Chapter 29 - Blood on the Sand
With his business on Alderaan at last concluded, Darth Vader focused on the true goal. Everything else, rescuing Mon Mothma's family, the release of Organa's wife, and dealing with the Jedi Master Kirak Infil'a, held importance for both himself and the Galactic Empire, no doubt. However, this journey boiled down to a single, ultimate end.
The Krayt Dragon's pearl.
A green lightsaber blade flashed back and forth, parrying blows from a pair of electric stun batons. The Jedi training droid, one salvaged from the temple on Coruscant, retreated, reset, and struck again. Each time, the attack came from angles impossible for normal organics. Vader blocked them all. Despite using an unfamiliar weapon, the Sith Emperor remained one of the finest duelists in living memory. He'd killed enough enemies and come out alive to prove it. The droid struck low with one baton then its torso spun around to strike high with the other, but Vader parried the first and dodged the second. Lacking both ego and Force connection, it was only the palest imitation of a real foe. On the other hand, that very lack of a shadow in the Force meant Vader must rely on physical skill with a lightsaber and his own senses. True, he still had the minor precognition of all Force sensitives, but no way to read the robot's intentions, because none existed. Only brute programming to attack and defend. Further, the droid never grew tired. All in all, a superb chance to confirm his abilities with an unfamiliar hilt. He parried another flurry of strikes exactly as he heard the droid's steps to his right and used a Force push to send it skidding backwards.
Kshhhhhh
"End program," Vader said and the droid shut down. Its joints and limbs quickly folded up and it shrank down, compact and out of the way in a corner. Vader deactivated the Jedi's weapon. In his private quarters, his own lightsaber sat in two pieces, a reminder, along with his lost eye, that even the mightiest Sith remained vulnerable. Mortal.
Three Padawan Traps dropped to the floor of the training room. When completed, they looked to outsiders like esoteric works of art. For a Jedi or Sith, the complicated metal puzzles were assembled using only telekinetic Force powers. As the name implied, a Padawan would assemble one while meditating. Skilled Jedi Knights could even manage more than one simultaneously. Warriors like Vader and the late Kirak Infil'a solved them in the middle of sparring.
Kshhhhhh
"This will do." Deactivating his new lightsaber, Darth Vader marched out of the training room. Prosthetic fingers tapped a few buttons on his belt and the lens over his good eye flashed to life, returning his vision.
A desert wasteland flashed across his mind's eye.
###
The officers, a compliment of Troopers, and Black Squadron stood at attention as they watched the Emperor march down the hanger towards a shuttle. Rather than his personal starfighter, he'd be taking a larger Omicron-class attack shuttle. No one actually knew how Darth Vader acquired the ship, dubbed Marauder, only that it had once been part of a covert clone trooper unit. Extensive customization and modification went into the ship, and the Sith further adjusted it, allowing for his Force-enhanced piloting abilities and even a simple medical station and mechanic tools, ensuring his ability to heal and repair the cybernetic body he called his own. All in all, a perfect example of the Emperor's keen skill as an engineer. Yet, from the outside it appeared, both to sight and most scan attempts, no more remarkable than any other Omicron.
Vader wore his usual armor and cape, however, he added something to it. Wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso, rough canvas cloth hid the black durasteel. A cloak, tan and dusty by appearance, covered the pitch black helmet and shoulder pauldrons. It fell down to his feet, concealing the gleam of his dark armor. Only the barest shine off the lenses of his helmet flashed out from underneath a hood, pulled low over his mask.
Kshhhhhh
"You have your orders, Major Gaunt?"
"Yes, Lord Vader," Gaunt answered, finally free of his hospital bed. "We are to send our diplomats to Alderaan one last time, ensuring the loyalty of its government, then the Executor and its compliment will return to Coruscant. Your whereabouts are not to be discussed. Not here, nor upon our return."
Vader nodded, then strode up the Marauder's ramp. It closed behind him and sealed with a pneumatic hiss. All present maintained their attention, saluting the Emperor as his shuttle powered up and flew out the hangar, shrinking in the darkness of space. The light of its engines flashed in the distance as it escaped Alderaan's gravity well and vanished into hyperspace. Everyone in Executor's hangar sighed in relief, relaxing for the first time since the Sith Emperor returned.
