Sorry for being a day late. The Wi-Fi did not want to cooperate last night. Anyway, here is the next chapter!

* Chapter 15 *

Despite the limited space in her cell, Tahiri Veila backed as far away from the man as possible. She was not entirely sure what she was seeing. A hallucination, brought on by fatigue or illness or a drug in her stew? An illusion designed to mess with her head? A con artist with one hell of a plastic surgeon? Whatever it was, she could not bear to be in the same room with it.

Anakin Solo—or whoever he was—held his hands out to her. "Tahiri, it's okay; I'm here."

Fighting through the shock, Tahiri shook her head. "No. It's not okay. And you're not here."

"I am!"

"No, you're dead!" She unintentionally screamed the last word.

The man appeared taken aback. "What are you talking about? I'm alive."

"No! You died on the Baanu Rass over Myrkr, sixteen years ago!" The traumatic memories of that tragic day replayed in her mind, causing tears to leak from the corners of her eyes.

Not-Anakin's eyes widened. "Sixteen years?" he repeated. "It's really been that long?" He made a choked sound, as though he were about to say more, but then he fell silent, leaving his jaw agape. A second later, he refocused on Tahiri and said, "I didn't die. I thought I was going to, but then I woke up."

"You died! I saw your body! We brought it back to your parents and there was a funeral! I watched your body burn!"

The imposter was stunned into silence. After a long moment, he responded, "That can't be right. How could I be here if it was?"

"You're not here! I don't know who or what you are, but you are not Anakin!"

Her words seemed to genuinely hurt him. His eyes looked to be on the verge of tears, his mouth hung open, and he was making clipped choking sounds with his throat like he desperately wanted to speak. Tahiri looked away in disgust. It's bad enough he's pretending to be Anakin; now he's pretending to be upset. Finally, Not-Anakin croaked, "You have to believe me."

"Then how did you get here?" she demanded. "How did a dead man whose body's been cremated end up alive on the opposite side of the galaxy sixteen years later?"

"I—I don't know." His eyes narrowed in concentration. "One minute I was on the worldship, fighting the Vong, and the next thing I know, I was on a metal table. I was surrounded by these… red-skinned aliens, and, at first, I thought they were Vong. But there was a human, too. He told me that I had just woken up from a coma. And that was all he said. After that, the aliens dragged me here."

A thought occurred to Tahiri. "What did the human look like?"

"Uh, tall, black hair, black beard… glowing red eyes…" Not-Anakin trailed off, as though he had found the sight just as disquieting as Tahiri had.

Suddenly, it all made sense. "That was Darth Hatus," she explained. "And those aliens were Sith. He used his powers to create you, just like he created them."

"Sith?" Not-Anakin repeated, eyes wide. "The Sith are back? How? What did I miss? Wait; what do you mean, he 'created' me?"

"He has an ancient Sith artifact that gives him… unusual powers. He used it to create an army of the ancient Sith species. He also used it to bring back Palpatine."

"Palpatine's back?" Not-Anakin exclaimed.

"No, he's dead. Your uncle and Master Tano killed him. The point is, you're not you. You're just a copy created by Darth Hatus."

Not-Anakin sat down on the metal bed on the opposite side of the room, jaw slack and eyes fixated on the floor. He seemed to be trying to process these revelations. As he did so, Tahiri utilized the time to process her own emotions.

Darth Hatus had created a facsimile of her dead love, but to what end? He had told her that he wanted her to join the Sith, and she could only assume that this was part of his plan. But what did he think it would accomplish? Did he intend to use Not-Anakin to torment her until she gave in? Was it gesture of goodwill meant to win her over? Or did he have something else in mind?

"If I'm not me," Not-Anakin began, "Then how do I have all my memories?"

That was a good question, Tahiri had to concede. It did not seem possible for Hatus to implant the memories of a dead person into a new body. But that was beside the point. "I don't know," she answered, "and I don't care. I just know that you're not the Anakin I fell in love with. You're just a reminder of things I've tried so hard to move past. So just leave me alone." With that, she lay down on her own bed and rolled over to face the wall.

If Not-Anakin had been hurt by her words, he gave no audible indication. Probably realizing that anything he said would be pointless, he remained silent. All Tahiri heard was the shuffling of clothes against metal as he lay down on his bed. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and began to cry.

