Chapter III – Shards of Mythology

For a mind-bending moment I wondered if the Jedi's old foe, General Grievous, had somehow sprung back to life. The figure emerging from the forest bore a startling resemblance to the droid general, down to the trademark facial plate and biological eyes. But once the shock dissipated and I took a better look at our guest I realized that this was a dissimilar creature – perhaps a different model, or an upgraded version? Her body seemed more compact, less skeletal than Grievous' had been, and the fatal flaw in the torso – the unfused plates that stretched apart during strenuous activity – apparently had been fixed. While Grievous had been built primarily for strength, she was constructed more for speed and agility, and while the general had a strange saurian gait as he walked, her movements were smooth and cat-like. And her eyes… not the yellow orbs with slits for pupils, but human eyes with golden-brown irises.

Her gaze moved from me to Luke, then back to me. Her face was understandably blank of all emotion, but her voice was friendly.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Uh… hi." Ah, the masterful eloquence of my son.

She waved at the fire with a steel-clawed hand. "Mind if I have a sit?"

"Not at all," I replied, trying as hard as I could to be convincingly friendly, though it was a challenge. Old memories of old battles died hard.

She strode toward the fire and swept her ragged, dirty gray cloak to one side before sitting, cross-legged, on the opposite side of the flames, her metallic body glittering in the flickering light. And in the time it took for her to take her seat, all discomfort vanished. It was as if she belonged there, had always belonged there, was a companion in our flight and had merely returned from an errand of some sort.

The ring prickled as if laughing, and I discreetly placed my right hand over my left to hide it.

"So," the droid-woman said at last, breaking the silence, "what's up?"

"Not a lot," Luke replied, returning to his dinner now that it was obvious that this creature was no immediate threat.

"On the run, right?" she pressed, giving me a penetrating look.

"And if we were, what would that mean to you?" I inquired. For all that the ring approved of her presence, she could very well be a bounty hunter.

"Sweetheart, it's been a week since our dearly departed Palps bit the proverbial dust," she remarked, cocking her head at an amused angle. "The entire galaxy's buzzing with the news that his evil stooge Vader escaped and is dragging a captive Luke Skywalker along for the ride – though from the looks of it, he's going willingly. You can't go anywhere without someone trying to sell you a bootleg holo of the Death Star exploding or an Emperor action figure with a lightsaber jammed… someplace. And there's a bounty on your head big enough to get the attention of every slimepicker for light years. Don't play me for an idiot; of course you're on the run."

She was bright, no question of that. Whether she was harmless was another story. Her mechanical brethren Grievous had been far from harmless…

Her next words put me slightly at ease. "Don't worry, I'm on the run too. I've got no reason to want to risk my neck by ratting on the two of you." She touched her forehead in a sort of salute. "Name's Jessalyn. You can call me Jessa."

"Hello, Jessa." I gave a welcoming nod.

"Why are you on the run?" asked Luke.

"Long story," Jessa replied in a bored tone. "Nothing interesting."

"Everyone's got an interesting story," Luke rejoined.

She shrugged, her servomotors whirring. "Well, I suppose it begins on my homeworld… Earth."

I nodded. Luke would not have heard of Earth. The most anyone aside from the highest government officials had known about the planet for hundreds of years was that it was forbidden to even approach it. Both the Republic and the Empire had maintained that law, and for good reason – the citizens of the planet were hopelessly backward, not ready for contact with the outside galaxy. The most curious thing about the planet was that, somehow, many of its citizens knew about our galaxy, though they believed it to be fictional.

"I had an older brother – about eight years older than me, actually. His name was Harley, which, considering our last name was Davidson, I thought was really, really cruel. But anyhow, he was a pretty cool guy, especially since he didn't think it beneath him to get down on the floor to play with a little sister, even if she demanded they play dolls. He balanced this out, of course, by getting me obsessed with Star Wars, which I didn't mind at all…" Her eyes faded away in a far-off look.

"What does this have to do with you being on the run?" asked Luke.

"I'm getting there," she replied testily. "Harley… well… he died when I was eleven. He and some buddies were playing with fireworks, see. I took it pretty hard, but Mom was worse. His body was barely in the ground before she went off and started this huge campaign to get all fireworks banned in our state. And I got pretty ignored in the process. She didn't come to my choir concerts anymore, even when I had a solo part. She didn't even make it to my middle school grad ceremony."

Years of resentment oozed from every word now. "It got to the point where the only time she paid me any attention was when she was yelling at me for breaking curfew or any other rules. It was always 'Harley would never have stayed out after curfew without calling,' or 'Harley never back-talked me like this' or 'Why can't you be like Harley was?' It was humiliating – I mean, what do you say when you get compared to a dead kid?"

