5/13/23: Edited and chapter order swapped

Chapter 20
To Thine Own Self Be True

Faint moonlight poured into the krayt's cavern of treasures. The trailing edge of Chenini was all that remained visible through the great fissure in the ceiling. The conjunction had passed with the visions.

"Is your weapon satisfactory?" the krayt asked from the shadows.

Anakin startled. He collected himself, closed down the blade, and bowed respectfully. "It is magnificent."

"Then it is time. You must leave."

He quickly gathered his things, pausing only to drain a water bulb, before he followed her back through the cavern with the nest to a large opening in the cliff face. The sandstorm as well as the Grand Assembly had passed. He prepared to bow once more and set out on the long trudge toward Mos Espa, but she lowered herself to the ground.

"You must mount, Krayt Rider. You are weary and cannot walk swiftly enough." When he did not immediately scramble onto her back, she added, "Time is precious. We must hurry."

He said with awe, "Ride on your back, Great One?"

She shook her head and shoulders almost impatiently. "You have earned the name; now you must ride, Krayt Rider."

Anakin was torn between awe and terror, but he had resolved to submit during his vision. With the barest touch of the Force, he leaped to the top of her shoulder, settling right behind her neck. He was no sooner astride than she bounded lightly across the rocky terrain. He had no idea how much ground she covered with each stride; he only knew that in minutes they were free of the canyons and hurtling across the sands.

He had lost track of time hours ago. His sojourn in the caverns could have lasted weeks or might have been over in the blink of an eye for all the passage of time he had sensed. Above, the Three Sisters had begun their stately retreat from one another against the obsidian void. The air stung his cheeks and lungs, sharpened by the speed of the krayt. He clutched his tattered cloak closed against the chill. The Great Mother leapt over the dunes tirelessly.

Anakin's experience with riding animals was limited to the shaak he had had mounted in an attempt to impress Padmé and the reek they had ridden in desperation at Geonosis. Neither experience had been pleasant or comfortable. Riding the krayt, however, was both. He found himself smiling wistfully at the memory of his inglorious gallop across the meadow at Varykino. He had not smiled at anything connected with Padmé since before Mustafar, but somehow the sting had gone out of his memories. He would regret attacking her forever, yet the knowledge that she had lived to give birth to their daughter—that she had loved him even after his monstrous actions—had provided the balm the festering wound had needed to begin to heal.

Absently, he traced the outlines of the constellation above, lingering on Dan, the star of blessing, which marked the tip of the Great Krayt's tail. A long-forgotten memory stirred. Of telling Padmé one golden afternoon on Coruscant about the strange coincidence he had discovered—that Naboo's sun was called blessing on Tatooine. He had given her quite a ham-handed compliment. Something to the effect that the star wasn't the blessing, she was. She had laughed at him in that affectionate way she had when he was clumsy in his attempts to express his heart. The way that meant she knew he was inept but she loved him for it. He gave his own broken little laugh at the long-repressed memory.

Blessing. His fingers brushed the lightsaber at his hip; the crystals hummed with strength in the metal cylinder. His eye fell on the star nearest Dan. Choiala—Justice. And beside it Freedom. Soundlessly, his lips formed the names of the seven stars and without conscious thought, he slipped into a chant his mother had taught him when he was very young.

The great Boha give me Wisdom to see.
By the light of Naha-ag, I tell the Truth.
Mighty Sawanba be my Defender,
to lead me to Freedom by the guidance of Jedahag,
to grant me Justice by the power of Choiala.
May Bapm Bouka guide me to desert springs
and Dan bless my journey in this world and the next.

His thoughts drifted, a confused jumble of krayts and the Grand Assembly, of blessings and his mother's stories, of the Force and that other unnamable power in his vision. The unexpected discovery of his place and purpose in the galaxy sang in his blood, and under it all ran the inextinguishable longings of a little boy for justice for all he had suffered.

He must have nodded off sometime during the journey because he awakened when the krayt drew to a halt. The Sisters had nearly reached the horizon, and the stars had faded in the glow of sunrise. Swinging his leg over her neck, he slid to the ground. His prosthetics jolted with the impact, and he staggered a few steps. Equilibrium regained, he turned to his benefactor.

"Thank you, Great Mother, for everything. I—I have no words strong enough…"

"It is no matter, Krayt Rider. I know what is in your heart. It is good that you have found your way back to your people and to your calling. May you walk ever in the right, son of the desert. Now go—accomplish that for which you were born—both for your people and for your Force. The strength of the desert will be in your heart, and its lessons will be in your head."

