Chapter XIII – Acklay: The Great Red
Of all the possible destinations in the galaxy, why did the next stop have to be Tatooine?
"The wretched hive of scum and villainy," Jessa noted, affecting an accent. "You know, I've wanted to visit this place since I was a little girl."
"Earth must be dull if you wanted to take a vacation to Tatooine," Luke said teasingly.
"Believe me, kid, if you thought your home planet was an armpit, come to my homeworld," she shot back. "No starships, no antigrav, no droids with personalities…"
I ignored the two of them, concentrating on landing the shuttle on the outskirts of Mos Espa. Strange. Nothing had changed. I had expected time to alter this place somehow, but just as Corusant had remained virtually untouched by the monumental changes in the galaxy, Mos Espa had not been altered one iota by the passage of thirty years or the rise and fall of the Empire. It was still the same dusty, wind-pitted town, crawling with vermin and slime of every kind. I was certain that, if I walked these streets, I could retrace every step I had taken as a child. And I… I had changed radically. Mos Espa would not recognize the innocent slave boy that had followed a Jedi out of town so many years ago.
"What now?" asked Tuck.
"I think," I told the others, "I would like to take a look around. You may accompany me if you wish."
"Why so curious?" asked Luke.
"This is my hometown," I replied. "This is where I lived as a child."
Fett snorted. "You? From here? That's unbelievable."
"Believe it," Ash told him sternly. In a kinder voice she addressed me. "I think the rest of us will establish some sort of camp here. You go into town. Send a call through the ring if you need help. And try to be back by sundown. I'm sure you know what dangers lurk here after dark."
"Thank you, Ash."
I stepped off the shuttle, reformed the protective illusion, and entered the city. Stars, how I remembered these streets, the apartments and shops, the cantinas and garages. Yes, there were changes, but superficial ones – the outfitter's shop had a new owner, the rusted traffic control droid that had always stood at one corner had finally been hauled away, someone's dwelling had a new coat of paint (which seemed pointless, as the sun and sand would destroy it within weeks anyhow). For the most part, this was still the gritty, dirty, used town of my youth.
I entered Watto's junk shop, fully expecting to see the fat, grizzled Toydarian hovering behind the counter. Instead, I saw a dark-skinned man frowning over a readout, his calloused hands stained with grease and his black hair just starting to turn gray. He looked up at me, registered my presence, and turned his attention back to the readout.
"Be with you in a minute, sir," he told me.
The ring pulsed gently. I frowned, puzzled. This man was not the center of our quest, I knew that much, so why was it responding to his presence? Our fellowship had seven members already; surely we couldn't need an eighth. Then was there another purpose for addressing him?
He set the readout aside and straightened, smiling pleasantly. "Can I help you, sir?"
"I was looking for Watto," I replied. "He is… an old acquaintance of mine."
The man shook his head. "I'm sorry, but Watto died five years ago, and he sold the shop to my father three years before that. Had debts to pay off. Didn't do a lot of good, though – he died still paying. The Hutts are likely to go after his family now for the rest." His eyes had been taking on a faraway look as he'd spoken, but he snapped back to the present. "New to Mos Espa, sir?"
"This is where I spent my childhood, but I have been absent for a long time."
"Then welcome back, and pleased to meet you. My name's Kister. Yours?"
Despite the fact that I was wearing a respirator, I felt all breath flee my lungs. Kister?
"Um, sir?" He gave me a concerned look. "Is something wrong?"
"Kister," I murmured. "It's me, Anakin."
His jaw dropped. "Ani? Ani? I thought you were dead! The Jedi Purges and all…" His expression became exultant, and he reached over the counter and punched my arm. "Stang, I missed you, Ani! Why didn't you ever come visit? My kids would've loved to see you!"
I laughed a little. "Life has been very chaotic for me, my friend."
Kister turned to the back of the store. "Kay, take over for me! I have to chat with a customer!"
"You forgot to say please, Dad," a teenage boy fooling around with a pit droid shot back, but he assumed his father's place at the counter anyhow.
"Come outside," he invited, gesturing to the junkyard. "We have a lot to catch up on."
"Yes," I replied. "First, tell me what has gone on here."
For the next hour I listened as my old friend explained how he had fallen in love with a naturalist and married her, and how his family had purchased Watto's junk shop and planned to expand the business. How our old friend Wald had found employ off planet as a Black Sun enforcer and was eventually killed in a barfight, and how my rival Sebulba had given up podracing after his defeat at the Boonta Eve race and had taken up demolition derby on Malastare instead (far more fitting, I thought). How the Empire had established a governor over Tatooine and attempted to wrest control of the planet away from the Hutts… and how the Hutts had shown the Imperials that they would not be trifled with by inviting the governor to Jabba's palace for a "visit," then having his remains gilded and put on public display in front of the Imperial bastion.