It was a brilliant idea, in Darth Hatus' opinion. What better weapon to use against Tahiri Veila than her long-lost love? From his office, mere meters above the high-security detention block, he could sense the woman's anguish. But she had only herself to blame; she was the one who had given him the idea when she spoke about how Darth Caedus had lied to her about being about to save Anakin Solo. She had provided Hatus with the perfect ammunition to use against her.

After leaving her cell, the possibilities had begun to shape themselves in his mind, and they were so delicious that he believed they were worth the considerable effort he was about to undertake. Even with the power granted by the Sith orb, bringing a dead person back to life was difficult, particularly if they had been dead a long time. Fortunately, Anakin's death had left a strong echo in the cosmic Force—one that contained his memories, his emotions, and even a complete readout of his DNA. Rather than try to rebuild him from scratch, Hatus could use that echo as a blueprint. He needed only to will the orb energy within him to follow that blueprint.

It was the exact same process he had used to resurrect Emperor Palpatine a year prior. However, it had proven to be far more difficult this time. In order to locate Anakin's echo, Hatus had had to completely immerse himself in the dark side of the Force for several hours. It had required considerable concentration, which was difficult to achieve when he was in constant pain.

When King Cresta Joisûr had stabbed him during the attack on Latru, Hatus had been forced to infuse the last vestiges of the Sith orb into his bloodstream in order to dull the pain enough for him to focus on healing himself. But it had not lasted long enough; the wound in his chest, which had barely missed his heart, had not been allowed to heal completely. Hatus would have to live with pain in his chest for the rest of his life.

That would have been acceptable, had there not been other side effects. His blood had become oversaturated with dark Force energy, causing it to run hot and increase his body temperature a couple of degrees. As a result, Hatus was always hot. Fortunately, the weather on Latru was cold enough to counteract the heat. However, there was seemingly nothing he could do about the voices. The orb had contained the souls of hundreds of Jedi and Sith who had been killed by the thought bomb during the Seventh Battle of Ruusan and were consequently doomed to an eternity of agonizing suffering. When Hatus had begun infusing the orb, he had begun to hear their wailing voices in his head, but he had usually been able to ignore them or drown them out. Now, however, they were louder and more persistent than ever, and he felt as though they were attempting to drag his mind down so that he would be forced to share in their suffering.

But he had endured more than his fair share of pain during his lifetime; he would not let this pain bring him to his knees. And he certainly would not let it dampen his spirits; after all, this was a time of celebration! Luke Skywalker, the leader of the Jedi Order, was dead. The people of Latru were paying for everything they had done to him all those decades ago. The people of the galaxy were so terrified of the Sith that they had already begun to submit to them. And the Galactic Alliance was on the verge of crumbling. Even now, protests were being waged against the Jedi, the military, and the senate. Chancellor Don Dain had not shown his face since his past had been exposed and people were calling for his impeachment or execution. And many of the worlds and organizations that made up the Alliance were beginning to break away. Hatus' plan had worked to perfection, and it was only a matter of time before the Sith subjugated all free worlds in the galaxy.

Which was why he needed to start planning for the future. Although he truthfully did not care whether or not he ruled the galaxy, he still relished the opportunity to reshape it to his liking. The first thing on his agenda was replacing his apprentices. While Darths Sinestro, Volatis, and Masculous had served him well—for the most part—they had originally been loyal to Lumiya and Darth Caedus. They had sought Demood Elppirc out only to use him against their enemies. Because of that, he could never fully trust them to carry out his will. Therefore, they had outlived their usefulness.

But Hatus still needed apprentices; it was a big galaxy, and he could not be everywhere at once, so he needed people to act as his eyes, ears, voice, and blades. Vestara Khai was extraordinarily capable for one so young, and her youth also made her easier to mold. The only hurdle was her conflicted feelings about the Sith. Hatus had sensed them in her, had known she had been experiencing them on Coruscant, but he was confident that he could expunge those feelings. She had been fiercely loyal to Sith until Ben Skywalker had planted doubts in her; Hatus needed only to uproot them before they blossomed.

