o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o
Chapter 9 – Getting to Know You
Not even a lightsaber could slice through the tension between Ainar and the man he considered the angel of death.
Had three days in this cell made Ainar delusional? Was his imminent demise making him hear things? After several hours of abject, isolated misery, his mind was more than capable of contriving this scene. Who wouldn't dream of having one's tormentor undergo a sudden change of heart and deliver polite speech instead of violent oaths?
"Well? How about it?" Vader shifted impatiently.
All of Ainar's muscles were paralyzed except his tongue. "You want to… start over?"
"Yes, if it's not too much to ask."
Ainar feared that if he looked away for one split second, the scene would crumble and he'd find himself alone again, ticking off the morbid hours one by one.
"All right," he said guardedly. "But why?"
The most breathtaking truths in life were often revealed through the simplest of gestures. A kiss, a smile, a touch… or in this case, a picture. Vader's arm quivered imperceptibly as he lifted Shmi's photograph for Ainar to see.
"Because of this."
Ainar leapt to his feet, drawn as if by a magnet. "May I have that back? Please, just one small comfort before my death?"
"No."
Ainar's eyes went flat.
"You will not need it for comfort. Your execution has been cancelled."
"What…?"
"It will be many years before you join your wife in death."
Somehow Ainar spoke through his shock. "How did you know she was my wife? And that she was dead?"
Vader's heart began to gallop. "Your devotion burns as strongly now as it did years ago, when you last saw her. So too has mine burned since holding her in my arms as she died."
The raw matter of the universe began shifting inside Ainar. In the depths of his soul, atoms burst and realigned in patterns that defied shape and form. He could almost feel the fibers of his heart snapping and stretching, undulating as they sought a new home. A home that could only be found in the black-clad chest standing before Ainar.
The revelation knocked all air from his lungs – all but enough to utter three syllables.
"Anakin?"
"There was a time, long ago, when I answered to that name."
Mouth agape, Ainar stared in horrified wonder at his son. "What do you go by now?"
"Darth Vader."
Blood drained from Ainar's neck and face. Darth Vader. The name known and feared by masses from one end of the galaxy to the other. Had Han been present during Vader's first visit, Ainar might have learned that detail earlier, giving him time to process it separately from this psychological onslaught. Then again, did it really matter? Would a few extra hours have made it more palatable? Would he feel any less nauseated?
"You're not what I expected," Ainar said, short of breath.
"Neither are you," replied Vader. "I should have no father, yet there you stand."
"Holy humping banthas! You two are RELATED?!"
In the midst of their drama, neither had taken notice of Han Solo, who'd waken from a nap just thirty seconds ago.
"Wow old man, I knew you were hidin' some mighty big secrets, but this?!" Han's eyeballs protruded from his head.
"Guards!" Vader shouted down the hall. Two came running with blasters drawn, slowing as they reached a displeased Vader. "Dispatch this impudent brat!"
"In what manner, sir?"
"Standard execution!"
Han waved his hands frantically as the troopers apprehended him. "Whoa! It's not my fault I heard all that! Take it easy!"
"Take him out front and make an example of him," Vader instructed coldly.
"Come on, you can trust me! I won't tell no one that he's your–"
Quicker than Sith lightning, Vader's grip was crushing Han's throat.
"One more word and you'll cause the death of both these troopers, along with yourself," hissed Vader. "Do you really want to be responsible for that?"
Han shook his head, thrashing in desperation.
"I didn't think so. When I release you, you will remain silent. Understood?"
Han nodded in extreme earnest.
"Take him away!"
Gulping for air, Han sent pleading looks Ainar's way as he was dragged toward the exit. Without so much as a second glance at the boy, Vader turned to resume their discussion.
"Where were we?"
Ainar was too stricken to avert his gaze from Han. "You decide to spare my life, but not his?"
"He knows too much."
"He's just a boy! And if you were so concerned about eavesdropping, you should have cleared the area when you arrived."
