"Star Wars- Crusaders" By JediCharles

[Annie]

Star Wars - Crusaders
By TheJediCharles

Act I


1


"Help me take, this mask off," Vader stammers as he strains to even hold his head erect, weak from oxygen deprivation.

"But you'll die," Luke replies, surprised at the request.

"Nothing can stop that now. Just for once, let me look on you with my own eyes." Luke hesitates, but only for a moment. Pulsating explosions bring Luke to a quick decision and begins to heave his father's limp bulk up the gangplank to the vibrating shuttle.

"Forgive me, father. Nothing would make me happier to remove you from behind that mask, but it's our only hope to get you to help in time." Luke, quickly rethinking, leaps to his feet and with outstretched palm begins to channel the Force beneath his father to lift him gently from the ground and up to the cargo area just beyond the now lifting ramp with Luke positioned on it's end. The explosions, now more than deafening, began to blow ever larger debris out into space. Luke quickly, while in full control, began to the process of bringing the Shuttle Tyderium to synthetic life, foregoing all extraneous steps. Just as the Shuttle defeated the artificial gravity holding it to the bay floor, a massive blast from the bulkhead behind gave way to a fireball. The Shuttle was accelerated away through a failed force field sailing on the wind of the bay's volume of pressure escaping into the void over Endor's moon. The engines fired in graceful unison. Luke, in straight flight, could afford just enough attention to altering the vessel's transponder identity to an Alliance code before they found themselves in the sights of Gold Squadron's finest once the Death Star was a skeleton of history.

The final blast brought with it the very winds of change. It's concussion coursed through Luke's body, and he turned to see how his unharnessed father fared. Anakin's mechanical grip kept him stable enough, despite Anakin passing out of consciousness. Luke thought, "good thing those limbs don't require oxygen his body can't spare."

For the first time since the deaths of his aunt and uncle, Luke didn't have a predetermined goal. His heart knew not what to expect as the road ahead wasn't and never was visible. He'd now crossed the farthest point he stove to reach. He thought he'd feel complete in paying the ransom for his father's soul, but realized only now the absence of guideposts from here beyond.

But, the Skywalkers were free of danger.

...for now.



2

The captain of the Medical Frigate almost missed the communication ping on his console amid the cheering on the bridge. Answering, he recognized the Alliance commander's voice requesting permission to dock and render aid to gravely complicated injuries. The captain acknowledged, "at once, commander Skywalker."

"And Captain," Luke continued, "this involves an exposure hazard, so there is to be no persons on the receiving deck. Only medical droids. I can handle the rest. Did you copy that?"

"Only droids, sir."

The Nebulon Frigate receives the Shuttle as the Death Star's remnants still rumble in it's death throws. Most of the Star Destroyers have vanished into hyperspace. Rebel pilots scramble to coordinate their trajectories, but they didn't have one in common, and the communications begin to form into a shared opinion that they were in full, unplanned retreat, every Destroyer for itself. The few which remained were presumed disabled or insanely loyal to the fight, and were dispensed with by the intensity of the Rebel veterans, save the escape pods which were being emitted in greater and greater numbers.

3

Luke entered the personal surgical suite, already bustling with preparation. Within moments, Anakin's body was removed with expected precision from the repulso-gurney to the table and the medical droids assumed each duty. One, set out to dismantle the bio-suit Anakin's accursed body had been forced to subsist on. The next began taking vital signs and developing a prognosis. A third droid approached Luke.

"He doesn't register as a member of the Alliance", it spoke in frank tones, "and as such we have no records to aid in remedying obvious complications due to dependency of a failing portable life support. What information can you provide as to his identity and condition?"

"His identity cannot be yielded as a command security matter. I cannot help you in either that nor the extent of his injuries other than them being decades old. Please, do everything you can to save him."

"We will do everything possible."

"Thank you,... and contact me before admitting anyone. Without fail."

Luke turned to the table just as the first droid lifted the mask from his father's face. Anakin's eyes were closed, his face peaceful. The droids continue to administer intravenous hope. Luke could only smile for a single, fractured moment, then turned to the door and head swiftly to the bridge to surmise the aftermath.

"Captain," Luke commands in full stride through the bridge, "patch me through to lead commander."

"Luke, you made it!" The jubilant voice of Lando came coursing through the overhead audio to Luke, who responded coolly only to give a status report. "The Imperials have retreated everything from the vicinity. Nothing within sensor range. Admiral Ackbar has just ordered all crews to report to coordinates provided by the strike team. Your captain should already have them."

"Understood. I'll be there. Congratulations, Lando. Well done."

4

Luke returned alone to the medical frigate from the continuing celebration feeling uneasy. He was second guessing his choice to not tell Leia her father was in fact alive. He allowed her to believe what she'd been informed of officially, that both Darth Vader and the Emperor perished on the Death Star. She didn't ask Luke for details, and Luke didn't reinforce the untruth, but he still felt an active participant in deception. However, he knew it was for her own good. He now had a greater appreciation in what a difficult task Obi-Wan had in protecting that young, naive farm boy from a similar heavy truth. He hoped Leia would take her news better than he had his, but knew better.

Luke was lost in thought as he arrived back on the infirmary deck. As he briskly strode through the corridor, he was shaken awake by a strong congratulatory hand of a pilot, apparently just released from care himself. Luke's slight, token grin vanished as he looked upon the pilot's disfigurement. He paused, then realized the pilot had been trying to congratulate him. Luke, half thinking of his war-torn father, whom the pilot caused him to think, replied, "thank you," an answer fit for both.

As the pilot proceeded away, Luke was met by the chief medical droid attending Anakin. Luke lead they way back up the corridor.

"The patient is responding well and is stable," the droid stated. "In fact, for reasons we can't explain, he's exhibited seemingly super-human recuperation. He's completely weaned off artificial life support, foregoing being fitted to an operational one, which we had thought impossible."

Luke's stride faltered. He became flush as he processed this news. He's going to live, he thought to himself. The droid stopped Luke at the closed door leading to Anakin.

"Please, commander, there's nothing more that can be done tonight. He needs rest, as do you. Right this way, I have a empty quarters you can use.

Just after we tend to your hand."

5

"Luke," Leia comforted, her hand rocking her brother's sleeping shoulder. Luke's dry eyes loomed open. "I'm sorry to wake you. A pilot mentioned he saw you here. Han and I boarded just before the ship went into hyperspace." Luke leaned up on one elbow.

"It's okay," he muttered. Realizing what she'd just said, "Leave? What's happened?"

"Some Imperial forces returned, apparently after regrouping. We've left the Endor system with the other Alliance vessels, but we don't know how many of us were left on the moon unable to escape. I can't understand why they're attacking without Palpatine's command structure. We must contact our agents on Coruscant soon to assure his seat is not refilled before the former Senate can assemble.

"There must be a formal body to surrender to," Luke agreed. "The Imperial forces are too conditioned to just stop fighting without an official order."

"So, what do we do? I don't think we can expect to be received openly on Coruscant."

Luke paused. "I have an idea. Go to the bridge and wait for me there." Luke sat up to leave, but his sister put her hand on his shoulder.

"Luke, what... happened. You haven't told me about... Vader." Luke paused, broke his gaze from her eyes and muttered, "Vader's died on the Death Star." Leia, expression blank, Luke exited the room passing Han coming in, without a word exchanged.

Han huffed, "hey, where's he going? What's the plan? They can't last long without help."

6

Luke looked back to assure he and Artoo weren't being followed, then slipped into Anakin's room to be greeted by the medical droids. "I need you to wake him. I must speak with him." The droids cautiously proceeded with the approval of Two One Bee. Luke gazed upon his father's face. It was pitted and scarred, but to a much lesser extent than he'd seen the previous day. A rush of stimulus brought Anakin to a light consciousness. His eyes cracked open, red and burning. After a failed attempt at getting his bearings, he looked to Luke, then while not knowing where he was, he at least recognized who he was with.

"Son."

"Father, you look strong enough to pull the ears off a gundark."

Anakin brought his hands to his chest and breathed deeply. He then lifted them before his face and realized they appeared as real as the ones he was born with with every nuance of sensation and appearance. "How is this possible?"

"The best Alliance medicine practiced by our intrepid medical droids would like to take full credit, but the answer is you, father. You've recovered very well."

"Son, I..."

Luke interrupted, and kneeled closer. "Father, the Imperials are continuing their hostilities towards the Alliance. They're also fortifying the core worlds. We need your help to stand them down."

Anakin licked his chapped lips. "Yes, son. I'll provide you with the secure channels and command codes to break off the attacks. We do have a problem though. They'll be suspicious if they're not adequately convinced that Vader is alive, and an audio-only message will not likely do."

"Yes, I know." Luke paused, looking over to the chief medical droid. "I have an idea. Give Artoo the dedicated channel and command sequences. Artoo, meet me in the supply room across the corridor as soon as you have them."

7

Three Star Destroyers loomed over Endor's moon, casting TIE fighters into the thin outermost atmosphere. More Destroyers were assuming their dispersal positioning to assure no craft would be able to leave the surface without certain destruction. The Imperials hoped that they could lure the Rebel fleet into a desperate rescue attempt, but knew their best hopes resided in leaving none alive on the moon's surface. The point destroyer's communication's chief beaconed Moff Yarrel to their delight that a channel had been opened to Lord Vader. Yarrel, now had twice as much confidence in the status of the Empire but also twice as much apprehension as to his personal chances of surviving the experience. He turned from surveying at the window to the hologram now appearing before him. The full, fearsome visage of Vader towered over Yarrel as he acknowledged, concealing his surprise of Vader's being alive for fear of suggesting weakness.

"Yes, Lord Vader. We're relieved you escaped the catastrophic loss of the Death Star. We have regrouped and secured the moon, awaiting your orders."

"Stand down immediately," Vader's familiar synthetic vocalizations boomed.

"Sir?"

"The Emperor is dead. Unless you wish to join him, you will recall your compliment and lead all ships accounted for to Coruscant. Halt all hostilities until further notice from me personally, commander."

Yarrel stood motionless and silent, challenged to his very core to suppress a better understanding of the situation. How could the last opportunity be squandered so? How could it profit Vader, presumably the new Emperor, to allow a great many rebels to continue to exist? He didn't waste much more time conspicuously rethinking clear commands. His sense for self-preservation over-ruled.

"Yes, Lord Vader. At once."

The hologram flickered out. Yarrel turned to his subordinates, each more dumbstruck than the first, then faced the window overlooking Endor and a number of Star Destroyers assuming orientations to decimate the surface.

8

Artoo's hologram receptor deactivated. The black gloved arms, which saw the ruthless strangling of more necks than fingers, lifted up to remove the helmet. Beneath it, the sweating head of Luke Skywalker emerged, and smiled to R2. The droid beeped with satisfaction at preferring this person to the one he'd faced a moment ago, albeit just masked.

"A war that started with a lie is finished with another," spoke an old familiar voice. "Although, one Skywalker in that suit was enough."

Luke turned his head. "Obi-Wan! Yoda!" The two Jedi spirits stood in front of the bulkhead, glowing, shimmering... smiling.

"Done well you have, Luke," Yoda warmly offered. "Underestimated you, everyone had."

"Thank you, Master Yoda. Although, I'm feeling less sure of myself than ever before."

