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Chapter 17
Mother's Lesson
Miler was a good boy, the kind other parents remark upon: "Why can't my kid be more like that?"
He had a mischievous streak but was incapable of cruelty. He stood up for his friends, respected his teachers.
When he was eight, his sister broke her leg. Somehow he carried her a mile to the hospital.
Whatever goodness was innate in him was buttressed by his mother. After spending one year playing doctor for the wealthy, Miler's mother moved her practice to the slums. Few patients could pay her, and she attracted no benefactors. Thus her family scraped by the same as her clients.
Many would call this a noble vocation. Some would deride her as denying her children a better life. Whichever outlook moves you, one cannot deny that kindness, like cruelty, has consequences.
Miler's father died before his seventh birthday. His sister was emotionally indelicate. This left little Miler to care for his mom.
Darmok Syndrome was a dreadful spiral. There was no cure, only symptom mitigation. Painkillers, nausea meds, appetite boosters. Between pills and IVs, she spent her last months in various states of consciousness.
Miler sat beside her, the whir of the neural monitor flattening his own brain waves, so that every spike of emotion was smashed at commencement.
He checked her ascitic tap: a series of tubes draining fluid from her liver into six plastic pouches. Finding everything in order, with nothing else to check, he met his mom's gaze.
Her eyes were rimmed black. Her mouth caved into sallow white cheeks. Every feature signaled she was dying, but as this was not news, and had happened very slowly, Miler's mother smiled gently. "My good boy..."
"The doctor's coming," little Miler said.
"He'd have better luck tending a winter garden."
"Maybe he'll try new meds. We'll find the right meds. You'll be out of bed soon."
She took a long blink. Her bony fingers grasped his knuckles. "Every book has an ending, Miler. Some are happy; some are sad. But they all end as they're meant to."
"We can go to the spring concert," Miler said. "Like we did with dad. I didn't want to before, not without him, but I changed my mind. I hope they have the candy. The kind that's like ice."
"You are strong, Miler," his mother said. "I promise: everything will be okay. You'll learn to live with it. You'll have a wonderful life."
Miler's voice cracked. "We'll go to the concert..."
Finding impossible strength, she tightened her grasp, whitening his knuckles. Her other hand lifted, forcing his chin. "Miler," she gasped, finding she was crying, "you are strong. I've taught you everything I know. I've loved you with all my heart. I've given you my soul, and you will carry it with you."
Miler gnawed his lip, like a wounded rancor, forcing blood down his chin. Tears pooled on his lashes, released by a blink. Soon blood and tears mixed, dampening his collar. The caretaker was gone. Little Miler was little Miler.
"I need you," he choked.
"I will never, ever leave you, Miler. I will be everywhere. I'll be in every face you see, in every sunny day, and in the darkness all around you. I'll be in the garments on your body, hugging you every day. When you have good days and bad days, I'll be in your laughter and in your crying."
"Mommy..."
"Brave heart, Miler. Brave heart, my precious boy. You're so good, and so brave. Promise me you will never change. Always be yourself. Always be good. Never turn away from someone who needs you. Promise me, Miler..."
Tears streamed down his face, but his gaze didn't fall. He knew not the burden to which he agreed, but little Miler swallowed, desperate to gift while she was still of this world.
"Brave heart..."
"I have missed you," Vader said.
"The feeling is not mutual, Darth," Padme replied.
"Is that how you treat your lost love?"
"You love only yourself. From the moment you were born, you lusted for power."
"And I have it," Vader snarled. "So take care in how you speak to me."
Miler stared at him fearlessly. "What a mighty Sith Lord—threatenin' a woman."
"And who are you?" Vader asked.
Darth Malice stepped out of the shadows, lips twisted in a grin. "This is Miler Crata: brave hero of the 301st. And Aayla Secura, Jedi Knight."
Miler heard himself breathing, hard and harsh. Mental molasses delayed thoughts from taking form. He stared dumbly at the ghost before him.
"Gen'ral Tiin," he whispered.
Padme's mouth hung open. The face staring at Miler was burned and hard, badly torn and stitched back together. But there was no doubt who it was. "Master Tiin," she choked on his name. "Why?"
Malice smiled wickedly. "Because I could."
"You son of a bitch!" Miler launched forward, grabbing Malice by the collar until the Force cut him off. Malice choked him with his mind, sending Miler to his knees grasping at his neck.
"Stop it!" Aayla shouted. "You're killing him!"
Padme growled, "Damn you, Vader! Call off your dog!"
Vader's body responded to her anger. Staring lecherously, he ordered, "Let him go."
Miler crumpled to the ground, gasping for air as Aayla caught him.
