Chapter 11: Dark Reckoning, Part One
Tatooine, Mos Espa Settlement
Watto's Junk Shop, Late Afternoon
The pain was unbearable.
He was swathed in a darkness that he could never have imagined. He struggled, as hard as he could, to pull himself from the hopeless depths, just as he had been since that moment when Padmé's agonized pleas for help had reached him, touched him, roused him from the sinister toxin's steel-hard grasp.
Help me, Ani. Please, help me!
He'd struggled, like a man trying to free himself from the pits of Hell itself, to channel every last bit of strength that he could to his beloved Padmé, though he'd felt as though he were shouting, screaming, through a roaring wall of flame. The pain that coursed through him was excruciating, and the unbearable, unquenchable heat that traveled from his right side had all but silenced Padmé's cries to him for help, had tempted him to mercifully let it all end, to slip into the peace and release of death itself.
But neither the ferocity of the pain, nor the promise of death's release were enough to tear him from her, nor to silence her heart as it called to him. Her silent cries had reached him through their dyadic bond, had crossed that bridge between their hearts, had pulled him back from the brink of death, just as she had brought him back from a walking death six years ago, back from the brink of the Dark Side in that tent in the desert.
In her zealous attempt to assure that Anakin would be no trouble, Asajj had doubled the dose of toxin her henchman had delivered with that single saber dart. It had done its job remarkably well, rendering a powerful Jedi helpless in seconds – but it had quite nearly killed him in the process.
And it would have, had Padmé not held onto him tenaciously, refused to let him go. Their souls and hearts were a tapestry, a single piece, and it was strong, quite strong indeed, refusing to be torn asunder. Anakin had never lost her tremor, and it had been that single, powerful bond alone that had pulled him, lead him from the darkness, allowed him to resist succumbing to the toxin that now played havoc with his body. Its grasp was like iron, steadfastly refusing to let him go, and his entire body trembled violently - so much so that he had to clench his teeth tightly to keep them from chattering as he slowly regained consciousness. He swallowed hard again as he felt himself slowly become aware of his surroundings, though he had little more than his Force senses to go on at the moment.
He'd felt his panic fade, just a bit, as he'd realized only a moment before that Padmé's tremor was still there, and that she was searching for him. He'd answered her, though he barely had the strength left to do so, and he'd heard her reply.
We're coming for you, Ani. Hold on. We're coming.
As the blackness of despair began to fade with Padmé's silent encouragement, he felt hope return, though the pain refused to subside, only grew worse as his senses slowly returned. The terrible payload that the tiny saber dart had delivered into his system was still hard at work, and his tortured body screamed in pain – especially the terrible, white-hot agony that now consumed his right arm and side.
"Ri…Rivotox," he whispered, between clenched teeth, as he recognized the symptoms that were assaulting him. A diluted form of a deadly neurotoxin, it was a particularly nasty concoction, and he'd seen it used before – and the merciless torture it inflicted on any hapless individual who had the misfortune to experience it. It was a favorite of bounty hunters, and the ones who paid them, as it offered the added bonus of seeing one's victim enjoy its aftereffects before you did away with them. So violent, those effects were, that on many occasions a victim would beg to be killed. It was a plea that – quite often – went unanswered.
Anakin tried to open his eyes, even though the effort sent shimmering rivulets of searing pain coursing through his brain. He didn't know how much time had elapsed since he'd slipped into unconsciousness, but the terrible images of his last waking moments still tore through his tortured mind.
He tried to sit up, even though his body steadfastly refused to obey him, and he grimaced again as he felt thousands of tiny electronic needles dig mercilessly into his chest. He howled with pain, collapsing back onto the bench where he was restrained, and he tried, with great effort, to crane his neck around as he heard a laugh behind him.
"That's right, you just stay put, friend," the man chuckled, glancing over his shoulder and watching with satisfaction as Anakin struggled once more, in vain, against the sparkling blue energy binders that restrained him. "I don't think the lady wants you going anywhere for the time being," he said, turning his eyes back to the small transport's controls as he powered up its engines. He turned his attention to the man in the seat next to him, though, as he suddenly spoke, his voice raspy and laced with pain.
"She'd better hurry up," the man growled, his jaw set tight as he clenched the freshly cauterized stump of an arm close to his body. A long string of spittle trailed from his lips as he took several labored breaths. "She… she doesn't get back here soon, we… we're leavin' without her."
"Like hell we are," the tall, rail thin man snorted in reply. He swiveled his seat to face his companion, fingering the blaster pistol on his belt as he watched the hooded man across from him glare back at him, his body trembling with pain. "She paid me to complete a job, and I'm not going anywhere until that job is complete," he said, shaking his head. "I don't care how bad that arm of yours is hurting."
The two men both turned their attention back to their captive once more as they heard him speak. "Let… let me go," Anakin stammered, his teeth clenched tightly as his body spasmed almost uncontrollably from the poison that coursed through it. "And… and I pr…promise you I won't k…kill you," he added, his eyes flashing with a fire totally out of character with the rest of his body as he glared up at his two captors.
A deep guffaw echoed through the transport's cabin as the pilot threw his head back and howled with laughter. "I'll keep that in mind," he laughed, shaking his head as he and his companion swiveled their seats back to the controls again. "It's good to know we've got your promise, though, if we should decide to let you go," he chuckled, his eyes watching the engine intermix levels closely as the craft warmed up to operating temperature.
The pilot frowned, perplexed, as he suddenly heard a strange sound – it seemed to come from the engines, near the rear of the transport – a loud, electric hiss.
"You needn't expect such charity from me, friend."