"I can see the Jedi will be in good hands," Obi-Wan complimented. "This is why we come to you, Luke, one last time on this side." Luke shoulder's fell like rain.

"What do you mean," Luke asks. "I don't understand." Obi-Wan held up an assuring hand.

"The purpose of the Force and it's will through Anakin has been fulfilled. We, as part of the Force, must now withdraw into it's wholeness," Obi-Wan explained.

"Please, I need your help. I don't know what will happen to my father when it's realized he was Vader. I don't even know how to tell Leia. I'm lost. For the first time since Tatooine, I don't know where to turn. I need..."

"Take heart, young Luke," Yoda interrupted, "satisfied the will of the Force, Anakin has. Redeemed he is. His wholeness of spirit returned to him it was, through the Force. Take that away in this world, nothing can. Saved your father already, you have."

"But, I can't allow him to face Vader's punishment."

"Your concerns," Obi-Wan put forth, "must lie less with that of a son, and more of a Jedi." Luke's assurances waned. "You will know what to do... and what to accept. Farewell, my friend.

...and may the Force be with you, always." The two extensions of the Force dissolved into the infinite singularity with all the permanence that is the Force. Luke, despite his now having a father, has never felt more alone.


The hatchway motored open as Luke slowly passed onto the bridge, still in a daze, Artoo at his side. The officers greeted him with the air dense with levity, as his friends briskly came to his side. Threepio shuffled up to express his delight also.

"Hey kid," Han touted," I don't know what you did, but we've received contact from the Alliance personnel on Endor. They're reporting that the Empire withdrew... again."

Leia chimed in, "they're withdrawing from everywhere, all over the galaxy! This isn't just coming from our agents, but every source. Contacts, several planet's Imperial liaison, former senators,... everyone. Unsecured communication chatter is buzzing with it. Luke, it looks like a full, galaxy-wide cease-fire and military withdrawal."

"That's fantastic," Luke proclaimed.

"Luke, I've made contact with Mon Mothma. She's to announce an emergency session of the Senate, Luke. She's secured a location on Coruscant for the Senate to reconvene, and all accountable senators have been summoned," Leia was shaken to her very foundation, her knee buckling as Han held her fast, his strong hand brushing her brow. Joy poured over the three friends as they shared this historical experience together. But they knew their work was far from finished. "She inquired just how exactly you were able to call off the attacks. You need to contact her to tell her how you've accomplished this."

"I used a contact and Imperial codes to order the retreat. Where's everyone else?" Luke's quick deflection didn't satisfy Leia.

"As soon as Chewie made contact with Tarfful," Han answered, "I couldn't make him wait. He took Lando on the Falcon to drop him back by Bespin. Everyone's got a lot of rebuilding to do, and not passing up on the chance to get it right. We need to be making tracks too. But, Luke, what contact? What codes? Why couldn't you have exploited this before? Just how did you do this?"

"Just tell Mon Mothma," Luke said shortly, "I was fortunate to have appropriated the info aboard the Death Star."

Leia detected a continued diversion in the questioning, and sufficed to let go for now. She closed, "the commander is already in preparation for a return to Coruscant. All the fleet is expected there, as are you, representing the Jedi."

Threepio turned to Artoo. "Coruscant! How exciting, don't you think Artoo? Have you been there before?"

Artoo Detoo gruntly bleeped a response taking Threepio aback in insult.

"A simple yes would suffice, you obsolete antique. There's no need to be so insulting towards a perfectly civil inquiry. Can I help it if I've never been there before?"

The Nebulon Frigate's massive hyperdrive fired thunderously. The hulk slipped into it's course towards the center of political and governmental chaos, to place a moral head on the decapitated leadership, and the greater unknowns that await it.

10

Luke entered Anakin's medical quarters. He'd not braced himself for the shock that awaited him. There before him stood his his father, robed, hands cupped behind back, not a foot away from the window between he and open space. Anakin didn't break his moment of deep reflection while confronting his reflection. His eyes turned from his own unfamiliar visage to the similar one over his shoulder of his son. He smiled and turned.

"Is our heading for Coruscant?" Anakin's face looked vastly healthier than he'd seen before. Some pink had returned to his cheeks, and his pitted flesh somewhat fuller. While his bald head still framed several dramatic scars, they had obviously been dealt with, and were much less dramatic. It was clear to Luke his father was feeling well, if not yet looking his deserved age. But more importantly, he was breathing on his own, standing on his own, refitted with contemporary prosthesis, and with respectable vitality.

"Yes, father. The Senate is scheduled to convene shortly after we arrive. I'm expected to attend." Luke took a shallow breath. "I plan to arrange a private meeting with Mon Mothma and Chi Eekway to appeal for clemency on your behalf. I hope to secure you their protective custody until inevitable formalities can begin."

"Thank you, Luke." Anakin stepped forward and placed both hands on Luke's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "But, I have another matter I must see to." Luke's brow furrowed. Anakin continued. "I will return to Coruscant as soon as soon as it's complete."

"Father," Luke said, motioning Anakin's hands from his arms, "I don't think you can afford anything less than conveying the most favorable outward impressions."

Anakin turned from his son and walked back to the window and looked to the sternward stars.

"I need your help, son. I know you feel the Force beacons me to answer that which I was born to do. Luke, I must free the slaves on my home world of Tatooine."

"Tatooine? Father, there will be another time for that."

"No son. You know as well as I do that... we cannot expect I will be accepted. I cannot ask you to do this, but I ask for your trust."

Luke's frustration came to the surface, as his doubts and flaws in trust. "Father,... are you running from justice?"

"No Luke. I'm running towards it. It leads me to Tatooine. If I'm condemned, please, permit me my life to have a meaning."

"Father, why now? You've had the means to do this with ease for decades until now." Anakin appeared no less sure of himself when replying.

"I was a different person then. Not only was I not moved by the plight of Tatooine's slaves, but I was exposed to the existence of so many such worlds that I became numbed to it. This passion was lost in me then, and has been reborn since this is the first moment I've ever felt truly independant... ever. I cannot turn away from it. In fact, I must ensure it's carried out now before I might not be able to soon. I won't miss my last chance." Anakin then began to smile. "And now I'm a father. At least give your sister a chance that her father died something more than, well, what I was."

Luke looked down and away. He stood motionless. He then felt Anakin's hand on his back.

"I won't disappoint you, my son."

A long pause was broken by Luke, "Tatooine? Your home world? It must have been Obi-Wan's idea."

"What do you mean?"

"Nevermind," Luke said, mostly distracted by the decision at hand, "we'll catch up later." Luke's eyes closed as the only answer he could give came to bear. "Father, I cannot go with you, as much as I feel I should. I must appear on behalf of the Jedi on Coruscant. If you must go," Luke reached to his belt and released his saber into his palm, "you will need this." His hand outstretched, offering his father a weapon of a more civilized age. Anakin took it.

"Find where the droids have placed my suit. Take the belt with you. It contains a few things you might need, namely my coded passcard. Unless you have a place on Coruscant, you can use any of my personal, confidential retreats while you're there. You shouldn't have any trouble, as they're not public knowledge. And help yourself to any supplies you might need, such as a replacement," Anakin said, waving Luke's weapon. "You should be able to access any of my residences using it, and my personal transportation. You better alter the transponder codes before using them, though."

"Thank you," Luke replied, "And I suppose you'll need some transportation as well."

11

The frigate emerged from hyperspace with a thunderous crack and came to orbital rest over Coruscant. It's orientation arced as it answered navigational course changes to assume a standard holding pattern until a spacelane could be assigned. As soon as the vessel had assumed a steady course, it's hanger bay deposited an X-Wing which twisted back under the frigate into the open spaceward direction. It's engines were opened up full, to obtain the minimum safe distance from the frigate before slipping into hyperspace, in the direction perpendicular to the galactic elliptic. With a thunderous concussion, the X-Wing vanished into the void.

Luke, watching from the hanger bay, watching uneasily as his father returned to the world of their shared youths. In a way, he almost felt like the father, letting go, embracing trust like a drug, as there's nothing else to hold on to. Not knowing if his biggest challenges lie on the turmoiled planet below, or the desert dunes ahead.

He then panned his vision over the spacescape, the sky teeming with orbiting Imperial hardware, congested to the point it almost seemed to blacken the planet surface below under the shadow of it's oppressive potential. He awed at the sight of more and more emerging from all directions and like leaves in a gentle stream, complying with invisible organizational waypoints, they filed in, denser and denser. Luke marveled for a moment at the spectacle.

Luke suppressed his wandering thoughts, exercised his Jedi emotional coping skills to their fullest, and walked briskly to the bridge.

[Annie]

12

Liea and Han stepped off the suspending taxi to the courtyard landing at the foot of the provisional Senatorial hearing hall, holding up a communicator. Walking both briskly and with regal splendor on this significant day, she glowed with anticipation, Han with observant caution. Three ununiformed security officers shadowed surveying everything surrounding her as she moved vulnerably, yet undeterred through the towering, ornate colonnade. She'd dreamed of a more ceremonial return, but a return at all was exhilarating and emotional.

"No Luke, Mothma has arranged lodging for Han and I, and you too," she spoke into the communicator.

"I have plans, you go ahead. If you need me, I'm seeing the security secretary," Luke informed. "And be careful."

"You too." Liea deactivated the communication link and entered the hall. She was received formally, and escorted to a recess area, where Mon Mothma awaited alone, seated. She stood as Liea walked towards her, her escorts staying at the entrance, and Han, who waved her on as he proceeded down the hall.

"Welcome, Senator Organa," Mothma greeted, "have a seat." Liea was visibly pleased with the restoration of her title that the late people of Alderran had given her, and expressed her gratitude to Mothma. "We have much to discuss. First, I've resisted pressure for myself to accept a nomination to be Lady Chancellor. Considering what what I participated in, I don't think it would be wise to start the Republic back up on such a questionable note. However, have headed up the nomination committee to accomplish just that, and we hope to elect a worthy representative. Now, I have no intention to see you removed from the panel due in lieu of having a constituency to represent. As a chairperson in the nomination committee, I would be honored if you accept a nomination bid of you for Lady Chairman. Can I report that you would accept?"

"Oh, Senator Mothma, I'm overwhelmed. Please give me time to decide."

"Yes, well we haven't much time," said Mothma. She continued. "Senator, there is another matter I wish to ask you about in confidence. It's concerning a grave matter indeed. The second most pressing matter in itinerary for tomorrow's convening is that of war crimes. A tribunal is expected, and I'm not in favor of one at all. It's not what I'd call moving forward. There also is the matter of Darth Vader still believed alive."

Liea's chin jerked inwards in disbelief. "I'm confused. Didn't they get their report from the field commander that Luke reported him as killed in action?"

"Yes, I received Skywalker's report myself, and that is indeed what he claims. However, there is the conspicuously odd sight above this world, of all the imperial navy withdrawing from every point in the galaxy to here."

"I'm not sure how it was done. Luke seemed to have pulled it off."

"There's been a release by the Imperial high command that there are no longer any actions being taken anywhere in the galaxy. No officer that we know of had this authority, even after Palpatine's death... except Vader. Once our operatives got to work, it's come to their knowledge that the order in fact did come down from Vader... after the Death Star blew up."

