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Chapter 11 – Tapestries
Vader's breathing was a hushed whisper compared to its usual hoarseness. It whined through his respirator as Ainar waited in consternation for him to respond.
Ainar rested elbows on knees dejectedly. "You don't believe what you've seen."
"Do not misinterpret my silence. I am simply in shock."
Is that a good or bad thing? Ainar wondered.
"It is neither."
Stunned, Ainar jerked his head up. "You… you just…"
"Read your thoughts," Vader confirmed. "Easily done between two Force-sensitive minds."
"Force-sensitive?"
"Yes. You were unaware?"
Ainar blinked in confusion. "What does it mean?"
"You and I share the rare capability to channel the Force in ways others cannot."
"What sort of ways?"
Vader shifted, clearly not wanting to give a basic lecture on Force skills right now. "Enhanced intuition. Superb reflexes. The ability to use telekinesis and manipulate minds."
Understanding flooded Ainar's face. "All the things that helped me survive exile. Skills I didn't have before…"
"Before Mortis."
"That's right. How did you know?"
Unseen by Ainar, Vader was smiling wanly. "My enhanced intuition told me."
"So what happened to me?"
"The Force 'infected' you, so to speak. Living for an extended period of time under such high concentrations altered your physiology."
Ainar absorbed this news stoically, pondering its full, broad import.
"You believe me, then," he quietly said.
How could Vader answer that succinctly? Denial was not an option, but neither was a trite "yes." A million thoughts – a million threads of previously unfinished tapestries – lay beyond those three small letters. He doubted Ainar was prepared for the deluge of emotions he'd unleashed. Vader hardly felt prepared himself.
Shmi hadn't lied. She was as blameless as could be, and as much a victim as the rest of her broken family.
"In death, I at last found restoration."
Truer words were never spoken since the dawn of the universe.
"May you also find it by dying to yourself… just this once…"
Vader stared at the man seated stiffly across from him. The man never credited with giving him life – or his remarkable midichlorian count. Though Shmi had known little of the Force, her wistful description of Anakin's birth implied that she knew the Force was responsible for his conception. And unwitting or not, it was true.
The fragmented tapestries in Vader's mind were starting to weave together.
His unequalled midichlorian count.
His lifelong state of restless angst and broken identity.
Inheriting what amounted to a male Skywalker curse of losing your pregnant wife around age 23.
"I have no choice but to believe."
Ainar breathed out slowly. "So… you accept that I am…"
"My father. Yes."
It was stated so plainly. Ainar had expected those words to incite a grand, overwhelming surge of emotion worthy of a moment such as this. Yet sitting there on a cold bench, staring at the polished ebony angles of his son's helmet, it all felt unnervingly anticlimactic.
"What happens now? Do we… hug?" Ainar eyed the black suit uncertainly.
Vader's muscles tensed. "I'd rather hear the remaining details of your journey."
"Oh." Ainar blinked, both relieved and disappointed. "Well, twenty-seven years passed between then and now. Anything you can imagine happened to me."
"And your Force abilities sustained you?"
"From one alien system to the next. There were plenty of close calls I thought would be the end of me, but somehow I always pulled through. Now I know it wasn't just luck – it was the Force."
Vader nodded. "Nothing else could have brought you back from a distant galaxy."
"Or shown me the portal to reenter ours," Ainar added.
A portal? Of course… the hyperspace disturbance surrounding the galaxy's rim was impenetrable at best and destructive at worst. That technicality hadn't yet crossed Vader's mind.
"Where?" he asked, riveted.
"North of Helska, in the Dalonbian sector. I'm surprised it isn't well-known."
"As am I," Vader agreed. The ramifications of a portal… Palpatine will want to know about this.
"From there, I returned to Zygerria. It took a whole lot of mind suggestion to learn Shmi had gone to Tatooine," Ainar sighed at the memory. "No one recognized me, not even my former masters. To them I was just a homeless nobody with no right to the information."
"Your birth records, slave registry ID, all gone," Vader correctly inferred.
"I was told Shmi never married, and received poor treatment after Ana– your birth," Ainar corrected. "As a fatherless child, you had no official birth record. I didn't know if you were male or female, or if you'd traveled to Tatooine with her. For all I knew, you could've been separated and sold to another Zygerrian."
"But you went to Tatooine next."