He bowed low and said, "I will remember."

She lowered her head in return. As she gathered her legs for her first leap, her voice echoed around him. Was he hearing with his ears or with some other sense? "When you cannot find your way, remember—the truth will set you free." She bounded over the dune and was gone.

He stared after her for an endless moment, a sharp breeze whipping his cloak about his legs. A sense of unreality enveloped him. Her presence, so real and vital through the night, melted away with the dawn. The sand stretched smoothly ahead of him, devoid of footprints. Had the wind erased them? Or had she been a fantasy?

He wondered absently how far he was from Mos Espa. As he turned back to the west, something brushed his thigh. Gently, he unhooked his new lightsaber from his belt and examined it in the light of the new day. So whatever had happened, it had been real. Perhaps the krayt herself had been some sort of vision, but the lightsaber was very tangible. Still moving slowly, he returned the hilt to his belt and wearily began to climb the dune that lay before him.

The sand slipped as usual under his feet. He drove his feet in for purchase and crested the top, astonished. The krayt had brought him almost to the outskirts of Mos Espa in a matter of hours. And standing on top of the dune was Kitster. Why was he here? What was he doing?

Anakin walked along the crest of the dune, toes splayed outward. At that moment, Tatoo II burst over the horizon, washing out Kitster's face until Anakin was quite close. The man looked like he had been run over by a podracer.

The time for truth had come.

"Hi, Kit," Anakin said softly. "I'm sorry I ran off without seeing you in person."

Kitster merely stared at him.

"Are you all right?" Anakin asked. "You look—unsettled."

The other man shook his head as though to clear it. "You rode a krayt," he said hoarsely, without answering Anakin's question.

Anakin blinked. "Ah—yes. Yes, I did."

"I mean—I know the legends—I've always loved them—and you did call yourself Kraytrider—but I never thought—it's just—legends. It's not real, you know? The name—it was simply a name—it only meant you'd escaped your master…." He trailed off, shaking his head again, this time in bewilderment.

"Kit," said Anakin in a hushed tone, "it was the most real thing that's ever happened to me. She was the most real person I've ever met—far more real than I am." He gazed toward the horizon in the direction the krayt had taken. The dunes blazed gold and black, all blinding glare and sharp shadows. As harsh as the truths he must tell. "And my name—it wasn't real until now. The Great Mother made it real. Before that—it was only a signal to people to leave me alone. To hide my true identity."

He drew a deep breath and met Kitster's eyes. "I have to make a confession. You may be angry with me—and very hurt. I'm sorry. I should have told you long ago—the first day you came into my shop. But I was running away from everything, and I didn't want any reminders of my past. I thought I could just—not get involved." He took another great breath. "But that's not possible anymore. And, anyway, I was always involved. Maybe since before I was born."

Kitster's expression became quizzical. "Err—Kraytrider," he paused a moment, stunned anew by what he had seen. Then he gathered himself and said, "That's quite a claim. I hate to break it to you, brother, but I doubt you're as important as all that. Did you get heatstroke out there?"

Anakin jerked his head in disagreement. "No. Perhaps I'm important. Perhaps I'm not. But something called me out there to meet a Great Mother and to build this." He held up his lightsaber hilt.

Kitster glanced at it indifferently. "What is it? I've never seen anything like it."

"A lightsaber."

"A what?"

"I guess you'd say it's a kind of sword." The words emerged slowly. "The Jedi carried them."

Kit's disbelieving expression was one for the record books. "Right. The Jedi are all dead, in case you hadn't heard."

Anakin winced. "I do know, actually. Perhaps more intimately than any other living person."

"And you're claiming you not only can ride a Great Mother, but now you're a Jedi too?"

"No," he shook his head soberly, "not anymore."

"Not anymore?" If Kit's eyebrows rose any higher, they would merge with his scalp. "All right. I don't believe you, but what's your story?"

Anakin looked him squarely in the eye. "I'm Anakin Skywalker. I was a Jedi. Now I'm a—I don't know what. Something. Out there—I made an Oath. She asked me—"

"Anakin Skywalker!? That's impossible. Anakin was freed by the Jedi, it's true, but he died when they were wiped out, like all the others. You're only saying this because I told you about him." The betrayal in his eyes cut straight to Anakin's heart.

"No." He shook his head. "I really am Anakin. The Jedi freed me and took me to Coruscant. I served as a Jedi for thirteen years." He could see that Kitster still did not believe him. Not surprising, he supposed. Telling the truth was harder than he had thought it would be. He wracked his brain for something to convince his old friend.

