda had been right. It had all led to his suffering.
But then his new Master had come and rescued him. Vader vaguely recalled a dark shape beside him on the black glass shore. It was his Master come for him. The last thing he could remember about that time was a soothing voice. A voice that called to him, calmed him, commanded him.
Live, Lord Vader. Live.
Maybe it wasn't too late to change and make things right again. The Republic was finished, he had no control over that. The Jedi were gone. But he still had much to live for. Vader recalled the image of his beloved Padme and the knowledge of their unborn child. Her serene face came to fill his vision and she smiled at him, calling for him to come home. Come home to us. She was suddenly holding an infant in her arms, a little baby boy. Come home to me and your son. Yes, he would return to Coruscant where Padme would resign her position as Senator and they would live in the most expensive suites on the planet. He would give her the entire building if she asked for it. Better still, he would build her a castle. An immense palace greater than anything she had ever seen on Naboo. A wonderful place to raise their child and live as a family.
With the power growing inside him, Vader was certain that he could defeat the Emperor when the right time came. Once that was done, they could rule the Empire together and finally bring the peace they had worked so long and hard for to fruition. Like he had said in that field on Naboo: someone should just decide what to do then make the people do it.
No more petty squabbles. No more corruption. Just order and consequence. Peace throughout the galaxy once and for all and it would be theirs.
Padme, I'm coming home.
But Padme wasn't there. She was dead. His friends were dead. He had nothing to live for after all.
Across the lake of lava, one of the many volcanos within eyesight erupted with an angry roar and vomited molten rock and a roiling cloud of black ash. The ground trembled as the debris shot high into the air. A second later, another nearby volcano mimicked the first and belched flame and rock. The landscape seemed to be echoing Vader's mood.
Inside his armor, he could not feel the oppressive heat as he had before. It kept what was left of his organic body carefully deadened to the constant physical pain he would live with for the rest of his life. It would keep him alive to forever remind him of the horror he had become. The armor could do nothing for his personal pain.
Through the Force, he could usually feel the life forces of any living things around him. As he stretched out with the Force, he felt nothing. Save for the troopers waiting for him back inside the Command Center, there was nothing here. Mustafar was a dead world. Dead like he was.
Suppressing mild surprise at the breach of etiquette, he felt the approach of a clone trooper from behind. The trooper stopped a respectful distance from the Dark Lord and politely interrupted. "My lord, the Death Star has informed us that they are in position."
Darth Vader bristled at the implication that he was delaying the Death Star test. There was no one in the galaxy, save the Emperor himself, who possessed higher authority. Nothing occurred without the tacit or explicit approval of one of them. The Emperor had tasked Lord Vader with completing the Death Star prototype test and he had done so ahead of schedule. The test would continue once he was ready and not a moment earlier. Vader would have to summon the unfortunate Imperial officer who had deemed the test more important than the Dark Lord's personal schedule and "explain" the priority of things to him. But perhaps it was for the better. Darth Vader sensed that nothing more could come of his introspective here at the lava lake.
"Very well, Commander." With another swirl of obsidian cloak that had seemed to become a trademark move for him, Vader turned and preceded the trooper back to the waiting shuttle. As the shuttle climbed into the atmosphere, Vader could feel the weight of the past slipping from his shoulders. His ghosts cried out in agony for him to return. He ignored them.
He left Obi-Wan there. He left Padme there. He left Anakin Skywalker there. All that remained was Vader.
Once again on the bridge of the Revenge, Darth Vader looked down upon the dark sphere of Mustafar. The Star Destroyer had moved to the night side of the planet and the bright colors of the flames lit up the darkness like veins. Whatever living beings happened to be on the planet for whatever myriad reasons had supposedly been given warning. If they were still planetside when the Death Star fired, that was their problem. Vader didn't care. In a few more moments, they wouldn't care either.
"Is the Death Star ready?" Vader asked.
Captain Ozzel looked up from the station where he was monitoring the increasing power levels of the battle station. "All reports are in, my lord. The super laser is charged and within normal parameters. They await your command."
From within the black face mask, Vader squinted his eyes in one last contemplation of the world about to be removed from the cosmos. He swallowed the foul taste of acidic phantom smoke that suddenly filled his mouth and issued the order. "Destroy it. Now."
Ozzel relayed the order to the Fire Control of the super laser and then waited. Aboard the Death Star prototype, the laser pulses were being stepped-up to millions of times their originating levels. Previously unheard of amounts of lethal energy were being channeled toward six emitters spread equidistantly around the circumference of the mammoth dish that served as the focus of the laser. The six beams erupted forth and converged on one another directly over the center of the dish and then shot forward as one, directly toward the planet. The green beam reached the dark side of Mustafar and impaled it effortlessly. The amount of energy contained within the beam was far too much for the planet's crust to contain or absorb and the world exploded.
Vader sighed mentally at the result, very disappointed.
The super laser had destroyed the planet, that much was certain. But it had not performed exactly as expected. What the designers had promised was a blast that would veritably annihilate a world, reducing it to small pieces of rock and debris. The offending planet would leave little more than a rapidly expanding asteroid field in its place.
What had happened here was no less devastating, but somewhat less total. The super laser had basically cleaved the planet in two. There were two large rough hemispheres of planet left surrounded by several smaller chunks of Mustafari soil. The planet was ruined. It would never again hold an atmosphere and its gravity was now almost nonexistent. Without an atmosphere, the hot lava on its surface boiled away into space. As Vader watched, the various pieces of the planet floated away in separate directions from the previous center of its mass.
Mustafar was now just like him. Both still existed, but not in their original forms and both somewhat less than what they once were. A fractured world to match his fractured body.
And fractured heart.
Ozzel's annoying voice broke his sad reverie once again. Some day, Vader would have to do something about that man.
"My lord, the Death Star offers no explanation for the failure. Chief designer Lemelisk assures me he is leaving no item overlooked in order to find the cause for the malfunction."
Vader was in no mood to ask Ozzel how the destruction of a world could be called a failure, regardless of the details of the outcome. There were other matters he had to attend to in other places.
The shortcomings of the super laser would have to be solved by someone else, Lemelisk or some other scientist. The first disturbing reports of a possible rebellion were growing everyday and the Emperor was not pleased. The search for the remaining Jedi was still ongoing and Vader wanted to be at the spearhead of that effort. The Imperial Senate was in heated debate about a thousand other things, despite the Emperor's promises to make the Empire stronger than the Old Republic ever could have been. If I am evil, if this is all I can be, then I will become as perfectly evil as I can. Light and dark are two sides to the same coin.
He looked at the shattered pieces of a dead world and made his peace. Goodbye Anakin Skywalker. There was still much to do to bring order to the new Empire, but for now, Darth Vader's ghosts were silent.
For how long, he could only wonder.