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Chapter 7 – A Thousand Words
To say, on any given day, that Vader was in a bad mood would be redundant at best. Yet it was especially true the morning of his return from Alderaan. Three days of fruitless searching and dead-end leads had him seeing even more red than usual.
Other than the brief yet scorching headache he'd suffered when landing at his destination, the trip had been intolerably uneventful.
First order of business back on Imperial Center: track down the fool who advised the Emperor that several Jedi were hiding on Alderaan. And then ensure they didn't live to mislead someone another day.
As if he didn't already have enough to do. In addition to transmitting orders to review the 500 Republica footage, Palpatine expected Vader to meet with Xizor that afternoon. Just the two of them. With no third party to buffer their antagonism.
Just when he thought the day couldn't become more laborious, a transmission from the local detention center requested his immediate presence. Code 766, it said.
Blinking at his datapad, Vader paused halfway down the shuttle ramp. Code 766 meant a temple trespasser.
No one had been moronic enough to trigger a Code 766 for two or three years. Possibly even longer. If memory served, the last person arrested was a half-senile homeless man seeking shelter. He hadn't been worth imprisoning for longer than a few days.
Was it the same offender again, after all this time? Would the eye-patched man just repeat this desperate cycle every few years? Vader continued to stare at the datapad. Faint yet undeniable, his senses told him it wasn't the vagabond. Reinforcing that suspicion was the fact that the detention guards had notified him the minute he touched down. They knew better than to hassle him with insignificant matters. At least, if they knew what was good for them, they did.
Either way, Vader would get some sport. If the prisoner didn't prove worthy of executing, then the guards would. He was eager to find out which.
He saw no reason not to indulge his curiosity before meeting Xizor. It wouldn't take long, and a little diversion might be just what he needed to tackle the afternoon. Even the briefest visit to terrified inmates could lift his spirits for days.
To the detention center he went with a slight spring in his step. Upon entering, two guards greeted him with sharp salutes and led him down a black-tiled hall. Past several empty cells they marched until halting at one whose resident lay sleeping, back turned to them.
Vader concentrated on the man's Force signature, breathing the filaments of his spirit to learn his essence. What he found nearly made his respiratory device short-circuit.
Moments like this made him all the more grateful for the helmet obscuring his face. Having the guards see his wide-eyed, startled expression definitely wouldn't enhance the reputation he aimed to cultivate.
Meanwhile, he wished dearly to see the prisoner's face. Would it appear as impressive as his Force signature indicated? Vader breathed it in again, his mouth agape at the raw, untamed energy he tasted. It was unlike anything he'd ever encountered. Such massive power coursed through the man's veins… yet it lacked form or control. The paradox left Vader feeling off-balance.
A Force signature this strong was surely that of a former Jedi. Why, then, did it seem he hadn't received one minute of formal training? How had he dodged recruitment when the Jedi could've smelled his potential halfway across the galaxy?
This "little diversion" was turning out to be something else entirely.
Compelled to speak, Vader asked the first logical question, though he already knew the answer.
"Was he found with a lightsaber?"
"No, my lord. No weapons of any kind."
Of course not. The man defied all natural laws.
"Anything else? Comlink, datapad, identification?"
"Not to our knowledge, sir, but Commander TK212 was the one who processed him. I believe he has additional details for you when he returns from this morning's security sweep."
"When will that be?"
"Any moment now, sir."
Good. A few minutes to interrogate him myself. "Wake him."
"Yes, sir."
Entering a code on the wall panel, the guard sent a low-impulse electricity arc toward the prisoner, who quickly jerked from his sleep. Vader watched with intense interest as the man pushed himself up to sit, rubbing his neck and blinking in disoriented shock. It didn't take long for him to sense the need to turn around.
And when he did, Vader's breathing stopped for the second time.
Even through the filtered distortions of his visor, it was plain as day.
The pair of startled eyes looking up at him were identical to those he once saw in the mirror.
But that was ages ago – before he pledged to never expose his unmasked self to another reflective surface again.
"What is the meaning of this?" Vader demanded, temper rising.
The guards hesitated, looking at each other. "Pardon?"
"Who is this man?!"
"I – I don't know, sir," the senior officer replied. "Commander TK212 can tell–"
"Can tell you right now," the commander interrupted from behind, saluting. "TK212 returning from security rounds, my lord. I hope you haven't waited long."
"Long enough. Why haven't your men been briefed on this prisoner's details?"
TK212 holstered his blaster uneasily. "Because they lack Level Three clearance, sir."
Processing the implications in an instant, Vader addressed the first two guards. "You are dismissed."
Only when they'd completely vanished from sight did he face the commander again.
