Precipice by shadowsong26

Original Author's Notes: As a note, this chapter gets a little violent. It's also really long-I actually thought about splitting it in two, but I decided it was more effective as a single chapter.

Part 4: Commander

Commander: Chapter 6

One of these days, Anakin thought, I'm going to find the time to figure out how to build a hyperdrive that can course-correct at lightspeed.

He'd mentioned the idea to Artoo once, a couple years back. The droid had pointed out that physics didn't work that way, because he was utterly lacking in imagination, and Anakin had said so. Artoo, of course, had insulted him right back before going back to his nav calculations.

Anyway, the limitations of physics and droid imaginations aside, until he did find the time, Anakin would have to put up with dropping out of hyperspace to adjust. It wasn't like he could stop doing that, because the alternative was leading potential pursuit to a rendezvous point they'd then be unable to use; or to a safehouse, assuming he ever needed to go to ground or seek more medical attention than Beru could give him; or to Dagobah, or the farm…

But still, even though he and Rex and Artoo had the redirects down to two minutes or less, it bothered him. A little. Made him feel-exposed. Vulnerable.

And it was worse than usual today. Maybe it was just the time of year-he hoped it was just the time of year-but…

Another part of it was maybe-well, Ahsoka was back now, barring a few loose ends she needed to tie off. And that was of course the single best thing that had happened in his life for at least a year or two, but at the same time-she was one more person he had let down, when he failed at being the Chosen One (And earlier, when everything had gone to hell and she'd left, except maybe there were other people who shared the blame on that one. Maybe.) It had-brought a lot of buried memories closer to the surface than he liked. Plus, she was one more person he would put in actual, real danger if he screwed this up.

And it probably didn't help that their reunion had been so quick, and then she'd had to run off again. Not that he didn't understand why- of course he did; she wasn't leaving again, she'd be back for good in a day or two-but it felt...unsettled. Unfinished. Like that split second, jumping off a wall, where you're weightless in a place you shouldn't be before gravity takes over again.

He was still waiting for gravity to come back.

There had been a moment of that with Rex, too, of course-maybe even more intense-but then they'd had a few days, and a trip to the farm, to get used to one another again. To figure out how they related to one another, now that everything had changed.

But with Ahsoka, it had just been-noticing each other, then the whirlwind of combat (which was, of course, something they both excelled at, especially together; falling back into place there had been easy as breathing), then a five-minute discussion and a few quick promises, and then-separated. Again.

It had all happened so fast-she'd been there again and gone again so fast -that he might've questioned whether or not it was even real if Rex hadn't been there and confirmed it.

Well, that part, at least, would probably get better when they all actually got to the Cinna rendezvous point, and could finish reconnecting. Probably. Hopefully.

Or at least that corner of my brain might actually shut up for a minute or two, he thought.

In any case, that went a long way towards explaining his extra tension, a few minutes out from his first redirect. Even if there was a (most likely positive) end to that particular stress in sight.

But then-there was also the fact that Obi-Wan hadn't responded to his message and confirmed the meet yet. Which- probably just meant he'd had to go quiet for his mission. Since he was raiding an ammunition stockpile on an active base, that made a lot of sense.

Besides, it hadn't even been twelve hours since he'd sent the message-requesting an immediate meeting, because that meant important but positive, while an urgent meeting would've meant bad news. Still, it technically hadn't been long enough to worry. Not yet. Unless otherwise discussed ahead of time, he wasn't allowed to go try and rescue Obi-Wan until he'd been out of contact for at least twenty-four hours.

(Technically, the rule was "don't worry," but even at the best of times, that was a losing battle for both of them. So it had turned into "don't dash off to rescue," because that one they could sometimes pull off.)

And the rule was there for a reason; to keep either of them (all right, mostly Anakin) from going off the rails. Still. It bothered him, to stand aside and do nothing. More than usual, today. Even if it was probably business as usual and he shouldn't worry.