The two men whipped around in their chairs as they heard the strong, fierce voice behind them. Their eyes wide with shock and surprise, they both felt a wave of terror sweep over them as the huge man, clad in traditional Tusken garb, charged toward them, the brilliant emerald blade of a lightsaber raised high in his hands.
The pilot tried to stand up, his hand groping frantically for the weapon at his side, but it was a useless gesture. With a single, powerful trust and a fearsome Tusken-like cry, A'Sharad Hett brought his weapon down hard onto the man's shoulder, cleaving him, and the pilot's chair and console behind him, cleanly in two. As a plume of smoke and sparks erupted into the cockpit, Hett whipped his blade back around and, spinning on his heels, his flashing blade finished the job that Padmé had started earlier, sending the man who's arm she'd removed collapsing lifelessly to the deck at his feet. His Tusken wrap protecting his lungs from the acrid smoke that began to fill the cabin, Hett stepped quickly over the man's lifeless body and knelt at the small bench near the port side of the transport, where Anakin lay restrained.
His vision clouded by bursts of color and his own disheveled hair, he looked up at Hett, his body still trembling violently as the hum of the Jedi master's weapon filled the cabin. "Explosive energy binders," A'sharad said, quickly examining the brilliant blue, electrified bands that bound Anakin to the bench – and the charge pack that was strapped to the young Jedi's chest.
"Great," Anakin groaned, swallowing hard as he felt the urge to wretch from the nausea that assaulted him. "Two… two or three chem… chemical packs?" he stammered; his voice still struggled to disobey him, and he watched A'shared Hett closely as his calloused, thick fingers roved over the explosive device.
"Two," Hett replied, nodding his head, his goggles glinting in the emerald light of his saber. "I'm almost positive," he added, turning his masked face back to Anakin again.
"Almost?" Anakin rasped, less than amused as Hett stood up quickly beside him. "Wh… what do you mean al…almost?" he sighed, barely able to pick out the emerald green blade of Hett's weapon amid the rainbow of colors that exploded behind his eyes as he moved them.
They were particularly sinister devices, these charge packs. Two liquid chemical cells were joined by an electrically charged coupler near their center. If the binder circuit was cut with anything other than the key that activated them, then the coupler would shatter, instantly mixing the two volatile chemicals and utterly destroying whatever poor soul it happened to be strapped to – along with anyone within, say, one hundred meters of him.
"We'll have to do this quickly. Hold tight," Hett said, reaching into the Force and bringing the tip of his weapon close to Anakin's chest. "And don't move."
"I… I wouldn't th…think of it," Anakin stammered, a weak smile turning up the corners of his mouth as he fought to control his muscles. He took a breath and held it as best he could, watching with a sense of trepidation as Hett suddenly spun his blade in a full three hundred sixty degree arc.
Anakin squeezed his eyes shut as the white-hot tip of Hett's blade passed through the device dead center, cleaving it neatly in two before the two volatile chemicals inside each half could mix. The blue field that restrained him crackled and popped several times, then faded away as the two cleanly cut halves of the explosive pack slid from his chest to the decking beneath him.
"Can you stand?" Hett asked, extinguishing his weapon and returning it to his belt. He looked down, watching as Anakin squeezed his eyes shut tight as another wave of pain swept over him.
"I… I don't think so," Anakin said, shaking his head as best he could as he reached over and clutched the screaming, throbbing stump of his right arm close to his chest. He started to speak again, but before he could, Hett reached down and hoisted him quickly from the bench.
Anakin grimaced in pain, clenched his teeth tightly as he tried to resist the urge to howl in anguish. "My apologies, Master Skywalker," Hett said, hoisting Anakin into his strong arms and making his way toward the craft's entrance. "I know this is painful, and I deeply regret it," he said, winding his way through the narrow cabin, "but I think it best if we depart this place as soon as possible."
"I… I couldn't agree m… more," Anakin groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and, though he tried to relax, his trembling body still writhed in pain as Hett hurriedly rushed him out of the transport and toward the back entrance of Watto's shop.
Padmé turned her head; she opened her eyes, very slowly, trying to keep the pain to a minimum as she struggled to focus on the object that lay on the floor at the far corner of the decimated workshop.
Another stab of pain struck her heart, as she gazed forlornly at the dirty gray tarp that lay draped over the blood-stained floor – and the familiar blue hand that protruded from beneath it.
"Are y…you sure th…there was nothing you could do f…for him?" Padmé asked softly, turning her sorrowful eyes to the one who now watched over her. The antidote that Zule had administered a few moments earlier was working, but she was still having a great deal of trouble speaking, as her muscles continued to twitch and spasm in response to the drug's toxins.
Zule turned her own eyes toward Watto's lifeless body. "Yes," she sighed, drawing a long, deep breath and exhaling slowly. "I'm afraid he was gone, long before you or Anakin arrived," she said, her eyes meeting Padmé's once more. "I'm sorry," she said, and, leaning close to her again, she went back to cleaning up the rather nasty, deep cut above Padmé's right eye.
"At least it's stopped bleeding," Zule said, doing her best to lift Padmé's spirits and draw her attention away from the terrible sight in the corner of the room. "Well, almost anyway. How did you do this again?" she asked, frowning as she gingerly examined the deep, angry cut.
"I ha…have no idea," Padmé sighed, cringing as Zule tried, as gently as she could, to clean away the dirt and dust from around her cut. She had several, but this one had proven to be the one that needed the most attention. "I guess I… I hit something when I b…blacked out," she said, watching as Zule fetched a clean cloth from the medkit. She closed her eyes and took another deep, trembling breath as her stomach turned over once more. She felt – for lack of a better term – completely awful.
"I have him, make way," Hett called, stepping sideways through the doorway. He carefully worked Anakin's trembling body through the narrow arch, and then crossed the room quickly to where Yoda and the others waited near the front entrance.