Something was very much amiss here. The dread that Vader might still be alive made Liea's skin creep. She quieted the noise in her head and replied.

"Lady Senator, I will take this matter up with Luke. I will get to the bottom of it."

"That's not the difficult part. I must inform you that I am more familiar with your situation than you might be aware. I believe it is time that I let you know this. I was considered by my fellow Senators during the end of the Clone Wars to adopt you and your brother."

Liea was now white-faced with shock. What was she talking about. Is this a dream? She was unable to speak, and Mothma continued.

"The task of raising you and your brother was taken up by your brother's relatives and my friend, the only father you've ever known, who shared all his knowledge with those of us who founded the Rebellion, before they all died. So, I understand what your real father had done. I understand how you and your brother must now be terribly confused and your loyalties torn in many conflicting directions. I just want to let you know, that I'm here to help, as I understand and can enlighten you on what you might wish to know. But, if your father is still alive, with my feelings set aside as to his deserved fate, you must understand that with the news of his possibly being alive, there is a strong movement in the gathering Senate that he must be made to pay. They will not be deterred. We must determine if your father is alive and if so, we must deal with him together before he's captured, tried and executed."

Liea, still speechless, sat staring over Mothma's shoulder, her lips curled.

"I'm sorry," Mothma soothed, leaning forward placing a comforting palm to Liea. "The only way you two are going to get through this is with the truth. I wanted to discuss this with you alone first, because I'm afraid you will be forced to pay a price yourself, alone. It appears your brother has had more time to deal with this, and the fortune of being trained, which I feel you deserved. I don't want you finding yourself on the outside alone unable to manage. I'm here to help, but to help you and your brother the best I can, I must know the whole truth."

What was Luke hiding from her? The shock of learning her biological parentage hasn't even sunk in yet, and now she feels yet again somehow deceived. Now tearing and looking at her life-long mentor in a new light, she now came to admire her in an even greater way than she had before. She felt respect of her strength and restraint. She's always viewed her friend Mothma in a light greater than merely a friend and trusted ally against a common foe. She's been almost another mother to her. That feeling has only become more fruitful in the absence of her entire family, her entire world. How could Mothma be seen as anything less to Liea? She pondered how close she came to actually being her mother in the first place. She was truly comforted. Liea thanked her.

"I will find out what's going on."

13

Anakin piloted the X-Wing screaming into Tatooine airspace, it's heading was straight for the planet's terminator. Old feelings began to set in, and some needed internal suppression. As Mos Espa drew close enough to visualize through the baking winds, Anakin's skin began to creep. Self control was never his strong suit, and he knew it. As he made his final approach, Artoo signaled an optimum landing site, which would take them close to the neighboring bazaar district, and Watto's storefront. However, Anakin noticed a conspicuous absence of airtraffic, or ground traffic. In fact, his son's fighter was the only craft he could detect in motion. The weather appeared poor, windy, however, not bad enough to explain it.

"That looks good, Artoo. Set her down there."

The X-Wing, settled down buffeted by the abrasive sands inside an intimate, sparsely occupied hanger. The engines whined down and the canopy lifted.

"Artoo, I'm going to see Watto," Anakin instructed. "I want you to wait here and contact the Lars farm. Once you get through, tell them I'll need to meet with them." Artoo hesitated, then slowly chirped and beeped a response. Anakin read the aurabesh translation on the console. His brow furrowed.

"The Lars? That cannot be true," Anakin scoffed. "How could you even know that? Who did it?" Artoo continued and again Anakin clearly couldn't believe what he read. There was a long silence.

"Attempt to make contact anyway." A disheartened Anakin turned from the translator display, stood and exited the craft, not making eye contact with the droid, who kept his single mechanical eye fixed on his master's full strides out of the hanger. He navigated the winding corridors to the street level.

14

Perfect silence, absolute lifelessness, and death blackness abounds. Even the only microbes around are dead. The vacuum is so strong, almost the Force itself is dimmer. The abysmally lightless void was punctured by a mechanical relay being activated. Within moments, the icy, wide room was quickly pressurized with warm, moist unnaturally-produced atmosphere, precisely mixed for the needs of an individual with pulmonary disorders, immunity deficiencies, and other various medical intolerances. As soon as the air came to neutral rest, barely-adequate lighting flickered on, and the entrance opened revealing Luke Skywalker, at the threshold of one of his father's residences. He'd already expected it to be custom-suited to Vader's special needs, but he was shocked at how unwelcoming it already was. He stepped forward and the door snapped back behind him.

Luke was immediately depressed at the dismal view. Nothing is eyes befell could be deemed nonessential. It seemed pointless to occupy such a grand, lofty spire when there wasn't a single window to view it. It may as well have been a mile underground, Luke thought. No pictures. No comforts. Nothing soft. In fact, the only place to sit he could see was within the visibly-oppressive medical conditioning pressure chamber. Other than a few wicked looking contraptions of unknown applications, it entire penthouse was empty. There were a few doors, and Luke slowly explored them. He found more than one empty closet space. He found two deactivated medical droids. He was finally pleased to find a galley, but it was quickly lost when he observed it's foods, decidedly less appetizing than even Yoda's Degobeese cuisines, yet obviously necessary for his father's thankfully former condition. He decided waiting until breakfast would be alright.

He approached a cold, black display, with a row of identical lightsabers, identical apart from imperfections seemingly obtained in either mishandling or battle. Not the sort of thing one would expect from samples deserving such a careful presentation. Compared to the rest of the habitat, this was nearly artistic. He noticed each had lettering plaqued beneath. After a moment, Luke knew they were more than just words. They were names. Each saber had an unfamiliar name engraved below it. It was obvious to him this was a sort of grizzly self-award's display. These were dead foes' names. These could very well be dead Jedi. His wasn't nearly as disturbed by the presence of these prized symbols as he was the empty niches waiting and ready to accept new slayers of Luke's moral equivalents. And to think, this was only one of Vader's residencies. He reached up slowly and grabbed one at random, making a point to not look at the name. Looking back at the shameless display, he felt a tickle of second-guessing his trusting decision. He quickly diverted his attention.

He then roamed into bathing room, equipped with a lavatory, linens, toiletries, thankfully less modified than the other chambers, yet still conspicuously missing any mirrors. In fact, the entire home, if that's what it could be called, was completely devoid of reflective surfaces. Everything was just textured, just matte enough, to not cast one's reflection upon his own eyes. This was no accident. This was clearly design. In fact, this realization was so eerie to Luke, the only then realized just how out-of-body this experience was, and had been feeling as though he was his own father, unfamiliar with himself. He then, after a succession of triggering realizations, found that without any sound or frowning, his face was streaming wet with tearing heartache. It was more than he could bear to live even a confused, imaginary instant in his father's miserable, inhuman, unfeeling life.

He grabbed a black robe from the shelf, activated the hot shower, and closed the door.

15

Anakin walked through the twilight streets of Mos Espa with his hood still draped over his head. The city looked almost deserted of passersby and the odd business transaction which Anakin recalled so well. In fact, the face of the spaceport had changed dramatically since his last stop here.

As Anakin turned into the entrance of Watto's shop, he was immediately struck with almost nothing being the same as he'd remembered. It didn't even appear to be a store at all, or at least not a salvage. He was greeted by a squat humanoid, with his fingers gnarled over his sidearm.

"What do you want here?"

"I'm looking for Watto," Anakin responded, surveying the room.

"You won't find the worm here," the being snapped. "He's Gardula's. His delinquency in paying his debts landed him in bondage. I bought this shop in her auction, to my misfortune." Anakin's attention had drifted away from the storekeeper's statements. He continued anyway, "With the unrest, traffic lanes have diverted around Tatooine, leaving the spaceports without any business, which of course has caused more unrest. I'm just hoping to make enough back out of this hole and get out of here while I still can. So, what do you need?"

"Unrest?"

The store owner turned his eyes to the doorway, then back. "The revolt. They've managed to destabilize the entire planet. Slaves apparently organized an underground network and planned an uprising against their masters. Apparently they used the collapse of the empire as both a trigger and an opportunity for them and they struck in the night. I lost two slaves of my own. I'm fortunate they didn't kill me like most masters got. I suppose I treated them well enough. However, they took everything worth anything, including themselves that is. They didn't injure me too badly, considering. So, what hardware do you need?"

Anakin slowly sat down on a condenser cowling, digesting this development. It was plain to Anakin that the Force was at work here. He knew this was his moment. He calmly allowed the Force to pass over his conscience and every nuance he could discern in the fog confirmed this. However, it was difficult to know in this new unfamiliar Force, balanced in a way he'd never known. It's fingerprint he was accustomed to was gone, replaced with a newness, almost frightening to him. He couldn't recognize the Force any better than himself. He'd returned his attention to the room he was in, satisfied with the affirmation he'd sought. He noticed the storekeeper was now glaring, impatient to make a sale. He'd also realized a person entered from the rear, cautiously in the shadows. As the figure peered at Anakin, it spoke sternly to his companion. The voice rang strangely with familiarity, about the same age as himself.

"Darko? It's time to close up shop. Tell your patron to come back another time." Before the keeper could reply, Anakin's eye's widened.

"Kitster?"

The figure and the storekeeper balked, and drew blasters, but not before the saber beam had streaked from it's handle in supreme preparedness. This sent the storekeeper ducking behind the counter and activating the shutting of the front door, which darkened the room almost totally, also silencing the subsequent blaster shots from the outside. Both men fired several shots which would have proven deadly to any other target than a Jedi, but Anakin quickly dispensed with them, sending them into the walls behind the gunmen. Anakin turned his free hand to the keeper who felt a painful, invisible force wrench his blaster from the best his knuckles could offer and sent the hot pistol screaming unseen to strike the other gun from the grip of the second figure. They skid to some irretrievable corner leaving the two with mouth's agape and unable to react further.

Anakin moved calmly towards the counter and activated the lighting and returned his weapon to his belt. "I'm not your enemy." Neither man reacted. "Kitster, it's me. Anakin Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you." Kitster slowly rose from his knee. Anakin approached him and put his hand on his shoulder. "We've got work to do."

End Act I

[Annie]

Star Wars - Crusaders

By TheJediCharles

Act II



16

We'll see you there. Good night."

Liea closed the communication channel. She sat for a moment longer at the desk, then switched off the lamp and walked into the bedroom, her golden gown shimmering. Han sat in an armchair, his elbows propped, his chin resting on his fingers, thinking. Leia insisted he prepare for bed, that he cannot go any longer without a good night's rest. It was apparent he wasn't paying attention to the considerate suggestion as his reply was in a different place altogether.

"No, I'm... I'm coming too. I'll find a place out of the way. I'm not sold on Mothma's assurances, it's too unpredictable. I'll be damned if you'll be caught in the middle of something without me there."

"Han, I can take care of myself. I was attending senate meetings when we were in far more danger and with a lot less military training and without your help."

Han appeared a bit hurt, that his gallantry impulse was going unrecognized. He naturally took it the wrong way.

"Or are you just afraid your senator pals will be talking behind your back about me? That's it, you're already ashamed to be seen with me." Pouting like an adolescent, Han looked out the window, but naturally, didn't get up and leave the room like other moments which betrayed his sincerity. Leia smiled and walked over to massage his shoulders.