Vader addressed Mothma: "I have shown you consideration. Now tell me, Ambassador: why are your esteemed colleagues here?"
"To support negotiations," she replied stoically. "That is why you're here, isn't it? To negotiate with Halm?"
He gave a sweeping gesture at their surroundings. "Does it look like I need to negotiate?"
"It looks like you're incapable of it."
"My method is swift."
"Violence?"
"Such an ugly word," Vader said. "I prefer to think of it as eliminating obstacles."
"And what of these obstacles?"
Vader turned to Padme, caressing her face with one knuckle. She remained rigid like a corpse. "There is always a choice. Senator Amidala won't let her friends die just to protect a secret."
"I will do what I must," Padme said.
Vader stared for a long moment, assessing her resolve. Padme's stubbornness rivaled Obi-Wan's. "I enjoy your platitudes, but this matter is rather urgent. Let me demonstrate my seriousness."
Vader gestured to the shadows.
Wrath ignited his blade and cut Mothma's throat.
A squeal ripped from her trachea. Her legs folded under her. Padme scrambled to her side, but the light in her eyes was already gone. Tears streamed down her face. She put her forehead to Mothma's, mewling nonsense.
Miler struggled to his knees, but Aayla squeezed him in her arms. "We won't lose you, too," she whispered.
Landon's mother stole from a Rodian to buy a decent meal. An hour later, the Rodian and his friends beat her in an alley. When Landon found her, her eyes were swelled shut. Her face was a crimson mask.
She was in the hospital three hours—just enough time to regain her sight—before leaving against advice. She couldn't afford to miss work.
Even as a child, Landon grasped his mother's uncommon constitution.
She deflowered herself for money, gave her kidney to pay a debt, and killed her sister so she could sell the estate. On the backs of these choices, little Landon endured.
He was thirteen when her luck ran out.
Their false identities were uncovered. They needed off planet. Landon's mother traded their possessions for passage on a freightor. But the plan fell apart.
The ship's captain recognized her from a police bulletin. Ordinarily, he wouldn't care. But she had a lucrative bounty on her.
Landon heard but didn't see it.
There was a struggle, bodies crashing, a plunged knife and a blaster shot.
When Landon entered the cabin, he found the captain sprawled dead.
Landon's mother was on her side, writhing and moaning, clutching a dagger in her stomach.
Blood spurted from her mouth. "Landon..."
"Momma!" He reached for the knife, before remembering her lesson: you pull, you perish. His hands settled on her shoulders.
"Landon," she cried. "You... you..."
"Shh. Don't talk, momma. Save your strength."
She reached for his cheek, caressing his neck instead. "You have... to take the ship..."
"No, momma! I'm gonna get you help.."
Her eyes squeezed shut, tears trickling from the corners. "Landon, I'm already dead. You're going to take the ship... and leave this place..."
Landon shook his head. He was hard at work unremembering her lessons, purging talks about self-reliance. "Please... no..."
"Everything I've done... it's all been for you. I have to know... you'll be okay. Nothing else matters. You're my son, Landon. There's... only one of you... in the whole universe..."
Landon nodded, not because he understood but because she needed it. She jerked and sputtered blood. The world thinned, easing back, until all that remained was a point of light, spiraling and pulsing, and then, with a whimpering flash, disappearing into all we don't know.
The explosion succeeded in sealing off the mine. It would take the Sith weeks to penetrate the rubble.
Landon assessed his work: "You know, I could've been a geologist."
"Or a terrorist," Julian said.
"Nah. Too much self-sacrifice."
Obi-Wan gasped. A vein throbbed in his forehead. Within the Jedi, a cold void had formed that might soon be filled with pain and loss. He took off running and leapt into the speeder.
Julian chased him. "Obi-Wan! What's wrong?"
"Padme's in danger!"
"How do you know?" Receiving no answer, Julian said: "I'll raise them on the radio."
"Don't!" Instead, Obi-Wan contacted R2. "Kenobi to the Tangent. Fire up engines. Orders to follow." Receiving acknowledgment, and with his party on board, he slammed the accelerator. The speeder ripped through a tent and across the desert plain.
Landon asked Julian, "Can you fire a blaster?"
"Yeah, I'm a level-five sniper."
"Really?"
"No."
"You better learn fast," Landon said, thrusting a gun at the doctor. "Boss: what are we up against?"
Surely Palmer sensed it, too, but as he was chillingly indifferent about danger and death, Obi-Wan couldn't tell. Whatever its providence, Obi-Wan knew his feeling wasn't wrong. Like cruel nodes of cancer, the greatest failure of his life had suddenly returned. "Evil," he said.