"My apologies, sir. I wasn't expecting you to arrive so quickly. I thought I could complete the rounds before –"
"Spare me the excuses, commander!" Vader snapped. "Just explain why this man is considered a Level Three security threat! The criteria for Level Three is quite narrow, and I fail to see how a Code 766 violation qualifies!"
The commander resisted the urge to tremble beneath Vader's tall, dark frame. "My lord, I was prepared to record it as Level Two, according to protocol. But I was forced to change it when the prisoner gave his name."
His name was all it took? He must be a former Jedi after all – one who'd let his skills atrophy significantly since the Order disbanded. Maybe he hoped to avoid detection by doing so.
It would be entertaining to learn this fugitive's identity before Vader revealed his own. It was a rare pleasure to induce utter shock in a former colleague mere seconds before slaying them. How unfortunate that when Order 66 at last reached closure, those moments would become extinct.
So he'd just make sure to cherish this one for all it was worth.
"His name, then?"
"Ainar Skywalker."
The words came not from TK212's mouthpiece but from the prisoner himself, who sat with spine straight and shoulders squared. His piercing blue eyes stared defiantly at the two helmeted men.
"I'm getting tired of you both speaking as if I weren't here."
Impatiently awaiting recognition, Ainar couldn't have guessed his captors were mute for very different reasons. While TK212 chose not to speak, Vader struggled to remember which muscles moved his tongue.
It was strange, hearing a word for the first time in five years. The brain recognized the syllables but couldn't immediately process their meaning. Like a distorted echo through a canyon, it sounded both familiar and alien. Had he really just heard that cadence of speech? Or was his mind playing tricks on him?
More than likely, it was the prisoner playing the tricks.
And not for much longer.
Vader clenched both fists. "Did Obi-Wan send you?"
"Nobody sent me," Ainar frowned. "I fell into this all by myself."
"Did you also give yourself that last name?"
Ainar didn't understand the disdain behind the question. "If being born with it counts, I suppose I'm guilty as charged."
His fury building at an alarming rate, Vader took a threatening step forward.
"Wrong answer. You have one last chance to respond. What you say will determine how humane your execution will be."
"My what?" Ainar stood at once, looking urgently from one set of black lenses to the other. "Hold on just a minute! Nobody said anything about execution!"
"That is the penalty for setting foot on Imperial Force Memorial grounds. Or do you feign ignorance of that statute as well?"
"Yes, I do!" Ainar shouted vehemently. "Only I'm not feigning it!"
Vader was one breath away from performing an improvised execution then and there, but halfway through raising his hand, he paused. Instead of the terror, this man emitted nothing but indignation. Even more perplexing was the lack of deceit Vader sensed in his assertions. And as Ainar's Force signature indicated, he was far too undisciplined to conceal the truth effectively.
Hadn't Vader come here hoping for a diversion? Wasn't this puzzle exactly that? How many times had he complained about the lack of intrigue in his daily duties? Don't be too hasty to end him, Vader. Fun is such a rarity these days.
Besides, even less advanced creatures indulged in playing with their food once in a while. Why shouldn't he?
He'd begin by asking something he seldom had to. Yet for a number of reasons – mostly Ainar's impudence – it seemed necessary.
"Do you know who I am?"
Blinking cautiously, Ainar wasn't sure if this turn in the conversation meant his penalty was waived. Or maybe it was just another round of senseless questioning, the answers to which would probably be no better accepted than the first. Oh well. I've never been good at lying, so if it's all the same anyway, at least I'll die with integrity.
"No," he sighed.
That explains his boldness. But how such ignorance can remain after five years…
"You are not a young man," Vader observed. "Where were you during the Clone Wars?"
"Elsewhere," came the enigmatic reply.
"Were you also 'elsewhere' when Emperor Palpatine assumed the throne at the war's end?"
"Evidently, yes."
"You are either an exceptionally skilled liar, or the biggest fool alive," Vader was beginning to enjoy this. "Not one life form in this galaxy is unaware of me. Even the paramecia of Dagobah's swamps know my name."
Ainar nodded slightly. "I'm supposed to fear you."
"You don't?"
For a moment, all Ainar could see was his darkened reflection in Vader's mask. A mask obviously crafted for no other intent than to frighten. The most grotesque element of a suit that, judging by the life support panel in front, wasn't merely superficial like stormtrooper armor. Whoever this man was, he was broken. Not whole.
Just as Ainar himself was, though in decidedly less visible ways.
It mattered little that this was clearly not the intended focus of the suit. Where any other man would see terror incarnate, Ainar saw something more. Perhaps it was the deleterious effects of prolonged deep space travel catching up with him, but standing just short of eye level with this cyborg, he felt no fear.
Ainar could almost count the victims that had fallen at this tyrant's feet. Their deaths flashed before him now – constricted throats and glassy eyes, torsos skewered with a red blade, spines crushed by brutal impact against the wall. It was exceedingly gruesome.