"Yes. It was my only lead. But what I found when I arrived…"
Ainar choked on buried tears, praying the rest was self-evident. A series of inquiries leading him to the Lars homestead, where Owen and Beru told him the awful truth beneath twin scorching suns. Their overt mistrust of him even as devastation wracked his features. The pain and joy that ripped his heart in two as he contemplated Shmi's fate alongside their son's. A son whose fate seemed so hopeful and promising until…
"They told you where to find me," Vader stated.
"They only said when they last saw you, you were a Jedi on Coruscant, known as Imperial Center now. They said if I sought the Jedi temple, the pieces would fall into place."
Vader snorted. "Owen's still a rascal, I see."
"He had no reason to trust me. I came out of nowhere, claiming to be someone who shouldn't – and basically doesn't – exist."
True. Had Vader been in Owen's position, he'd have done no differently. Sending Ainar into a booby trap effectively served two purposes: reuniting him with his supposed son and ensuring he'd never bother the Lars again. Clever, Owen. Clever and devious. Perhaps the Empire has overlooked a valuable ally.
Dismissing the thought, Vader switched back to present matters. "So the Mortis clan performed their duty all too well."
"They did. And I'm still curious to know your history with them."
"Indeed," Vader leaned back. "My experience was similar to yours in some ways. I too was summoned there."
"Why?"
Am I ready to share this? By doing so, I risk fracturing the dam that keeps my darkest secrets at bay…
"Father erroneously believed I was a figure known as the Chosen One."
It had been many years since Ainar heard that phrase, yet he remembered it distinctly.
"They deserve to know nothing! Not even the name of this world, for that is only for the Chosen One's ears. Right, Father?"
"…Yes. That privilege is for the Chosen One alone."
"Chosen One… what does that mean?" Ainar frowned.
"It is nothing but foolish nonsense!" barked Vader, springing from his seat in irritation.
"Yet you know the name of Mortis. Those beings… they said only the Chosen One could know that."
"I don't care what they said! They've all been annihilated anyway!"
"What?" gasped Ainar.
"They all perished. Son murdered Daughter, and the only way to destroy him was for Father to fatally wound himself, which weakened Son's powers," Vader explained. "Then I… I vanquished him. And Mortis vanished."
Ainar stared mutely, struck by the news. Vader paced restlessly.
"They prophesied about one bringing balance to the Force, yet their own disharmony caused their ruin," Vader derided. "Their theories are worthless!"
"Maybe. But I doubt just anyone could have conquered Son, even with Father impaired."
"You are mistaken! Any Jedi could have done so!"
"Shouting won't change my opinion."
Balling his fists, Vader glowered at his father. "I am not accustomed to arguing."
"And I'm not trying to argue," Ainar rose with confidence. "I'm just pointing out a few things you may have failed to notice."
"Do tell."
Ainar circled his son with arms crossed. "Look at the big picture. Your mother and I couldn't conceive for five years, and then suddenly we do – at the nexus of good and evil, equidistant from the two poles of power that apparently govern the entire universe. Are you going to call that an insignificant coincidence?"
"Just because the Force enhanced your fertility does not mean you should jump to absurd conclusions."
"It's no more absurd than the Force 'infecting' me," Ainar reasoned.
"It is not for you to analyze the grand scope of the Force."
"Is it for you, then?"
"It is for no one. The Force is inscrutable."
"Then who are you to dismiss the Chosen One prophecy offhand?"
Vader had reached his boiling point. "LOOK at me! Do I look like anyone's dream come true?" he extended both arms outward, commanding Ainar's full attention. "I am death, darkness, and destruction incarnate! Who in their right mind would deem me the chosen arbiter of balance and justice?"
The question was of the same nature as that which Ainar had been asked earlier:
"I'm supposed to fear you."
"You don't?"
He hadn't given the prosaic answer then. And he'd be damned if he gave it now.
Where the vast majority of people saw a tyrant whose heart was blacker than his suit, Ainar was the one person who could see beyond. The man standing before him was broken in two, and Ainar saw both halves with increasing clarity. One half was responsible for unspeakable horrors. But the other… the other carried an affliction as deep as Ainar's own. Perhaps even deeper.
Recoiling from territory he had not yet been invited into, he stared at his son a moment longer, taking in the breadth of his outstretched arms.
There was only one viable response. Not another soul in the galaxy would dare – much less dream – of attempting it. But Ainar sensed if he didn't do it now, the chance would be lost forever, and something far greater along with it.