"Han, Han, Han. No, it isn't like that. If you want to come, you can come." She preferred the rugged, public version of Han to this vulnerable child before her, but forgave it in the light it was for her alone. He put one of his hand around her wrist.

"I just don't want anything happening to you."

"Thank you." She bent over to kiss him on the head, and realized, with a curl of her nose, he might not need to go to bed before having a bath. She prepared for another innocuous suggestion when Han spoke first, standing.

"So, what's all this stuff Luke and you are on about? Has this got anything to do with these rumors of Vader not being dead? That's all I keep hearing about. Didn't Luke report he died?"

Leia hesitated, as Han expected. "I don't know what to make of it myself. I really don't feel like talking about it. It doesn't look like Luke has given the whole truth about Vader."

"Has this got anything to do with Luke's X-Wing's departure over Coruscant? Mothma's been all over that one. She's acting like I know something about it."

Leia's eyes squinted. "What X-Wing?"

17

The storm that blew across the sunset sands had now swelled in the darkness to a full-scale sandstorm. Mos Espa, which was already a ghost town was now virtually invisible behind enough flying sand to bury it forever. R2 had no communication link in these conditions to Anakin and felt wary. He'd long since given up on the attempts to get a reply on the Lars channel he knew was fruitless for reasons other than the storm, but would blame that if asked why. He felt intolerably lonely, not encountering a single person investigating their arrival or to sell them supplies or even try to rob them, which he remembered was as natural to this settlement as it's heat. He oddly would have felt safer with a seen threat than nothing but darkness and time to imagine unseen ones. He also wished he was in Anakin's old fighter than his new Master's X-Wing which had a low enough profile to deploy himself free of his canopy. He distracted himself from his imagined dreads by computing his chances to get away with giving it a shot anyway.

Meanwhile, in the warm recessed lighting of the overhaul bay, Anakin, Kitster and Darko Valioxx discussed their aims, some common, some not. Mostly, Kister and Darko familiarized their new powerful ally with the ongoing plight of the slaves. They didn't convey a lot of confidence that another scarred old man would be that much help, despite his mysterious powers. Kitster was shifting containers from the walls while he spoke, looking for his lost sidearm.

"There was a failed attempt a few years after you left, but still being a child, I wasn't aware nor part of it. However, a four years ago, Darko approached me about joining their plans to free a small number of slaves by coordinating a ship heist which could get a small number of slaves out of here fast enough to hopefully prevent our being terminated."

"You do realize," Anakin said, hovering his sought after pistol through the Force from behind a power cabinet to Kitster's waiting hand, "that there are no bombs embedded in your bodies, don't you?"

"Now he tells us," Darko flapped, heels propped up, oiling his blaster, emanating cocky certainty of himself.

"We wish we had your knowledge here then, Anakin, "Kitster said. "It would have saved us a lot of wasted effort quelling the fears. It wasn't the actual presence of the bombs that deterred us. It was not knowing their limits, that even if we could instantly move every slave to the other side of the galaxy in a split second, we'd all be a heap of twitching flesh before we could even begin to celebrate. It would have been enough to simply know what caused their activation, but we couldn't find information. We feared they were like an invisible leash that when they lost contact with their home signal, they were allowed to blow; that staying here was the only thing that kept them from death. In such a case, our owners wouldn't even have to know we'd escaped before we were already corrected for doing so."

Anakin propped his elbows around his empty dinner plate, which came to him in almost the same state. "So, what prompted the revolt to begin?"

"Well, we'd been prepared for a fight for a long time, for more than 2 years we were secretly training. Our command structure was in place, contingency plans, and it was kept up-to-date as our conditions changed. Watto saw himself in charge of the best squad."

Anakin's head turned with a jerk, then came a grin. "Watto? Armed with a blaster?"

"You wouldn't recognize him anymore Anakin. Being a slave changed him for the better," Kister defended. "He came to know the other side of what he was a guilty participant of for so long. I hope you don't still hold a grudge against him."

"I know the feeling," Anakin identified, "and let's just say I'm in no position to pass judgment on anyone for doing me wrong."


"He proved to be far better resistance commander than a crooked businessman and slave owner. Anyway, then came the triggers. The death of Jabba and his entire court caused his remaining estate to be fought over by the Hutts. This was a dramatic shift of powers, and it almost appeared as though we'd be able to profit by their in-fighting. Then came the collapse of the Empire four nights ago. We coordinated a surveillance of obtainable transports, and while it wasn't enough for everyone, we hoped it would be enough for the survivors of what it would take to make our break. Once this was relayed over the network, the beacon was activated. Everything went like clockwork for most of the teams. However, the Hutts seemed prepared for this day, too. As two of their strongholds fell, all the Hutts evacuated to Gardulla's stronghold. We expected problems recovering slaves from there, so we had almost two thirds of our teams staged to move against it before-hand." Kister paused, and rested the weapon on the table next to Anakin. He remained silent, Anakin waiting for more.

Darko continued for him. "There was a counter-offensive. We lost contact with those teams, several hundred strong. The hutts must have captured them all. None of us believe they would have killed more than necessary. By this point, they must have realized that we realized that there were no body bombs, but to kill us would be too much of an economic loss to them. It's just," Darko said lowly, "too many of them. Too many to leave behind for too few saved."

"It's currently a stale-mate," Kitster stepped back in. "The Hutts have the obvious advantage. We as slaves are more replaceable to them than our lives are to us. However, there are just enough of us to have effectively paralyzed the entire planet's ability to operate as a spaceport. We are slowly strangling them, but only because we're distorting their impressions of just how few of us there actually are left. We need to do something fast, because I don't think our resistance can last much longer. We intercepted a transmission to Nal Hutta I don't think we managed to jam. They're afraid the Hutts have aid coming and they figure what few of us that can leave better do it now before all of this was for naught."

"What provisions," Anakin inquired, "do you have?"

Kister and Darko lead the way out the back. Anakin followed.

18

Uncertainty was converging from every direction upon the site of the original Senate building of the Old Republic. It wasn't exactly a secret what was in preparation, and the Imperial forces were on the scene. However, their orders were clear, if confused to an examined mind. However, being conditioned to be loyal over their entire existence didn't encourage such self-review. It would seem the only contingency they would go into action at all would be if provoked violently, but there was no sign of it. They did however share a largely common feeling. They felt useless. Their unturning heads were passed by scores of former Senators and their entourage, lead by armed guards, prepared, but thoroughly unthreatening, making no eye contact with the Imperials.

The building itself was clearly no longer it's former edifice. It had been reduced to a much less ceremonial design, and unimportant in function. It mostly served as barracks and living quarters for garrisons of Imperial servicemen, obviously an intentional message from the former Emperor. However, there were a number of it's great speaking halls which sat dormant and unutilized the years the Senate had been dissolved. It was one of these the Senators shamelessly and unintimidatedly moved to occupy. Tensions might have been high, but few words were spoken. Apart from the typical city noise, all that was heard was the clapping of shoes into the echoing public halls.

Despite Leia's assurance to Han of her security precautions, he still accompanied her. She supposed that her political career would have to absorb the complications of being personally involved with a prominent public enemy, but since she herself would face that anyway, she decided her love for him would take precedence if forced to choose. She just expected she'd not be forced to. She had no planet to officially represent and was really there to represent the Old Republic, and the billions of the dead. Now that Han was at her side in full view, she realized it not only wouldn't be a problem and reduction in formality, but a rightful symbol that things have changed in many ways. As a senator she may have had something to apologize for, but not as a woman in love.

As the pair moving with the multitude approached the entrance, the throng narrowed, and Han's eyes were drawn to the only face turned their direction without a white helmet on it. Luke, hood drawn, a black, commanding figure, stood to the side of the entrance. The pair stepped to the side to speak, but Leia motioned for her companion to proceed. Han was visibly put out, detecting a family tension he was excluded from. He slowly blinked and without a word, entered the doorway with the senators. Leia wasted no time. She did her best to keep her voice low, but didn't attempt to disguise her displeasure.

"Why didn't you tell me? Vader... our father is alive, isn't he." Luke looked stoic. While he didn't appear so, his mind raced, like his heart. "Who was on that X-Wing?"

"Leia, this is not a good time," Luke said, scanning the crowd. "This is a very dangerous time, and I'm ensuring the safety of the Senate."

"Luke, I must know. Now."

"Leia, please proceed. I cannot afford to divert my attention."

Leia was heartbroken. Luke had never been unreachable before. He'd never been deceptive to her. She didn't know how she kept from breaking down right then and there. What she wanted to do was grab Luke's lightsaber and whack him over the head with it. She felt like the timing and the dangerous surroundings were Luke's unfair ally, and he joined forces with it to push her away from the truth. If she so much as touched him, all hell could break loose. She turned to the entrance, paused, and said lowly, "liar.

I wish you never told me anything about us. This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but you've only told me enough to hurt me." She plod towards the moving crowd. Luke's gut burned to stop her from hurting, to stop her from walking away, but the moment was vastly too complicated.

19

The lowest chamber, beyond a hidden access, was either newly built or Anakin never knew Watto had it during his time with him. It had been modified to serve as a long-term bunker shelter, complete with stores, supplies, rations and bedding, all meager and grossly inadequate for the thirty or so besheveled individuals therein. Anakin passed eye contact over each of them. The only sound came from intermittent chatter over a transmitter, presumably tapped into Gardulla's palace, of which they were monitoring. Darko signaled to follow around a corner to a narrow, cluttered space, full of crates and racks.

"You have enough arms here for twenty-four," Anakin stated, thumbing across the rack handling a hodgepodge of rifles and long pistol blasters. "This is everything?"

The two only looked at Anakin, then each other.

"I suppose it will have to do. Is there anyone who has intimate knowledge of Gardulla's stronghold?"

"What I'd like to know," Darko snipped, "is how many other Jedi can you get here now?"

"Can we assume that since you're here, they've not all vanished after all. Can they help us?"

Anakin stilled, easing a rifle back into it's niche. "I've spent the last two decades doing little more than searching for any of them. I can assure you, sadly, they're not to be found. There's only my son, but he is detained. I'm all I can offer you."

The three were quiet. From the next room, Huttesse conversations could be barely discerned, broken fragments of anxious bargaining over aid and support separated by drowning static. The three, having no problem translating, do not like what they hear. "...ty-thousand credit for the se... ...en we'll agree to open that trade route i... ...out the eight percent tax levy eliminated we... ...e agree to those terms, however there's the matter of nine..." They knew they hadn't much time to act before the Hutts would rain on them from the heavens with all the power their wealth and greed entailed. Darko finally addressed Anakin.

"Watto was the most familiar with the layout, and his men probably had the best idea. We weren't expected to deal with that part of the campaign. The only thing we have to go on is a transmitter installed in each of the team leaders to triangulate their locations. For some reason, they haven't detected it and we're still receiving it."

"Well," Anakin stated flatly, "our only chance is clear. We must rescue Watto."