"Anakin," Padmé whispered, her eyes fluttering open as Zule dabbed gently at her wound with the fresh, clean cloth she'd just retrieved.
Zule turned and lowered her hand, pausing as she watched her master make his way quickly toward them. "He's here, Padmé," she said, looking back at Padmé's scraped, weary face once again. "He'll be fine. Just rest for a moment."
Yoda turned, and then stepped to the side as A'sharad Hett approached. "Bring him here," he said, gesturing to the mat he'd thrown on the floor in front of Padmé. He frowned, deeply, as he sensed the terrible pain that coursed through Anakin's body as Hett lowered him, as carefully as he could, onto the floor.
Anakin's howl of pain, as Hett lowered him to the makeshift pad, was more than Padmé could bear. Zule caught her, helping her as she immediately sat up and tried to get to him. "Anakin!" she cried, using what little strength she had left, with Zule's help, to crawl to his side.
Zule leaned close to Padmé, steadying her as she raised her trembling body up onto her elbow, then brought her face close to his. "Anakin," she whispered, her brown eyes shining brightly as she gently caressed his cheek, turning his face toward hers. "Ani, talk to me, please," she whispered, fighting back tears as she watched her husband's body spasm uncontrollably.
She smiled weakly, a single tear tracking down her cheek as she watched him open his eyes and smile weakly up at her. "Padmé," he rasped, his eyes sparkling up at her as he reached up, brushing the back of his trembling hand lightly across her cheek. "Y… You're safe," he whispered, his blue eyes roving over her face.
Padmé took his hand in her own, squeezing it tightly as she pressed it to her lips. "Just lay still, Ani," she said, nodding her head as she clung tightly to him, grimacing as she watched Hett and Yoda begin to examine the badly burned stump of his right arm.
"Why... why is he trembling so much?" Padmé asked, her heart aching as she felt the terrible pain that swept over him, watched his body continue to contort and spasm endlessly.
"The drug you were given was most likely Rivotox," Hett replied calmly, grabbing the medpack that Zule offered him and placing on the floor beside him. "It can cause these types of reactions."
Padmé shakily turned her worried face back to Zule as she felt her squeeze her shoulder gently. "It's a neurotoxin," Zule said softly. "It interferes with the body's ability to communicate with itself," she said, reaching up and pushing Padmé's hair back, looking at the small, circular pattern of red marks just below and behind her ear.
"Fortunately, it appears you got yours out before the full dose was delivered. That's why your own tremors are subsiding a bit," Zule said, examining the tiny marks gingerly with her fingertips for a moment. She let Padmé's hair slip back to her shoulder, and then looked down at Anakin's violently twitching body as she leaned close to her. "The antitoxin we gave you is helping, too, but it looks like Anakin got the full dose."
"It appears he got more than a full one," Hett surmised, pausing as he watched Anakin's muscles continue to contract and twitch violently. "From the severity of his reaction, I'd say he received a near lethal dose."
"Agree with you, I do," Yoda said, his expression grim and serious as he place his hand on Anakin's chest. He closed his eyes, reaching into the Force as he touched Anakin's life force. "Weak, the boy's pulse is," he said, opening his eyes, his gaze meeting Hett's once again. "Work quickly, we must."
"Will he be al…alright?" Padmé asked softly, watching as Master Hett quickly assembled a stabilizing cuff for Anakin's severed right arm as Yoda looked on. She was regaining control of her own body, that much was clear to her, but she was still feeling the drug's effects herself.
"An antidote, we will give him, in just a moment," Yoda replied, nodding his head as he looked up at Padmé's deeply worried face. "Stabilize his wound first, though, we must, or infection could set in," he said, turning his large eyes back to the device in Hett's hands, watching carefully as Hett began to pump the bacta solution into its six small holding tanks, and then hand it to Yoda.
Yoda could tell that Padmé was suffering, almost as much as Anakin was. She needed a distraction to help her through this – and he needed answers.
"Master Hett," Yoda said, as Hett paused and looked up at him, "Their attacker; any sign of her, did you find?"
Yoda sighed, his scowl deepening as Hett shook his head, then went back to preparing the supplies he needed. "No, nothing," he sighed, as obviously frustrated as Yoda, as to the sudden disappearance of the mysterious Sith. "She vanished. I could find no sign or trace of her, she was gone the moment I made it through the doorway," he added, as, supplies in hand, he turned his attention back to Anakin. "I senses Master Skywalker's tremor, and, seeing that she was gone, turned my efforts toward rescuing him. I've no idea where she could have gotten to so quickly."
"Hmm," Yoda mused, nodding his head slowly. "Elusive as a shadow, the Sith can be, and well trained, she was, indeed," he surmised; he stood quietly for a moment, and then turned his attention to Padmé once more. "Padmé," he said, drawing her gaze and attention away from Anakin's devastated arm as Hett prepared to examine it, "The Emperor's assassin. Learn anything from her, did you, that might be of use to us?"
Anakin's suffering had all but pushed the terrifying conversation she'd had with Ventress completely out of her mind. "Yes," she said, her trembling voice taking on a sense of urgency as that troubling exchange returned, with all too vibrant clarity, to her memory.
"Master Yoda, you m…must stop them," she stammered; she frowned, frustrated by the trouble she was having just speaking. "Palpatine," she said, shaking her head as Master Hett and Zule, too, stopped what they were doing and looked at her as she lay there next to Anakin, holding him tightly. "He… he knows everything."
"What does he know?" Zule asked, her brow furrowing deeply as Padmé's words struck her sharply.
"Everything," Padmé said, frowning again as she tried to speak, the words catching in her throat as her mouth refused to form them.
