Chapter IX
Luke woke up, completely disoriented. Every bone in his body felt like it was made of ultradense material. His eyelids felt glued down, and his chest hurt every time he inhaled. Everything was totally unfamiliar to him – the antiseptic smells, the hushed chatter, the white everywhere he looked…
"Easy does it, Owen," Dad was saying. "I don't want his wounds aggravated."
"I'll be careful," Owen assured him. "Besides, he won't feel a thing. Luke could sleep through a bantha stampede…"
Luke opened his eyes fully. Uncle Owen and Dad were bent over him, and before he could react they had hoisted him out of bed and into Vader's arms. He yelped as the burned skin of his chest protested the movement.
"I'm sorry, Luke," Vader told him. "But we have to move you."
"What's going on?" he moaned. "Where am I? Where's Aunt Beru?"
"In the hospital," Owen replied. "Aunt Beru and Leia are back at the house. The doctor just finished your bacta treatment for your burn."
Memory returned with a rush, and a sickening jolt filled him. Yoda had tried to kill his dad… he'd tried to stop him… something had seared his chest…
"Dad, Yoda's not going to hurt you, is he?" he moaned.
"I don't know, son," Vader replied.
"The Rebels have fled to Beggar's Canyon to hide," Obi-wan reported. "The Imperial shuttle has landed just outside Anchorhead, and troops are en route. If we're to get you away from here, we have to hurry."
"And pray the Force is with us," Owen added.
"I can walk," insisted Luke.
"You're in no shape to walk," Vader retorted.
They left the room and entered the lobby, Luke in his father's arms, Owen and Obi-wan on either side of Vader as if serving as bodyguards. No one made any move to stop their progress. Did they not care that a Sith was apparently abducting a patient, or were Obi-wan and Vader shielding them from view?
"Vader."
They halted in their tracks. Luke lifted his head to see Bail Organa, his sister's adoptive father, barring the door out of the medical center.
"What do you want?" demanded Owen.
"Where are you going with Luke?" Bail replied evenly, showing no fear at confronting Vader.
"Out of our way, Bail," Vader snarled. "I will not lose my son again… and Luke will not lose his father again. Even if it means fleeing beyond the Outer Rim to ensure it, even if it means facing down the entire Imperial Fleet. Luke is all I have left. I will not let your resistance fighters or your newfound Jedi Master take him from me."
"I know," Bail replied. "And I have no intention of stopping you." He took a deep breath. "It is my personal belief that Lady Mothma has just lost her mind. Her resistance against the Empire has turned into a vendetta against you… and it seems she's not above letting the Empire take you and have their way with you if it means your death."
"I am aware of that," said Vader. "Obi-wan explained it."
"Then you know time is of the essence. My space yacht is ready to go when you are. Our only problem is transportation back to the homestead and the ship. Mothma took all the speeders with her when she left."
"Including ours?" Owen asked.
"Including yours," Bail said with a measure of disgust.
Vader growled. "Nothing can be simple, can it?"
Luke suddenly had a brainstorm. "Dad, call Sandy and Rocky. Call the dewbacks. They can take us!"
Obi-wan chuckled. "Good thinking, Luke."
Vader was silent a long moment. "They are on their way," he said at last. "I only hope they get here in time."
Luke hoped so as well, with all his heart.
Break…
Jedi Master Yoda kept a silent vigil from his hiding spot as the shuttle landed and disgorged its cargo of over a hundred stormtroopers, their white armor bearing the jagged black streaks of Imperial Death Squads. The troops moved with fluid efficiency, fanning out to surround the med center. And at their head, commanding them… Grand Moff Tarkin, garbed in pewter-gray battle armor and a grim expression on his cadaverous face.
He sighed heavily, his ears sagging. Obi-wan's words weighed heavily on his heart. Indeed the Order had made grave errors in judgment regarding Anakin. They had brushed him aside far too many times. They had underestimated the depth of his feelings for those close to him. And they had failed to recognize the true motivation for his turn to the Sith – not lust for power, but desperation to save those he loved.
Love… not the comradeship between Jedi Knights, not the devotion to the Order, but deep and passionate and born of emotion rather than familiarity or duty… it was a concept beyond most Jedi, even the Masters. Yoda could not even begin to fathom what kind of force this love must be, that it could convince the most gifted student of the Force to bargain with the vilest of demons. And he was ashamed to admit it, but it frightened him. Facing a man who fought for love was almost a more frightening proposition than going against Darth Sidious.
Never again would the Jedi underestimate the power of love. Never again would they err in such a fashion.
Never again would there be another Darth Vader.
Yoda gripped his cane in both clawed hands, reaching a decision. If Obi-wan, who had suffered so much betrayal at Vader's hands, could forgive the man and find something redeemable in him, perhaps he was not beyond hope yet. Perhaps something could be done to restore his trust in the Jedi Order. And perhaps Luke was not yet lost to them.