20

Lacking the sophisticated means of holding such a large gathering compared to the original Senate chamber, keeping order was difficult, especially with the community anxiety. Mothma worked to keep matters organized. She sat behind a podium upon a platform facing auditorium-style seating, totally unsuitable for this mass, however, it was the best that could be arranged. There was just enough capacity to speak over groups arguing amongst themselves loudly. Leia, and the emergency reformation committee were seated behind Mothma, as she reviewed the next priorities. They'd convene for hours now, with barely anything productive achieved. It was a discouraging sight, however, in another sense, to Leia it was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

"Until more information presents itself concerning Vader's whereabouts or he comes to address this body, the matter rests. Neither forgiveness nor persecution can be implemented against a missing person, leader or not. Article sixty-six, the formation of the war crimes tribunal, is now closed. Now, we must revisit article twenty-one, the repatriation of the Kaminoan clones. Despite the assertion they're to be relocated to their home world, of which the honorable senators fail to provide explanation as to how an oceanic world can possibly be a home to any of them, I believe this is a critical matter of civil rights that must be addressed immediately. If we're to be successful with the demobilization of the Imperial forces, we must have a more realistic solution arranged immediately. I have now a representative who speaks on behalf of these veterans which will be allowed to speak to this body. It is clear that our cooperation will pave yet another path to peace, and I expect he will be embraced as an ally."

Many senators uttered unfavorable noises as a small group of identical clones graced the platform behind Mothma. They were uniformed, but formally, with fine metal adornments, not weapons. They appeared unmoved by the hisses from the crowd, and stepped up to the podium, imperfect in stride as each were discharged by battle wounds. They, as many other original clones found themselves unwanted anywhere, the subjects of an unforgiving society and an unsupportive empire. They were unable to function as only knowing the ways of battle and the victims of a one-way loyalty. While the empire had began to incorporate various genetic templates into their production of clones, and even more so began accepting unproduced enlistees and unwilling recruits, the aging original clones were the centerpiece of a post-war social outrage. Many senators wanted them to just be pushed to the ends of the galaxy, to suffer the ills of the empire. Other's attempted to reach out to these disenfranchised souls, but had no solutions that could be sold to any society as no world would volunteer to absorb their awkward and risky population. They were an army without a home. Mothma, however, saw the golden opportunity in this matter, politically, to speed up the peace process.

Mothma was put off by the unwelcoming display of her peers. Luke stepped onto the scene, catching his scornful sister's eye. Luke was prepared to defend this group in the interests of the peace they appeared to be extending. He didn't expect they actually be harmed, but he was making a visible gesture to send an intended message. One clone stepped to the microphone, and spoke with authority.

"I am Jix Corteen. I represent the League of Kaminoan Originals, who seek your aid, as we've not found..." Interrupted by a series of loud slams, a small number of individuals stormed past unresistant doormen leading into the forum chambers. A squad of stormtroopers, in full regalia and bristling with arms, lead Moff Yarrel as he pompously allowed the troopers to carve a path for him to the podium. Gasps of dread permeated the attendees as they fell absolutely silent leaning forward in preparation for the unexpected. Mon Mothma prepared to return to the podium as she was then pushed forcefully away to the shock of her fellow senators. The troops assumed positions around the podium, and Yarrel, came to face the body as more troops could be seen filling every exit route. With arrogance beaming from his eyes of the kind that can only come with that of sudden military advancement to the top rung, he spoke.

"This has been an interesting few days, hasn't it? We tragically loose our Emperor, but as we're given our new one, we're also handed every example of contemptible resistance scum on a silver platter, right beneath the very barracks I was trained to kill them."

The only sound cutting through the echoes of the officer's voice that could be heard was the deafening hammering of horrified hearts pounding in the necks of the senators, now beginning to stand and shake, covering their hands to their mouths, and look eagerly for an available exit. Han came frantically from around some curtains searching in earnest for Leia, whom raced to his embrace. The few sentry made no move for their weapons as the tensions came to a horrific crescendo.

"Thank you for delivering yourselves to me. It would be most cooperative of you to..." Yarrel feel not only suddenly silent but conspicuously motionless, face frozen in an awkward position. He slowly resumed blinking, then looking about the crowd. His lips closed, then began speaking again.

"take your seats and forgive me, for I have a strange sense of humor. I have been sent by Lord Vader to extend you a welcoming return to session and to make an official announcement."

Thousands of confused faces twisted and sneered at the statements. The expressionless faces of troopers and clones turned to face what appeared to be a man gone publicly mad.

"As I am the standing commander of the former Imperial fleet, I formally declare a state of peace exists between the former Empire and the Alliance. Furthermore, I officially legitimize this legislative body as it's sovereign authority and will begin the process of reorganizing our command structure accordingly. May these proceedings prove productive and peaceful. A dark age is ended and with the help of the Force as our ally," a zombie-faced Moff stated as he turned to face Luke standing right behind him, his lips invisibly in sync with Yarrell's, syllable by syllable, "and the Jedi knights rejoining our governmental reform, this shall be a new beginning, a new era, a new Republic."

The halls fell silent. Luke walked forward and shook Yarrell's seemingly lifeless hand. As Luke smiled, Yarrel's face followed suit, albeit that of a puppet. They both faced the uneasy crowd as they slowly begin to applaud.

Very quietly, Luke whispered as Yarrel's weak mind succumbed in unison, "I will now depart and allow your proceedings to resume, and return to Lord Vader, who regrets he cannot attend as he's afraid that he alone will face the crimes for which we all shared in the creation of. He offers full return of your senatorial powers in exchange for his not being targeted for persecution, and the senate can now elect it's own new Chancellor as he voluntarily steps down effective immediately. His location will be revealed at a later time. Thank you for your attention."

Mon Mothma glares intently upon Luke, privately pleased with this particular intervention, but even more perplexed as to how Luke fits into the big picture as the single Jedi in what once was nearly a fourth branch of government before. She did not like being swept along by mysterious forces outside of her control. She found herself distrusting his powers, his shady distance, and his poorly hidden secrets.

Yarrel turned to the slacked, obviously disoriented troops he'd marched in with and motioned to the doors, "move along. Move along."

[Annie]

21

As a recess was called for the day, the dismissed senators emptied the complex to their waiting transportation, most in heated and passionate discussion. They resisted the urge to remain and dispersed to their respective destinations. Han lead Leia, holding her her hand in his left, keeping his pistol hand free. Obviously as confused and shaken by the day's events, he whisked her away to their waiting taxi. Han arranged for this alternative to mass transit as they'd arrived. Luke was bringing up far in the rear, unable to catch up to them. He was disappointed that they launched before he could catch them, but at least pleased they along with everyone was making successful departures. He returned inside the complex and slowly navigated the access halls, now thinning of passersby. He found a quiet, unoccupied window niche and placed his back against the wall gazing outside.

He slid downwards until he met his heels. He writhed his fist, anxious. He closed his eyes and reached into the Force. His thought expanded outwards, unfolding, illuminating. The Force yielded, took his thought and made it it's own, gave Luke thought it's own. Luke eagerly began to seek his companions from within.

"Ben, please, I need your help. Yoda, hear me." The Force, unanswering, uncomforting, flowed and ebbed about him. Luke felt lonely, abandoned, flawed. He was as a grain of sand on the dunes of home. He felt he was leading his family astray, as his Jedi forefathers, as those who counted on him to pull the Republic back out of it's grave. He received no answer.

His eyes opened and he gazed out the window. Night had since fallen, and the halls had long since been emptied. His legs were tightly cramped as he'd been there for hours, and he slowly eased himself erect. He rubbed his whisker-stubbled face and dry eyes. Just then, his communicator pinged, and he quickly activated it.

"Skywalker here." The returning signal was broken, but he could make out the sound of an X-Wing powerplant. "Come again?" All that he could detect was racket, clatter then an Artoo unit urgently chattering. The digital voice was interrupted by the sound of a primitive firearm, a brief explosion, a chilling characteristic howl then silence. "Come in. Artoo?" He checked the channel and it appears to have been received from his X-Wing, and his astromech. After being unable to establish a connection, he checked to see if he captured a recording of the message, which he had. He hurried out to the landing platform.

22

Threepio rounded the corner into the arched foyer in quick shuffle. "Oh, I hope it isn't someone coming to take me back into space."

He halted at the door, and opened it. Tilting his head, he warmly lifted his awkward arms in jubilation. "Master Luke! How wonderful to see you. Come in." Luke patted his old friend on his glimmering gold shoulder as he entered his sister's temporary residence.

"Hi, Threepio. Finally getting a chance to do what you what you were made to?"

"Oh, yes, Master Luke. How refreshing it is to be able to tend to the pleasures of humans instead of being blasted across..."

"Yes, Threepio," Luke cut in, looking about, "is Leia here?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Had a bit of business to attend to. Captain Solo is, though. Let me dispatch him, right away."

"Hold on," Luke's hand outstretched and presented his communicator to the droid's head piece. "I have something I need you to decipher for me." Luke pressed the actuator. The same sounds, including Luke's urgent attempts to communicate replayed before the jerking and excitable droid. "Oh no!" Threepio exulted, "that's Artoo! He's in danger!" At the end, Luke returned the device to his belt.

"What could you make out?" Luke asked as Han, holding a drink strolled around the corner to the pair.

"All I... I could understand," Threepio stammered, attempting to make sense of it, "was that sandpeople were trying to steal the ship and he couldn't make contact with... your father? Now, how can that be? Anyway, he sounds like he's been shot! Oh my, this is terrible." Threepio covered his temples and waddled away as Han stepped into his spot.

"You need somethin', kid?" Han asked.

"I don't know. Tell Leia I won't be able to attend tomorrow's Senate meeting, but I don't think they should expect any more trouble."

"I know, 'cause I'll be there. Hey kid, Leia's not telling me what's going on between you guys, and frankly it's irritating me. It's not that I want to know, but all I've got to tell you is, you better not hurt her." A hard stare passed between the two old friends. A challenging stare. Han took a slow sip from his drink, unblinking, and Luke sighed.

"I'll do my best, Han," Luke coldly stated, turned and left.


23

Another tray of slithering burk eels, their mucus glistening in the torchlight, was gently added to the smorgasbord. Burps, throaty gurgles and gaseous percolating issued from each Hutt, as they delighted in the feast. Eight Hutts were gathered in Gardulla's dining hall, dark and cavernous, a great assemblage of power of every sort. Slaves heeded their casting of their demands with absolute submission and humility. They required more drink, more dishes, more cuisines, and incoherent mishmash of tastes and that which could barely be called food at all. They gluttoned themselves throned upon ornate platforms, surrounded by an array of mostly living gruel. In a row, they appeared to be a beached, aquatic-life catastrophe, and it smelled about the same.

"Exquisite", praised Vomutti the Hutt, in their native tongue. Some sloppily grunted agreement, unheard under the clatter of utensils.

"This has been a meritorious venture," Galblatta boomed. "We've successfully negotiated what would become of Jabba's estate. We've successfully unified our trade interests abroad, strengthening our little world here. And stand to gain big on this deal with Nal Hutta. The pathetic slave revolt has done us a favor!" Modest hutt laughter followed.

Outside, the storm had subsided mostly in the predawn darkness. Gardulla's palace was a veritable fortress, surrounded by large, lush courtyards and luxury all surrounded by towering watch towers, battlements, and wall. From strategic positions, massive defensive guns, charged down. At regular intervals along the open wall sentry returned to their positions as the weather permitted, relaxed, their arms in their laps as they enjoyed conversation, games and refreshment. These men exhibited no sign they expected any danger at all.