"Slowly," Zule said, nodding her head as she saw the frustration in Padmé's eyes. "What exactly does he know?"
"He… he knows about the Rebellion," Padmé said, the room falling silent around her, except for Anakin's continued moans of pain. "He knew that… that we were coming, wh…where Obi-Wan was," she said, shaking her head firmly. "Some… someone is helping them, it has to b… be the traitor Ani was... was looking for."
Zule sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "So this one, the one they were fighting, was a Sith, too," she said, turning a scowling, troubled face back to Yoda and her master.
"Hmmm," Yoda sighed; his countenance was troubled, deeply, as he considered the name Padmé had just given him. "Abandoned the rule of two, it appears, the Emperor has," he said, turning his gaze toward A'Sharad Hett, who knelt silently beside him. "In any case, confirmed Anakin's suspicions, this information has. Attacking us again, from the inside, Sidious must be."
They all looked back at Padmé as she spoke, weakly, once more. "She was the one," she said, forming her words carefully as she tried to keep herself from stammering as much as she could. "The… the senators, and the aids who died a week ago," she said, her eyes glistening as she pointed with a trembling hand toward the small medallion that lay on the floor next to Zule. "She was the one," she said, watching with a deeply sorrowful heart as Zule picked up the medallion, cradling it in her palm as she looked at it carefully for a moment, then handed it to Padmé.
"She killed them," Padmé said, her voice trembling, barely audible as she squeezed the precious medallion tightly in her fist once more. "She killed her," she added, her voice little more than a whisper.
"Master Yoda is correct. It would seem," Hett said, drawing his companion's gaze once more, "that, given what we know so far, the Sith have indeed abandoned their old restrictions. We know of Darth Sidious, and Vader," he said, watching as Yoda nodded, instantly knowing where Hett's thoughts were going. "But this one here was clearly a Sith, and she spoke of another."
"Correct, your assessment is, Master Hett," Yoda mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully; he gestured toward Anakin, encouraging him to continue his work. "Safe it is, I would say, to assume that our adversaries are no longer limited to one dark pair." He watched, deeply troubled, as Hett tended to the grievous wound where the Anakin's forearm had been only a short time before.
Padmé's heart ached terribly, and she grimaced as she watched Master Hett's skilled hands gently but swiftly cut away the burned remains of the sleeve of Anakin's tunic. She squeezed his hand tightly, another flood of tears welling up in her eyes, as she stared at the stump of burned bone that protruded from the mass of cauterized flesh just below his elbow. She cringed, resisting the urge to retch, as she watched a steady stream of her husband's precious blood ooze out near the bones and trickle to the floor.
"Help him," Padmé whispered, her eyes swimming with tears. She couldn't bear to see him suffer like this. She understood now, better than ever, what Anakin had gone through that terrible night six years ago, when she'd been wounded in that Tusken camp the night his mother died, and when she'd lain in that bed on Polis Massa, not knowing whether she would live or die. And she knew that, just as he would have done for her, she'd have gladly taken all the pain, all the suffering, if she'd only been able to.
"Please," she whispered again, her eyes pleading with Hett as he and Yoda paused and looked up at her. "Please help him, I beg you."
With tears tracking down her cheeks, Padmé looked back at Zule as she felt her squeeze her shoulder once more. "Master Hett is the best triage specialist on Tatooine, Padmé," she said, smiling softly at her as her eyes searched hers. He'll be fine. I promise."
Padmé sniffed hard, forcing a weak smile, and was deeply grateful for the kindness of Zule's gesture. She had never met the girl, never spoken with her in person, only seen her at a few of the Council meetings. She knew that Zule and Anakin had been good friends, though, many years ago, when he and she were still padawans, before she and Anakin had been reunited, and she was grateful, very grateful indeed, that the Force had seen fit to allow her to be one of their rescuers.
"Zule," Hett said, glancing up at his padawan for an instant, "Prepare a dose of Floratax," he said, watching his padawan as she nodded her head firmly, then turned toward the medkit near her. "Double strength, twice that you gave Padmé a few moments ago."
"Yes, Master," Zule replied, quickly retrieving the bottle she'd used a few moments earlier. Padmé watched her, her eyes instantly drawn to the girl's mechanical left arm as she went about preparing a dose of the antidote for Anakin.
She'd asked Anakin about it, long ago, when she'd first seen her. Anakin hadn't been able to tell her much about it, only that she'd lost her arm in a battle about the time that Chancellor Palpatine issued general order sixty six. She took a long, trembling breath, watching as Zule filled the syringe and, quickly and smoothly, injected its bright orange contents into Anakin's arm.
Padmé's eyes snapped back to Anakin as he suddenly howled with pain again, and she squeezed his hand tightly as she lay beside him on the floor. "Wh…what's wrong?" she asked, her voice still refusing to obey her as she turned her worried gaze back to Master Hett again.
"A dose of Floratax this large will not be comfortable," Hett replied, working quickly to slip the stabilizing cuff around the burned stump of Anakin's arm. He secured it as fast as he could, and then switched on the bacta pumps. "We need to get him someplace where we can stabilize him further. I'm afraid I've done about all I can for him here," he added, sitting up and watching quietly as Padmé rested her forehead on his, whispering quietly to him as he continued to cry out in pain. "I have pain medication," he said quietly, looking back at Yoda, "but nothing strong enough for this."
"AaahhOOOWWWWW," Anakin cried, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he writhed in excruciating pain. "Padmé," he groaned, opening his tortured eyes wide enough to see her as she held him, the tears that tracked down her cheeks leaving dirty smudges on his own as she pressed hers to his. "It… It hurts, Padmé," he gasped, his breath coming fast and shallow as his eyes pleaded with her silently.
