Though This Be Madness
The garrison outpost stood ahead across a space of open ground. Anakin focused on his physical sensations—the cool stream of supplemental oxygen in his lungs, the heat of the suns on his hooded scalp, the sand sliding under his feet—in a bid to ground himself. The run-in with the gang, brief though it had been, had unbalanced him. His proposed course was risky enough without the emotional turmoil the encounter had stirred up, but this was no time to withdraw in search of inner peace. He could only hope that he would not slip too far into the role he was about to play.
The original plan had called for him to meet with Semchan under the name Kraytrider, using the identichip he had forged when he adopted his alias. His task would merely have been to persuade the colonel not to oppose the Provisional Council.
The plan he had devised when he returned this morning had not depended on Semchan believing he was Vader. He simply would have forced the man onto a shuttle and recorded a message, accompanied by a code to verify his identity. That would have been sufficient to draw the Emperor's attention.
This newest plan, however, required that Semchan be convinced he was Darth Vader in truth, both to draw Palpatine's attention and to maintain some measure of stability on Tatooine. The difficulty, of course, was that he had no proof of his identity. It was almost a pity he hadn't kept the suit; this bluff would be much more straightforward if he could assume Vader's appearance as well as his character.
It might be easier to convince him that Anakin Skywalker had escaped the purge—his death reported in error—and that name, no doubt, would be sufficient to attract Palpatine's notice. Regrettably, Skywalker could not intimidate Semchan into providing the civic benefits Tatooine required. To wit, the garrison as a security force.
No, only Darth Vader could accomplish all three of Anakin's goals—to assure Semchan's support for the Provisional Council, to secure Tatooine against any unrest in the wake of Jabba's death, and to lure Palpatine's attention to himself.
Apprehensive, he reached for the sense-memory of his old misery—the resentment, the hair-trigger temper, the disdain for others—and added it to the anger and fear for Leia that still bubbled in his blood. As he did, he realized for the first time how far he had come since his repudiation of Palpatine. He was balancing on the thinnest of wires, here—it would be so easy to stumble beyond the charade. He called to mind the sound and sensation of the respirator—the eternal rhythm that had paced not only his breath but his life. In. Out. In. Out. His breathing slowed into alignment with the regulated cadence. Loneliness and betrayal flooded back, and he projected the desolation outward.
Behind him, Leia gave an audible wince. It must be working, then.
Before he could think too much about it, he raised his hand and gestured. The gate ground open. Without breaking stride—imagining the weight of the suit and the prosthetics pressing his footsteps heavily into the ground—he entered a small vestibule. Most of his group didn't fit, so the clones stood guard over their prisoners outside.
A familiar, unkempt sergeant was on duty at the desk—the NCO who had led the inspections of Anakin's shop. This had the potential to be amusing. He leashed the amusement and twisted it into Vader's bitter sarcasm.
The sergeant half rose, his face a study in outrage. "How did those doors open?" he demanded of the pair of stormtroopers standing inside the gate. His tone was peevish rather than angry, as though the suns had burned all passion out of him, leaving him too petty for more vivid emotions.
"I opened them." Anakin said in his most pretentious accent. "Since your stormtroopers are stationed inside the building, contrary to regulations, my men had to arrest these thugs on their own. Call an escort, Sergeant…?"
The man glared at him in silence. Anakin glowered back from under his hood. He no longer needed to feign annoyance and he used what he felt to augment the displeasure he was already radiating into the Force, though he knew from their prior encounters that the sergeant was fairly impervious to nonphysical intimidation.
At last the fellow grunted, "Darac."
"Sergeant Darac. Summon an escort so that my men can deliver the offenders to the detention center. As you failed to notice, we were attacked as we approached the gate."
"You have no authority to arrest anyone." Darac's mouth was pinched with irritation.
"For the moment, consider it a citizen's arrest, given that your troopers are lazing inside the garrison instead of providing security to the streets outside."
The sergeant sneered. "It's not this garrison's job to police the local population."