Tahiri would likely prove to be a greater challenge. Although she had turned to the dark side and served the Sith once before, her experiences had been bad enough that she did not intend to do it again. Plus, she already harbored anger toward Hatus for what he had done on Latru, and her feelings would not improve if word of the attack on Coruscant reached her ears. However, her prior experience with the Sith meant that she would need little to no training once she became his apprentice.

Everyone had a breaking point; Hatus just needed to push Tahiri to hers. And he was sure that Anakin was the key to finding it. He had been the reason she had turned to the dark side the first time, so it followed that he would be the reason for her turn the second time. Even if he had not, Tahiri still loved him, and love was always a person's greatest weakness. Hatus had learned that the hard way, long ago.

Deciding that he needed to cool down, he decided to step out onto the balcony overlooking the base. From his perch, Hatus could survey the base and keep an eye on its inhabitants, slaves and Sith alike. It gave him ample opportunity to enjoy the suffering of the Latruans. The balcony also afforded him a spectacular view of the surrounding snow-covered landscape. Directly in front of him were the ruins of Gratbûr, which were just as satisfying to look at as its enslaved inhabitants. Behind the city, stretching from periphery to periphery, were the majestic Beyorran Mountains, whose now-frozen waterfalls supplied the fifty-meter wide river that ran along the base of the mountain range and flowed around and through the rubble of the city.

Before the destruction of Gratbûr, part of the river had run underneath the city, generating hydroelectric power. Hatus remembered it as it had been when he had first visited Latru, back when he went by the name Demood Elppirc. As hard as he tried to block his memories of the period of his life, the sight of so many familiar features inadvertently triggered them. One memory in particular came to mind…

Then…

It had been about two months since arriving on Latru, and Demood Elppirc had made no headway with the mining companies. The representatives he was working with were particularly stubborn, unwilling to compromise with each other and only looking out for their own interests. And King Monad Joisûr was not helping matters; he seemed disinterested in the conflict and was content to let the companies fight it out. It was becoming increasingly clear to Demood that his mission would take a very long time to complete.

But the more time he spent in Gratbûr, the more he began to see that as a good thing. He was enjoying his stay much more than he thought he would. He had endeavored to learn as much as he could about Latruan history and culture to aid in his negotiations, but in doing so, he had unexpectedly acclimated to life on the planet. He now knew all of the local customs, he had no trouble navigating the city, and he had become acquainted with many people. When he was not busy with his mission, he spent his free time with his new friends and family. Usually, they would stay home and talk about their lives; Demood sometimes spoke about his experiences related to his role as a Jedi, but everyone seemed more interested in him as a person, rather than as a Jedi. Other times, they would go out to enjoy the entertainment and sporting events Latru had to offer, or to dine at one of Gratbûr's many restaurants.

One day, he decided to venture beyond the walls of the city. Many Latruans frequently left the city to enjoy the grassy plains and wide-open spaces. They had picnics, played games, or swam in the river. On this particularly hot summer day, the latter was an extremely popular activity. Dozens of people were frolicking in the water while dozens more sat by the water's edge, talking, basking in the sun, or watching their children play. Demood was pleased to see them happy.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream pierced the air. Demood's head whirled in the direction of the sound and saw a young girl in the middle of the river, screaming and thrashing in the water as she was carried swiftly downstream. She must have waded too far out and been swept away by the current. Cries of terror rose from the Latruans by the shore.

Without hesitation, Demood sprang into action, shedding his Jedi cloak and sprinting in the girl's direction. He channeled the Force through his legs, augmenting his speed. Then, as he reached the water's edge, he leapt, propelling himself with the Force so that he plunged directly into the middle of the river. Ignoring how cold the water was, he swam downstream with the current.

The girl was still a few meters in front of him when she was dragged down beneath the surface. Alarmed, but not panicked, Demood dove in after her, using the Force to swim as fast as he could. Five seconds ticked by… ten seconds… fifteen seconds. If he did not reach the girl soon, he feared she would drown. Desperately, he stopped swimming and instead used the Force to pull her toward him. If not for the current, she would have been in his arms almost instantly. It was nearly ten seconds before she was within reach. As soon as he grabbed her hand, he pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her. Then, he kicked against the bottom of the river, propelling himself upward with an added Force push.