"That's about it," Kister finished. "But I want to hear about you. Whatever happened to that pack you left here with? The old Jedi, the girl, and the goofy alien? And how under the suns did you manage to hide from the Empire all this time?"
"I did not hide… not exactly." I hesitated. Did I dare reveal the truth to him?
"C'mon, Ani, you know you can tell me anything." He draped an arm around my shoulders. "Sure, it's been years, but deep down, we're still the same street rats, aren't we?"
"That's just it," I replied. "I am not the boy you once knew, Kister. I have… changed. Drastically."
"Everyone changes, but some things stay the same," he pressed. "Tell me."
"Kister, promise me," I said desperately. "Promise me that before you jump to any conclusions, you will hear me out. After I am through, you may do what you will, but until then, just listen."
He nodded. "Okay."
I lifted my left hand, willing him to see the ring. Obediently it caught the light of the double suns and flashed, catching his attention.
"This ring," I explained, "has powers… powers far beyond the Force. At the moment it is masking my true face from you through illusion. I am going to drop that illusion now. Be warned that what you will see may haunt you for life."
At first he stared at me as if I were a madman. Then he composed himself and nodded, though there was still a great deal of skepticism in his eyes. "I'm bracing myself. Go ahead, I'm ready."
He was not ready, I knew. But I released the Force that held the illusion in place, and the ring withdrew its power as well. Kister now saw me for who I was, saw what I had become… saw that the face of his childhood friend had become the mask of Darth Vader, a symbol of evil.
And to his credit, after his initial reaction of shock and fear, he did not call for help, order me away, or bolt in panic.
"Ani… what happened?" he said quietly, eyes still wide. "What happened to the boy I knew?"
"Much," I replied, feeling my throat close with emotion. "Too much."
He sat down on a rusted speeder and motioned for me to take a seat beside him. "Tell me."
My own story poured forth – departing Tatooine, having to leave my mother behind, fighting in the Battle of Naboo, the Jedi Master I had come to love and trust dying under the blade of a Sith, Qui-gon's reluctant apprentice taking me under his tutelage, learning of the Jedi's codes and edicts forbidding attachment of any kind, my mother's death and my subsequent rage…
My marriage to Padme, my pledge to the Emperor to save her and the children she carried, my slaughter of innocents, my duel with Kenobi, the horrific wounds I had suffered that left me forever trapped behind a steel mask, learning that I had killed Padme trying to save her, the years of agony and slavery at the Emperor's hands…
Then discovering my son and the ring, using the love of Luke and the power of the ring to finally break the chains binding me to the Emperor, the odd collection of creatures I now called friends and comrades, our quest for answers to our problems…
I left out anything dealing with the Shadow, as well as my true past as a dragon. There were just some things I felt too personal to share at the time. Besides, I had given Kister enough to digest for the time being.
"My old friend," Kister said softly once I had finished speaking, "I wish I could do something to help you." He smiled sadly. "I can't take you into my house, of course – the wife wouldn't have it. Imperials killed her sister, and she's still bitter about it."
"Even if she approved, I will not burden your family with my care," I replied. "You have helped enough by listening."
"Are you sure I can't do something?" he pressed. "Need credits, supplies, parts for your ship…"
"No. We will be fine." I stood. "I had better go. The others will be worried."
Kister stood as well and embraced me. "Good luck, my friend. Come back someday. I'll always be here if you need me."
"I will remember." I turned to go, then noticed something peculiar. "Where did you get that?"
"Oh, this?" He laughed and patted the side of the decrepit space yacht that had been parked in the junkyard. "Bought it off some offworlder who didn't know any better. Got it dirt-cheap and fixed it up, and once I get the cosmetic repairs done on it I'll be able to sell it for a good price – twenty-five thousand easy, fifty if I'm lucky."
Something about the ship piqued my interest. Though battered and scratched, its once-bright chrome finish dull with age, I had a feeling…
"There is something you can do for me," I told him. "I need a ship."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Go ahead. Take it. Call it thirty years' worth of birthday presents."
I laughed a little. "I suppose that means I owe you for all those years as well."
He waved it off. "Ah, seeing you again'll do me for the next fifty years. Just come and get it whenever you're ready to go."
Break…
The suns had reached the horizon by the time I made it back to the shuttle. Of the others, I only saw Ash and Luke, seated just beneath the wing of the shuttle for shade.
"Good, you're back," Luke said, sounding much relieved. "I was about to come looking for you."
"Where are the others?" I asked.