"I'd love to know how you shrug all that off," Rosh of Black Squadron said after Gaunt dismissed everyone and the crew of the Executor returned to duty as usual. They'd all seen Vader come back, barely in one piece. And before that, the battle on Mon Mothma's home world of Chandrila. Even taking into account his prosthetics, anyone with combat experience knew it took weeks to recover and readjust new artificial limbs. Not a few days and light exercise in the training room. Darth Vader should be in traction, not striding through the star destroyer and piloting his own shuttle.
"Last time I took a blaster bolt," Cive Rashon said running a hand through her hair, "I was down and out for a week."
Ada nodded. "I don't think the boss would even notice one shot. Or two. Or ten. He keeps going, like he sees something way off in the distance and he needs to reach it. Is it political, ya think?"
The usually taciturn Makraven took a seat in Black Squadron's private lounge, a perk of being Vader's wing, and let out a sigh. "No. I've seen politicians and I've seen Jedi. None of them are like the Emperor. Sometimes I get the feeling our whole damn galaxy is waiting and watching. Like he's right at the center of whatever's going on.
Captain Mithel shook his head. "The Emperor is different. No sense trying to figure it out. Just be glad you aren't in his way."
"Any bets on how soon before we get word of another planet suddenly throwing in with the Empire?" Neel asked. No one took the wager. Wherever Darth Vader went, submission was sure to follow.
###
Watching the stars stretch around his forward view port as he entered hyperspace, Vader rose from the pilot's seat and stalked deeper into the Marauder's rear. Memories of his first time in space rose unbidden from the depths. He pushed them back, pondering the meaning. Of late, specters long past seemed determined to revive.
Kshhhhhh
"Another test? Or merely dross to be cast aside?" He certainly couldn't discount that his return to Tatooine would be the source of the distractions. Whatever the tidings of his former life might mean, they could wait. He had more important matters to attend. He reached a large console towards the back of the ship, one of his personal additions.
The intel suite, a heavily customized system brimming with advanced scanners, told the Dark Lord every bit of data the Republic and Empire ever acquired on Tatooine and its current standing amongst the galactic community. Of prime interest to the Emperor? A detailed bit of info regarding Jabba the Hutt. In particular, a group of bounty hunters the crime lord maintained a close working relationship with. Two caught the Sith's attention. One, a diminutive humanoid wearing Mandalorian armor. The other, a familiar blue-skinned Durosian. Vader quickly read the available info and simultaneously searched the Force, seeking answers. In time, he came to conclusions already known and the cold fire of his ever present anger grew hot.
Kshhhhhh
"Cad Bane." Vader's gloved fingers flew over the console keys and in a few moments, red eyes under a wide, dark brim appeared on the display.
"You called, Lord Vader?" Cad's digitally distorted gritty growl asked.
"Did you think to hide your work for the Hutt? Or presume me so foolish as to overlook your ancillary income? Did you intend to hide the boy?"
Cad tried to answer, but the words couldn't leave his throat. Pressure mounted and the first syllables choked their way out as Vader's hand tightened, a distant grip around the bounty hunter's windpipe.
"Someone on the desert planet 'handles' any problems arising that might require a skilled gun. He wears Mandalorian armor. Jango Fett's Mandalorian armor. In the past, Jedi Knights Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi both encountered a figure matching such a description on at least a few occasions." The Emperor's fingers slowly closed as red eyes on-screen went wide.
Cad Bane clawed his own neck, trying to draw in a precious whisper of air.
Kshhhhhh
Vader's hand opened and Bane dropped down, sucking in air.
"I wa-wasn't hiding Boba, Lord Vader. H-he's a boy. Didn't think him important enough for you." After a handful of deep breath's he calmed himself and stood back upright.
"He spent much of his young life hunting his father's killer. Did you know?"
"J-jedi, *Cough cough* Mace Windu. Killed the genetic base. F-father, if you want to use the term."
Vader nodded and said, "I killed Mace window. Personally."
The image of Cad leaned back, eyes wide with shock. "Then Boba will want to talk."
Kshhhhhh
"If this is the clone template's son…" The Troopers themselves were one thing, but a veritable carbon copy of Jango Fett himself would be another entirely. Any bounty hunter capable of dealing with Jedi Knights, even if he failed in the face of Master Windu, was not a resource Vader intended to squander. Black Squadron, the foundation of an anti-jedi unit, maybe even a potential replacement for Cad Bane, should the need arise. Myriad options for the young Boba. The only question remaining? How to get the unaltered Fett clone from that slug crime lord. "He will serve my Empire. One way or another."
The Sith glared at images displayed on the holo-screen before him, considering paths to his goal. "Does the child serve under Jabba now? At this moment?"