They broke the surface of the water, and Demood used one arm to paddle toward the shore. Soon, they had escaped the current, and the water became calm. As he pulled both himself and the girl onto dry land, he saw many Latruans running toward them. There was no time to rest, however, for it quickly became clear that the girl was not breathing. Demood immediately began performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while the crowd watched anxiously. For every second the girl remained unconscious, Demood grew more and more fearful that he had been too late. But rather than submit to despair, he used that fear to push himself to try harder.

Finally, after half a minute, the child suddenly coughed up a large amount of water and began breathing heavily. Still terrified by her near-death experience, she began to cry. Demood sighed in relief and pulled her into a hug. He whispered reassuringly in her ear until she began to calm down and carried her over to her distraught-looking mother. The tearful woman showered the child with kisses and thanked Demood repeatedly. When he tried to hand the girl over to her mother, she refused let go of him. She must still have been shaken by the ordeal and not yet ready to leave her rescuer's arms. Thus, he offered to carry her home, walking alongside her mother.

As he passed, the gathered Latruans applauded and cheered. While he did not particularly want their praise, he appreciated it nonetheless. In the days following the incident, word of his heroic act spread like wildfire throughout Gratbûr, and he became a local celebrity.

Heroism came with a price, it seemed. A few days after he had saved the young girl from drowning, Demood discovered that his lightsaber was broken. He surmised that the river's current had caused the hilt hanging on his belt to collide with a rock or something. The external damage was minimal—some scuffing of the metal shell and a crack in the polymer hand grip—but the inner workings were in pretty bad shape. Some of the components had been knocked loose by the impact or corroded by water, and some of the circuitry had been fried when he attempted to ignite the weapon. In short, the lightsaber had been rendered useless.

Demood considered his options. He had neither the parts nor the technical knowledge to repair it. There were Jedi back on Coruscant who could fix it for him, but he could not call them to Latru and risk incurring the wrath of King Monad Joisûr. Nor could he leave Latru until he had completed his mission, which could take months or even years. He supposed it was possible that he would not need his weapon and could wait until he returned to the Jedi Temple to have it repaired. So far, he had seen nothing to indicate that he would need to use it while on Latru, but that did not mean the need would never arise. If an unexpected threat appeared, he decided he would rather have a working weapon when he faced it.

Therefore, he resolved to find out if anyone on Latru could help him repair his lightsaber. On a world where the people favored art and craftsmanship over technology, mechanics and technicians were fairly uncommon. Fortunately, by asking around, Demood had learned of a few businesses in Gratbûr that specialized in the repair of tools and mechanical parts. He decided to try the one nearest to his family's home first.

The first thing he noticed when he entered the shop was that the walls were lined with shelves containing an eclectic assortment of gadgets, most of which appeared to have originated offworld. He took that as a good sign that he had come to the right place. Within moments of him opening the door, a young dark-haired woman emerged from a back room and stood behind the counter. She opened her mouth to speak, but fell short when she took in his appearance. "You're the Jedi, aren't you?" she asked.

"That would be me," he answered with just a hint of annoyance. Per Jedi tradition, he was required to wear his robes at all times to denote his affiliation. Unfortunately, they made him stand out everywhere he went. He was considering bending the rules and purchasing some plain clothes to wear when he was not on-duty.

The woman frowned apologetically. "I'm sorry; I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no, it's no problem," Demood said dismissively. "It happens all the time."

"Well, it shouldn't," replied the woman. "People should recognize you for who you are, not your status."

He smiled at this comment. "That's very wise of you. Maybe you could be a Jedi."

She laughed softly at Demood's joke. He found it to be a very pleasing sound. "No, thank you," she said. "I have no desire to go on adventures across the stars. My place is here." After a beat, she said, "It was very brave of you, saving that child."

"I was just doing what was right," he responded. "I'm just happy to help."

The woman shook her head. "I think you underestimate yourself. The biggest problem with this universe is that not enough people help each other."

Demood smiled and nodded, impressed. "I think you may be right." He had barely known this woman for more than a minute, and already he liked her. It occurred to him that he did not know her name. He decided to introduce himself in hopes that she would reciprocate. "I'm Demood Elppirc."

She bowed her head in acknowledgement and responded, "Shmi Skywalker."