Anakin's disdain for the lout began to edge toward contempt. "Is that so? Then what is this garrison's job? Do enlighten me."
"To represent Imperial interests."
"Ah." Anakin nodded with sham affability. "Tell me, Sergeant—do you think the Emperor would approve of the manner in which you are representing his interests?"
Darac looked vibroblades at him. "I suppose a yokel like you thinks he knows better than I do what the Emperor wants."
Anakin dropped the spurious geniality. "I know he would not approve of a soldier wearing the uniform of his government behaving with your insolence. Now, where is that escort?"
"It's against regulations to incarcerate locals without charges."
"How remiss of me." Tone caustic, Anakin waved Cody forward with a sharp gesture. "Commander, if you would?"
"We arrested these men on charges of assault, attempted murder, attempted armed robbery, possession of unlawful weapons, and suspicion of possession of narcotics. If you cannot recall how to process a simple prisoner intake, Sergeant, I would be happy to remind you." Cody's icy tones were equaled by the chill in his expression.
The sergeant regarded him dismissively. "Who are you?"
"Commander CC-2224, of the 501st Legion, on reserve duty."
The sergeant rolled his eyes. "That's ridiculous—the clones were all retired thirteen years ago. At least try to come up with a believable story."
"We were retired and held as a reserve force, to be reactivated at need of the Imperial government."
Darac's lip curled. "And you're claiming this Outer Rim hick has the authority to call up the reserves?"
"I am saying that my duty status is immaterial. I have the authority not only to arrest these bandits but likewise to write you up for insubordination and dereliction of duty." Cody extended his identichip.
Darac cast a suspicious eye over it. "What is that for?"
"So that you can verify my identity and consequently my authority to arrest these men."
With pronounced reluctance, Darac reached across the desk to accept the identichip. His expression soured still further at the information it contained. "All right, Commander. You are cleared to deliver these prisoners to the detention center." He waved imperiously in the vague direction of one of the stormtroopers beside the gate. The indifferent soldier led the clones and their prisoners away.
"Commander, after you complete your arrest, meet me at the governor's office."
"Yes, my lord."
Darac shot a startled glance at Anakin but said nothing. A little unease wafted into the Force.
Anakin allowed the atmosphere to settle a bit. "Sergeant, I am here to meet with Governor Semchan on behalf of the Provisional Council of Tatooine."
"The colonel is not available. He is attending the podrace."
"I am well aware of that fact. I also saw his speeder outside the gate. You will take me to see him."
"You can't just wander in off the street and demand a meeting with the Imperial governor."
"On the contrary, under Imperial statute 3.435, section 18, subsection 5(c), paragraph 4, the planetary leader or his representative may request a meeting with the Imperial governor at any time to discuss matters of security and governance. During a state of emergency, this request is to be granted without delay."
"The governor will be meeting Jabba the Hutt at the podrace; therefore, your request is denied," Darac said with evident satisfaction.
"In point of fact," Anakin countered, "there is a state of emergency in effect. Word reached Mos Espa just hours ago that the Khetanna met with an unfortunate accident overnight. The Provisional Council has delegated me to discuss the situation with Governor Semchan." Anakin held out his forged identichip and a datapad with his credentials from the Provisional Council.
With a grudging air, Darac examined the documents. He pursed his lips as he slanted a glance between the identichip and Anakin.
"Now that I've established my right to speak with the governor, I suggest you summon an escort for me." Anakin's patience, already taxed by this morning's aggravations, had evaporated like sweat from skin after second sunrise.
The sergeant, assuming a bullish look, made no reply.
"Very well. My time is short. I shall find my own way." Anakin swept away from the desk. Kenobi and Leia fell into step in his wake.
"Halt! I haven't authorized your visit," Darac called after him.
Anakin strode down the hall to an asthmatic turbolift, taking no notice of the sounds of pursuit behind him. The sergeant was puffing by the time he caught up.
"I see fitness standards are not being maintained either," Anakin said acidly. He had fallen back into Vader's mindset more rapidly than he had expected, but so far he was not feeling on the edge. Maybe it would be all right.