"I guess I was just desperate for the same attention Harley was getting now that he was gone. Maybe that's why I did what I did." She stared at her clawed hands as her voice dropped to a guilty whisper. "Dad took pills. He had a degenerative disc in his back. And one day when he and Mom were at some city council meeting to propose the fireworks ban again, I popped them. The whole bottle. I was so stupid… my last thought was… I can't believe this… maybe now she'd care about me…

"When I woke up, I couldn't feel my arms or legs – or any other part of my body. I thought maybe it was some reaction to the drug, but it wasn't. Someone had broken into the house just a few minutes after I passed out. Someone not of our world." She rapped her fist against her chestplate. "Someone looking for a perfect guinea pig for his latest project. His name was Dalzor, and he called himself a scientist." She snorted. "Sadistic moron would be my choice of words. He liked to take apart droids and creatures and mix and match their parts. Remember General Grievous? He's Dalzor's pet project."

"I gathered that," I replied.

"Figured you did. He always said I was Grievous' sister, in a sense. But I hated being an experiment, hated being in that sicko's lab. I asked him what he'd done with my body, and he said he'd left it back on Earth. A gruesome murder, it was being called. And he kept reminding me that it was my fault, that if I hadn't tried to poison myself I wouldn't be in this position."

"So you killed him," I speculated.

"Wrong. Another project got out of hand. Destroyed Dalzor and the entire complex. I barely got out in one piece." She clenched both mechanical hands, eyes bright with fury. "But thanks to the rap Grievous gets, I can't get a moment's piece. There's a dismantle-on-sight order on any droid that came out of Dalzor's lab, and I can't say I blame them." Her eyes rested on me. "I have a goal, and that's to find a scientist who's willing to give me a body again. I'm tired of being seen as a sideshow freak. And when I'm human again, I'm finding my way home."

I sympathized with Jessa – her plight was horrible. I, too, knew what it was like to be considered less than human. And yet her spirit was admirable. She seemed confident that a means to free herself from her cybernetic prison existed. I had once harbored such a hope…

"I'm sorry, Jessa," Luke said kindly.

"Don't be. Not your guys' fault." Her eyes softened a little. "Sorry to spill my guts – and I mean that figuratively – but sometimes one just needs to vent. You never do get accustomed to it."

"Very true," I replied. "You are welcome to travel with us a ways, Jessa, though even I do not know where our path leads." I turned to Luke. This jaunt had been his idea…

"My friend Wedge has some old friends in a remote village on this planet," Luke explained. "They've always said that if I ever needed a favor, no matter how big, they were always available. Hopefully they'll be able to take us in for a while, until things settle down."

"Hiding out, huh?" asked Jessa. "Not a bad idea, though I don't think…" Her voice trailed off as her gaze rested on my hands. "What's that on your finger, Vader?"

I looked down. I had moved my hand just slightly, but enough to expose the ring again. It was now a brilliant gold, as if purposely trying to draw attention.

"Can I have a look?" Jessa's voice was curious, but something in the tone seemed to suggest that she knew something about the ring. Could this be why the ring had so readily admitted her into our group?

I extended my hand, and she slid around the fire to sit by me. Taking my hand in hers, she examined the ring closely, murmuring so quietly I could not discern separate words. She twisted it experimentally – strange, it was loose enough to rotate on my finger, but tight enough not to budge when she pulled gently at it.

"Interesting," she mused. "Heard of these. Never actually seen one, though. And how it ended up HERE, on Darth Vader's hand…" She looked up, eyes shining with mirth. "Very interesting."

"What is it?" asked Luke, who was now looking over my shoulder at the ring. "How come I haven't noticed it until now? And where'd you get it?"

"I found it in the Emperor's palace," I explained. "I do not know what possessed me to put it on…"

Jessa crowed with laughter. "No use to Palps, but his own right-hand man could wear it! Oh, this is one in the old coot's eye, man! Palps, I hope you're rolling in your grave right now!"

"Palps?" Luke repeated, a wry look on his face.

"Perhaps you can let us in on your joke?" I requested.

"Sorry…" she gasped, wiping her eyes – evidently the sadistic Dalzor had left her lachrymal glands intact when he'd implanted her brain and vital organs in the droid shell. "It's just… let me explain… the ring… if I'm not mistaken, it's a unicorn ring."

"A what?"

"Unicorn ring. A unicorn is a beast of Earth mythology, looking like a white horse with a single horn on its forehead… um, you guys do know about horses, don't you?"

"The planets of Endor and Dathomir are home to equine subspecies, just as Earth is," I told her.

"Oh good. Unicorns were beasts of powerful magic, and they could heal wounds and sickness, communicate with any person or beast, sense danger, and a lot more. What you have here…" She indicated the ring. "…is a fragment of its horn."

"I thought you said they were mythological," I reminded her.

"I thought they were mythological," she corrected. "But then, seeing as I thought you guys were mythological before I was abducted, goes to show I'm not all-knowing." She tapped the ring again. "Even separated from the unicorn, this chunk of its horn is still capable of great things. It can warn you of approaching danger, heal wounds, allow you to communicate with animals… who knows what else?"