Beyond the outer-most wall, scattered here and there were various supply structures, and vacant housing and landing platforms, comparatively unprotected except for the range the weapons in the stronghold provided over-head cover with ease. These structures were built into the surrounding terrain, which was rocky and the entire estate was draped across a valley floor, surrounded by low mountains, which didn't not rise higher than the stronghold's well-designed defenses.

The decomposed corpse of a Tuskin Raider, propped on it's rear, head sulking over it's empty hands momentarily caught the eye of the point ranger, initially concerned it was a fatality of the earlier raid by his allies. He returned his vision to the stronghold, and spoke over the secure bandwidth.

"Negative, on that. Tuskin."

"Roger. Keep that position," Darko ordered. Darko hunkered down, not a mile from the east face. Using his monocular, he could see three guards, off their guard, not even facing the precipice. It was the first assurance Darko had embraced. "Three." Kitster, a stone's throw away from Darko, with the remaining sum of men, coordinated.

"Seven confirmed. Charges confirmed down," Kitster relayed. He gave a few hand signals to Darko, indicating strategic information, indicated in the direction of the primary defensive weapon. After acknowledging symbols, Kitster spoke into his communicator again. "We wait for word from Skywalker."

Anakin's face became alit by the X-Wing's console, which he cruised low towards his target, now pinging on he readout.

"Great work, Artoo," Anakin congratulated. Artoo modestly bleeped back, Anakin translated. "Of course you had it in you. I never lost faith. Look, I'm not upset I couldn't find you. I thought I made myself understood that I was grateful you lifted off and saved both yourself and the ship. If I seemed upset that you took a shot to the transmission array, I didn't mean to." Artoo released a half-hearted chirp. Anakin began to test interspace communications, to no avail. Artoo indicated through the translator that those were still down. "Well, this will work for now. Thanks, Artoo."

Anakin tugged the pair of fist-sized detonators affixed to his utility belt, assuring it's not coming loose. Coming in very low, he skimmed the crevice of a valley as low as he could without loading the intakes with sand. He rounded a bend and saw his target, a recessed cluster of domed structures. The signal doubled in intensity. Anakin immediately backed off power, and opened the fighter's S-foils.

"This is it."

End Act II

[Annie]

Star Wars - Crusaders
By TheJediCharles

Act III



Part 23

Sweat dripped off the end of Watto's bulbous nose to moisten the object of his latest toil, reconditioning a power conduit for one of his master's luxury items. His old hands were still strong, though aged, heavily soiled, sore and fatigued. He muttered to himself about how he could use some help fixing it, but that was just an old habit he'd need to break. His broken spirit emanated from him. Hopelessness rotted his mind. He rummaged through the inadequate tools to find what he needed. The room he was in was dank and small, almost a closet, brimming over with oppressive numbers of projects in a queue awaiting repairs. His beard had gone gray and unmanaged whatsoever, even for Watto. He was a surrendered soul in absolute servitude.

The room he was in lead out to a large workshop occupied by a few slaves, each on their own projects. In the well-lit corner, a small number of ogrish guards, encircling a cluttered table, drinking, and gambling over a game. Watto glanced their direction and watched them enjoy themselves. He recognized the game they played, which was his favorite as well. He could tell from this distance who was going to win by evaluating their gameplay through what they called to each other. He knew he could have beaten them all. He was taken back to memories of better days. As soon as one noticed Watto was looking, Watto broke his glance and resumed working.

There came an alert on a wall-mounted communication panel. One of the guards reluctantly rose to receive it. Watto strained to listen, and heard a request to know what a bogy on their sensors was, as it was fast approaching their position. Put out, the guard hit the standby command, gave the players a grumble, and made for the staircase leading to the outside ridge.

"They have all the sensor arrays there. They should be telling ME what it is." He made bitter, irritating noise up the shaft until it became inaudible. The other players slouched awaiting his return. Watto's eyes drifted about as he thought.

Watto's face pruned up, his eyes peering towards the exterior wall to his left. Despite the broken clatter and metallic racket from a handful of his peers laboring away into the night, he could hear some unusual noise outside, a rumble. His eyes largened, and without turning his head, he peered back to the guards at the table, who seemed to begin reacting to it as well. The noise grew, and grew, into a roar in the matter of moments. The guards thrust their chairs out from behind their straightening knees. Watto reached for a heavy spanner just as a guard moved towards the communicator console. In an instant, the first guard returned from the staircase with a leap and a squeal improper to the likes of a guard to make in front of those he aims to get respect. He was airborne as flames, rock and a blast threw him away from the now vastly wider doorway. The shock sent everyone scrambling for cover, except Watto, who moved quickly into the open workshop just as most of the lighting failed. Everyone struggled to determine the presence of the engines of the attacking craft, turning their heads about to hear. The guards were clearly affected by their proximity to the blast, attempting to arm themselves. There was no heading back out the way to the roof, but the gunner could be heard firing away. Rocks and grit had finally settled, and Watto could see only two of the guards appeared coherent. He also noticed a decent size hole in the dome which he could see starlight. The guards were desperately attending the destroyed stairwell entrance, and the sound began to return. Watto made his move, flying straight up to the hole and gave them the slip, vanishing through it.

Part 24

The glowing streak zipped upwards in the cool, night air. The glass elevator came to a stop at the top of the highrise and Luke stepped through the opening doors. He saw a figure coming to his feet at the end of the narrowing corridor just outside the entrance to Vader's residence. As Luke cautiously resumed his way to the doorway, he was then able to recognize it was a Imperial clone, out of uniform, aged. He then recognized the accouterments as being that which was worn by Jix Corteen at the Senate meeting earlier. Luke hadn't the time, but if he wanted a confrontation, it would seem unavoidable since he stood right in the doorway.

"Skywalker," Jix spoke, "forgive me for coming unannounced. I knew I could find you here."

"How so?"

"I'm not a stranger to Vader. If you please, we need to talk." Luke folded his arms and stopped before him.

"I really don't have the time."

"Please sir, I think you'll be interested," Jix insisted. "I know you're looking for Vader as well. I came to determine your intentions." Luke then heard the sounds of feet and sidearms from behind him. Several silhouettes emerged from dark niches on both sides of the elevator doors. "Your honest intentions."

"I'm as interested to know your intentions," Luke retorted, unflinching.

"I represent those who find themselves at odds with everything, including the Empire, except a leader who has never failed them. We're loyal to Vader, unconditionally. I suspect you know where he might be, having access to his private property. In fact, we're a bit concerned you might have something to do with his disappearance." The figures slowly closed in behind Luke. Luke could detect six of them, fearless, disciplined and prepared. Luke's concern grew.

"Where is he... Jedi?"

Part 25

Anakin's piloting and the X-Wing's design limits were being stretched to their limits as he came around for another pass at the structure. The main defensive weapon, a formidable anti-spacecraft turbolaser installation, was at least affected by his initial pass, rendering one of the operators incapacitated. However, the remainder held his post and fired relentlessly, his tracking closing in with every flash of the lasers. Anakin struggled to compensate. Anakin completed the X-Wing's vast circle and homed in on his target once again, weaving and jerking hoping to confuse it's aim against him.

"Artoo, shields double-front," Anakin issued. The Astromech complied, and not a moment too soon as a blast found it's mark with a flash and shudder. Anakin scrambled to regain control as the X-Wing's course arced to port. Anakin observed damage to the upper wing which threatened to be ripped away totally. He was forced to close the S-foils to reduce the risk of loosing the wing from whipping winds. Artoo beeped and sirened.

"I don't know Artoo," Anakin replied harshly. "Maybe I'll turn upside down and drop a manually detached droid on him. Unless you have a suggestion instead of stating the obvious." Artoo silenced, but the gunner ahead did not as the X-Wing, now unable to fire, barreled forward, even less maneuverable than before. Anakin's mind raced for a new plan. He knew he had no blind spot to take advantage of, save perhaps within a few feet from the structure's base which he could not expect to reach, slow and land without being torched, no overkill weapon that wouldn't kill everyone within, slaves included, as the proton torpedoes would do. He had little choice but to get in closer and seek a weakness, or try to use the Force against his target, a nearly impossible feat.

The gunner could detect the craft's wing's close and chuckled at his quarry's desperation. He fired away, unintimidated and delighted with his luck. His targeting computer signaled an optimum aiming crosshair and he answered, knowing the end was near. Knowing his next projectiles would finish off his target, he grimaced and boasted.

"I have you know."

With a crack to his insufficiently protective headpiece, the gunner slumped over his controls and the weapon fell silent, apart from it's converters and cooling apparatus. Behind his unconscious bulk levitated a pleased toydarian and his very hard spanner who then took cover for fear of becoming his unknown ally's inadvertent target.

Anakin detected something preventing the defenses from operating. Despite Artoo's enthusiasm, he reserved his pointing this out to Anakin. Anakin did notice, and not wasting a moment, raced as fast as the reduced airflow could yield to the base of the building. Artoo indicated the communications were down again as the craft was brought down hard upon the sands.

Anakin stood in the open cockpit and squinted his eyes from the punishing sands. He ignited his son's saber, just as two guards rounded the corner and leveled their arms at his person. After the first bolts grazed his head and tore a hole through the windscreen, he summoned the Force to lift him up and out in a flash and land against the course wall of the building, with no more protection than he had before, but at least the X-Wing would not be damaged any further. Anakin lifted his free hand and suddenly both guards struggled for a breath. They gaged and wheezed, but Anakin mercifully only rendered them unconscious and eased them backwards and freed their airways as soon as they each drooped silent. Anakin returned the deactivated hilt under his cloak as the wind carried away the aromatic evidence of the firefight and glassed sand.

Without missing a beat, Anakin ran to a safe distance from the X-Wing along the wall, his hand turned outwards sensing the layout within as best as the conditions would permit. He found what he felt was an optimum location, reached under his garment and removed the safety from the explosive. He slapped it to the surface then vanished into the shadows further along the distance of the wall. Just then, Watto peered over the ledge, nearer the X-Wing, seeking the missing pilot. As he drew nearer the ledge, the explosive ferociously detonated, throwing rubble and rebar skyward and Watto back to the ceiling for cover. By the time, he had the nerve to look again, now wielding the gunner's sidearm, through the dusty air, he found only footprints through the breach.

Part 26

Swirling, ebbing vortexes of light and time swirled around the next generation Tie interceptor as it slipped through hyperspace towards it's destination. It was evidently a very new, experimental design, perhaps an actual prototype model. Much of the instrumentation panel had gaps awaiting further installations, perhaps still in development. Luke saw that Vader was very much hands-on with the Empire's cutting-edge of military technology, and wasn't intimidated to embrace unproven craft. The flat-panel design allowed for a vastly improved field of view, making it a better challenge in a dogfight, as well as atmospheric combat. Luke had yet another reason to rejoice that the war was over.

Luke was almost over-whelmed with the state-of-the-art capabilities, but managed to decipher many of the vessel's capabilities. He had made several attempts to contact his X-Wing on the desert world ahead, but to no avail. He began exploring it's radically advanced sensing technologies in an effort to see if it would aid him in his search. He knew only his father was likely in trouble, but not where he was exactly or what to expect. With each passing moment, he became more and more familiar with the craft, but would have preferred a walk-through from it's primary user.