The door hissed open. Anakin's small party boarded.
"I will summon the MPs." Darac sounded downright petulant by now.
Anakin's lip curled in derision. "If you had MPs available, you would have already summoned them. Where are they? Drinking in some cantina? They are as lax as the rest of this garrison." He pressed the button to close the doors; Darac blocked them. "You have hindered me at every opportunity," Anakin grated. "Either step into the lift or remove your person from obstructing the doors."
Darac, somewhat to his surprise, stepped in. The turbolift rose, lurching to a halt on the second floor. Across the hall, the door to the governor's office was closed. Anakin gave a brisk gesture. The door jerked and groaned open, and he wondered with a flash of wicked glee how often the standard-issue sliding doors malfunctioned because of the sand. It was clear they had not been designed for Tatooine's rugged environment, though doubtless, the supply unit on Coruscant had not cared. Some poor wermo must spend all his time trying to keep the base's doors operational.
Inside the office, a balding colonel in a dress uniform was demanding, "—find my cover and my cape—" His words cut off at the grinding of the door. He frowned. "Who are you? Where is your escort?"
Anakin paced to the center of the office without speaking. Kenobi drew Leia to one side of the door.
The sergeant scurried in, the closing door nearly snagging his heel. "I'm sorry, sir. I did everything I could to stop him, sir. He insisted on seeing you."
"Who is he?" Semchan raised a supercilious brow.
"He—he is the representative of the planetary government and claimed he has the right to demand a meeting with you."
"Bantha fodder. The only government on this miserable rock is Jabba the Hutt. If he has anything to discuss with me, he can tell me at the podrace. Provided that lazy idiot ever locates my cover and cape." The colonel preened in front of a full-length mirror, straightening his tunic and fiddling with his rank plaques.
Anakin observed him in foreboding silence, hands at his sides, hood up, figure concealed by the cloak. The governor preened for over half a minute before he became aware of the chilly atmosphere. His hands dropped awkwardly and he half-turned toward his unwelcome guests.
Anakin spoke at last. "I represent a provisional council that formed this morning when news reached the city that Jabba the Hutt's barge exploded as he traveled to the race."
"Jabba—dead? Preposterous! I've received no such report."
"Whether you have or not, it is true. The provisional council has declared a state of emergency in hopes of staving off chaos. I am here to discuss the necessary actions to be taken, and you may not refuse my request to meet with you."
"That still doesn't give you the right to burst in here unannounced. I will see you after the race." Semchan turned back toward his mirror.
"Since your slovenly sergeant refused to cooperate, I had no choice but to make my own way to you. The council is invoking Article 14, section 22.8, subsection D, of the galactic constitution, which places you under legal obligation to give all necessary and proper support to the council and its articles of government."
"I recognize no such obligation." Semchan bristled, even as he resumed adjusting his uniform. "I have not been informed of this change of government through the proper channels. By law, the local governor must be notified of any proposed changes to a system's constitution at least one standard year before the changes go into effect. This provisional council—" he twisted the words with disdain— "is illegal."
"Proper channels?" Anakin almost snarled the words. "I am informing you that Tatooine is in a state of emergency due to the unexpected death of a major criminal kingpin and you are quibbling over proper channels?" He paused to rein in the flaring anger, straining for self-control. Without noticing, he slipped more fully into the cadences of Vader's speech. "My visit today is the proper channel to prevent this lawless hotbed of criminal activity from degenerating into a sarlacc's nest of complete anarchy. When the Emperor learns that you refused to execute your clear duty because of an inflexible insistence on 'proper channels,' he will use all the 'proper channels' to haul you before the Senate on charges of dereliction of duty."
"The Emperor? Do you take me for a fool? What should the Emperor care for a report from a nobody like you?"
"I would take care, Colonel," Kenobi interjected. Anakin wanted to grind his teeth. Couldn't the old busybody stay out of it? "You do not know whom you are dealing with."
"Oh? All I see is a mysterious figure in a cloak who isn't even courteous enough to show his face."