"He - *cough cough* - he does, Lord Vader. Should be on Tatooine," Bane answered, rubbing his throat. "I didn't intend to hide him. Just didn't think you'd care about one orphan."
"See to your current assignment. Deliver the Night Sisters into my grasp and you will be well rewarded. I will deal with Boba Fett and Jabba." Vader cut the transmission. Without looking he keyed in the encryption to his personal shadow account, sending Bane a small stipend. Payment for information, even if he had to choke it out of the Durosian gun-for-hire. No harm in reminding the blue bounty hunter where his financial interest ultimately lay.
Giving due consideration to the immediate future, Vader's prosthetic fingers brushed the hilt of his new lightsaber. Any extra practice would serve him well. Reaching a decision, he plucked the hilt from his belt and settled into a defensive stance. Without activating the blade, the Dark Lord moved through dozens of techniques. Blocking imagined bolts of laser fire and cutting down illusory opponents, he worked through every single saber form. Even after several days of training, Vader glared at the weapon in his hands.
The elegant, slightly curved hilt, was longer than the one Darth Vader normally used. His third lightsaber, broken and stored aboard the star destroyer, was a short weapon. A hand and a half by his measure, and designed to be used mostly with his dominant right hand while his left commanded the Force.
By compare, this green lightsaber was meant mostly for two hands. If Vader remembered correctly, its length was close to Qui-Gon Jinn's. Jedi with a talent towards combat often chose a longer grip to allow a wider space between the hands, therefore granting greater leverage in combat. By compare, all the lightsabers built by Anakin and Vader featured a short hilt meant for choking up on the grip. A style dependent on swiftly grabbing and releasing with the off hand. Still, as the Sith Lord grew accustomed to the style, along with many improvements made to his prosthetics, he became appreciative of the utility of such a long hilt.
Kshhhhhh
"When I rebuild my body, there will be merit in considering a two handed structure for the new saber."
With his prodigious strength, striking foes with both arms and all the leverage he could bring to bear wouldn't be a bad idea. Half-cyborg, he was already stronger than most. If Ceezee managed to retrieve the remains of General Grevious, Vader would be more than a match for even a Wookie in any test of power. He drew a long, deep breath, raising both hands high. His grip on the hilt of Kirak's saber tightened and as he released air from his lungs, he swung down. Even Master Yoda, for all his years and skill, couldn't fault the pure form of that stroke.
"It will be enough. For now."
With that remark, an alert sounded over the ship's comm. The Marauder shuddered as it left hyperspace and arrived in the Tatoo System.
Vader returned the lightsaber to his belt and stalked towards the cockpit. Dropping into the pilot chair, he quickly pulled up relevant navigation details and guided the ship onwards to planet Tatooine. Memories of his last visit, and his mother, flashed across the Sith's mind, but he brushed them aside.
Kshhhhhh
"I am not the weakling I once was. I will acquire what I need. Then, I will return to the seat of my power in this galaxy. I am Sith, not Jedi."
"And not a slave."
He shook the dust from his mind and focused on the relevant nav data being fed from orbital systems around the planet to his shuttle. Glancing over the information, Vader ignored his home city of Mos Espa and chose Mos Eisley Spaceport. Apart from an instinctive revulsion towards the memories of Anakin Skywalker, Eisley existed under the direct control of Jabba the Hutt. His business regarding the young Boba Fett not withstanding, things would be easier if he landed in the slug's main base of operations. Beyond that, this city now existed as the dominant power on the planet. Ever since pod racing fell out of favor, the rich and powerful, meaning criminals, moved to Mos Eisley. In any case, whatever memories of his home which might assist the Sith were so out of date after these years away it wouldn't matter. So he skimmed the atmosphere of the planet and lowered his shuttle down into the tan terrain, aiming for Jabba's city of choice.
A few quick commands on his console guaranteed Vader a bay in one of the city's many docks. "So. This qualifies as encryption in the Rim?" Bypassing all the usual payments and security was little more than child's play. This wasn't an official visit. The Outer Rim was nothing if not accommodating, given Vader's abilities. As the Marauder's ventral wings folded and the shuttle drifted ever lower, Vader brought it close to the city, following the on-screen guide until he was directly over the circular hole in his designated dock. Protected from Tatooine's harsh, sandy wind, it would provide cover and privacy until he left. The usual crowd preferred their ships not be openly visible while they were planet-side.
