Chapter Nine: Plans and Preparations
"I don't understand," Luke said, frowning at Anakin. "Why don't you want us along? You keep saying our Force skills are improving in leaps and bounds – what's wrong?"
Anakin sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes as if attempting to ward off a headache. "I know you can look after yourself, son, and and I know Leia can, too. I do. I'm incredibly proud of you both, Luke, don't misunderstand me. However, you are my children, and every instinct I possess is screaming at me not to put in in danger."
Luke crossed his arms. "But it is perfectly fine for us to sit safely here and worry ourselves to the point of insanity while you put yourself in harm's way?"
His father's mouth twisting apologetically. "Harm's way doesn't really bother me." He rose to his feet. "There is no point in arguing about this, son. You are coming whether I like it or not. I've called a meeting; let's go before we're late."
Leia and Han sat on one side of the long conference table; Jix and Piett stared back at them from the other side. Nobody said a word.
"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Piett finally asked.
Leia shook her head, her gaze fastened on the table top.
Jix rolled his shoulders restlessly. "Uncle D will explain," he said, glancing irritably at the door. "When he decides to grace us with his presence."
"He will be here," Piett assured him. "We're actually a little early."
"I know," Jix retorted, rolling his eyes. "I said when, not if."
Anakin chose that moment to sail through the door, Luke at his heels. He walked to the head of the table. "Jixton, play nice," he ordered. "Piett, stop telling him what he already knows."
"Yes, sir," Piett replied. Jix stayed silent.
"This mission," Anakin explained, "will take us into the heart of Solaria, an Imperial stronghold. It has been discovered that a man is being held prisoner there, by the name of Nicas Mowgua."
Leia gasped. "He's alive?"
Anakin nodded. "Mowgua is a prominent Rebel leader who has been thought dead for the last five or six years. With the Empire falling about his ears, the local governor isn't going to keep him alive much longer."
"I'm guessing our job is to bust him out?" Han commented.
"You guess correctly." Anakin leaned toward them, palms flat on the table, meeting each pair of eyes with his own intense, bright blue stare. "This is a very delicate mission," he said quietly. "I need to know that I can trust you to follow my orders to the letter, with no memory lapses or reinterpretations."
"Of course," Jix and Piett said instantly.
Anakin turned his unsettling gaze on Luke, Han and Leia.
Luke gave in first, knowing how much it meant to his father that he and Leia in particular made this vow. "I will."
"So will I," Leia agreed reluctantly.
Han held out a little longer, but even his stubborn will was no match for that of the Chosen One. "Oh, alright," he finally huffed.
Anakin straightened. "Good. Captain Solo, prepare your ship. Every Imperial knows the Millennium Falcon. She'll make a good distraction."
"But --" Han began to object, but the Jedi's frown silenced him, and he had been silenced by enough of the best to know a good leader when he saw one. Anakin's eyes looked cool as ice when he didn't like an answer, and he really didn't like Han's. The smuggler recognized the incredible quality that marked an excellent leader in the Jedi – he had the ability to get people to follow him.
To the utter astonishment of the twins, Han dropped his gaze in deference. "She'll be ready," he said.
Anakin nodded to them all and swept back out the door.
Luke, Leia and Anakin stood in front of the lightsaber cabinet, attempting to divide the three other weapons.
Anakin had learned from experience to always have an extra lightsaber close by, and his children agreed that it was a good idea. The problem was that, although they didn't express the sentiment, none of them wanted to carry a red blade, even as a secondary weapon.
"Leia and I will take the red ones," Luke said valiantly, ignoring the furtive but alarmed look his sister shot him.
Anakin growled under his breath. "This is absurd. I will take a red one." He took the one Luke had found aboard the Executor. "I used a red blade for twenty-three years, I can use one now." He strode out of the room.
Leia stared after him. "Is it just me, or has he become rather waspish lately?"
Luke nodded in agreement. "Han said something the other day – tried to joke about Vader. I think it cut deeper than he wants anyone to know, so he's bottling it up inside."
"Which isn't good at all," Leia concluded, worried. Then she grew angry. "Stupid nerfherder. And he won't apologize; he'll pretend that nothing is wrong and hope that the problem will go away."