I stared at the ring with new respect. Small wonder Palpatine had kept it hidden. He would have initiated a hundred coups had he allowed knowledge of this artifact's existence to reach the rest of the Empire. I knew of many warlords who would do anything for such power…

That sobered me instantly. I knew I had carried out horrific acts in order to gain power…

"Just how powerful is this?" I asked warily.

"Depends on how long it's been separated from the unicorn," she replied.

If it could transform a droid limb into flesh and blood, it could not have been away from the original source for very long.

"Incredible," breathed Luke.

"Funny, though," Jessa went on. "In the books I read, it always went on the right hand… but not like you can do anything to correct it now…"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Once the ring's on, it stays on. The only way it'll come off is if you don't need it anymore, or if you don't deserve it."

I glanced up sharply. "What makes you think I deserve this? I am a monster, a murderer…"

"Evidently it thinks you deserve it," she shot back, nodding at my hand. "And that's all that counts." She climbed to her feet. "Well, I'm beat for now. I dunno about you guys, but I think I'm gonna hit the sack. Anyone mind?"

"You two sleep," Luke told us. "I'll keep first watch."

"I'll take second," Jessa volunteered.

"And what am I supposed to do?" I inquired, not happy with being treated like an invalid.

"Father, you need your rest. The Emperor almost killed you. I'm not going to let you kill yourself because you're too stubborn to take it easy."

Why was he so concerned with my health anyhow? I didn't deserve life any more than I deserved this shard of unicorn. Nor did I deserve the title of Father he insisted on using. I had acted despicably for so many years. The only thing I was truly deserving of was a war-criminal trial. And yet Luke insisted on protecting me, keeping me from facing justice, while Jessa seemed convinced that I was worthy to wield the considerable power of the ring.

The ring tightened slightly around my finger, as if trying to impart some comfort. Again I stubbornly attempted to pull it off, focusing only on the thought that I didn't need it, didn't deserve it, wanted no part of it. But it responded only by clinging all the more tightly.

At last I gave up. It would have to remain where it was for now. But the moment I felt it loosen, I intended to be rid of it. I had abused the power of the Force often enough; who was to say I wouldn't eventually abuse the power of the ring?

Break…

It was with great difficulty that we decided on what supplies would be necessary for our journey. We couldn't take the shuttle with us; it was too conspicuous. But no other transport was available either. There were no speeders aboard the shuttle, for it's intended journey had simply been to and from the Death Star, where no speeders were needed. That meant we would be traveling on foot, carrying all needed items on our backs.

Rations for Luke (neither Jessa nor I needed food), a medkit, an emergency shelter which would double as a private area where I could tend to my daily needs, sleeping pallets, a recharger unit for Jessa's droid body and my cybernetic components, and my medical supplies – which made up the bulk of our load – were musts. We could leave the cooking reactor and heating units behind and depend on fire, but that did little to lighten the burden. In the end, all we could do was divide the load three ways and trust that we could carry it the entire way.

I shouldered my share of the baggage, silently cursing the mask. If I had never been such a fool to trust my master… It had been through his treachery that I had gone to Mustafar, engaged Kenobi in battle, and been crippled during the battle. I was broken, ruined, scarred, hardly a man anymore. Even the life-support machinery contained in my armor could not fully compensate. I was in constant pain, and every movement, every breath, only intensified it.

The only place where I could breathe freely was my private chamber on the now-demolished Executor, which was kept constantly sterile and the air purified and enriched. In there I could pretend, for a short time, that I was normal, that I didn't need a machine to exist. Outside the chamber, only the mask could allow me to breathe, and even then every movement of my lungs was painful.

I glanced at the ring, which had faded from gold to ivory again. If it supposedly had healing powers, why had it not also healed my lungs as well as my arm? What was it waiting for?

Jessa paused in the act of strapping her pack on. She cocked her head to one side, almost animal-like, listening.

"What is it?" asked Luke.

"I thought I heard… wait here." She let her load slide to the ground and melted into the forest, her every move oddly graceful.

Minutes passed. I was about to send Luke in after her when a hideous scream filled the air. I froze, recognizing that sound. I had heard it once before, on Geonosis…

"Everyone drop your stuff!" Jessa shouted, bursting from the trees. "I found transportation!"

"A speeder?" asked Luke.

"Naw, the original transport!" she told him. "You know, a pack animal! I'm gonna need help calming him down though… oh, shuddup!" she shouted as the creature screamed again.

Had the situation been any different, I would have said no at once. But the ring had other ideas, and it pulsed urgently, compelling me to have another look.

"Let's see this pack animal," I demanded, striding in the direction of the racket.

"Oh trust me, you'll like him," she gushed, loping to meet my pace, her eyes glinting like a child begging her mother to let her keep some new pet in her room.