It was time to set things right.
The stormtroopers raised their weapons, ready to fire upon the medical center. Tarkin raised his hand to give the order.
"Grand Moff Tarkin."
The man whirled to see the diminutive Jedi Master emerge from behind a power generator. After his initial reaction of shock and disbelief, a sneer crossed his face.
"I thought the Emperor had eradicated you and your scum," he sniffed. "It seems I must still clean up his mess…"
Yoda raised his hand. "Command your troops to hold their fire."
"You don't frighten me, old one," Tarkin laughed. "And your mind tricks aren't enough to save you here."
"A trick I seek not. A bargain I wish to strike."
"A bargain? What bargain does the Empire have with a Jedi? It's a laughable…"
"Seek Vader you do," Yoda went on as if Tarkin had never spoken. "A friend of the Order Vader is not. No reason to protect him we have."
"That is certainly an understatement. But what are you…"
"Others are there in the medical center," Yoda told him. "Innocent lives. Have their blood on your hands you should not."
"Vader is not a menace to be underestimated," Tarkin retorted. "If a few lives are lost to ensure his destruction, it is a small price to pay…"
"Hold their fire your troops will," Yoda told him. "Go in I shall. Bring out Vader I shall." He leaned on his cane and gave Tarkin a solemn look. "Look after the others I will. Do with the Dark Lord what you will."
Tarkin considered that a moment. Yoda waited patiently. He was sure he had Tarkin convinced that they fought for the same goal at the moment. Whether he would believe it enough to allow Yoda admittance was another story.
"How do I know you aren't plotting something, old one?"
"Nothing to gain have I through guile, do I?" Yoda asked, smiling.
"I suppose not," Tarkin conceded. "Very well. A deal. You flush out Vader, and we will let the medical center alone."
Yoda's eyes narrowed. "Have your word on that do I?"
"Upon my honor," Tarkin replied.
Yoda nodded. "Thank you, Grand Moff Tarkin." He hobbled past the Grand Moff, past the motionless troopers, and into the medical center.
The instant the doors closed behind the Jedi Master, a smile spread across Tarkin's bloodless lips like an opening wound. "Unfortunately, Master Yoda, honor was never one of my strong points." He turned to the Death Squad troopers. "Fire at will."
Break…
Explosions tore through the walls of the lobby, and everyone hit the floor as blaster fire ribboned the air. Vader held himself over Luke's body as a shield, feeling shrapnel and hot sparks rain down on his back and shoulders.
"What the stang!" shouted Owen.
"They're attacking the medical center!" Bail cried over the sound of rending ferrocrete and shrieking blaster fire.
"Like we couldn't tell," remarked Vader dryly.
"Dad, I can't see!" complained Luke, struggling to rise.
"Stay down!" Vader ordered, pushing Luke back to the floor.
The assault could not have taken longer than a few minutes, but to the five of them it seemed to drag on for hours. The horrific onslaught shredded their nerves and eardrums and showered them with dust and rubble. And when the blaster fire finally ceased, the silence nearly deafened them.
Vader raised his head slightly, squinting through the film of dust that layered the lenses of his mask. What now?
"They must be dead," came the tinny voice of a stormtrooper. "Nothing could have survived that."
"Make certain," answered Tarkin's coldly refined voice. "Vader is harder to kill than a Kessel roach. Search for survivors, then use an ion charge to make sure."
"Yes sir."
Obi-wan turned to face Vader, blood from a shrapnel blow trickling down his right temple and into his dust-whitened beard. "This just got complicated."
"How are we supposed to get out now?" demanded Owen, struggling to rise.
"Stay down!" hissed Bail. "If they see us move, they'll shoot."
"If we stay here, we get fried!" retorted Owen.
"Patience, gentlemen," Obi-wan urged them. "And have faith. Anakin and I have gotten out of tighter spots than this."
"Correction, Master," Vader replied. "I got you out of tighter situations than this."
"Oh, right," Obi-wan acknowledged dryly.
The broken ferrocrete crunched under boots as troopers stepped into the lobby, weapons raised.
Vader rested a hand on Luke's shoulder. /Stay here/ he ordered. /I will not see you hurt again./
/But what if you're in trouble? I have to help you/
/Stay down. That will help more than anything else./
Obi-wan gave him a sidelong glance. Vader returned the look with an infinitesimal nod.
Then both men were on their feet in an instant, blue and scarlet lightsabers ignited. Startled, the troopers opened fire, but they blocked the bolts easily and struck. One by one the troopers went down, fighting to the end but unable to stand against a Jedi… and a Chosen One.
Bail gaped. "That was…"
"Barbaric?" Obi-wan offered. "I know you find violence abhorrent, Organa, but unfortunately it is unavoidable in some cases."