It was all of it together, really, he decided. The date, his half-finished reunion with his Padawan, his Master's unscheduled silence…

As long as we all get to the Cinna point, it'll be okay, he told himself, again. And then we'll go to the farm and see Leia, which always makes everything better.

He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath and trying to build a wall out of that thought; one that would at least mostly shut his anxieties out.

He hadn't made much progress-not that he'd really expected to, to be fair-when Artoo beeped at him. It was time to drop out of hyperspace and actually make the redirect, the first of five he had planned for this trip. He sighed and opened his eyes and stretched, trying to at least act casual and unconcerned, and pulled the lever to revert to realspace.

As soon as the stars solidified around him, that general creeping tension abruptly turned into a siren, blaring right in his ear.

He swore and banked left, hard. This was always a risk; that one of his redirect points would have someone unfriendly for him to blunder into. It had happened once or twice before, even, but this time-felt different.

"Get us out of here," he snapped at Artoo, trying to track down the reason for that feeling, when-

A single needle-like starfighter shot across his viewscreen, a deeper shadow against the black of space; a vortex of raw darkness spiraling around it and out of it across Anakin's senses.

And he knew.

The darkness swirling around it was not like Dooku, who had been all icy precision. This-this being felt hot, eager.

Darth Specter.

And then something clanked against the side of his ship, pulling his attention back to the more immediate problem. Artoo shrieked an alarm.

"Wh- buzz droids?" Anakin yelped, banking again. "Seriously? Who the-who the hell uses kriffing buzz droids anymore?"

They were in deep, deep trouble now.

Because, one, for all the improvements he'd made to the Waterfall, buzz droids weren't something he'd really prioritized defending against. Partly because there wasn't all that much he could do without sacrificing too much speed and maneuverability, and partly because they were so damn rare these days. Even Anakin hadn't come across any in at least three years, and more than half the insurgent cells he'd worked with relied on scavenged Clone Wars materiel.

And two, while it would take the damned things longer to do real damage to a light freighter than to a starfighter, he had a lot fewer tricks to shake them off than he would have.

Head for the planet, he decided. This redirect, fortunately, was right near one with human-compatible atmosphere. He could get there before they had decompression issues, make an emergency landing, take care of the kriffing pests, and then deal with the real-

"Sir?" Rex's voice crackled over the intercom, interrupting his thoughts.

Right. "We've got company," he replied. "Shoot back at that fighter if you can, but we'll be making a hard landing real soon. Brace yourself."

"Copy that, sir."

Not that there was much chance Rex actually would blow Specter out of the sky, but it was worth trying.

He shook it off, got his focus back on track. He knew he was diving headlong into the Sith Lord's trap-that Specter wanted to force him down to the planet and into a face-to-face confrontation-but there wasn't much else he really could do, not in this ship, not without an outside partner to help clear off the buzz droids before the hull was breached.

Besides, he reminded himself as he nudged the Waterfall onto the right vector and opened the thrusters wide as he could. What do we do with traps? Spring them, of course.

He dropped down into the atmosphere before the decompression alarm could go off, then shut it down with a flicker of the Force before it could-the air was potentially still thin enough to trigger it at this altitude, and it would serve no purpose but to distract him. Especially since another alarm was already shrieking at him, which, yes, he was aware that stabilizer was loose and not doing its job anymore. He shut that one down, too, and focused on finding somewhere he could land without getting himself or Rex killed.

The terrain he'd come in over was at least solid, not a swamp or ocean. On the other hand, it was a steep, craggy mountain range-Specter probably wouldn't have much trouble finding a ledge that could hold his fighter, but the Waterfall needed a little more room.

There. A break in the peaks, as he lost another stabilizer and flicked off that alarm, too. There was a semicircular plateau that looked like it had been deliberately cut out of the side of one of the mountains for reasons of who-kriffing-cared; it was big enough for him to land safely.

...for a given value of "safely," anyway.

He winced internally as his lower starboard engine started to whine. "I know," he said. "I know. Just hang on, we're almost there."