The nav-computer indicated the planet's range was closing fast as Luke began unraveling the arsenal and array of weaponry it had to offer. He realized how much he relied upon Artoo more than ever.

Behind Luke, in one of the two, cramped, retractable passenger seats sat Jix, arms folded, eyes distrusting. His weapon was holstered, however the strap to his pistol dangled open, ready for quick deployment. He made no effort to assist Luke in the use of the Tie, nor spoke a word.

Luke regretted Jix was no fool nor weak-minded. However, he had no other choice, and in fact felt fortunate to have coerced coming this far despite his interference.

[Annie]

Part 27

A few faint voices of slaves issued a surrender through the darkness to the unknown figure in their midst. Anakin could see a handful of guards bound and gaged back-to-back, leering at him with fear. Anakin bluntly replied, "where is Watto?"

"Annie," the familiar, gruff voice returned, however, from behind Anakin, surprising him. He turned to see the little, blue figure nested in the hole he'd just passed through. "Is that you?"

"No, it's not. It's Anakin," he corrected. "How did you get out there?" Watto pointed at the hole in the dome. Anakin looked down at his single remaining explosive. "I wish I knew that earlier."

"Why are you here?"

"Doing what should have been done long ago." Anakin turned to Watto's fellow slaves, now emerging slowly from their respective defensive positions, armed with the guard's arsenal. "Are all of them accounted for?"

"Yes," one emphatically stated. The sound of a communication's request was sounding off annoyingly. Anakin made his way across the rubble towards the console. The same individual then asked, "what do we do now?"

"I can't get you our of here yet. There are two more outside. Go deal with them." Anakin answered the hail. A miniature hologram of a bulbous Hutt head appeared before Anakin, and vice versa. Gardulla became clearly enraged at the visage before her. She began demanding answers.

"Who are you?"

Anakin actually recognized the ugly being, and addressed her by name. "Greetings Gardulla. I'm Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend of all your former slaves. I'm announcing that from this moment forward, all..." The Hutt interrupted him harshly.

"We haven't the patience any longer. This revolt will end tonight, at whatever cost. It will be easier replacing every single slave than deal with loosing any more business. Surrender immediately. Until you turn yourself over, we will kill fifty slaves every hour until you do, beginning... an hour ago."

Anakin was unable to conceal his aghast. "I warn you against such acts of desperation. Your reign has ended. This..." Cutting Anakin off yet again, Gardulla slammed her fist on a tray of food.

"You think we didn't know about that slimo's signal? It was I who allowed the insurgents to know the location of their pitiful little leader. Do you think I would be foolish enough to let keep all of them together without protection?" She signaled for several slaves to be brought before her. "Keep this link open, Jedi, and you shall enjoy watching them die with me."

Anakin closed the signal, knowing nothing fruitful could be expected. He turned to the handful of deeply frightened slaves. "Is there any functioning transportation here?" One of the slaves pointed to a closed garage door.

"Only enough for one, though," he said.

Anakin turned to Watto, and handed him a flat metal sheet he found on a work surface. "Follow me, Watto." The two headed back through to his X-Wing.

"Hop in, Watto. Your command is awaiting you at Gardulla's stronghold. Tell them what's happening as we have no time to loose. You'll need that to plug up that windshield." Anakin hollered up to the droid. "Artoo, take Watto as close as you can get to Kitster's signal without being detected. As soon as you get there Watto, tell Kitster to deactivate all transmissions, as they're being detected."

Watto's reaction was of no confidence. "They know we're coming? We didn't manage to take it when they DIDN'T know we were, and with a small army. Who's going to help us?"

Anakin gave Watto a quick, blank glare. The reality slowly penetrated into Watto's old, stubborn head. He rubbed his palm over his forehead. He grinned.

"Well, I'd rather die by your side than live another day as a slave. And you always were good at fixing things."

"Tell them to wait for me first. They'll know when to strike." Anakin dashed back into the complex as Watto flew up and began jostling the metal under the lip holding the damaged windscreen in place. Artoo revved the engines for takeoff.

Part 28

Kitster looked to his timepiece to confirm if Anakin was running as far over-due as it felt. He winced at the unexpected view of Watto coming over the rocks at his prone feet, in quiet flight.

"Watto!" Kister whispered, with the rest now noticing his arrival. After a brief, warm reception amongst those who've shared much misery together, they huddled down to speak quietly. Kister signaled his turning command over to the rightful leader.

"Turn off all persistent transmissions now," Watto ordered, winded from his long journey from the landing site to his comrades. "They've already detected them."

"They know we're coming? We have to abort," Darko responded. "How would it matter if we continue to transmit now anyway?"

"We have a bigger problem," Watto interjected. "The Hutts told Anakin they're executing all the captives right now. They expect us to turn ourselves over, but they're eliminating them anyway." The make-shift soldiers exchanged looks of dismay and shock. They each turned their heads to the complex and appeared ready to move in at that instant. Watto attempted to reclaim their attention. "No, wait, Anakin wants us to wait until he makes his move first."

"Wait?" Kitster asked perturbed. "Who is he to decide? How many slaves are going to die while we wait?"

"Without our succeeding, all will die! You must restrain yourselves. We cannot afford to let them goad us out of our heads." Kister turned a defiant expression back at Watto.

"If you can sit here and let them die in there, you'll have to do it alone. With any luck, you'll be the only coward left alive." Kitster turned to begin his advance just as the sound of a blaster pistol clacked to readiness behind him. His eyes widened and turned his head about to find Watto targeting him in the face. The reaction from the ones who witnessed it were mixed, yet continued to remain totally silent.

"Are you sure you wish to lose your head?" Watto gravely warned, "moving in now will save noone. I share your compassion, but as long as I'm in command, I will settle for no less than saving as many lives as possible. Everyone will stay right where you are until we get our signal."

Kitster's defiance was contained, but not quenched. Just before they had a chance to wonder what would happen next, the sound of all manner of weapons began to unload, lighting the valley surfaces with a brilliant, rainbow-colored firework display. The echoing of blasts emerged from every direction surrounding Watto's valiant patriots. The direction of fire was perpendicular to their position, from the stronghold toward the service warehouse which Watto had just escaped, Anakin's last known position. The noise drowned out the engines of a craft, skimming the surface and zipping about wildly, vastly more abruptly than the defenses of stronghold could handle, screaming towards it. Watto, relishing in the moment, began to cheer, knowing in the chaos he was no danger of being heard nor seen.

"Go, Anakin! Yea!"

The rest of his men came to attention to make out what the craft was, only able to make out a faint pink glow. As it drew closer, the passing bolts, powerful enough to take down a heavy freighter with ease, missing with what seemed to be pathetic inaccuracy, now served to illuminate the target for all to behold. Anakin was in full control of the situation and his original pod racer, as he opened the throttle up full and performed insane stunts, barely missing blurring terrain. He only momentarily straightened up the course long enough to use one hand to loosen his last explosive from his belt. The defenders scrambled about their posts, desperately firing anything and everything, even down to small arms, knowing full well that they'd been compromised by the simplest of tactics. Within what seemed like an instant, Anakin had the pod upon the massive palace, turning about, and seeming to the defenders to have merely blown past them overhead to prove that he could do it. They froze, looking the opposite direction now, as the racer was already invisible again, their weapons useless even if they could have turned around rapidly enough. They each looked to one another in amazement, and just as they thought to chuckle at the unbelievable experience, the lower wall was awash in flames and airborne wall fragments as well-planted detonator created a vast breach, sending a handful of Hutt conscripts out of their shoes.

Growls and anger filled the air as the stronghold defenders took what action they could conjure up to deal with the undeniable success against the structure. Most of them that weren't required to man the large guns fled to make their way down to the lower levels and to the unanticipated opening below. They all failed to notice the pod racer's return to the vicinity, very distant, making a large circle to return to the same side that was gaping in exposed opening. Just as the first gunners were alerted to the assailant's position and continuing threat, it was a fleeting gesture to try and take it down, though they gave it their all.

Watto, Kitster, Darko and the squads were spellbound by the spectacle, almost unaware of themselves, unaware of their slight grins. Anakin dodged the lumbering tracking with ease, yet prepared for an impossible maneuver. Adjusting and twisting every bit of the way, Anakin zeroed in on the breach itself, and at the last possible instant, not seeming to allow for avoiding a suicidal collision with the building, he fanned blades and reversed power, feeling the very disruption of passing blast bolts narrowly missing his person all the way. Anakin gripped the controls, and released an inaudible wail of excitement as though he was living his last, then, despite decelerating as design allowed, still flying at break-neck speed, the pod was instantly swallowed up into the black, smoldering hole. Kitster actually gasped as he turned to Watto. Everyone's perked ears perceived weak, muffled rumblings from within, then silence. All was now gravely still.

Watto gathered himself together, blinked, then stiffened his brow. Clenching his weapon he broke the silence.

"Let's Move!"

[Annie]

Part 29


The Tie whined as it exited hyperspace. As soon as normal space, stars and the dingy planet appeared, a signal prompted for Luke's attention. It was the sophisticated communication instrumentation, indicating that an emergency code had just begun being transmitted. Luke quickly activated it, and heard a frantic plea in Huttese to respond to their aid, that they were under attack. Luke initiated the jamming sequence, and felt assured he was the only one that was going to have received it off the surface. He also was relieved to have a fix on the transmission's origin, and locked it into his waypoint, and began piloting to it. He slowly turned his head about to face Jix, to determine his reaction, which was stoic and inert. He moved only to speak silently into a wrist communicator.

Luke's disapproval swelled.

Part 30

Anakin's mechanical feet landed on the soil with a thud, unshaken like his biological form was, by the hard landing. Behind him lay the wrecked, compressed pod and engines at the end of a breathtakingly short gouge in the long, empty storage bay in which the dust had not yet settled. Dazed, bracing himself against the wreckage, he removed his saber from it's attachment and quickly gathered his bearings. He finished coming to as he heard voices and approaching persons, from more than one corridor leading to the bay. With a jerk and the dim lighting as his ally, he sped away on foot, and leapt to a catwalk above beyond the reach of any normal human. After using the Force to whip up the soil below, disguising his tracks, he then scurried down it's narrow length into a neighboring utility area and began following the large energy conduits on the ceiling to their point of origin. Hutt's henchmen arrived on the scene, and began examining the wrecked speeder, finding the mangled dead body of an occupant, not recognizing him, but instead thinking their foe had met his radical end. Just as they began to chuckle at his apparent insanity, they took a short breath at the sound of the upper level guns sounding again, and they bolted to the breach to see what they were firing upon.

Watto's men charged fully within range of the deadly arsenal. There was not enough terrain to obscure their approach, not that it would matter to hide behind anything as the guns could easily blow through the most massive of boulders to kill anyone squatting on the other side, which is what already happened to two of Kister's companions. They hadn't a moment to shirk, and the sped onwards, facing the impossible wall of projectiles. They reached the last leg of the distance when noticed ahead there was nothing but a quarter of a mile of perfectly flat land, not a raised surface at all, nothing whatsoever to protect them from being cut down. Not a single man hesitated as he stormed into full vulnerability together. The gunner above relished in the slaughter to come, took aim and pulled his trigger.

Nothing.