"Have you learned your lesson?" Vader asked. "The next one will cost more."
"You evil bastard!" Padme wept.
"Say it in a mirror, and it will be as true." Like a screaming mynok, he towered over her. "But if you think I kill the innocent, that I bring dread to children's dreams; if you believe I take pleasure in my power, then yes, Padme: I am evil. Now: shall we begin?"
The building rocked from an explosion. Vader ran to the window. Outside, the Sith soldiers were scrambling. He barked into his comlink: "Commander Argyle, report!"
A harrowed voice answered: "Lord Vader, the embassy's been destroyed! Half our troops were inside!"
"How?!"
"The Halmans, sir!" The static intensified, and Vader heard blasters. "We're under fire! They've—" The signal ended.
Vader knew they wouldn't surrender, but he didn't expect the Halmans to be so organized. Rage coiled around his guts.
"Wrath, I will need your services," Vader said. He ordered Malice: "Continue the interrogation. Kill anyone but her."
The Sith embassy lay in ruin. The street was covered in blown-out glass, broken marble, and collapsed metal frames. The flames had spread to other buildings, creating a wall of smoke and fire.
The Halmans took positions behind rubble and in unburned buildings. They were outnumbered and outgunned but had plenty of cover.
Vader found Argyle pinned down in a shop. Antique statues exploded around their heads.
"Report!" Vader yelled.
"There can't be more than a hundred, but they have us in a crossfire! We're taking heavy losses, my Lord! We have to draw them out of cover!"
Vader shut his eyes, using the Force to locate the rebels. They were clustered on the near flank, leaving the far side vulnerable. "Wrath, take the long way around! Attack from the rear! Commander Argyle, call in air support!"
"There is no air support! They destroyed our docking bays!"
"Then order your men to rush the near flank!"
"Sir, they'll be slaughtered!"
Vader grabbed him by the collar. "Do it now!"
At Argyle's nod, the dark lord released him.
Vader leapt from cover into a hail of gunfire. Deflecting and dodging, he sprinted down the street.
As he rounded the corner into an alley, two Halmans dropped on either side of him from the fire escape above. Each fired a shot, but Vader ducked so they killed each other. He grinned at their corpses.
Miler scanned the room. Three guards held the rear. Malice was the only obstacle between him and the entrance. He stood up slowly. "If ya want answers, Gen'ral, get them from me."
Malice fingered his disengaged saber. "What is your mission, Mr. Crata?"
"We received reports abou' a Sith build-up," Miler answered. "Looks like they were right."
"Am I to believe they sent a lieutenant?"
"It's captain now, actually."
"Tell me, Captain: on whose orders are you acting? Master Yoda's?"
"This comes directly from the chancellor," Miler lied. "And he has a message for your master..." He flicked his eyes at Aayla.
"And that is?"
"Ya can both go straight to hell."
Miler rushed at Malice, feeling the Force on his throat again. But Aayla called the Sith's saber out of his own hand. In one motion, she caught and ignited it and slayed the three soldiers.
She flipped to strike Malice, who had to release Miler in order to dodge the blow. Malice backpedaled to the glass overlooking the courtyard. When Aayla attacked, he fired lightning, caught by her saber but stopping her advance.
Padme grabbed a blaster. Malice fired a second arc of lighting that enveloped her whole body. She fell to her knees, convulsing violently.
"Ya forgot me, Gen'ral!" Miler's blaster destroyed his left horn, throwing Malice through the glass to the courtyard below.
The lightning around Padme dissipated. Her convulsions ceased as her friends helped her up. But her nerves were on fire. Her hands shook at her sides.
"We gotta move, lass," Miler said, receiving a brave nod.
He picked his comlink from a corpse, tossing it to Padme. He checked the hallway for troopers.
"Obi-Wan!" Padme cried. "Are you there? Come in!"
Static crackled, before a faint reply: "Padme! Where are you?"
"We're at the embassy. Mon Mothma's dead; the Sith are taking over."
"Are you hurt?"
"Nothing fatal," she assured him. "But we can't get to the ship. It's chaos outside."
There was a long pause. She heard him talking to the others. "Across the street is City Hall; can you see it?"
Miler nodded to her from the window.
"Yes, we see it," Padme said.
"Get to the roof. There's a landing pad. R2 will meet us there with the Dawn Tangent."
"O–okay," she stuttered.
"Good. And Padme?"
"Yes?"
"You're going to be all right."
"I'll see you soon, Obi-Wan."
The Sith took brutal losses. But the rebels were surrounded. Argyle held the perimeter while the Horsemen stormed the buildings and killed everything that moved.