Luke struggled to his feet. "That was awesome!"
"Be that as it may," Vader replied, "I do NOT want you playing with this." He extinguished his saber. "It is a weapon, not a toy."
Luke nodded, still awestruck. "Will I get to use one someday?"
"Someday," Vader replied. "When you are old enough."
A bellow from outside grabbed their attention. The dewbacks had arrived! Vader had been skeptical about calling the beasts, but now he did not doubt that their loyalty to Luke – and to Luke's father – were unshakeable.
"Put me down!" Luke demanded as Owen lifted him. "I can walk!"
"Don't make a fuss now, of all times, Luke," pleaded Owen.
Outside the ruined med center there were few troops – most were inside searching for Vader. A cluster of them surrounded Grand Moff Tarkin, and at a hysterical order from the Moff they opened fire.
Vader and Obi-wan's weapons were a deadly blur, sapphire and ruby arcs and spirals as they blocked and slashed, knocking aside blaster fire and cutting down the clone soldiers. Within seconds, the only man left standing was Tarkin, who promptly hit his knees and gave Vader a haughty look.
"So it ends here, Vader," he murmured, his gaze cold and hateful. "And I suppose you will take the galaxy as your own now? Will you declare yourself Emperor?"
At one time, that had been Vader's very intention, to overthrow Palpatine and instate himself as supreme leader of the galaxy. No more. He'd had enough of power and all its trappings. He'd found no satisfaction in dominion, no joy in playing the tyrant. He could not accept the title of Emperor, not even now, when the chance was his for the taking.
Instead, he turned to Bail. "With Tarkin out of power, it falls on you, Bail Organa, to lead the Galactic Senate," he told him. "And the first order of business, I believe, is to elect a new Supreme Chancellor."
Bail's eyes widened, then he smiled in understanding. "It will be done."
Vader extinguished his saber. "I hereby place Tarkin under citizen's arrest. He comes with us. Once we have left Tatooine, he is yours to do with as you see fit, Organa."
Tarkin cursed vehemently. Luke's eyes bulged.
"If I catch you repeating that," Vader informed Luke, "I will scrub your mouth out."
Luke grimaced. "I don't even know what it means."
"Good." He grabbed the nearest dewback by the reins. "Let's go."
Break…
The sight that met the Rebels' eyes when they returned to the med center was a horrible one – the building was in flaming ruins and surrounded by the bodies of Death Squad stormtroopers, all obviously felled by lightsabers. The Imperials had apparently finished their business and departed, for the shuttle was nowhere in sight. Tracks from some sort of huge animal led away from the med center – whether a survivor had fled on beast-back or a scavenger had stopped to investigate, who could say?
"Good stars, what happened here?" breathed Mothma.
"You should have known something like this would happen, Mothma," muttered Zevul coldly. To Fett and Han he ordered, "Search for survivors."
No one spoke as they surveyed the wreckage, seeking any sign of life. From the look of things, everyone who had been in the medical center at the time of the attack – doctors, patients, visitors, technicians – had either been shot or incinerated. They had achieved Vader's death, but at a terrible price.
Chewbacca bellowed.
"What is it?" Mothma inquired, turning toward the Wookie.
He stood and carried a tiny body to Mothma – Yoda. The Jedi's robes were black with ash, and his green skin had been slightly burned in places, but no other injury was visible.
"He's unconscious, but he's okay," Zevul noted after a quick inspection. "Looks like debris knocked him out."
"Mothma, come look at this," Han called.
She walked to the tracks the boy was investigating. "Find something of interest?"
"Master Tracker did," he replied, jerking a thumb at Fett, who crouched over the print of a clawed beast.
"Two dewbacks arrived from the direction of the Lars homestead," the hunter reported. "The tracks of four adults and a child approached them. The human tracks end here." He pointed to a curve in the tracks where the beasts had turned back to where they had come from. "There are sweeping marks in the sands from robes and cloaks, so they could not have been stormtroopers. And someone knelt down here." He pointed to a bizarre indentation in the sand. "From all appearances, they left on the dewbacks… and took a captive with them."
"Vader survived," Mothma realized. "And he has a hostage."
Zevul fixed Mothma with a serious look. "How far are you going to pursue this, Mothma? How much time are we going to waste chasing this man, and how many more must die before you're satisfied?"
"This is not about revenge!" she snapped. "This is about eliminating a very dangerous man. And while what happened here is a tragedy, it is also the very reason why we must capture or destroy Vader at all costs. To ensure this doesn't happen again."
Zevul flung his blaster into the dirt. "Then go on and hunt this man and his son to the far corners of the galaxy. But you no longer have my help. I joined your resistance to restore justice to the galaxy, not exact revenge." And he stormed away.