Insolence! Nobody dispenses corrective criticism to Darth Vader, not even –
"If anything, you could just kill me and remove the liability altogether," Ainar added drily.
"I'm not sure if speaking to me in this manner is in your best interest."
"And I'm not sure if you can see clearly through that helmet! I am no more human than Han, and he no less than me."
"Species is not relevant to this issue."
"No, but our tentative relationship is. Let him die, and it ends before it ever began."
Nothing but the sound of Vader's breathing was audible for several seconds.
"I know how debasing it was for you to ask me for a clean slate. Don't waste it," Ainar's tone softened somewhat.
Easier said than done, Vader fumed. The man wasn't asking much – just that Vader scuttle his reputation and leave a loud-mouthed problem child walking around. No huge favor at all. Yet still Vader paused to consider the merits of granting this favor, and that meant something.
It meant that if it were any other being asking this of him, he'd reject the idea faster than he'd silence the fool with his lightsaber.
Ainar had to know that. Their relationship, as he rightly observed, had yet to officially begin, yet already he was establishing a family dynamic. Well. Now I know where my tenacious nature comes from, Vader acknowledged begrudgingly. His pride was inborn as well, and no one except the Emperor had ever succeeded in breaking it. What would defying that precedent do?
"If you turn your back on him… you do the same to me."
The decision was suddenly glaringly obvious. Nothing good had ever come from Vader choosing pride over family.
"GUARDS!"
Fortunately his booming voice reached the far end of the corridor just as Han was halfway through the door.
"Bring him back!"
Upon returning, the trio consisted of two very confused stormtroopers and an elated Han.
"I knew you'd pull through for me, old buddy!" he gushed at Ainar. "I owe ya big time!"
"Transfer this prisoner to cell block 7-B," ordered Vader.
"But sir, cell block 7-B has been experiencing–"
"Environmental control malfunctions, yes I know. It will only be temporary while I converse with Ainar."
"Very well sir. But if the prisoner dies from frostbite, we can't be held accountable."
"Frostbite?" Han squirmed as he was hauled away in a different direction. "Uh, is it too late to change my mind an' go outside instead? Sun's nice an' warm this time of day…"
Sighing, Vader consciously blocked Han's blathering out and faced Ainar with arms crossed.
"Satisfied?"
Ainar didn't have a ready answer for that. Knowing Han would live to see another day was gratifying, but his life should have never been endangered to begin with… and Ainar shouldn't have been forced to wager his most valuable asset, which Vader nearly forfeited.
Trying to peer through Vader's mask, Ainar's face was a potent mix of emotions.
"What happened to you, son?" he inhaled painfully. "The woman I knew would have never raised…"
… a murderer.
… a tyrant.
… you.
The man's thoughts were unguarded, and they finished what his mouth could not.
"The woman I knew was not one to deceive or withhold information," Vader countered. "There are many myths surrounding her as well as each other, it seems."
Ainar nodded solemnly. "I want to help unravel those myths. As long as you promise to reciprocate."
Vader stiffened. If he felt balanced on the precipice of rejection now, exposing all his demons – mental and physical – would surely tip the scales.
"We shall see," he hedged. "If your story rings legitimate, we shall see."
That was, Ainar knew, the best offer he'd receive at this point. "If we're going to do this, at least drop the force field and sit with me."
A fair request, as long as no one observes us, reasoned Vader. When he instructed the guards not to enter cell block 7-A until further notice, they assumed a vicious torture session was the reason. They wouldn't have believed the truth if Vader himself told them.
A wall far more impenetrable than any force field fell when Vader stepped into Ainar's cell. Sitting far enough apart to feel secure, yet close enough to simulate trust, father and son braced themselves for the extraordinary.
"Where should I begin?" Ainar asked.
"At the beginning."