"Fett and Tuck are inside, arguing over something or other," Luke replied with a shrug. "Nightwind left to go hunting, and Jessa…" He jerked a thumb upward. "The usual."
I looked up. Jessa was stretched out on her back on the shuttle's viewscreen, arms folded behind her head, singing at the top of her lungs: "You may be right! I may be crazy! But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for…"
"I see." I shook my head. "I found our third ship."
Luke gave me a puzzled look. "Nothing's wrong with the shuttle. Why can't we just take it again?"
"I do not know. But at the moment, I choose to place my trust in the ring. It has yet to lead us wrong."
Ash looked up from the fire. "It's getting dark. We'd best go inside and retire for the night." She spread her wings. "I will seek out the acklay and bring him back."
"I do not think seeking him out will be a problem," I replied, gesturing toward the nearby desert. Nightwind was clearly visible, a sharp silhouette against the setting suns as he charged across the dry plain. What sort of prey was he chasing anyhow? Anything larger than an eopie should be visible, even from this distance…
"I think he's playing," Luke said with a smile. "He likes it out here. Lots of open space."
"And now that the light has dimmed, it is less of a misery for him to be outside," I added. The acklay came from a dark world; the double suns of Tatooine had to be a misery for him. Now that the day had dimmed, he had a chance to truly stretch his legs.
"Nightwind!" I shouted. "Time to come back!"
His reply was faint. "Don't want to go back!" he shouted petulantly, like a child putting off his bedtime.
"Tell him the Sandpeople come out by night, and he'll be safer in the shuttle," Luke replied.
I relayed the message, but Nightwind wouldn't have it. "I can fight Sandpeople! Not scared of them at all! Besides, it's nice out, and I'm not tired!"
I sighed and relented. "Stay where you can see the shuttle. Wake me up if there are any problems."
He gave a triumphant whoop and reared onto his hind sets of legs, punching at the air with his foreclaws.
"He's cute," Jessa noted. "Wish I could take him home with me."
Despite our concerns for Nightwind's safety, it turned out that allowing him to stay outside for the night would save all our lives… and that the Sandpeople were not what we needed to fear.
Break…
I was jolted out of pleasant oblivion by something massive banging against the sides of the shuttle. Startled, I shot upright, only to clang my helmet against the bulkhead. My surprised oath was joined by grumbles, shrieks, and loud complaints as the others responded to whatever it was that had disturbed us.
"That had better not be Nightwind," grumbled Fett.
"Actually, I'd rather it be Nightwind than something else," Luke pointed out.
The banging continued, and the ring was afire with power. Our second adventure was about to begin.
"Nightwind?" I asked.
"Something's coming!" came his shriek. "Wake up, wake up, wake up…"
Before I could ask what that "something" was, a horribly familiar sound penetrated the shuttle walls and reached us – the weird, haunting battle cry of a Tusken Raider.
"Sandpeople!" Luke exclaimed, grabbing his lightsaber and shoving his feet into his boots.
I retrieved my own weapon, and the six of us piled out of the shuttle. I was sure we were quite the sight – I had left my cloak behind in the rush, Jessa had mistakenly tied her blanket about her neck instead of her cape, neither Luke nor Fett were wearing shirts (though Fett still wore his helmet, a bizarre sight), and Tuck's boots were on the wrong feet. But at the moment, none of us cared. All our attention was directed toward the oncoming foes.
There had to be at least twenty Tusken Raiders barreling toward us from the dunes to our left, their banthas charging at breakneck speed, riders bent low over their shoulders. From Mos Espa, which lay to our right, came a party of nearly forty townspeople, armed with every sort of gun and blade imaginable, fully prepared to slaughter the oncoming attackers. And we were caught squarely in the middle of what would surely be a messy battle.
"Who votes for going back into the shuttle and waiting for this to blow over?" asked Jessa.
"I don't think the Tuskens want a fight," Ash spoke up, landing on my shoulder.
"What do you mean?" asked Tuck.
"For one thing, none of them have weapons ready," she pointed out. "Only those in the back have guns, and those guns are not pointed at the townspeople, but at something behind them…"
"Oh Sith!" exclaimed Fett. "Small wonder they're running! Look!"
Over the crest of the dune, trailing in the Tuskens' footprints, was a krayt dragon. A huge mass of muscle and scales and spines and teeth, it gave its piercing hunting cry and grinned savagely as it slunk after the fleeing Sandpeople. The light of the triple moons shone on its scales, red and hard in the pale light…
The Force help us. Red scales… this was no ordinary krayt.