Padmé's heart was breaking. Her own body still trembling from the drug's terrible effects, she gazed into his eyes – and all she could see, deep beneath the pain, was the boy she'd known so long ago, pleading with her for help.
It was a plea that she could not – and would not – let go unanswered.
"I know some…someone who does," she said suddenly, turning her eyes swiftly to Masters Hett and Yoda once again. Hett was surprised; he'd spoken softly so as not to alarm her, yet it appeared that Padmé had heard him anyway.
"And I think I might know a… a way for us to get in t…touch with someone who can help Obi-Wan, too," she said, pausing as swallowing hard as she tried to gain another iota of control over her muscles.
"Howso?" Zule asked curiously.
"Do we have a ship?" Padmé asked; she looked at Yoda, never moving from Anakin's side, as he answered her.
"Yes," Yoda replied, nodding his head firmly. "The same one, in fact, that we used to return from Deyer two years ago."
"Then we need to hurry," Padmé said, a tone of forceful resolve returning to her trembling voice. She turned back to Anakin again, pausing for a moment as she kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
"Let's g…get him on board the ship," she stammered, reaching into Anakin's belt with her trembling fingers as she spoke. The others watched her as, very quickly, she produced a small, shiny comlink, then lifted it to her face.
Yoda nodded, realizing instantly what Padmé had in mind. He nodded to Master Hett and, without a seconds delay, he and his apprentice began to gather up the medkits and other supplies. He watched silently as, holding tightly to Anakin's hand, Padmé pressed the switch on the side of the small device, and then waited for the channel to open.
"Hang on, Ani," she whispered, squeezing Anakin's hand tightly as she heard the two bell-like tones as the comlink locked onto its counterpart. "Hang on."
She felt her heart sing as she suddenly heard a wonderfully familiar voice fill her ears. "Yes, Master Ani," Threepio called. "Is that you?"
"Threepio?" Padmé called, her voice trembling as violently as her hand as she spoke. "Is Andar there with you?"
"Yes, Mistress Padmé," Threepio replied. "Well, he's not actually here at the moment, he's just down the hall. Shall I go get him for you? Is everything all right?"
Padmé looked up, as she felt Zule's hand on her shoulder again. "We need to go, Padmé," she said, nodding her head as Padmé looked back at Anakin once more. "Can you stand?"
"I'll try," Padmé said, nodding her own head shakily. She took a deep breath, placing her left arm around Zule's neck as she prepared to help her up. She took a deep breath and, letting Anakin's hand slip free for a moment, she braced herself as Zule, with a good strong tug, hoisted her up.
She grimaced with pain as Zule lifted her to her feet. Her legs felt like elastic, and she felt her head swim with nausea as she wrapped her arm tightly around Zule's shoulder, watching as Hett and Yoda prepared to move Anakin to the ship outside. "Just go slow," Zule said, catching Padmé tightly around the waist as she steadied her.
As Zule helped her slowly toward the doorway, Padmé raised the comlink to her face again. "Anakin's hurt, Threepio," she said, glancing back over her shoulder and watching as Hett lifted Anakin into his arms once more, drawing another howl of pain from her husband's tortured body.
"Oh, dear," Threepio cried, obviously quite distraught. "Don't worry, Mistress Padmé. I'll notify Mister Gandh at once."
She and Zule stopped, just short of the doorway, watching as Hett quickly maneuvered Anakin through it. "Go," Yoda said, gesturing toward the doorway as he picked up Padmé's weapons from the workshop floor. "Right behind you, I will be."
Padmé lifted the comlink to her face once more, as she and Zule stepped carefully through the door and out into the waning afternoon light. "Tell him we'll be... be there shortly," she said, grimacing in pain as the faint light assaulted her eyes as though it were the peak of midday. "And tell him to be ready."
Tatooine, The Outskirts of the Jundland Wastes
Andar Gandh's desert fortress - late evening
The trip to Andar's had taken less than thirty minutes – but to Padmé, it had seemed like an eternity.
She blinked her eyes wearily, grimacing as the small craft's loading ramp dropped to the sandy stone of Andar's courtyard. One of the bright lights that lined the perimeter struck her full on the face, and she raised her trembling hand as she tried to block as much of it as she could. Though the drug's effects were fading now, leaving her only tired and trembling, light was still a very painful thing.
She lowered her hand as Zule quickly stepped in front of her, her cloak mercifully blocking the bulk of the light. "I'm sorry, Padmé," Zule said, crouching down in front of her as her master and Yoda made their way into the small, cramped cabin behind her.
Padmé closed her eyes, flinching instinctively as Zule carefully, yet quickly, slipped a pair of dark flight goggles over them. "I should have put these on you a few minutes ago," she said, gently securing the dark, smoke colored lenses in place. "Is that better?" she asked, watching as Padmé raised a trembling hand and secured them behind her ears.
"Yes," she said, nodding her head wearily as the goggles shut out the painful rays. "Why… why does light hurt so bad right now?" she asked. She could barely see Zule as she knelt in front of her, just a dark figure silhouetted again the light that radiated from outside.
"Just another nasty side effect, but one I'm afraid we can't do much about," Zule said apologetically. "Rivotox has a tendency to affect the eyes as much as any organ, that's why it hurts for you to move them," she said, watching Padmé as she touched the goggles with her fingers, nodding her head slowly as she listened. "It's only temporary, but I'm afraid you're going to be pretty light sensitive for a day or two."
"Wonderful," Padmé sighed, quite deeply. She felt lost enough as it was, now this, and she couldn't help but see the poetic irony of it all. It was the Dark Side, after all, that had placed them in this situation. They'd been attacked by Asajj Ventress in the dark, she'd been unconscious for Force knows how long, and now she found herself swathed in darkness once again.