He cut both it and the lower port engine. He fed more power to the upper engines to control the deceleration and descent, but not too much-he needed to start that now anyway, if he didn't want to end up as so much paste on the mountainside. He angled the ship into a tight spiral that would end on the inner curve of the plateau, with the true peak of the mountain rising at their backs.

Hopefully, I have enough bits and pieces that Artoo and I can cobble together a patch job that will at least get us to the rendezvous, he thought grimly, as he eased up his angle just a little bit. After I deal with Specter, of course.

He hit the plateau with a grinding screech of metal on stone, gritting his teeth against the vibration, and came to a complete stop only a few meters off from where he'd wanted to be, without anything exploding or catching on fire.

Go me.

As soon as the Waterfall stopped moving, he unstrapped himself and pelted for the boarding ramp. It took him about ten seconds to find the buzz droids-there were only three of the kriffing things, but it didn't really take much-and even less time to render them three piles of scrap.

He extinguished his lightsaber and made a quick visual inspection while he had the chance. The damage wasn't as bad as it could have been, but they'd still need to spend some time patching holes before he'd be comfortable taking off again. Only the one engine was in really bad shape, at least-he could compensate, if they couldn't fix it with what they had-but there were some raw edges and exposed wires a little too close to the fuel tank for comfort. Easy fix, yes, but important, if he didn't want to die a fiery death.

Although, a little fire might actually have been welcome right then. This planet's climate-at least up here in the mountains-was bitterly, bitingly cold. Almost, but not quite, cold enough to sear his every breath.

Something to watch out for, he thought, as he made his way back into the ship to check in with Rex. Especially if Specter's species has any kind of advantage in the cold. Also, the ground will probably be icy, at least in a few spots.

When he got back inside, both Rex and Artoo were waiting for him. Rex was leaning against the wall just a little bit, for support.

Damn it.

Anakin frowned a little. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Be sore for a couple days, maybe, but nothing broke."

"All right," he said. "I found and got rid of three buzz droids. There shouldn't be more, but double check. Also, head's up-it's not quite sub-zero out there, but it is cold."

"Good to know," he said. "What exactly are we dealing with?"

Anakin knew that tone. That was the tone Rex used when he was pretty sure he knew, but really, really wanted to be wrong. And wouldn't believe it unless confirmed either way.

"Darth Specter," he said.

Rex swallowed a little, then nodded once. "Right," he said. "I'm...guessing you want me to stay with the ship, then?"

"Yeah. Do what you can to help Artoo get started patching," he said. "And-try and get ahold of Obi-Wan. Ahsoka, too. Let 'em know we'll be-delayed."

"Yes, sir," he said, but frowned. "We haven't set up a secure line to the Commander yet."

Which meant calling her might draw exactly the kind of attention he took these roundabout routes to avoid. But now that they'd established contact, he didn't want to lose it again. Even if it was a risk. Because, as horribly selfish as it was, there were already too damn many people in his life he wasn't allowed to talk to. And Ahsoka had been fine all these years, so probably- probably she'd be okay. As long as Rex was careful with what he said, which he always was.

"I know," he said, and sighed. "Just-try anyway."

"I will," Rex said. "How long do I wait before I go after you?"

That won't be necessary, Anakin started to say. After all, he had legitimately defeated Dooku, by himself, before murdering him. And whatever Specter really was, he certainly wasn't Dooku.

But that didn't mean he should be underestimated.

On the other hand, Anakin really didn't want Rex in range as an additional target.

Then again...

"I don't know," he finally conceded. "It depends on how long it takes me to find him." Because that was another concern-even if everything else from here on went perfect, the longer he spent looking, the more danger he'd be in from exposure.

Rex nodded. "All right. Take your beacon, then."

"Yeah." That was a good compromise-he could activate it if he ran into trouble his Captain could help him with, without putting Rex in unnecessary danger.