"You're going to have to cure him of that if you plan to marry him."
"I will," Leia said grimly. "One way or another."
Luke handed her Obi-Wan's lightsaber, clipping the other red one to his own belt to hand beside his green one. "That's the spirit."
Anakin lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He felt like he was going to explode. He recognized the feeling as a bad one – he had felt it before he had avenged his mother, before he had turned to the Dark Side, before he had cut off Luke's hand, and before he had brought Luke to see Sidious.
He wondered what mistake he'd have to make to rid himself of it this time.
He shut his eyes tightly, as if that simple action could shut out the world as well as the light.
Maybe if he addressed what was bothering him, he could dispel his stress in a calm and controlled manner, without harm to anyone.
Anakin mulled that idea over. It was worth a try.
Alright. So what was bothering him?
He had first felt the strain after Solo's remark about his time as Vader. It was quite clear to Anakin that Solo had not forgiven Anakin for Vader's actions, no matter how much he liked and respected Anakin as a person. The thought of being condemned for the rest of his life did not sit well. It was one thing to torture himself with the past; to constantly have it thrown in his face when he was least expecting it by someone he hoped to consider a friend one day was another matter entirely.
Then there was Leia. She had accepted him as her mentor – she had even called him Master the other day. However, she was still blatantly ignoring their relationship. As much as he wanted to give her as much space and time as she needed, he yearned to build a bond with her resembling the one he had with Luke. He didn't want to alienate her, but he was tired of tiptoeing around the issue.
Luke. The boy was one of his most ardent supporters, and Anakin cherished the closeness they shared, but there were times Luke came perilously close to a sort of hero worship – when he watched Anakin fly with the Rogues, or duel against a droid. Maneuvers and moves Anakin considered to be just a bit of fun were idolized by his son. Anakin realized Luke had had no opportunity to observe a Jedi in their prime, but it still felt like Luke had placed him on a pedestal he could not get down from without hurting his son deeply.
Piett and the Executor crew had expectations, too. They wanted him to be the commander they knew, save for the body count, and Anakin was having a hard time adding a Jedi's morals and ethics to a Sith's plans and tactics. He had managed so far, but it was just another thing to worry about.
Mon Mothma and General Rieekan were pretty good, most of the time. They were polite and accepting to his face, and they acted as if they trusted him. However, when they thought he wasn't paying attention, he could sense their fear and doubt, which only multiplied his own anxiety and he fretted all the more; he respected them and didn't want to fail them, yet he already had, long before he had even met them – he couldn't forget it, either. They appreciated his help in rebuilding the Republic, but the fact remained that it was his fault it needed rebuilding in the first place.
The rest of the Alliance did not know he had once worn the black armour and name of Darth Vader. Their trust and acceptance of him was reminiscent of Luke's hero worship – to them, he was Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear, Jedi Knight extaordinare, the best pilot ever, the Chosen One . . . the list went on and on. It was hard for Anakin to pretend the past never happened, and strained him further to laugh and joke with the friends he had make among the pilots, especially when they brought up "that bastard, Vader. Good riddance he's dead, I say."
Really, it was no wonder he was unable to let his past go. It was being thrown in his face everywhere he turned.
Except when he was with Jix. The former soldier had been able to read Vader like a book, accurately guessing the reasoning behind almost every action. Jix knew the person behind both Vader and Anakin's faces, and he didn't judge him, or expect things from him, or wish he would act like someone he wasn't. For that, Anakin was grateful.
Speak of the devil, Anakin thought as Jix stuck his head through the doorway.
"Hey, Uncle D? The Solo kid wants to know when you plan to leave."
"Tomorrow morning," Anakin replied, not even bothering to open his eyes.
"What time?"
"After I've woken up, showered and eaten."
Jix calculated in his head. "Oh, so about an hour after noon."
He knew Anakin's preferred sleeping patterns far to well. Anakin chucked a pillow at him for being insubordinate enough to use the knowledge against him. Jix ducked out of the room, laughing. Anakin recalled the pillow with the Force, a small smile on his own face.
