A number of weeks later, for another night, I dreamed of Vader. But not a dream. A reality. An experience of something happening Star systems away.
I saw Vader in a dark mausoleum. I saw him lay one black-gloved hand on the tombstone. I heard him vow, " You will be avenged, my angel ."
And then I woke up, panting, sweating, and shaking. My heart threatened to leap from my chest. I realized he had been at the grave of Padmé Amidala, my mother .
" You will be avenged, my angel. "
What did that mean? Why was he there? How could Vader possibly still care for her in any capacity ( my angel ) when none of Anakin was left in him? I remembered Yoda and Obi-Wan's constant admonitions that "He is more machine now, than man. Twisted and evil." But how could someone entirely twisted and evil want to avenge his long-dead wife in some way? Call her "my angel"?
And in what way did he wish to avenge her…? I didn't know. I couldn't ascertain. But I did know that the Force was warning me, that this did involve me and/or my family, and that it would affect us all.
...Vader was hunting me down to kill me, wasn't he? He was done with Grand Inquisitor Reva's failures. He was taking the hunt on himself. Maybe Reva was even dead.
I needed to be ready.
OOO
The suns were setting. Eyes shielded against the glare with the flat of my hand, I observed the slithering-down of the binary suns. There was something distinctly final about watching this sunset. I supposed because I knew my time here on Tatooine was necessarily drawing to a close. If I was to head this movement with Leia so seriously considering leaving because of her pregnancy, then I needed to commit fully: move into the base on Elphora, leave the Lars homestead forever, Tatooine forever… And with Vader hunting me, it was only a matter of time. Much better to leave tomorrow and spare the locals possible pain and hurt.
It felt like failing my aunt and uncle to do so. But what else could I do? I had always suspected my time here might come to an end—had so often wanted it to. So why did I suddenly feel like a kid on weekend vacation before school started again: it was almost the end, and I didn't want to go.
Unease stirred in my gut. I pushed it back, wanting to enjoy the beauty of this last sunset. And by the Force, it was certainly a glorious one, full of bright pinks and soft oranges and flaming reds. Yes, those reds absolutely burned…
Only after both binary suns had completely set did I head inside to face the approaching night.
OOO
I awoke with a yell. Oh my stars. Oh my stars —
Blindly, I dove from my bed, resulting in a crash to the floor. My limbs felt utterly limp. I scrambled to my feet, adrenaline making me dizzy. Blood roared in my ears. I threw on clothing, blind of what it was.
Dawn was breaking outside. I sprinted to my speeder, pushing it to the limit, and got to Toshe Station within fifteen minutes. All the while the blood kept roaring in my ears, and my stomach churned, as if the claws of some great beast were raking it from the inside. Here, now, I realized with panic that there were no ships around here. Only in Mos Eisley, and that was a whole day's trip.
It would be too late, then. Much too late.
You will be avenged, my angel . I began trembling from head to foot. My vision started blurring. And—now—I must be hallucinating, because how could Biggs be here only a month and a half after his prior leave? I stared uncomprehendingly at him. He, who caught sight of me at the same time and wordlessly pulled me into an alley.
He spoke with the same intent accusation as from before. "Glad to see you. I want to talk to you. Vill's escape ? Did you have anything to—
"What's wrong?"
I yanked my arm from his.
"Get out of my way." I was still shaking—from fright, and now from rage. Rage at Vader. And rage at him.
And Biggs clearly realized it, too. He took a step back. "Luke—?"
I ignored him. "Did you fly here?"
"I—yes—"
"Is it docked near here?"
"Fairly—"
"Give me the keys to your ship. Tell me where it is. Take me to it." I wasn't shaking anymore. I was in his face, and looking at him with deadly calm. Emphasis on the deadly. Some cool clarity had seeped into my brain, and now I could see everything. And do anything . It didn't matter now. All that mattered was stopping him—Vader—before it was too late. " Now ."
Biggs swallowed hard. He looked like one faced by a predator prepped to eat him. Vaguely, I wondered why. "Not until you give me an explenation," he uttered boldly. "For why you're acting like this."
"How about a reason to do what I say?" I returned evenly, and wrapped a hand of the Force around his throat. Kriff this druk. He would obey me, and he would stop asking idiotic questions I couldn't answer about the White Suns, or rescues, or law breaking.
Biggs's hand flew to his throat, his hazel eyes bulging. "Luke…" he pled, scratching and clawing at the skin, unable to breathe—"Luke…"—
I let him loose, heart pounding. Some of that sick feeling was breaking through again. I turned my back on him.
"Now take me to it ."
You will be avenged, my angel .
OOO
And in the end, I was too late. Much too late. As I'd known I would be throughout the entire sickening journey here.
Too little. Too late.
You failed. You believed the wrong thing.
Game over.
I watched from the cinder-and-ash filled shadows of the fire-planet Mustafar on which my mother had once been Force-choked as my niece was taken from Vader's castle in a medical capsule—limp and barely responsive in the Force—up to the Death Star which hung overhead on the world. I hoped it would fire, and kill us all now.
No such mercy existed.
I watched, helpless, as Tarkin coordinated the medical troops, clearly involved in this. Clearly having saved her. I saw his face and I felt his care and I knew that he had stuck his neck out—somehow here at the right time—in attempt to save the young woman he considered a daughter. The young woman he loved, just as much as I did, only for different reasons.
The young woman who now was a hair's breath from death. Who would be treated on the Death Star, the best of the best. But who, no matter what, could never be the same.
You will be avenged, my angel .
And I felt Vader, too, in the Force. Felt his black malice. His rage at being thwarted. Wondered at how anyone could have talked sense into him amidst this depthless pain, sorrow, and grief—all directed into singular hatred of an innocent girl whose only crime seemed to be bearing his wife's name.
You will be avenged, my angel .
And I thought of how he himself killed his "angel" on this very world. And I thought of the cool clarity which had siezed me in my terror, and the dark whispers that coaxed at me to make Biggs do as I said. I thought of how he'd fallen to his knees and looked up at me with pleading in his puppy dog eyes.
Luke. Luke…
I fell to my knees in the smoky dusk. Yoda was right. He'd always been right. I wasn't fit to be a Jedi, much less the last Jedi. I'd failed in every way possible—failed Biggs, failed my teachers, failed Owen and Beru, failed Han and Leia, and failed Padmé . Oh by the Force… Padmé … I cried tears, bidden by the emotion and the hot sulfuric air, but they didn't matter. I'd never have enough tears for this.
In the end, I could only think of Biggs, and of the way he'd kissed me in the kitchen, back when things had been somewhat alright. Back when I didn't understand. Back when there was hope.
His lips.
My lips.
Apocalypse.
OOO
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