As the landing gear extended, the Sith throttled down and expertly lowered his ship into the dock, landing so gently the dust itself seemed barely disturbed by his arrival. Extending his reach through the Force, Vader noticed a few life forms outside. Waiting.
Kshhhhhh
"This wretched hive will learn to bend the knee, or be an example to the rest."
###
The Dark Lord of the Sith's boots rang out on the metal gangway as it lowered into the sandy floor of his docking bay. Whatever the figures waiting on the ground expected, a seven foot tall man wrapped in dusty canvas wasn't it. Especially one who walked radiating a lethal confidence and didn't even pause to glance at toughs standing on either side of him as he continued striding towards the door and out into Mos Eisley. The ramp lifted behind him, closing and locking.
"Hold on, friend," the apparent leader said. "You haven't paid the toll." Smarter life-forms might make note of how deeply Vader's feet sunk in the sand compared to others. A sure sign of his unusual mass. At the same time, the speed and ease of his steps might clue a cautious man as to both his martial prowess and the way he used the Force to give himself a solid base. Sand collected beneath his boots, compressing under his will and lending aid to every stride.
Kshhhhhh
"Nor will I."
Vader stopped one step from the archway leading into the tunnel that would take him to the city proper.
Whatever the thug thought Darth Vader would say, that wasn't it. "I, uh. Look, this is Jabba the Hutt territory. You gotta pay the toll or else."
Vader stood still, an imposing monolith, without any apparent interest in the three gun-totting figures around him and asked, "Or else?"
The stranger narrowed his eyes, thinking the comment an insult. "Best watch yourself. Jabba doesn't take kindly to wanderer scum like you, thinking they're hot stuff."
"And how does Jabba feel about Imperial backing and control of the entire sector?" Vader asked.
The underling tilted his head, no comprehension behind his eyes. "Look, are you gonna pay the toll or not?" he asked as one hand brushed the blaster at his hip. "Jabba wants his pound of flesh one way or the other." He glanced around nervously. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. Everything was so much easier dealing with the regular vagrants blowing in after the Mid Rim chewed them up and spit them out. But something about this shadowy figure raised hairs.
Kshhhhhh
"I paid nothing to dock," Vader said. "Those paltry security systems were laughable. I could have hacked them when I was a boy. I didn't pay then, I won't pay now. If Jabba wants something from me, he can request it, face to face."
When he said that, all of them reached for blasters.
In a flash, three heads hit the sand and the bodies stood stock still for a moment, Vader's green lightsaber humming. Then they collapsed, dark blood pooling around them as a coppery stench filled the air.
The Dark Lord deactivated his weapon and returned it to his belt. Without a second glance he walked out into Mos Eisley.
###
Jabba Desilijic Tiure, better known as Jabba the Hutt, admitted an informant into his audience chamber. The Hutt extended one hand into a bowl and nabbed a writhing paddy frog which he promptly shoved into his wide mouth and swallowed whole. The alcohol they soaked in before he consumed them was of the highest quality. Jabba's only regret being they couldn't survive long in the brandy. He preferred his food wriggling when he shoved it down his gullet. Nothing satisfied his prodigious hunger quite like prey still clinging to life as it drowned in his stomach. It made him feel closer to one of Tatooine's ultimate predators. The Sarlaac.
He motioned for the informant to speak.
"Apologies, Jabba, but someone landed in Mos Eisley and hacked the docking systems. We can't raise anyone at the dock on comms either."
Jabba gurgled a few syllables in Huttese and the figure answered. "No, whoever it was locked us out of the bay. We can't get in. Not without climbing in through the roof. Last our informants saw, he vanished into the city. But they did notice something at his belt. They say it looked like a lightsaber. And that new Galactic Empire has a pretty little bounty out on any rogue Jedi." A short figure in Mandalorean armor looked up at those words and stepped forward. Jabba chortled and extended a grubby finger, motioned for him to speak before grabbing another frog.
"I'll deal with it," Boba said.
Jabba nodded and watched the young bounty hunter walk away.
###
As he walked through the streets of Mos Eisley, Darth Vader felt a sense of familiarity. A return to earliest memories, back in the days when his mother waited for him at the end of the day.