He grabbed the beacon, but left everything else save his lightsaber and his cloak behind. "I'll be back," he promised, quietly.

Rex saluted him briefly. "Sir," he replied, just as quiet.

Anakin pulled up his hood and strode down the boarding ramp again, to meet his replacement at last.

In the end, it didn't actually take all that long for him to find the Sith Lord; Specter had probably been tracking his descent, and made sure to land somewhere close by.

After maybe a half hour of carefully picking his way down from the plateau, stopping on narrow ledges along the way to get his bearings, Anakin reached another major cut in the rock.

And, unlike the ones he'd passed along the way, this was not a natural ledge, any more than where he'd left the Waterfall had been. It was too clean, too smooth.

It was a different shape, something like a crescent rather than a semicircle; about two and a half meters across at the widest part; about ten times that in length. Anakin had landed about two meters from one end.

Darth Specter was waiting for him at the other.

He was tall-Anakin's height, give or take a few centimeters-and not human. Proportions were all wrong, especially with his head. Gotal, maybe, or Devaronian. Something with horns.

"Anakin Skywalker," he breathed, sliding his cloak off and letting it pool in an inky puddle behind him. He wore a full-face mask underneath; one that covered his entire head, including the actual shape of his horns and any other identifying features.

...interesting choice.

On the other hand, it left Specter as a near-seamless shadow against the rock. Not a bad look for an assassin.

"And you must be Specter," he said, shrugging off his own cloak with a lot less grace than Obi-Wan usually managed.

" Darth Specter," he corrected, with more than a hint of annoyance.

So, that matters to him-having reached that rank, having the power it implies acknowledged. Something he could play on, maybe. Act dismissive, like he didn't consider him worth his time. Obi-Wan could've done it better-the whole taunting part of a duel was his skill-but Anakin would do what he could. Hopefully, it would be enough.

"My mistake," he said, with a smile.

And there was that sense of twisted heat leaking through his shields again, and Anakin finally figured it all out-Specter was jealous.

He wanted Anakin dead, wanted him to suffer in dying, because he wanted to show that he was better. To prove that he was good enough. To earn the approval of his superiors.

Remind you of anyone? he asked himself.

Shut up, he replied inside his head.

Specter considered him silently for a moment, head tilted to one side. "I've been looking forward to this," he finally said. "For a long time."

At least taunting him was even likelier to work, given what Anakin now knew.

"Hm. Can't say I've given it much thought myself," he lied.

Specter hissed at him, and that hot, heavy, jealous rage spiked just a little bit.

Not a Gotal, then, Anakin said. They don't make noises like that.

But the young Sith Lord didn't quite rise to the bait, like Anakin had hoped; didn't rush him and start the duel by ceding ground. The way Anakin himself had, the first time he'd fought Specter's predecessor.

But, no, all he did was pull out a pair of lightsabers and activate them both, settling into a modified Form IV opening stance.

Interesting again-his background was not in this kind of combat; he was holding himself all wrong for that. No, he'd been self-taught at first; he'd learned how to fight bare-handed for survival, and then form and polish and a pair of lightsabers had been added on later.

Well, Anakin had that kind of background, too, though not as much. And he hadn't spent years training Ahsoka without getting pretty damn good at fighting against jar'kai specialists.

Yeah. He could handle Specter.

"You'll regret your lack of preparation," Specter said, and then launched himself across the platform.

Anakin stood his ground, met the flurry of rapid blows with a solid foundation, letting Specter dance around him and returning quick jabs with unstoppable force.

He had to admit, Ataru was a good choice for the Sith Lord. He was fast, like it demanded; striking from the shadows in what seemed like a dozen different direction. If he'd had more time to practice, to really hone his skills, he might have actually won.

But as it was, he was-not sloppy, exactly, but a little too much of his street fighting background crept in, in all the wrong ways. Because, sure, made him a bit unpredictable, but it also pointed his focus on a tangent from where it should have been; kept him from taking full advantage of his chosen style.

