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Chapter 26 – Unmasked
The next sunrise jettisoned Anakin's shuttle like a cannonball.
Despite traveling far above regulation speeds, the route from Imperial Center to Tatooine had never felt longer. A man could lose his mind on a mission like this.
And if he wasn't careful, that's just what might happen.
Force… how did my father survive over two decades in space? Where's his fortitude when I need it?
That was one drawback of renouncing the Dark Side. It seemed like Anakin had to start at square one with regard to mental focus and discipline. He had to break the five-year-long habit of relying on Sith logic at every turn. It was mentally exhausting and emotionally harrowing. He'd feel clear-headed one minute and crippled the next. Sometimes it felt like his only grip on reality was the one he had on the steering controls.
The trouble was his mind kept flipping between the two sides of this situation.
What Xizor had asked of him was, in theory, quite reasonable and easy to fulfill.
Yet it was Xizor who had asked it of him. Xizor, who held enough information to undo Anakin in a single swipe.
So he had something to be grateful for, yet it contained a time bomb waiting to detonate.
Anakin cursed his luck to the ends of the galaxy. His life hadn't exactly been a fortunate one up until this point, but running into Xizor last night was just too much. If he'd only taken a different path from one repair shop to the next, he could be heading toward Naboo instead of Tatooine. He could be on his way to securing a crucial alliance instead of following the tug and pull of Xizor's puppet strings.
His luck had officially run out. It had taken all of twenty-seven years to run dry.
He should have known it could only get worse, not better. The joy of his surgery and reunion were never meant to last. He owed a perpetual penance to the universe for what he'd done the past five years. He'd earned himself a debt no man could ever repay, no matter how sincere his intentions or turn of heart. Some choices were too depraved to ever be redeemed.
He was the Chosen One, all right. Chosen from birth to suffer and never be at peace for more than a few minutes at a time.
That wasn't just his birthright, but that of his entire family. A family scattered and battered because of him. First his parents, torn apart because of him. Then his wife and children, more innocent victims of his cursed soul. Everyone he came into contact with turned to dust.
And soon they all would be dust, quite literally. Anakin didn't believe for one minute that Xizor would honor his agreement. The Prince would find a loophole, a contingency to either delay releasing them, or just arbitrarily decide to kill them anyway. Xizor had as much moral deficit as Darth Vader – which was why they'd made such worthy adversaries. They'd shared the same blackened soul and could predict each other's next moves with stunning accuracy.
What could Anakin do but leap through the hoops Xizor placed in front of him? Even knowing the futility of it all, he had no choice. To resist would only expedite the inevitable.
He'd buy as much time for himself and his family as possible. Maybe somehow, something would turn up…
But how that could happen without Obi-Wan's help, he hadn't a clue.
Maybe he could take a detour to Naboo on his way back from Tatooine. No… hiking into the Gallo Mountains would take at least two or three days, then another two or three to trek out, not counting the time it'd take to convince Obi-Wan to come with him. A full week could pass during that "detour," and that was far too long not to raise Xizor's suspicions.
Suspicions go up, family goes down. Anakin could count on that.
He'd have to go straight to the Lars and back. No diversions, no improvised wilderness adventures. Just business.
Business that was finally about to be underway. Tatooine's arid sphere at last came into view.
Anakin throttled full speed ahead and prayed fervently that this visit to his home world might end better than the one eight years ago.
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Black absorbed heat.
With each step Anakin made across scorching sand, he was reminded of that timeless fact.
The internal cooling system in his suit wasn't working as it should. Its motor strained to keep the twin suns' heat at bay. After lying around unused for over two months, it sputtered and whined as Anakin dialed it up to maximum power.
Sweat trailed down his neck, yet still he pushed forward, doggedly putting one leaden foot in front of the other. Just another hundred yards until he reached the Lars' front door. Assuming the dome he saw wasn't just a mirage…
It wasn't. A scruffy man in a tan tunic emerged and his wavy form moved to the nearest moisture evaporator. He was evidently too distracted to notice the black specter standing at the edge of his land.
Anakin hesitated, unsure whether to call Owen's name from that distance or move in closer and risk giving him a heart attack. The moisture farmer was absorbed in his own world, oblivious to everything else. Anakin decided to walk halfway, or until Owen spotted him, whichever came first.
Owen's hearing was more finely tuned than his eyesight. Anakin had taken five steps when his target's head whipped around.
The poor man nearly fell on his behind.
"Owen," Anakin halted, raising both hands slowly. "I'm not here to harm you, I swear."
Anakin could feel the fear radiating off him as intensely as the heat. Owen had frozen, half-crouched, with one hand still on the evaporator valve. He was too petrified to speak.