He'd rehearsed this script a million times if he had once. He'd perfected it into a work of art, weaving poetry and prose to tell the narrative. Yet it all seemed so inadequate now.
"Shmi and I met as teens in Basic Skills class. It wasn't half the education non-slaves received, but it was all we had."
"You were… both slaves?"
"Yes, from birth. We grew up in the same district on Zygerria, serving wealthy, benevolent masters. We were among the lucky few. Shock whips never touched our bodies…"
o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o
In a flash, Vader found himself hovering over a sepia-tinted Zygerria thirty years prior. His view tightened to street level, where the bustle of slave traders and swindlers teemed. The sharp, feline features of the native Zygerrians distinguished them easily from the lower masses; their richly tailored robes and shock whips coiled on their hips also set them apart.
Through the crowded avenues he wandered until reaching a small, dingy storefront with weeds spilling from every crack. Strips of awning fabric fluttered forlornly above the door, which sagged to one side. A small but legible note was tacked to the peeling doorframe: "Basic Skills class, final session."
The heat inside was suffocating. A fan squeaked a pitiful breeze over several rows of students. Half of them were melting over their desks, too limp and listless to pay attention. Some, however, were managing to keep from wilting.
The two least affected by the heat were sitting in back, closest to the fan. But it wasn't just the churning air keeping them alert – gazing into each other's eyes was doing a fine job of that.
"Congratulations on completing the Basic Skills course for Slaves and Indentured Servants," the perspiring instructor said wearily. Her dowdy appearance marked her as a low-paid government worker. "These certificates will increase your value to present and future owners. When I call your name, please come forward to collect yours."
A litany of twenty names followed, ending with those Vader had been waiting to hear.
"Shmi Mirrene."
"Ainar Skywalker."
Bounding from their seats, they practically skipped to the front of the room, grinning as they claimed flimsy pieces of paper that clearly meant the world to them. Hand in hand, they hurried past vacant desks and stepped into the warm sunshine beyond. Both were beaming as they stood on the pitted concrete stoop.
"It's finally over!" Shmi exclaimed gleefully, squeezing Ainar's waist.
"That was a long ten months," he sighed.
"But meeting you made it fly by."
Ainar smiled fondly into her hazel eyes. "You're right, it did."
"And now…"
He knew what the twinkle in her eye meant. "Now, the rest of our dreams can come true."
"Does your family know?" Shmi twirled her long, thick braid nervously. "And your owners?"
"Everything's been arranged. You'll join our household after the wedding."
"That couldn't have been easy to negotiate."
"Our owners are reasonable people, Shmi. It wasn't so hard as you think," Ainar assured. "My mother's eyesight is starting to fail, and we need someone with fine motor skills to assist her with chores."
"Oh, so it's a marriage of convenience?" she swatted him playfully.
"Hardly," he nuzzled her neck. "That's just the icing on the cake."
Blushing, Shmi laughed breathlessly. "Control yourself for just two more days, will you?"
"Mm, I'll try."
Dreamily lifting her gaze to the cloudless sky, Shmi reveled in the pure, unspoiled elation of this moment.
"Life is so amazing, Ainar. We may be slaves, but we have more than most people find in a lifetime of wealth and riches."
"And it's only going to get better with time," he murmured in her ear. "I can't wait to have children with you."
Shmi shook her head in wondering disbelief. "I doubt there's another 18-year-old male in the galaxy who'd say such a thing."
"You'll find I'm nothing if not exceptional," he kissed her full on the lips.
o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o
Five years unfurled before Vader's eyes. Half a decade of domestic bliss, and not a day of it was taken for granted by either spouse. Shmi and Ainar's life was as close to a fairytale as any two slaves could achieve. Even-tempered masters, pleasant working conditions, and most of all, love.
Love that transcended their common status, or even the spark that jumped from his pale blue eyes to hers throughout the day. Something bigger than their hearts and souls bound them. At night, Shmi would lie awake staring at the stars, musing that the force holding them in place was the same one binding her to Ainar.