"Do you truly wish to see my face?" Anakin asked. "I warn you—few men survive the sight, Semchan."
"That's Colonel Semchan to you."
Anakin removed his hood, staring straight at Semchan. Though the man blanched at the scars, it was Darac who blurted, "I know you! You're nothing but a junkyard owner."
Anakin turned slowly to him, eyes like ice. "You are nothing but a thug who abuses his authority to terrorize law-abiding citizens rather than maintaining peace and order. If I didn't have much more pressing concerns today, I would teach you a lesson in military discipline and courtesy."
"You—you—How dare y—" The hue of Semchan's face grew deeper with each seething word.
The door jerked open again and Cody entered with the other clones. "My lord, all prisoners are confined to cells with charges filed."
"Very good, Commander."
"Who is this?" Semchan demanded with a curl of his lip. "And why are you wandering around the base without authorization?"
"Commander CC-2224." Cody nodded toward Anakin. "Lord Vader's orders, sir."
"Vader was declared dead a year ago," sneered Semchan.
"Since you insist on formality, that's Lord Vader to you, Colonel Semchan." Anakin allowed the heavy pause to hang in the air. "So I was. An officially dead man can learn so much more than a living one, wouldn't you agree?" He paced away from Semchan. "Such as just how deep the local governor is in Jabba the Hutt's pocket or how those under his command follow his lead in the abuse of their offices. I am fully prepared to file charges against you—collusion with Jabba's smuggling ring, accepting bribes, profiting from your office—I could go on." He drew to a halt to consider an ornate, obviously expensive statuette of Hutt origin.
The ruddy color had drained from Semchan's cheeks at this recital. At Anakin's inviting pause, he rallied. "I—I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Indeed? No idea whatsoever?"
Semchan puffed out his chest. "I fulfill the duties of my office and I refuse to be threatened by a—a—an imposter—no matter who he claims to be."
"I am no imposter, Colonel. I am Darth Vader, whether you believe that or not. If you doubt my word, perhaps you will accept my commander's. Sergeant Darac verified his credentials."
"Why should I depend on his word? If you are Darth Vader, show me your credentials."
"You are a fool. I require no identification." Anakin extended his hand toward the desk, and a stylus sailed across the room. It hovered over his loosely curled fingers. He tipped his head toward the governor.
Semchan looked sulky but said grudgingly, "Very well."
Anakin waited, twirling the stylus in midair.
"…Lord Vader."
"Now that we have established my authority, let us return to the subject at hand, namely your duty to uphold the government of Tatooine." He snapped his hand closed around the stylus. "His Majesty intends to maintain his command over all the territories of the Empire, even those as seemingly insignificant as Tatooine. He will hold you personally responsible should your incompetence and negligence result in the loss of the slender control the Empire maintains over this system." He paced to the center of the room again. "And I will be most displeased if I am required to expend the resources and manpower to reassert order."
An inner door opened and a malnourished man of indeterminate age entered. "I found your cover but I cannot locate the cape, Master."
Semchan flushed an unbecoming shade. "Inept fool! You are not worth the price I paid for you." He raised his hand and the man shrank away, half lifting his arms to protect his face in a gesture that needed no translation.
A gust of rage swept through Anakin. He had known Semchan was colluding with Jabba in the slave trade but had thought he was merely lining his own pockets. He had not realized the man was keeping slaves himself. He hurled the stylus toward the wall with so much force, it embedded itself in a seam beyond Semchan. A crimson gash blossomed on the colonel's temple. Eyes riveted to Anakin, Semchan wiped at the wound. With obvious effort, he tore his gaze away to study the scarlet stain on his trembling fingers.
Anakin was almost shuddering with the desire to choke the life out of this slave-holding skocha nok. He clenched his fist and the stylus, which he was still grasping with the Force, snapped into a thousand shards. Semchan flinched. Near the door, someone squeaked. Anakin looked over his shoulder.
Leia was staring at him in dismay and shrinking away. Her icy fear poured through him, dousing the fire of his wrath.