"Then tell me what our secret handshake was."

Anakin's lips twitched into a faint almost-smile. "We didn't have a secret handshake, Kit."

There was a pause. "All right. That's true. In that case, tell me something only Ani and I would know. Prove it to me, if you truly are Ani."

Anakin stuck his fingers through his belt. He wanted to pace, but the ground underfoot would not be conducive to a slow, measured stride. Finally he said, "When we were seven, we found a secret cubbyhole in your room. It was carved into the wall under your bed. It wasn't very large, but large enough to keep our treasures safe from our masters. We hid our special toys or other objects we loved in it. We planned to keep my scanner there if I ever got it working. When we were eight—not very long before the Jedi came—we wrote a pact and put it in the hole."

"What did the pact say?" Kitster's face was impassive, but Anakin could sense he yearned to be convinced.

"'Anakin Skywalker and Kitster Banai swear eternal brotherhood by the desert, the Two Brothers, and the Three Sisters.' We marked it with our blood by the light of Ghermessa and Ghomrassen—Chenini not then being available to witness our vow," he added drily.

He nearly toppled in surprise when Kitster threw his arms around him. "Ani! Oh, Ani! I'm so glad you're alive."

Anakin stood woodenly for a moment, then awkwardly lifted his arms in return. "Kit." His vision was unexpectedly blurry. "It's good to see you, Kit. And I'm sorry. I should have told you the day you came to the shop."

Kitster released him. "Why didn't you?" A single glistening track traced its way down his cheek.

Anakin's arms dropped back to his side, and he turned back toward the sunrise, though he kept his eyes on his feet. "Oh, it's all very complicated, but I guess it boils down to—I forgot who I was. For a long, long time. And when I fled my master, I was so sick of it all. Destiny and prophecies and everyone's unmet expectations. Everyone expected me to do great things. And I was nothing but a scared kid—scared of losing the people I loved, scared of failing, scared of what I was supposed to do…."

"I didn't understand any of that. But what kind of burden is that for a kid?"

"None at all." Anakin stared at the slope of sand that dropped away below his boots. "I never was able to live up to their expectations."

Kit was silent for a time as the edge of Tatoo I crept over the horizon. "So why are you telling me now?" he asked at last.

"It's hard to explain—and a lot I can't tell you." Anakin fidgeted with his belt for a moment. "But I have one other confession to make. You might hate me after you hear it. But you need to know because it's going to come out today." He braced his feet, drew his shoulders back, and looked directly at Kitster. "For personal reasons that I am not going to share, I submitted myself to the Emperor. He offered me something I was desperate to have at the price that I become his servant. He lied—he never intended to give it to me—but by then it was too late. I had destroyed everything—or believed I had. And so I served him for sixteen years until I discovered his treachery. I didn't think I could defeat him, but I determined never to serve him again. So I left and hid here. But now I know that something—someone—survived. And she will not be safe as long as he lives. So I am going to destroy him."

Kitster's expression could not have been more stunned if he had been bisected by a lightsaber. "The Emperor? He was your master?"

Anakin nodded.

"You—You weren't—" he wet his lips stiffly. "You couldn't have been—"

Anakin forced himself not to look away. "I'm sorry. It's true."

"But…but…your mother…" he whispered.

"Yes, my mother would be so ashamed and horrified. I was a slave. But I became a slaver, too. Worse even than the Hutts. Oh, it was all at the command—or at least the permission—of my master. But, yes, I was pleased to see others as miserable as myself."

Kit spun around, unable to look him in the face any longer. Anakin was silent. He must make his own determination. It seemed an eternity before his voice drifted faintly over his shoulder. "Are you—sorry?"

"Yes." The words were little more than a breath. "I must tell you the truth. I was not sorry when I came to Mos Espa. I only wanted to escape him. But now…Yes. I am very sorry. And I am going to make it right."

"How?"

"Well, to begin with, we will free Tatooine's slaves today. And then I will destroy Palpatine and everything he ever built."

"That will not change what you did." Kit's voice quavered.

"No. It will not. I cannot change any of it. I can only attempt to repair what I have broken."

Slowly, Kitster turned back with a weak but genuine smile. "You always were good at fixing things." He drew a deep breath and stuck out his hand. "Let's free some slaves, shall we?—brother."

Misty-eyed again, Anakin grasped his friend's hand. "Maybe we should invent a secret handshake," he said unsteadily and was pleased when Kit laughed.