Vader stood in speechless shock as the arms he'd spread in defiance were embraced in fearless compassion. Even had the Emperor himself walked in at that moment, he'd be unable to release his father's hug. It felt surreal. After five years of total sensory deprivation, feeling the warmth and pressure of another being's body, even through his suit, knocked the wind out of him. He feared the slightest flinch might end it, and he'd wake in his Quabbrat pod, victim of yet another cruel dream.
Yet a full minute passed without that happening. Ainar's embrace was real.
Why did I shrink from his offer before? Vader wondered. I… I feel human again…
"I'm no expert on justice," Ainar's voice shook slightly, "but I know a thing or two about love. That's enough for me."
"You'll find there's little of that left in me," Vader confessed gruffly.
"A little is all I need."
The scars on Vader's face tugged against his anguished frown. "If you knew half of what I've done…"
"I intend to know more than half, son," Ainar stated with firm resolve. "Everything."
"You don't know what you're asking. You'll regret it."
With a final squeeze, Ainar stepped back, keeping both hands on Vader's shoulders. "After twenty-seven years, regret isn't an option."
"Hold fast to that conviction. You will need every last ounce."
"Whatever your burden, I will help ease it."
Vader's head dropped. "I don't know how you can…"
"I have an idea," Ainar said eagerly. "First, we need a change in scenery."
"What did you have in mind?"
Ainar's smile was warm and self-assured. "A tour of the home you never knew."
"You mean Zygerria?"
"The one and only."
The invitation was too great to decline. "Shall we leave immediately?"
"I'm ready if you are."
Ready? Vader doubted he'd ever be truly ready for this pilgrimage. But with a man of his father's heart and caliber at his side, he might just walk through it unscathed. Possibly even transformed, if only a little.
"Follow me," Vader strode down the hall with Ainar jogging to keep pace.
The guards at the processing desk stood at attention when the dark lord appeared, surprised to see the prisoner in tow – and free of any visible signs of torture.
"Discharge this prisoner and alter his records," Vader ordered. "Change his surname to Starkiller, and erase all evidence to the contrary."
Not the strangest order they'd ever received from Lord Vader, but one that made the troops raise their eyebrows nonetheless.
"Yes sir," Commander TK212 began accessing electronic files. "Will there be anything else?"
"Lease him an apartment at 250 Republica. The rent will come directly from my personal account."
"Consider it done, sir."
Waving two fingers before their visors, Vader sealed the formalities. "His name is Starkiller. It has always been Starkiller. You know of no other aliases."
"His name has always been Starkiller. He has no other aliases," parroted the guards.
"Good." Vader nodded once at Ainar and headed for the door. Once outside, Ainar squinted at the sun as they made for a nearby shuttle.
"Why the name change?"
"We must conceal your identity from the Emperor."
Ainar accepted this silently. The name of Skywalker certainly hadn't earned him any warm welcomes so far.
"And an apartment of my own?" he asked uncertainly.
"It's not safe for you to stay at my palace. Prying eyes watch it constantly… or so I have reason to believe."
"That's unfortunate."
Vader glanced briefly in his father's direction. "Yes, for both of us."
"We'll just have to make the most of our quality time while it lasts, then," Ainar replied. "This trip will serve many purposes."
"That it will," Vader closed the shuttle door and began the launch sequence.
As father and son soared into the late afternoon sky, their thoughts lingered on everything but the hapless prisoner stuck in cell block 7-B. Hunched in a corner, bracing for the next wave of frigid cold or sweltering heat that alternated every hour, Han Solo called out feebly.
"Hello?" his voice rang down the empty corridor. "Darth an' his pops have gotta be done talkin' by now! Let me outta here! Please? C'mon!"
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The Zygerrian sun had long set by the time Vader and Ainar entered the old slaver's system. Their sector of destination was all but asleep when they landed. Even under full darkness, however, Vader could pick out a few familiar landmarks. The outline of the royal palace was unmistakable in the distance, sparking memories of negotiations with Queen Miraj Scintel seven years prior.
So imperious and unyielding, Miraj. Our talks would have gone so much more efficiently if only I'd worn this suit back then.
He cringed at the emotional contradiction of wishing he'd become its prisoner sooner.
Thankfully, Ainar distracted him by raising more pragmatic concerns.
"It's late," the older man unlatched his harness. "I know of a decent inn not far from here, if it's still in operation."
Vader fumbled with his own harness, suddenly anxious. "An inn?"