It unnerved her, frustrated her, more than she cared to admit. "I hate the dark," Padmé sighed, tired and wearily, as Zule crouched beside her and prepared to help her up.
"I know, Padmé," Zule smiled, nodding her head as she carefully slipped her strong, mechanical left arm around her back. "But it's only for a little while, you'll be fine soon. Are you ready?"
"Not without Anakin," she said, shaking her head, steadfastly refusing to let go of his hand. She'd stayed beside him all the way back, and, though his cries of pain had diminished somewhat, he was still trembling violently. "I won't… won't leave until he does."
"I've got him," A'Sharad Hett replied firmly, kneeling beside Anakin as Yoda stepped up to join them. "Quickly now, we haven't any time to waste," he said, hoisting Anakin into his arms, eliciting another groan of pain from him.
Reluctantly, Padmé let Anakin's hand slip free as Hett turned toward the ramp and made his way out of the ship. It was no small effort, writhing his way through the narrow doorway of the tiny craft with Anakin's body in his arms, but he managed it with significant speed.
"Waiting for us, Andar is," Yoda said, nodding his head firmly at Zule, watching quietly as she hoisted Padmé up off of the cold metal decking. "Hurry, we must. Master Hett is right. No time, have we, to waste."
"I want to go home," Padmé groaned painfully, unaware of the faint smile that Zule and Yoda exchanged as they heard her weak, muffled voice. "I want… I want to take my husband, and my… my babies, and go… go home," she said again, a tired frown on her face, like a disgruntled, heartbroken schoolgirl, as she shook her head slowly.
"I… I don't want to p… play anymore."
Deep down, she knew she didn't mean it. Padmé had chosen a path, and she was determined to walk it, at her husband's side – and she had no intention of turning back. Not now.
Not ever.
Yoda paused, smiling quietly to himself as he heard the comment that the young Jedi padawan uttered under her breath. It was the first time since he'd found her that he'd heard her even speak of herself, say anything even remotely selfish, and even now her thoughts weren't of herself. He stopped at the edge of the ramp, watching quietly as Andar rushed out, with his daughter and son-in-law behind him, to greet them and begin to lead them quickly back into the house.
But it was an honest, heartfelt statement, and Yoda considered it for a long moment as he watched Padmé as long as he could, touched the Force that flowed through her as she stayed no more than an arm's length from Anakin. As he touched her life force, he marveled, as he always did, as he sensed their intermingled tremors, just as he had in that hangar so long ago.
At that moment, she'd told the truth, with the clarity, honesty, and openness of a child. She wanted to go home, to keep her family safe. She really didn't want to play anymore.
Yoda sighed deeply, his own brow furrowing as he watched them disappear quickly into the house. It had been a long time, a long time indeed, since he'd felt such an array of emotions sweep over him, and he stood there quietly, gazing up at the stars, keenly aware of the Force that flowed through, and around him.
For so many years, indeed, for centuries, he had followed the Code without question, had protected the venerable old Jedi Order fervently, along with the traditions that had been handed down for nearly a thousand years. He had taken his rightful place as a leader of the Council, imparting his wisdom and knowledge to those who looked up to him, and for years, hundreds of years, he'd been convinced that he had been doing the right thing.
Yet now, as he stood here, keenly aware of the suffering that was going on around him, he wasn't so sure he had been. He'd asked himself this question nearly six years ago, yet he'd been afraid to venture that what had happened with Anakin and Padmé was anything more than a personal miracle for two people who loved each other very much. And he'd sat there on the Council, just as he always had, waiting and watching, as Palpatine had worked his terrible evil, destroying everything that he'd tried so long to protect.
And then there was Anakin.
They'd been blind, so much so that only the boy had sensed what the Force had been trying to tell them all for so long. Had it not been for Anakin Skywalker, and the love that he had embraced, the love that had allowed him to become all that the Force intended him to be, Palpatine's evil might have been far more terrible. Anakin had gone against the Code, had followed his heart, had made a choice that, by conventional teaching, should have destroyed the Order. Love and attachment, after all, were forbidden, would doom the Order to destruction were they allowed to flourish.
Yet it had been love, in its purest, most selfless form, that had saved it.
Yoda took a long, deep breath, his conversation with Qui-Gon ringing in his ears, traveling to him on the cold, evening breeze. He had accepted Anakin and Padmé's union, believing it to be the will of the Force, and right and good in and of itself. Yet not once, not in all of those years, had he allowed himself to deviate from that Code himself, to stand against evil, to follow his heart instead of the great Book of the Order.
But things were changing. The Sith, by the numbers they knew of so far, were obviously doing so, disposing of the old rules and traditions, adapting to a new world in order to work their dark intentions. The Order was changing too, and he knew now, in his heart, that he must change with it. Too long, had it fallen to Anakin, and him alone, to stand against evil, to take the chances that needed to be taken, to lead the way into the darkness where no one else dared tread. He was the Chosen One, of that there was no doubt; but even the Chosen One, and that one that was chosen with him, couldn't fight the war against evil alone.
I want to go home, she had said, as truthfully as a child. I don't want to play anymore.
He wanted to go home, too. Back to the Temple, back where they belonged, where they could see that truth and justice was restored to the Republic, where the Jedi could do what it was they were called to do. Yet he knew that they had much work ahead of them, much work indeed, before that dream could be realized.
These were his children, and they were suffering. Indeed, at this moment, one of his dearest sons was gravely wounded, along with his wife. Another son was missing, with another of his daughters, and from what he'd sensed through the Force in recent hours, he knew that Shanda was suffering as much inwardly as her master was outwardly.