She wondered, too, if perhaps they were bonded too closely to leave room for a third. After two years passed without her belly swelling with a child, she and Ainar admitted they may have overestimated fate's generosity. Though disappointed, they refused to let this detract from their many other blessings. They were content and comfortable, and would remain so for years to come.
Or so they thought.
On the eve of their fifth anniversary, they realized they'd once again miscalculated fate.
Shmi was filling a canvas bag with vegetables from street produce vendors when the first explosion hit. It spilled as she turned to see three massive transport ships dropping energy bombs on her home district.
Had the produce vendors near their home not been closed due to a crop shortage, she and Ainar would have been vaporized just now. The sickening sound of bomb volleys rang in their ears as they joined swarms of citizens scurrying for shelter. The screams filling Zygerria's streets were a rare chorus of free and enslaved alike.
Crouched breathlessly in each other's arms, Shmi and Ainar braced for the worst, but it never came. The aerial assault skirted their location from beginning to terrible end. When the carnage was over, the dust settled on a district now wholly unrecognizable, even to its longest residents.
Not that many remained. The young Skywalker couple's masters had only a smoldering crater as their burial ground.
The Zygerrian government wasted little time in assembling the slaves rendered homeless by the incident. Nor did much time pass before the perpetrators of the act were identified: a small, radical anti-slavery faction demonstrating their distaste for Zygerrian law. Apparently, their zeal blinded them to the fact that slaves and owners and alike would perish, and that untold numbers would simply be sold into other sectors.
Which is exactly what happened to Shmi and Ainar. Gone overnight was their idyllic existence. Gone was the notion that all sectors valued – or even recognized – marriages between slaves. Heartlessly torn from each other in a public auction, tears poured down their faces as their new masters threatened to fling shock whips at them if they didn't cooperate.
Misery knew no other definition. For three months they endured separation and cruel treatment besides. Until somehow, one day, they forged the lines of communication and plotted their escape.
It was time. This world wasn't made for them. Their love belonged elsewhere.
The operation was no amateur undertaking. Favors from old friends – those still alive – were called upon, and each step was engineered with fearless precision. Under the cover of blackest night, they'd crept into an abandoned warehouse and lowered a stolen cockpit over their heads.
"I love you," Ainar whispered, the green glow of the controls illuminating his chin.
Shmi gripped his hand fiercely in response.
Guided by the limited galactic charting taught in Basic Skills class, they headed toward the nearest system. Not once did they look back as they disappeared into the stars.
It took just ten minutes for Ainar to realize something was amiss.
Shmi saw the frown creasing his forehead. "What is it?"
"We're supposed to be headed northeast, toward Mandalore," he punched several buttons. "But we're going in the opposite direction!"
"That can't be right," she leaned over, trying to decipher the readings.
"The navigation's locked! I can't change our course!"
"Where will we end up instead?"
"I don't know," Ainar clenched his jaw. "But if I ever meet the scumbag who got us this ship…"
"Can we still land?"
"I think so… but we have to find a planet first!"
For hours, none appeared. Yet just when they believed they'd die in this bottomless pocket of space, something emerged in the distance…
o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o
Abruptly, Vader's vision ended.
"You have shown me only half the story!" he growled at Ainar.
"The rest will come. But first, turn that picture over."
Preoccupied as he'd been all day, Vader hadn't once thought to turn it over. As he did so now, the face under his mask looked as if it had seen a ghost.
"It can't be!" he inspected it more closely. "Mortis…"
Ainar tried to subdue his surprise. "You know of it… and its name?"
"I know everything about that world," Vader said under his breath.
"No… you won't know everything until my tale is done."
o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o
I know Anakin's memory of Mortis was supposed to have been erased after his mission there, but for the sake of this story, let's pretend he remembers parts of it.
Not much thought went into choosing Shmi's maiden name. You can love it or hate it.
o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o