Anakin kept his hands aloft. "May I come closer? I'm just here to talk. You and Beru are in no danger."
"Like Padmé and the children weren't?!" Owen cried. If he was going to be cornered, he may as well speak his mind.
"Please, I want to explain everything, if you'll just let me inside."
"As if we have a choice! Come right on in, Beru will put a pot of coffee on for you!"
Owen's contempt stung like sand on Anakin's cheeks. He's not going to make this easy. And he has every right not to. He tried to ignore his half brother's venomous glare as he entered the homestead, but it burned through his suit like radiation.
"Beru! We have a visitor!" Owen shakily called out, half furious and half terrified.
Turning the corner, Beru dropped the towel she was drying her hands on and stared at her husband and the figure dwarfing him. She read Owen's face in an instant and mirrored his mood.
"I guess it just isn't a family reunion without everyone kidnapped, is it?" she clenched her fists. "Fine! Take us! At least we'll have the dignity of being abducted from our own home!"
Anakin sighed. "Nobody's being abducted. I really just want to talk to you. May we do that at the table?"
"Sure, let's talk," Beru agreed sarcastically.
There was enough friction at the Lars' dining room table to set an entire forest ablaze. Anakin had difficulty meeting their hostile stares; his eyes wandered, though his helmet looked straight ahead.
"I knew coming here would upset you greatly," he began. "I wouldn't have come but for an urgent matter."
No change in either of their expressions. Anakin swallowed and pressed on.
"Are you aware this farm contains large deposits of cortosis ore?"
Owen's already stiff frame tightened. "What's it to you?"
Everything, Anakin thought. "Has anyone approached you with an offer to buy the land?"
"Yeah, Jabba's rats. Bunch of times. Not interested."
Beru made a strange face at Anakin. "Do you want to buy it?"
"No. But I'm here on behalf of someone who does."
"Wow," huffed Owen, "Jabba must be pullin' some big strings now!"
Funny you should mention strings… that's exactly what I'm attached to. "Actually, Jabba's been acting for someone else all along. Have you heard of Prince Xizor?"
"Nope."
"The Black Sun?"
"I wish I knew of a black sun out here."
"It's an organized crime group with a lot of power."
"And what they want is what they get, right?" Owen snorted. "Especially with Darth Vader to back them up! Sorry, but I've made it perfectly clear I'm not bullied by anyone! Not even my scum bucket half brother!"
The words surprised and hurt Anakin a great deal. He's saying this without knowing I'm a changed man! Owen Lars is indeed the most stubborn man alive. He might even be half crazy.
He must have sensed Anakin's stunned response. "I don't care if you choke us both to death right here, right now. We're tired of all this, and you'd be doing us a favor if you put us out of our misery! At least then we can stop watching our backs and wondering when we're next!"
This was the life he'd made for so many people throughout the galaxy. This was Darth Vader's true legacy – irrational, incessant fear in every heart from the core to the outer rim. His old self would have been most pleased. His current self found it abhorrent.
Maybe removing his helmet would ease their angst, maybe not. Anakin needed to be selective with whom he revealed it to. Too many witnesses meant too many tongues potentially wagging. Gossip could spread like a virus and eventually reach Imperial Center, especially with a hive like Mos Eisley.
Besides, he wouldn't have to show Owen anyway. He'd readily agree to the deal once he knew it was for Padmé and the twins.
"You're not next. But if Xizor doesn't get your property, Padmé and the twins will be. He's taken them prisoner, along with my father."
"What? Prisoner? Your father?" Owen stammered, wanting to burst out laughing. "Beru, he's developed a sense of humor since we saw him last!"
Beru found it less comical than her husband. "They're all being held hostage?"
"Yes! Xizor abducted them yesterday and the ransom is your farmland! If I you don't sell the property… they all die."
Owen slapped his hand on the table, clearly amused. "You really expect us to believe that?"
Anakin's silence spoke for itself.
"Oh, this is rich!" Owen carried on. "Someone actually got the better of you and kidnapped your own prisoners? I'm not buying it. Darth Vader would never make a rookie mistake like that!"
No, but Anakin Skywalker evidently would. "Would Darth Vader invent a humiliating story like this? Moreover, why would he?"
"If the payoff was worth it, you might! This Xizor character is probably your best friend. I'm sure Padmé and the twins are still safely chained up in your dungeon somewhere, and you're using this story to bait us into selling the land! It's all about the money!"
It was amazing how wrong one person could be about so many things. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you: Xizor is not my friend. He is my most loathsome enemy and has been for several years. If he were to die, it would please me more than any sum of money. I'd give all my savings to make him disappear and never return."