"Right up this road," Ainar pointed toward a street lamp several blocks down. Straightening his tunic, he began to lead the way; he took a dozen steps before realizing Vader's weren't falling alongside his.
"Come on, what are you waiting for?" he called back to his son, who was still standing in a puddle.
"I sorry… I can't."
"I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand! It's the safest you'll find south of the palace."
"Safety is irrelevant," Vader almost laughed. What seedy ghetto would he ever fear?
"Then what…?" Ainar stopped, intuitively answering his own question. "Oh… you can't sleep in a normal bed."
Vader tried to suppress his mounting shame. "Correct."
Shame also plagued Ainar as he traced his steps back to the dormant shuttle. "Forgive me son, I wasn't thinking."
"No apology is necessary," Vader replied tersely, poking his head back through the rear hatch. "You may spend the night wherever you wish. I will remain here."
"In the shuttle?" Ainar was incredulous.
"There is an emergency oxygen compartment on board," Vader uncoiled a series of valves and hoses.
"You can't be serious!"
"I have utilized it several times on away missions."
"But… that can't be comfortable!" Ainar exclaimed, dismayed by the unwieldy apparatus his son was assembling.
Locking the final tube into place, Vader shrugged. "Lack of sleep is even less so."
Ainar couldn't believe his eyes and ears. Who could glean five minutes of restorative sleep under such conditions?
"I don't require supervision," Vader's impatience crept back. "As I said, you're free to sponsor the inn."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"What?"
"As I recall, the point of this trip was bonding and solidarity," proclaimed Ainar. "We achieve neither if I take the easy comfort of a bed when my son cannot."
"Are you out of your mind?" Vader scoffed as Ainar moved past him toward the cockpit.
Pulling a bedroll from his travel sack, Ainar arched an eyebrow. "Are you really going to bar your old man from sleeping shotgun?"
Ainar's stubbornness was on par with Vader's, the Sith admitted to himself. Masochistic or not, the man had clearly made up his mind. It was his choice if he wanted a stiff skeleton the following morning.
"Suit yourself, but between the two of us, I'm more likely to wake rested," Vader eased himself into the padded medical nook.
"Fine by me," yawned Ainar.
"Understand you must face forward the entire night. Not once are you to turn around."
"Unnhmm…"
That wasn't the verbal acknowledgment Vader was angling for.
"Is that understood?"
No response.
"…Father?" he addressed him for the first time with a strange mix of anger and timidity.
Choppy snoring filled the cabin.
Vader sighed, staring at the back of his father's chair. He could force Ainar's compliance by rousing him from his sleep, but that would require untangling himself first. He currently lacked energy or motivation to do anything but remove his helmet and strap on the oxygen supply. Besides, if Ainar went out like a light, he was likely a sound sleeper… one who wasn't prone to restless fits in the middle of the night. Satisfied with this reasoning, Vader let his scalp make contact with the smooth pillow, closing his eyes as exhaustion claimed its next victim.
Vader was deep in demented dreams when his logic proved faulty. Halfway between midnight and dawn sprang one variable he hadn't anticipated: an aging man's bladder.
Stumbling for the exit, Ainar took care not to bump into anything on his drowsy quest to relieve himself. He was five steps from the door when something snagged his peripheral vision. A pale shape hung in the shadows on his left. Too groggy for inhibition, he leaned closer, wondering if it was a stray vestige of a dream.
He nearly fell backwards when he realized it wasn't.
Even a moonless, starless night couldn't shroud the ravages of Vader's face. Not one square inch was free of poorly-healed ridges and misshapen gouges. The hiss of the portable respirator rendered the scene all the more ghastly.
Ainar clasped both hands to his mouth, frozen. It took every shred of willpower to keep from crying out.
My son…
He was too morbidly captivated to look away, despite his conscience telling him to do so. This isn't right. He deserves privacy until he's ready to share everything.
But what had been seen could not be unseen.
Somehow in his traumatized stupor, Ainar made his way outside, mindlessly fulfilling his original objective. The last pre-dawn hours passed in a vacuum of silence. In his chair, Ainar never again averted his eyes from the shuttle's windshield. He didn't close them again either.
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I know of the other sources/uses of the name Starkiller - just pretend the context of "The Force Unleashed" doesn't apply. :P
Anakin visiting Zygerria comes from the Clone Wars episode "Slaves of the Republic."
Patience, readers... I have a bit more drama to indulge in before bringing Padme & the twins into the story. But it's coming.
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