Common sense told him he'd meet a similar fate. No one who'd stood where he currently did, facing the same black mask, had ever survived.
What psychosis was it that made him think he'd be the first exception?
He had no explanation. None for himself, and certainly none that would satisfy his conversation partner. Again, honesty was his only recourse.
"No," he sounded as mystified as he felt. "I don't."
Unbelievable.
Vader fumed. Was there no end to the absurdity? Without an ounce of defiance or bravado, the man had just said what billions across the galaxy never could. Not without trembling knees and a confirmed schizophrenia diagnosis, that is.
Diverting or not, Vader had just about had enough of this. He was running out of questions that wouldn't invite ludicrous answers.
"You will," Vader swore. "Very soon."
Ainar saw no discernible advantage in arguing.
"Before we end this charming encounter, I will know one last thing," Vader declared. "Why did you attempt to enter the Force Memorial?"
"I went in search of someone. I was told he might be found there."
That got Vader's attention. A rendezvous at the former Jedi temple? Suddenly his interest boomeranged back to Order 66.
"Really? Who?"
Ainar's eyes flickered. "Anakin Skywalker."
Neither Ainar nor TK212 were prepared for the storm that besieged the detention block.
Light bulbs buzzed and sparked. The force field fluctuated, patches and empty bands rippling through it. A low hum filled the air, tickling Ainar's eardrums as it mounted into a full-scale vibration of every air molecule.
This was no earthquake. It was worse.
How long it lasted, Ainar couldn't say. Time and space seemed to bend under Vader's wrath, compressed like the flesh and blood necks he so often grasped.
"Your foolishness knows no limit!" the dark lord hissed. "I'd kill you now, but you deserve a far more excruciating death than asphyxiation!"
Ainar watched speechlessly as Vader stalked away, black cape billowing with a vengeful flourish.
"Commander, await further instruction. I must consult the Emperor on the appropriate course of action."
"Yes sir," TK212 acknowledged. "And what of the other prisoner?"
"What other prisoner?" Vader barked.
The soldier pointed to a nearby cell. "The boy caught hijacking a shuttle carrying oxygen for your hyperbaric chambers. He's presently out doing yard labor."
"Have him meet the same fate I assign Ainar."
"Understood, sir."
That was all. Nothing else remained to be said.
TK212 had no interest in prying into Vader's tantrum. Despite serving the Empire as a senior officer for many years, he still didn't entirely understand Level Three security breaches. Well, he understood those concerning the Jedi. Anyone caught impersonating, harboring, or communicating with a Jedi was automatically Level Three.
It was the guidelines concerning the Skywalker name that TK212 found arbitrary. Then again, if stating the name was enough to make Vader go postal, there must be some validity to the rule.
He wouldn't lose any sleep trying to determine why. But it was safe to say Ainar would.
So much for the unshakable conviction that he'd be spared.
So much for the past twenty-seven years.
So this was how the saga ended: alone in a box whose right angles cut like knives into his soul. What a darkly fitting end for one who'd sought stable shelter over half his life.
For better or worse, it didn't get more stable than this, the last home he'd ever know.
Slowly collapsing to the floor, Ainar closed his eyes and surrendered to utter grief. Forgive me, son. I failed you. And your mother…
…maybe someday, somehow, the Force will reunite us…
…but if it couldn't now, what hope is there?
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Even had Ainar's eyes been open, he couldn't have seen far enough down the corridor to watch Vader sweep past the control counter – and then double back in pure disbelief.
Occupied with checking computer systems, TK212 barely noticed the Sith lord staring, mesmerized, at a slip of paper on the counter. The tips of Vader's Mandalorian glove pinched it with breathless care as he brought it closer.
Is this just another sick joke? Haven't there been enough this morning?
Forcing air into his lungs, he tried to look up at the soldier but his eyes refused to move.
"Where did this come from?"
TK212 glanced up, distracted. "That was confiscated from the prisoner."
"Which one?"
"The older one," the commander said absently. "Ainar."
As if it could have possibly have been the boy…
But the point was that neither of them should possess such an image. Nobody should. Nobody did – not even Vader himself. He'd burned every photo of Anakin Skywalker's loved ones in a small pyre five years ago. It may not have succeeded in keeping their faces from his dreams, but it should have at least kept him from seeing them while awake.
This picture shouldn't exist. Not here, not anywhere. Yet his visor didn't lie.
The fabric of the universe folded in on Vader as he realized the prisoner might not have, either.
The full, terrible implications of this were not to be contemplated in a cold prison lobby. His palace was the only sanctuary for such a task. Without another word to the commander, he departed, all other things forgotten as he drifted through Imperial Center's streets. By the time he arrived at the foot of his obelisk, he had but one cogent thought.
He'd be delaying his consultation with Palpatine indefinitely.
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