Argyle hurdled over a railing onto the porch of a saloon. The door swung open, breaking his nose. A guerrilla leapt on him, cocking a fist, but Argyle drew a knife and stabbed him in the heart.
Argyle threw off the body and turned to his knees. A sudden wind disturbed the street, blowing dust in his face. He blinked furiously as a ship rushed by. Wiping at his eyes, he saw the ship land on the roof of City Hall.
He rasped into his comlink: "Lord Vader! A ship... landing..."
"Divert your men! Secure that building!" Vader growled.
They sprinted through the street, unnoticed until the Tangent landed on City Hall. Now the troopers pursued them.
At the foot of the front steps, Miler covered his friends. Padme and Aayla bolted for the entrance as he stared down a mob.
"Go go go!" he screamed. He killed three men before following. The gold staircase exploded around him.
At the top of the stairs, he dove through the entrance, bolts grazing his skin before Aayla slammed the door.
They hurried through the lobby and the first-floor offices. The building was empty except for cowering clerks.
Just past the offices was the interior stairwell.
"This should go all the way up," Aayla said.
There were ten levels in all. They moved quickly, clearing two steps with every stride. Down in the lobby, they heard blasters and screams. They blocked it out and kept running.
Halfway up, a door burst open. Miler sidestepped a trooper and dumped him over the railing. Two more followed, pinning the women against the wall. Miler yanked one off Padme and bashed his face into the concrete, hearing the cruel crunch of cartilage and bone.
Aayla drew her saber and impaled the other trooper.
Five levels down, they heard the clamor of footfalls.
"Keep movin'!" Miler demanded.
Landon threw him over his hip and stomped his head in. He turned in time to gun down another. A third came from behind, but Obi-Wan halved him at the waist. The body fell in pieces.
"General!" Julian pointed at three Sith approaching.
Obi-Wan's voice was flat and grim. "Doctor, Landon: get to the roof."
"What about you?" asked Julian.
"We'll hold out. Get on board and make a low pass."
Julian hesitated, prompting Landon to grab him. "Doc, they're Sith fucking lords! What're you gonna do—vaccinate them?"
"We'll be back," promised Julian.
Quinn squinted at the dark lords' outlines. "I can't make them out yet."
Obi-Wan needn't see a face; already, he felt Vader. His mind descended into sorrow as the Sith washed over him. Memories flashed behind his closed eyes.
Palmer slicked his hair back. His purple blade flashed into being. "Pity and guilt will get you killed," he said.
Obi-Wan's eyes lifted, narrowing to a point. He shrugged off his cloak.
Six soldiers burst through the door to the roof. Ahead was the Dawn Tangent with its entry ramp deployed. Padme stood with a blaster at the top of the ramp. The troopers rushed forward, screaming when blue plasma severed their feet.
The troopers thrashed in an agonized pile. Aayla had cloaked herself with the aid of the Force. Now she lopped off a head while Miler emptied his blaster.
When the troopers stilled, he said, "You'll have t'teach me that trick, lass."
"If you'll teach me to shoot."
"It's a date," he said.
Miler shouted to Padme: "Ya all right, ma'am?"
"I'm fine. The others?"
Miler looked at the stairwell. He shoved down his pessimism. It occurred to Miler that Obi-Wan might be unkillable.
Their black hoods hinted at features: pock marks, gaunt cheeks, severe chins. At the center of a dark face, Obi-Wan recognized two jaundiced eyes.
Vader drew back his hood and met Obi-Wan's stare. His old master wondered if Vader knew what he'd lost. A Sith Lord has allies but not allegiance; acquaintances but not friends; and even standing in strength shoulder-to-shoulder, he looked unbearably lonely.
Vader unclasped his cape and let it blow away. "Mr. Trask, it would appear you've switched sides."
"Nothing personal," Palmer said.
Deep in his throat, Vader gnarred. He couldn't contain his hatred of Obi-Wan, so he didn't try. He gathered all of Anakin's indignities, mashed them together like a mound of black clay, and released it to the Force to be glazed and hardened.
"I've dreamt of killing you," Vader said.
"We should all have goals," Obi-Wan deadpanned.
"My power's unstoppable. I have become what you feared."
"I know."
"Your journey ends here, my master," Vader said.
Obi-Wan's saber flashed on. "I don't think so."
Vader threw a hammer strike that Obi-Wan blocked above his head. Demic leapt over top, landing behind Obi-Wan, but Palmer thrust his blade in to block Demic's swing.