"Well, you've had more than enough time to kill him yourself," challenged Owen.
"Palpatine wouldn't take too kindly to that course of action."
"Ah, of course. Always have to take that snake into consideration."
"If I die, your hope of seeing them again dies too!" Anakin defended. "This isn't just about self-preservation. I want them back just as badly as you do."
His thoughtful tone stunned Owen and Beru momentarily. But soon Owen's skepticism picked up where it left off.
"What's keeping you from getting them back? You're Darth Vader! You're telling us you can't march into Xizor's place and get what you want? Is your lightsaber broken?"
"It's not that I can't," Anakin said slowly. "I won't."
That answer made no sense. The Lars stared at him as if he had two heads.
"To answer your last question, yes, my lightsaber is broken. I destroyed it myself."
"I don't follow," Owen shook his head.
"I'm not the man I've been the past five years. I destroyed my weapon to ensure I don't revert back."
"Oh really? When did you make that resolution – before or after abducting them?"
"After, obviously!" Anakin was growing tired of Owen's attitude. "I decided during my…"
Beru cocked her head. "During your what?"
Anakin sighed, realizing he'd have to use his last card after all. Owen's stubbornness wouldn't budge otherwise.
He held his breath and clicked the release buttons on his helmet. It felt heavier than lead as he removed it.
Beru and Owen wore identical masks of sheer astonishment. They were too shocked to even let their jaws go slack. Neither could believe their eyes.
"It was during my recovery from reconstructive surgery that I vowed to change," Anakin stated, feeling their gaze burn his bare cheeks. "Now do you believe me?"
Beru's hand rose to her mouth. "You're healed…"
"Yes, in every dimension."
Anakin looked pointedly at Owen for his official response. For a long, solid minute, the man's face and thoughts were unreadable. Too many things tumbled through his mind to make sense of it. Until he started slowly shaking his head, with his posture more shielded than before.
"No… I'm not fooled by this. It could be a mind trick for all we know," he threw a warning glance at Beru. "And even if it's not, I don't trust it. This doesn't feel right."
"Damn it, Owen!" Anakin slammed a hand on the table, making them jump. "Drop the conspiracy theorist act! Quit overanalyzing and doubting everything I say! What you see is what you get!"
His outburst did little to further his cause, he realized as Beru shrank into her chair.
Great. I can't win! Talking to them reasonably doesn't work, and neither does impassioned speech. This is ridiculous.
Anakin dropped his gaze, hoping to lessen the intimidation factor, and took a deep breath. "Look, I don't know what you want. Is there anything I can say or do to prove myself?"
"No," Owen's answer came swiftly. "You can talk until you're blue in the face. You can talk for an entire lifetime, and nothing you say will convince me you've changed!"
"And there's nothing I can do either?"
"Nothing," Owen pursed his lips.
Lowering his head into his gloved hands, Anakin exhaled with a strange, dark laughter. "Owen, how can I make you understand? We're dealing with life or death here! And you're holding out for what, pride? Land? Are those worth more than their lives?"
Each entreaty Anakin made only led Owen to dig his heels in more.
"Their lives are already lost to you!" he spat. "So yes, I'll hold on to my pride, because you've stolen just about everything else!"
Next to him, Beru was starting to shift uncomfortably. "Owen, maybe we should think this –"
"No!" Owen's hand flew into the air. "I've had plenty of time to think the last five years! Don't forget all the misery he caused all of us, Beru. A pretty face and polished speech can't erase that!"
Her eyes darted between Anakin and Owen, torn between what each was saying. Anakin's clear eyes seemed void of artifice, yet Owen's points were well made. It was impossible to choose a side or know who to trust. But given their history and Owen's strength of conviction, she had to pick caution over compassion.
Anakin had misjudged something. Xizor wasn't the prime candidate for luring him back to the Dark Side. Owen Lars just might tie the Prince for that position.
Xizor was wretched for abducting his family, and Owen was deplorable for not cooperating to get them back. The two evils were almost indistinguishable from each other.
And neither could be allowed to persist.
"So that's all you think I've offered you today? Superficial things to dazzle you?" Anakin lowered his tone. "I once thought you a wise man, Owen. Now I see your judgment is as shallow as the groundwater here."
The backhanded compliment took Owen by surprise, but his rigid attitude returned in the blink of an eye. "Are you going to waste your time insulting me or get what you came for? Just kill us now and be done with it!"
Anakin looked up from beneath a heavy brow. "My lightsaber may be disabled, but my hands aren't. I will do what I must."
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