The Great Red was the stuff of legends, an infamous beast that had terrorized Mos Espa and the surrounding land for over fifty years. Eerily intelligent, enormously strong, and unafraid of humans and civilization, she laired somewhere in the Dune Sea, visiting the city every so often to raid moisture farms or attack and devour anyone fool enough to be outside after dark. Time and again the Hutts had hired assassins and big game hunters to destroy the beast, and time and again she had thwarted their attempts, at one time fighting off a team of fifty hunters – and slaughtering forty-six of them.
The armed townspeople halted in their tracks, panic gleaming in their eyes. They had not expected this! Almost as one they turned to bolt back to the city, though a few gutsy men – Kister among them, I noticed – stayed behind and fired upon the beast.
"No!" screeched Nightwind. "Not back to the city! She'll follow us there and kill us! Go to the canyon!"
Most people would not have taken the advice of an acklay, even if they could have understood it, but at the moment I would have taken even Jabba the Hutt's advice, seeing as I had no ideas of my own. It was too late to follow the people of Mos Espa and pass on the warning, but as for the Tuskens…
Perhaps now was the time to make things right for that horrible night twenty-five years ago.
"To Beggar's Canyon!" I ordered everyone, townsfolk, Tuskens, and our fellowship alike. "Hurry!"
The men hesitated, but when the dragon bellowed again they heeded our advice and ran for the canyon. Thanks to the ring the Sandpeople understood, but they seemed reluctant to heed the advice of an outsider. In the end, however, it seemed they judged us the lesser of two evils.
The walls of Beggar's Canyon loomed over us as we retreated before the Great Red. Now I saw the wisdom of Nightwind's advice. In taking this route, we were leading the dragon away from Mos Espa, protecting the townspeople. That still did not explain how we would survive this situation, however.
At last Nightwind gave a piercing whistle, calling us to a halt next to a gigantic heap of boulders, the remains of a great rockslide years ago. "Right here."
"Right here what?" asked Luke.
The acklay turned to the rock heap and began clawing at it. "Help me dig!"
"Everyone dig!" I translated.
"Why?" demanded Kister. "What about the dragon…"
"Do it!" I ordered.
Working together, we dug at the rock pile, scraping hands and claws against the rocks until blood spotted the stones. Even the banthas pitched in, their wide feet shoving stones aside with ease. All the while, the Great Red came steadily closer.
"Enough!" bellowed Nightwind. "Back away!"
I stepped back, ordering everyone else to do the same. Nightwind remained where he was, head high, every muscle tensed for action. Did he intend to fight the dragon?
"She'll rip him apart," worried Kister. "Can't you call him back?"
"He is his own creature," I replied. "He follows no orders but his own…"
A fearsome red-scaled head rounded the corner, teeth bared in a smile of rage. Her golden eyes rested on Nightwind, gleaming hungrily. The acklay reached forward and placed one spike-like foreleg against a stone.
That was the moment I realized what he planned to do. His order to dig had had a purpose… and now every stone in the heap was in precarious balance, with the entire weight of the mass resting on the rock his leg was planted against. It was a deadly accident just waiting to happen.
The Great Red lunged with a roar.
Nightwind shoved hard against the stone and fled.
For a breathless moment, all was still. Then a roar of a different sort filled the canyon as the entire mass of rock thundered down. Too late the Great Red saw what was about to happen and tried to flee, but the slide overwhelmed her.
Then yet another roar filled the canyon… that of applause.
Break…
"I mean it," I told Kister. "Take the shuttle. Call it a gift."
"Ani, what am I gonna do with an Imperial shuttle?" he protested, laughing.
"Take it apart and sell it in pieces," I replied. "It will bring in far more income than the yacht would have. Trust me."
He laughed and embraced me a final time. "Good luck in your journey, my friend."
I turned and boarded the yacht. I would greatly miss Kister. He had proven to be a greater friend than I could have possibly imagined. Someday, maybe once this was over, I would have to return.
Nightwind was grinning quite widely as we prepared to go. "That was fun!"
"'Fun' would not be my choice of words," I replied. "And I presume you will be bragging about this for some time to come?"
He whuffed, his version of laughter. "Of course."
I smiled as my eyes rested on the acklay's neck. He had flatly refused to let us put the collar back on, so the item had been discarded before our departure. Instead, a leather thong hung about his neck, a thong from which dangled the trophy the Tuskens had given him – the ivory claw of the Great Red.
"I wonder…" Luke murmured, reaching out to touch the wicked claw. "The Great Red… she was a dragon, wasn't she?"
"They're not true dragons," Ash replied, looking up from preening herself. "They are reptiles, yes, but they have no trace of magic in their blood. Believe me, a true dragon would not have been so easily defeated."
All the same, I could not help but salute the memory of the Great Red. Despite all the terror she had wreaked, she was a legend, and legends are to be honored.