Demic landed a forearm to Palmer's jaw, then swept at his legs, catching air as Palmer jumped to avoid it. Palmer followed with a lunge, but Demic blocked it to the side and swung upward, forcing Palmer to retreat. Wrath, meanwhile, grappled with Quinn.
Obi-Wan backpedaled as Vader raged with heavy strikes. His utter calmness fed Vader's anger.
When Obi-Wan blocked, pinning down Vader's blade, Vader kicked him in the knee, then the shoulder, knocking Obi-Wan supine. He stood over him and hammered down, over and over, forcing Obi-Wan's blade ever closer to his body.
Flashes of the past, and potential futures, filled Vader's mind. He saw Qui-Gon's smile and Obi-Wan's corpse, along with two Padmes: one burning alive, the other naked in his arms.
Vader forced Obi-Wan's blade to his shoulder. Obi-Wan screamed. He hooked his heel behind Vader's and tripped him to the ground.
Both men rolled away and sprang up swinging. Their blades met in the middle, flashing brightly.
Obi-Wan stepped back, examining his wound. He realized finally that Vader outmatched him.
The trooper swung at Julian's head. The doctor ducked and delivered a right cross that sent his foe down the stairs. His head whipped around at the shouts of their pursuers.
"Move it, Doc!" Landon demanded.
They stumbled to the summit and fell more than walked through the door to the roof.
Julian felt a hand on him. He fumbled for his blaster.
"Easy, mate," Miler said. "Where are the others?"
Landon climbed to his feet. "Holding off the Sith."
"More troopers behind us," Julian rasped.
Miler slammed the door shut, slipping his blaster through the handle to block it. "That won't hold 'em long. Get to the Tangent."
They did as ordered, staggering exhaustedly. Julian was halfway up the ramp when he heard a faint moan. He whipped his head, finding a prone woman behind a large fan that had shielded her from view. She clutched her throat, covered in blood.
"Doc, get in here!" Landon demanded.
Julian leapt off the ramp. He ran to the woman's side and dropped to his knees. Her shredded torso showed guts. Blood flowed from her neck to the concrete beneath her.
He gasped at her face.
The clerk's hands fiddled nervously. "Well... I guess... you are his friends after all."
Shaking off horror, revulsion, he shook his head and went to work.
Miler demanded, "Julian! What the hell are ya doin'?!"
"This woman needs my help!"
Sith soldiers hammered on the door. "Julian—!"
"We can't just leave her!"
The pounding increased and the door-blocking blaster showed signs of strain.
"Brave heart, Miler."
Miler sighed harshly. He bounded across the rooftop and dropped beside Julian.
"She's too heavy for one of us," Julian said.
Together, they lifted the clerk, each taking half of her.
"Landon, cover us!" Miler yelled.
"Are you crazy?! Leave her! We have to go!"
"Just cover us!"
They staggered toward the ship. With every step, the gun in the door weakened. They were halfway to the Tangent when the gun finally snapped.
Troopers poured onto the roof. Landon's cover never came. Miler turned to watch him run into the ship.
"Landon! God damn you!"
The doctor faltered. He dropped to a knee, taking Miler with him. Suddenly the clerk's head exploded, splattering on Julian. It knocked him on his side. His ears rang, and the world was dream-like.
Miler was shouting, but it sounded so distant. He was on the ground, and then on his feet, and suddenly Aayla was dragging him while Miler gave cover. Aayla hauled him up the ramp. She lay him down as Miler sealed the door.
The ship secure, Aayla demanded: "Miler, what happened?"
"Just stay with him," he growled.
Miler rushed to the cockpit, where he found Landon and Padme. He grabbed Landon's jacket and slammed him against the wall. "You son of a bitch!"
Padme shot up. "Hey! What is this?"
"You were s'posed to cover us!" Miler gnarled. "We could've died, ya bloody bastard!"
Landon didn't deny it. His uncaring stare catalyzed rage. Miler pressed on his throat, making him choke on his own spit.
"Miler!" Padme was tugging on his arms. "Miler, stop! We don't have time for this! We have to get Obi-Wan!"
After a long moment, Miler released him. Landon fell to the floor, gulping air.
Miler slid into the pilot's seat. He refocused his mind. "Senator, I need ya t'work the controls on the ramp. Can you do that?" Padme nodded. "Brave heart. We have one shot at this."
She hurried to the back, banging her elbows on everything. She was a ball of energy, and she would have burst but for knowing that his life was in her hands.
She knew the evil of which Vader was capable. She knew he blamed Obi-Wan for her spurning his affections. She remembered telling little Anakin that he didn't know what love was, and it was strange she'd said it because she hadn't known either.
But she did now.
Hang on, my Obi-Wan.