Your focus, Qui-Gon Jinn had told Anakin once, determines your reality. Specter's not-quite-perfect fighting style certainly showed the truth in that.

And so, when Specter failed to gain the advantage he wanted quickly enough with his lightsabers, he fell back on hand-to-hand. He ducked inside the reach of Anakin's blade, throwing an elbow at his face.

Anakin gave ground rather than trying to respond in kind, sidestepping and letting Specter come within a hair's breadth of going over the edge. He followed up quickly and pressed his advantage hard, trying to box him into that corner, but Specter slipped past him, running up the wall and over his head.

Not bad, Anakin thought, turning and grinning at Specter, wide and slightly feral. Horrible thought-really, really horrible thought-but a part of him was actually starting to enjoy this. Oh, he still sparred with Obi-Wan, every chance they got, but it wasn't the same as a real fight, with someone who knew what they were doing.

Anakin pushed forward before Specter could finish resetting, making his own attack and forcing the Sith Lord to stay on the defensive.

That didn't mean he won, not yet-Specter kept moving, like a dancer, always just out of reach; until they were near the opposite end of the platform. Then he ducked again, coming in close again and aiming a solid kick at Anakin's right knee.

He dodged, of course-he'd seen it coming, and Specter came down a little harder on his landing than he'd probably meant, at an oblique angle to Anakin where neither of them was in a good position to make an effective strike with their blades.

But, as Specter had at least tried to demonstrate, that wasn't the only way to win a fight.

Seizing the opportunity, Anakin reached out with his free hand to yank Specter's hood off-the likely change in light quality would distract him, maybe disorient him for a split second. But a split second would be enough. If that happened, he could take control of the duel again and keep it; Ataru's weakness was that it needed a quick victory or it got too draining. It was only a matter of time before Specter ran out of momentum and left Anakin an opening.

So he reached, and got a handful of fabric, and pulled, and-

He instantly, deeply regretted that choice.

Are you-proud of me, Master?

Specter wasn't a Gotal. Or a Devaronian. Or any other species with true horns.

Specter was Togruta.

It was all too much. It all added up to too damn much, especially this week-too many pieces that were too similar to him and to someone he loved and for a split second, Anakin's brain whited out at the edges and he barely even remembered Mortis so why-

Are you proud of me Master?

A split second was enough.

A line of white-hot pain burst across Anakin's left thigh, and his leg gave out entirely under him. He was too close to the edge of the platform; he lost his balance and pitched over the side.

Specter yelled something and dove after him; he landed on a natural ledge about a half-dozen meters down, which knocked the wind out of him and the impact felt wrong, off-kilter-

On instinct, or muscle memory, he brought his lightsaber to bear again and Specter-

Didn't correct his angle in time to avoid it; he landed on the blade; impaling himself through the chest with a faint, choking gasp of surprise.

Anakin deactivated his lightsaber, and Specter collapsed on top of him; one of his own hilts disappearing down the mountain, the other slipping from his hand, clattering onto the stone at Anakin's side as the blade itself disappeared.

It wouldn't have worked, he thought numbly. He wouldn't have been-he wouldn't have given you what you wanted. Even if you had killed me. He finds what you want most and he promises it and he lies. And I'm-sorry. I'm sorry, it's all my fault that he found you, that you're here, that you ended this way. I'm so, so sorry.

The thirty seconds or so it took for Specter to finally, fully die were some of the longest in Anakin's life.

And then-and then, what was left of Specter was crushing him; he couldn't take the body's weight anymore; he tried to shift, tried to shove it off him, but he couldn't get the leverage he needed.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

He reached down with a shaking hand-he couldn't see how bad the wound was, but if he could feel it, he could get a sense of-

Oh.

His knee was, very clearly, not where it was supposed to be anymore. In its place was-nothing.

And that was-that was the last straw. There was a limit to what he could take, and that was...that was it.

He had the presence of mind, just barely, to activate the tracking beacon Rex had insisted he take before he lost consciousness completely.