They were his family, and it was his place to protect them.
Yoda took a long, deep breath, then started down the ramp, his gimmer stick echoing across the cold, empty courtyard as he descended down into it, then made his way toward the house. His children were hurt, and he needed to see to them.
This was his family. And he was ready to protect them, just as Padmé was ready to protect hers.
He wasn't going to play anymore.
She was beginning to understand a bounty hunter's interest in this terrible concoction – far more than she would ever have wanted too.
If one's goal was to make an enemy suffer, then she could imagine no better way to do it. It was an absolutely horrible sensation; every nerve ending in her body was on fire, and even the simplest touch sent brilliant rivulets of pain coursing through her. It was clear to her now, as she grimaced and took another step, leaning heavily on Zule's strong shoulder, that Asajj had known exactly what she was doing. And, as she heard yet another of Anakin's anguished cried fill her ears, felt the pain that tortured him mercilessly, that deep seated anger rose again as she thought of the man who was ultimately responsible, the man who's very name had come to be associated with pain, misery, and death.
Palpatine. Damn him. Damn him to whatever Sith-fired hell spawned him.
Though exhausted and barely able to move, Padmé pushed herself relentlessly, drove herself harder than she ever had, commanded her tired and weary body to keep going. She had to, she told herself, for Anakin's sake. Though her own instincts begged her not to, she steeled herself once more, tightening her focus on his tremor, immersing herself even deeper into their ever-present bond – and the mind-numbing pain that assaulted her, flowing over her like a white-hot wave of searing flame. Her breath caught in her throat yet again as it struck her with the force of a Tatooine sandstorm, and, though her senses screamed at her to pull away, to ease her own suffering, she would not.
Anakin needed her, and she would not leave him, as Zule and the others had learned full well on their journey to the safety of Andar's fortress.
They'd asked her, time and time again, to let them give her something to make her sleep, just as they had done for Anakin when they'd stopped for a few moments at Master Hett's desert hut to retrieve some more powerful pain medication. Though she'd welcomed the venerable Jedi's offer to ease her husband's suffering, she had steadfastly refused to accept any herself, to the point that she had raised her trembling, stammering voice several times, rebuking their attempts almost angrily. She had refused to budge from his side, and she was still hanging on – though none of them quite new how.
Her head swimming, Padmé tried, as best she could, to stand on her own as they entered Andar's residence. It was hard enough, given the fact that she couldn't see, and her senses were racked with pain; she stumbled just as she entered the doorway, and though she tried as hard as she could to catch herself, her weak and weary body simply refused to cooperate any longer.
She'd made it this far. But she could go no further.
With a weak yelp of pain, Padmé's legs gave out beneath her, and Zule barely managed to catch her as she slumped to the ornately carved marble floor just inside the doorway.
"Help me," Zule called, red hair flying around her shoulders as she spun round and motioned for Tayja. She turned her attention back to Padmé once more, steadying her as Tayja came running quickly toward her, her father trailing close behind.
"See to her, Tayja," Andar said, gently nudging his eldest daughter toward Zule. He frowned deeply, a dark urgency filling his usually pleasant, smiling face. "I'll help Master Hett," he said, making his way quickly to Hett's side.
The sickeningly sweet smell of cauterized flesh and burned material assaulted her nostrils, just as the sight of Anakin's mangled arm burned itself into her eyes. "Sweet mercy," Tayja gasped, her eyes wide with shock as she looked at Anakin's limp, unconscious body; she paused, only for a second or two to gape at it as Master Hett passed her to join her father, then, swallowing hard, she dropping quickly at Padmé's side.
"I knew about Anakin," Tayja said, her worried eyes quickly finding Zule's as she rushed to Padmé's aid. "But I thought you said, when you called, that she was doing better."
Padmé's head hung at her chest, the remains of her dark ponytail strewn about her shoulders. "She was," Zule said, concern furrowing her brow as a weak, barely audible groan slipped from Padmé's lips.
"I don't understand it," Tayja said, shaking her head as she and Master Hett's apprentice knelt beside Padmé on the hard, stone floor. "Didn't you say you gave her an antidote when you first found her?"
"Yes," Zule nodded, frowning deeply. "And it seemed to ease her symptoms for a bit, but she's been getting steadily worse. I don't understand it, either," she grunted, as she and Tayja placed Padmé's arms around their shoulders. "This doesn't make any sense."
Zule looked up, as Threepio's alarmed cry echoed through the large, dome shaped atrium. "Oh, my!" he cried, his metal feet ringing through the room as he shuffled quickly toward her, waving his arms frantically as he suddenly caught sight of Anakin, his body still trembling violently in A'Sharad Hett's arms, the ominous looking bacta patch flashing and hanging at his side where his hand and forearm should have been. "Master Ani! Mistress Padmé! Are you all right!"
With Artoo trailing behind him as he made his way into the room, Master Hett, and the others, listened intently as the resident family's patriarch finally spoke up. "I talked with the doctor, nearly twenty minutes ago," Andar said, grimacing as he gingerly examined the bacta patch which covered Anakin's vicious wound. "I was able to reach one of the other Jedi in Mos Eisley. She's escorting him here now, but the good doctor says we can't wait. We've got to start treatment quickly."
"Are you sure that was wise, given the current situation?" Hett asked, exchanging a quick glance with his padawan. "If the Imperial troops intercepted your transmission then…"
"Then we'll all be dead, but not without a fight," Andar spat, a tone of contempt and anger ringing in his voice. "But without competent medical help, these two may have no hope," Andar said, snapping his eyes back to Hett once more as he gestured to the stairs behind him. "I was a smuggler myself once, long ago, and I've seen what this damnable concoction can do to a poor soul. Besides," he added, his face taught with determination as he gestured to the stairs behind him, "I'm damn well not going to let those two precious young ones loose their parents without a fight!"