Kshhhhhh
"No. She is gone… they both are. I have other matters to attend to." Vader's fist tightened and he stalked down the street, feeling out with the Dark Side. He looked for something, waited for it. "You are here, I know it. Reveal yourself," he muttered. Between Fett and the Krayt Dragon, Vader had plenty to attract his attention. The fact the former refused to reveal himself only served to grate on the Sith's nerves. Sooner or later, he'd begin slaughtering locals if that was what it took to get Jabba's attention. For now, he allowed himself to feel pleasure in the familiarity of a thousand stalls selling Force knew what. Food, drinks, and a hundred varietals of technology. The part of the Emperor that reveled in engineering almost wanted to browse for parts, but he had more to accomplish than mere tinkering and stalked through the streets, keeping an eye out for the right sort of building.
Vader peeked out from beneath his hood and watched the moving mass of species. Spying the entrance to a tavern, he altered his course and marched onwards. If there was information to be had, it wouldn't be far from the nearest booze den. Space pirates, mercenaries and the regular scum didn't walk far from the spaceport when they needed to relax or find jobs.
He stepped into the shade and felt the temperature drop several degrees. Walking down the stairs, the door to the underground pub opened before him and he moved inside. A dozen heads turned and at least twice as many eyes landed on him, watching closely as he strode inside. Without concern, he approached the bar and placed a fistful of credits in front of the bartender.
Kshhhhhh
"I want a meeting with Jabba."
"That sorta talk'll get a few of the Hutt's boys on your back."
"It is not my concern how many deaths need be arranged. I want the meeting."
As Vader spoke, several figures stirred behind him.
"It's your death you should be concerned about," the bartender said. Behind Vader's back, five shadows formed a half circle, all with weapons in hand. The entire bar barely breathed, watching the show play out and expecting to see a corpse before they'd finished their next drink.
The Sith didn't move. Suddenly the five who approached hit the dirt, grabbing for their throat and kicking out in panic as they tried to draw in a breath, blasters forgotten in the sandy floor. "The first to offer me passage to Jabba's palace lives."
One furry, clawed hand went up, waving with the desperation of the dying.
Kshhhhhh
"Unfortunate."
Four necks cracked in a sick, wet crunch.
"If Jabba has any agents still here, they should step forward." Vader set a fistful of credits on the bar counter.
One humanoid female stood up from her Sabacc table. "I work for Jabba." No one else said a word and Vader scanned the crowd, waiting.
"A wise decision," the Sith Lord said and his right fist suddenly snapped closed. Seven figures dropped to the dusty floor, their bodies spasming in the dirt. "A shame the others didn't have your wits." He turned to face the two survivors. "Take me to the Hutt. Now."
Even though Jabba's agents couldn't see into the shadowy depths of the hood, long years told both to obey the stranger if they wanted to see the twin suns rise tomorrow. The Hutt didn't pay well enough to fight a ruthless Jedi. They did, however, grab the credits Vader left on the bar.
###
A solitary figure in Mandalorian armor flitted amongst the cliffs along the edge of Mos Eisley. Through a long distance optic, he watched three bipedals leave a bar and head towards Jabba's dune skiff docks. One of the few ways to reach the palace quickly and safely. He recognized Arleil Schous with his furry head and the other would be Norba, Daughter of the Nuum crime family. As Boba peered into the viewfinder, the tallest figure, a stranger, stopped in his tracks. Boba would swear the hooded head tilted up to stare directly at him.
"The heck!? No way he saw me. I'm at least a klick out." Still, a glint under the hood sent shivers up Boba Fett's spine. Somehow, he felt a sureness the tall man in that tan cloak was looking right at him. Right through him, maybe. The young bounty hunter shook the feeling off and peered back through his optics. The stranger was still standing in the middle of the street. But one arm was extended towards Boba's hiding spot on the bluff overlooking the city.
"What is he doing?"
As he stared, a sudden sense of dread snaked through the boy, then the viewfinder went out of focus.
"What!?"
In a flash, the entire display shattered and Boba dropped the device as it crumpled before his eyes.
Boba narrowed his eyes. He'd spent long enough learning to know only a Jedi could pull that sort of trick. His hand instinctively reached for the butt of one of Jango's pistols. Stopping himself, he keyed his helmet comms and linked up to the tavern.
"Who walked out with Schous and Norba?" Technically, the barkeeper owned the place, but anyone worth their salt knew the whole street was in Jabba's pocket.
"Jedi. He deep six'd eleven of ours with one hand. Never even touched them. Didn't believed the legends, but..."
"They're real enough. He didn't use a lightsaber?"
"No, but he had one. Saw it, silver and gold, bit curved."
"Fine," Boba said and cut his transmission. "I'll need to make him show me what color that saber is."