Bowing in return, he said, "Pleased to meet you."

A brief moment passed before Shmi asked, "I assume you're here because you need help?"

"Hm? Oh! Yes, I do." To his surprise and embarrassment, Demood had momentarily forgotten why he had come. He unhooked the lightsaber from his belt and placed it on the counter between him and Shmi. "I think this got damaged in the river. I was wondering if you had any parts I could use to fix it."

For a minute, she eyed the lightsaber with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Then she reached her hand out toward it and asked, "May I?"

"Of course."

Shmi carefully picked up the lightsaber with both hands and held it parallel to the ground. She continued to stare it as though she were both fascinated by it and afraid of it. Then, suddenly self-aware, she cleared her throat and said, "I'm afraid I don't know anything about these. I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Well, maybe if you saw the components, you might recognize them."

"Maybe." She studied it for a few more seconds before asking, "Does it come apart?"

"Yeah, here." Demood took the hilt from her and began to disassemble it. For the uninitiated, it could be a difficult process, but Demood had done it enough times that it was almost second-nature to him. He laid the pieces out on the counter for Shmi to examine.

After a minute, she pointed at one piece and said, "This is a Diatium power cell, correct?" Almost before Demood could answer, she pointed at another group of components and said, "And these look like cycling field energizers. These three are lightly corroded. If they were knocked loose, water may have flooded the chamber and wasn't allowed to drain properly. We don't carry this exact model, but I think we have some suitable replacements." She focused her attention on another set of pieces. "And these energy modulation circuits are fried. Did you try to activate this?"

"Yes," Demood answered. "The blade appeared for just a second, and then I smelled something burning."

"There must have still been water inside when you activated it. You'll have to replace the circuits. The wiring, too; the insulation is melted." Shmi looked up at him. "If I provide the parts, can you fix it yourself?"

Demood shook his head. "No, I don't know enough about electronics."

Her face fell slightly. "Well, I can sell you all the parts you need, but, as I said, I am not familiar with these weapons. I don't even know what some of these pieces are or what they do. Without knowing how all the pieces fit together, I'm afraid I can't repair it."

Seeing her disappointment, Demood felt the urge to try to make her happy. "Well, I know enough of how it works and what some of the pieces do. Maybe I could help you."

Shmi laughed softly, a beautiful sound. "I've never had a customer offer to help me before. I'm not even sure the owner would allow it."

"Maybe we don't have to do it here," Demood suggested, injecting his voice with hope. "Maybe you could come over to my house and we could work on it together. Or I could go to yours. Either works." He was not sure why he was so eager to work with Shmi. She seemed like a nice person, and he believed that she was good at her job, but he could not help but sense that there was something… more about her.

Shmi laughed again. "I suppose we could do that."

That evening, Demood brought his lightsaber to Shmi's apartment, which was furnished with a workbench and tools so that she could work on personal projects in her free time. They stood side-by-side, Shmi handling the tools and components while Demood explained the inner workings of his lightsaber. With their combined knowledge, the task of repairing the weapon went slowly but surely. About halfway through the evening, they took a break while Shmi prepared dinner for them both. It turned out that, in addition to being a gifted mechanic, she was also a fine cook. They talked the entire time, getting to know each other better.

Shmi came from a long line of well-known artisans. The Skywalkers had resided in Gratbûr for several generations, and creativity and technical skill appeared to run deep in the family. Her father was a master toymaker, her mother was a seamstress, and other members of her family were carpenters, artists, writers, musicians, and even architects and engineers. Shmi's technical skills had emerged at a very young age, which led to her pursuing engineering as a career.

After a delicious dinner, they worked on the lightsaber for another hour until they were both tired. After arranging to return the following evening to continue the work, Demood returned to his family's home. As he lay in bed, waiting to fall asleep, all he could think about was Shmi.

So, a few big things happened in this chapter! Tahiri and Anakin have an unhappy reunion, Demood Elppirc is a hero, and Shmi Skywalker enters the story! Unfortunately, it will be a while before any of these storylines continue, as the next few chapters will focus on the main characters on Coruscant! I will keep you posted on my progress with these chapters and let you know when I plan to post them.

Thank you for reading this chapter! If you have any comments or questions, please leave them in your reviews or private messages.