Master Hett and his apprentice exchanged another glance, a bit taken back by Andar's blatant forcefulness. "We live, or die, together, as it should be. That way," Andar said, his tone softening a bit as he patted Hett's shoulder, and then gestured toward the hallway ahead of him. "The last doorway on the left. The medical droid is there, and there are beds prepared," he said, watching as Hett nodded his head, his wrap falling free and revealing a dark-skinned nose and well-chiseled chin.
Artoo's own long, mournful whistle echoed through the room as he rolled along behind his tall counterpart; he turned, making a bee-line for Anakin as a large, round sensor array popped out the top of his dome. He rolled to a stop beside him, his sensors blazing to life, as he quickly began to scan Anakin's vital signs.
It only took him a second to complete his scan. The little droid whistled again; even someone who'd never spent a moment around a droid, much less understood the strange, electronic language of astro service models, would have had no trouble deciphering that low, mournful tone.
He didn't like what his scanners told him. Not one bit.
It was Padmé's sudden cry of pain that drew their attention once again. A'Sharad Hett turned and watched, with Anakin's semiconscious body still in his arms, as Andar and the other droid rushed quickly to her aid. "All right, that's enough now," Andar said, doing what he could to help Tayja and Zule pick Padmé up, as quickly and gently as they could. "You have to rest, my dear," he said, a look of grave concern on his round, portly face. "Rivotox poisoning is a dangerous thing, very dangerous indeed, nothing to be taken lightly," he scolded, frowning deeply as he watched Yoda enter, then use the Force to close the door behind him. "It's foolishness, plain and simple, for you to not have been carried in here in the first place!"
"We'll be right behind you, Master Hett," Andar called, nodding as he glanced back over his shoulder. He watched for a brief moment as, turning quickly, Hett carried Anakin silently and purposefully out of the room and down the long hallway that lead to the central portion of the house.
"Mistress Padmé, please," Threepio said, his circuits nearly fusing in panic as Padmé's trembling body hung limply between Andar's tall, blond haired daughter and Master Hett's apprentice. "Please," he called again, as Padmé shakily lifted her head up to look at him. "Say something!"
Her faint whisper of a reply did little to calm his already frantic nerves. "I feel awful," she said weakly, barely able to see her faithful droid through the dark lenses that covered her eyes.
Threepio turned his head, his actuators whining smoothly as the large, burly man beside him addressed him. "What we need, my mechanical friend, is for you and your little associate there," Andar said, gesturing toward Artoo as he rolled up beside him, "to scurry down to the large guest bedroom, and get those supplies ready. Did you transfer the information on treating Rivotox poisoning to the medical droid like I instructed you?"
"Of course, sir," Threepio replied, his electronic yellow eyes blinking several times as Andar nodded approvingly. "Although I had to break the information into several distinct uploads. It seems that your medical droid is a rather old model, and was unable to…"
"She'll need your help, then, my friend," Andar replied, a stout hand slapping Threepio's shoulder firmly. He'd learned, over the past few days that, though he was an exceptional cook and quite handy around the house, Anakin and Padmé's droid had a tendency to be a bit chatty at times. "You and the little one scurry along and get things ready," he said, motioning toward the door, "and we'll be along in a moment."
"And douse those lights in that room," Tayja added. "This light will be terribly painful for them. Leave us just enough to see what we're doing."
Threepio listened with rapt attention, soaking up every word that was spoken to him. "Here," Zule said, quickly dropping the large rucksack they'd retrieved from her modest home from her shoulder. She'd accompanied Artoo on the return home, and she and the little droid had made a stop for supplies along the way; she caught the pack in her mechanical left hand, and then handed it to him. "These are the items the doctor requested. We'll need this soon enough. Keep it with the other medical supplies, and be careful with it."
"Yes, ma'am," Threepio replied, taking the pack securely in his metal hands. He watched for a brief moment, as Zule and Tayja steadied Padmé once more, then turned quickly and made his way toward the hallway behind them. "Hurry, Artoo," he called, as the little round astrodroid swiveled around on his wheels and started off after him. "Oh, dear, oh dear," he sighed, his arms waiving frantically at his sides as he went. "I knew coming here was a dreadful idea!"
They all looked back at Padmé, a bit surprised, as she spoke again. "Anakin," she said, shaking her head, as she tried to stand once more, to no avail. "I… I have to stay with Anakin."
"And so you shall, but the only place you're going is into a bed beside him," Tayja chided, as she and Zule began to follow her father across the room, carrying Padmé between them, her arms draped around their necks. "No excuses either, my lady. Has she been like this since you found her?" Tayja asked, frowning as her eyes met Zule's.
"You have NO idea," Zule snorted, nodding her head firmly, red hair sweeping above her eyes as she did so. "She's as hard-headed as Anakin ever was, maybe more. Won't listen to a thing we tell her."
"My children," Padmé said weakly, shaking her head as she looked back up at Tayja. "Where are…"
"They're fine, Padmé, they're asleep," Tayja said, nodding as they made their way down the long hall and toward the large guest bedroom they'd haphazardly converted into a makeshift hospital a short time before. "You can see them as soon as we get you settled and give you something to make you sleep."
Padmé tried to shake her head, but she could barely manage. "No!" she said, almost angrily as she tried to stand again. "I… I can't…"
"No more arguments, Padmé," Tayja said firmly, catching a tighter hold of Padmé's wrist as she stumbled once more, nearly falling again. "Come on," she said, exchanging a worried glance with Zule as they quickened their pace. "We need to hurry."
Our story continues shortly!