What do you want? the Great Mother's voice echoed in his head.
I want my child to be well and free and happy. To know her. And not to be alone anymore.
Using the Force in violence in front of Leia would only drive her farther away from him. Honesty compelled him to acknowledge that he deserved nothing else, but his heart yearned for so much more. If he wanted a relationship with her—and he did—he had to show that he truly had put Vader behind him.
He opened his hand. The Force flowed through his fingers and dribbled away.
With an effort of will, he lowered his arm to his side. He prowled toward Semchan. The sniveling coward retreated until he was trapped against his desk.
"Colonel Semchan," Anakin said, voice almost silky despite its hoarse rasp, "as I stated at the beginning of our meeting, I represent the Provisional Council of Tatooine. It is my pleasure to inform you that the council's first action was to outlaw slavery on Tatooine and all its territories. This man is now free. Any attempt on your part to defy this law will be grounds for your arrest and a complaint filed with the Imperial Senate."
"And who will compensate me?" blustered Semchan.
"Compensate? For trafficking in sapient beings?" Anakin had to pause a moment to recover his power of speech. "There will be no compensation beyond that you have already claimed for yourself in your collusion with the Hutts."
With all the details to consider this morning, he had not thought to bring a universal scanner with him. "His transmitter." Semchan made no move. "Now!" It was almost a parade ground bark. The clones jumped to attention. Semchan did nothing. "I grow tired of your defiance. For the last time—his chip control."
Anakin waited a long moment, then snapped to Cody, "Commander, there is a slave chip transmitter in this suite. Find it."
"Yes, my lord," Cody replied, gesturing to the other clones who spread through the office. Semchan's expression was outraged.
Anakin looked down at him, still crowded against the desk. "Do you wish to register a complaint, Governor?"
Semchan showed his first sign of wisdom and kept his mouth shut. The office was silent for some minutes save for the sounds of drawers opening and shutting.
"There is no sign of it, though there is a safe in the inner room," Cody reported.
"The colonel, I am certain, has no intention of providing the combination. I do not expect that will present any difficulty."
To a stranger Cody would have appeared impassive, but Anakin caught a feral grin deep in his eyes. "None at all, my lord." He jerked his head toward Hex. It was another minute before a pair of small, sharp explosions sounded in rapid succession. Hex reappeared moments later. He handed the transmitter to Anakin, who slowly approached the slave. The man stared, unblinking, the barest spark of hope lighting his face.
"Do you know where your chip is?" Anakin said in Huttese.
The man shook his head.
"Stand still." Anakin waved the wand beside his body until it beeped. He stalked toward the colonel. "The code." Semchan pursed his lips. Anakin loomed over him. "Give me the code or I will rip through your mind until I find it."
For a long, unnerving moment, Anakin thought Semchan was going to call his bluff. An irritable Kenobi was tapping against his shields. Anakin shoved him away, striving to ignore the disgust radiating off Leia. He had to suppress a sigh of relief when Semchan complied at last.
Anakin returned to stand in front of the newly-freed slave, entering the code and holding out the transmitter. "You know the Naha-ag network?" he signed, hand screened from the others in the room.
The man blinked. He gave a small nod.
"Go to the Jolly Farmer cantina and tell Driakev that Kraytrider sent you." Anakin kept his voice low.
The man's eyes blew wide. "Kraytrider?" he whispered.
"Yes," Anakin signed.
"You may go," he said aloud. "Tell no one what you have seen today. I have more work to do and the secrecy of my identity is essential."
The man stood frozen for another long moment, then almost ran out the door, transmitter clutched in his hand. Semchan stewed, Force signature roiling with impotent hatred.
"You will accompany me to the race," Anakin told him, "and make a statement in support of the new government. The troops of this garrison will provide security and act as a show of Imperial force, both today and in the weeks to come. Fail me, and I will personally drag you before the Senate."
"As you command, Lord Vader." Semchan's tone was sour enough to pucker a monkey lizard's grin.
"I am glad we understand one another."
Anakin pulled up his hood.