One by one, every single gun platform fell dead silent. Nothing could be heard receiving power at all. They each looked to each other for an answer, desperate for their weapons to respond under power, but each gun dropped on it's pivot, nose down, dead.

Anakin approached the last power relay junction, and split it wide open with his saber, gutting the very heart out of Gardulla's stronghold defenses. Everything grew absolutely black, as the once self-sustaining settlement was now without any power at all. No communication. No weapons except what they carry. No sensors. Nothing.

Anakin proceeded in a new direction, into a low, narrow passage, emitting a dim glow and faint cluster of raised voices.

At the void in the exterior wall of Anakin's creation, Watto's force converged, firing at will at the resistance within returning the same. As casualties mounted on both sides, the inner defenses began to collapse as being outnumbered more than sheltered. They couldn't stop themselves but to make the mistake in falling back into the bay as the only option since they couldn't so much as protrude a weapon without it being targeted lethally. They instead sought out the safety of numbers, retreating into the halls and catacombs of the stronghold, desperate to find their equally confused and disoriented allies.

Kitster and Watto sensed they had their enemy on the run. They had chaos on their side. They smelled a chance for victory for the first time and knew their enemy was stuck in a situation they'd developed no game plan for. They had them exactly where the wanted them, and Watto knew exactly which way to go once they were inside, and that's exactly where they went, unloading in a frenzy all the way. As they were entering the den of the beast, still greater in strength and numbers, and as nothing was more dangerous than a wounded and cornered animal, there was still no room for error, or delay. Watto stood up to the challenge, and urged his command decisively forward.


Part 31

The Hutts were enraged, panicked, disoriented, powerless, everything the were unfamiliar with feeling in their posh, sheltered existence. In the dim amber emergency lighting which had never been used before, the found themselves a unable to get satisfactory results from their every demand. They may as well have insisted that the humans have pulled the moons down from the sky as anything else, as nothing was likely to be fulfilled. The guards who found their way into the dining hall with them were beginning to be more afraid of the attackers and their unknown limitations than that of their abusive masters and began to behave as such, tuning out their hysterical trumpeting for satisfaction as they concentrated instead on defending themselves the way they each thought best. One Hutt was convinced he heard one human actually tell him to shut up. The Hutts fury began to turn on themselves, as they began to blame each other for the situation, and Gardulla for not getting a response to the Hutt reinforcements she supposedly bargained for expected from Nal Hutta. It was a pathetic display of aristocracy thrust into a very harsh reality.

In this scene suddenly dropped a Jedi, saber in full glory, landing solidly upon the festering dining centerpiece through a decorative niche in the ceiling. Every fearsome eye beheld him and knew their doom.

Part 32

Mon Mothma and Leia sat near each other, both physically and spiritually. Han kept himself occupied, as he'd been doing a lot of lately, getting used to the background Senator's loved ones often found themselves, as he was not taking a shine to, but accepting. He didn't relish in anything that to him felt like gossip, so he relaxed in an adjacent room, tooling with an idle project quietly. Leia continued along the discussion she and Mothma had been having.

"So in that case, what exactly do we have to deal with the courts considering the Senate an illegal body?"

Mothma conveyed absolute confidence. "We will make it legal."

"Very well," Leia stated, somewhat dismayed, still green in the arts of political maneuvering relative to her mentor. She could tell Mothma was interested in another discussion, and that's exactly where it went.

"I've just received contact from Jix Corteen. He states your brother has located your father and is preparing to escort him back here.. He is apparently participating in something of a personal crusade on an obscure frontier world."

"What? How can that be true?"

"Corteen is accompanying Luke personally. You see, he and I had a meeting, and we have similar needs from a similar person, his veterans seek Vader for reasons of loyalty, I Anakin for reasons of justice. We discussed the matter and I entrusted him to get the answers we both seek through Luke. I authorized him using, shall we say, more persuasive means. He made contact and checked in with me to describe his success so far. He managed to make an agreement with Luke. Luke would agree to take him alone along on a pressing journey to help Vader, then return together keeping Jix in the know concerning his whereabouts and personal safety. Jix would in turn assure his participation in protecting both Vader and Luke, and assure in every way he could legitimize the full return of the Jedi as the Senate's rightful keeper's of the peace, if Vader agrees."

Leia was intrigued. "Exactly what did he say this 'crusade' entailed?" Mothma smiled, and shone an expression of promise and satisfaction. She shared the knowledge with Leia.

"Apparently, as we speak, your father, Vader as Jix knows him, is freeing an entire planet's population of slaves. Luke assures that he has every intention of surrendering himself to our sovereignty once his work is complete. Your father, Anakin I mean, is quite the champion."

Leia's face smoothed, her eyes stared at her trusted friend. She had finally been introduced to and come to know her true father. The image of her former, bitter enemy held in her heart most of her life cracked down the middle, and bled.

"Mothma," she said in a new voice, soft and warm, "we... we have to save him."

Mothma smiled. Her face radiated positivity which Leia welcomed. "Yes, my child. We must."

Part 33

All of the Hutts wailed in dismay, some pleading for mercy, some still defiant, one openly crying like a baby. The handful of guards leveled their weapons at Anakin, displaying his saber menacingly, unintimidated. However, none of them fired. They awaited something unknown. They frankly didn't know what to do. Soon, the firefight between the insurgents and the Hutt's defenders drew so near, the flashes could be seen down the main entrance. Anakin turned his thin gaze towards Gardulla, his face underlit by green laserlight, a ghoulish, fearsome sight.

"You will release everyone you hold captive everywhere this instant, or you'll all be cut down where you lay, one every minute starting... a minute ago."

Instantly, every Hutt pleaded for Gardulla to comply, some even speaking for her claiming it would be done. Anakin tuned them all out and probed for Gardulla's response, to which there came none. She held up her short arm to silence her gangster peers and they slowly cooperated, reducing the noise to only the combat outside in the halls, and Anakin's son's saber resonance. The standoff seemed to last for eternity. Then Gardulla coolly responded.

"Is becoming of a Jedi to resort to hostage-taking? Threats of execution?"

"No," Anakin threw back at her. "A Jedi would be the only one trustworthy enough to restrain a mob of blood-thirsty slaves bent on murdering the sum of their masters to their own end... IF he knew he'd been given a satisfactory surrender... in time."

The Hutts were squirming with anxiety and panic, desperate for there to be a break in the deadlock. Suddenly, a Hutt pulled a hidden blaster and quickly fired at the Jedi, to which he managed to deflect away, but was not as fortunate against the hail of fire that came from the guards in unison. He expertly dispensed with the initial blasts, but in an instant found himself disarmed as his saber was dislodged from his damaged grip and sailed across the chambers to land at Gardulla's belly. More than one blast collided with Anakin's jolting body. Anakin cried out then crumpled to the floor in an heap, as the guards were forced to turn their guns towards the entrance which was now occupied by Watto's forces. Several bolts were managing to penetrate into the chamber, striking various surfaces at random.

Gardulla, unfazed by the battle in her midst and the Hutts attempting escape through other exits to no avail, slid forward to pick up the Jedi's lost weapon, held it fast and activated it. She inched forward with the blade extended towards Anakin who was semi-conscious, but unaware of his surroundings. Her laughter gurgled through her throat as she propelled herself forward, delighting in the moment. Anakin rolled to his back, his arms wrenched and malfunctioning as he managed to open one helpless eye to unsuccessfully interpret what loomed over him. Gardulla lifted the saber to full height and the sound of a saber swing and slash, and a scream filled the room. Gardulla's lumbering bulk unloaded it's gory core as she'd been opened up from behind by a crimson red saber blade, and the one in her hand self-deactivated and rolled harmlessly over Anakin's chest. The quivering body of the Hutt rolled back out of the view of a son's quick examination of his father's state, was satisfied as to his condition for the moment, and then charged headlong at the guards from behind, needing not to take a single life to get the point across that it was over. The guards dropped their weapons and surrendered. The Hutts had no resistance to offer anyway, and as such began to grovel, plead and bribe in every direction as Kitster, Watto and party entered the chambers and took charge.

As the personel began gathering weapons, Watto and Kitster hurried over Anakin to see his condition and determined that not only had taken all the hits to his limbs, that his limbs in fact were not human, and they were again shocked. Watto brushed the Jedi's chest and asked, "how much of you in there IS Anakin?"

Anakin grinned, but his son stepped forward to answer in his stead.

"All of him. Every bit."

Jix Corteen came on the scene stepping through the same tight entrance in the rear of the room that Luke had come through, looked down at Anakin, winced, then looked to Luke for a suggested confirmation. Luke gave a small nod. Jix looked back down to his Lord Vader. He stepped forward and kneeled beside him.

"Lord Vader, are you alright?"

Anakin's eyes opened almost fully as he turned his head and spoke.

"That name no longer has any meaning for me. I am Anakin Skywalker."

"Very well, M'Lord." Jix looked about at the scene and the organized chaos shaping about them, and Anakin mustering the control to right himself. "A little outside our jurisdiction, aren't we?"

"Yes, Commander," Anakin replied. "Both of us." Jix broke a smile.

Luke stepped in, "make that all of us."

Watto turned his angry eyes towards the remaining Hutts. "no, make that all of THEM." Every eye turned towards Watto as he lifted himself above all in the room. "As of this moment, every one of you Hutts are banished from this world. As soon as your ship arrives from Nal Hutta, you will board them and return to that world. We reclaim this world from your criminal influence, your evil rule, and your cruel tyranny. And, bring word of this day to your fellow scum on Nal Hutta. This will not be the last of slaves freeing themselves. In fact, we're going to push slavery off the ends of the galaxy!" Watto pulled his blaster from under his belt and aimed at the feigning and whimpering Hutts. "GO!" The Hutts were usher down the hall by taunting voice and jabbing rifle.

Luke completed Anakin's rise to his feet, Jix took a few steps back giving a respectful personal space for father and son. Luke patted his father on the shoulder. They shared a grin.

"I'm ready son." Luke knew exactly the extend of what Anakin meant concerning his readiness. He broke not his prideful stare as his father continued quietly and directly. "My life is complete. I'm ready to face judgment. And, thank you."

Luke felt something pressing into his stomach, as he looked to find his father returning his saber. Luke reached out to take it, and returned his father's to him.

Part 34

R2 completed his sealing the windscreen into the X-Wing and began carrying himself down the length of the craft using his jet lifts into his roost, then dropped into position. Luke was satisfied with the work and thanked the droid for the great job. Anakin had finished his rounds of goodbyes to his Tatooine comrades. The Hutts were gone, and despite having a threatening armada from their world of origin, there was nothing offered to challenge the turning over of the planet from Hutt hands.

"I wouldn't be concerned about that," Anakin assured the gathering, with Watto, Kitster and Darko. "I think the world is in good hands for now and contact Leia Organa in the Senate as soon as you've considered admission fully. I do believe that this world will not only be civilized, it stands to be a great inclusion in the Republic. Just give the process time. It will work out."

Kitster patted his blue friend on the back. "We have a strong leader in him. I know."

"We'll contact you if we need your help," Watto said as he backed away from the two starting spacecraft. Anakin looked his way, but offered no reply. Anakin and Jix entered the Tie as Luke climbed into the cockpit.

In short order, both ships were in the skies, and space and on their way back to the bright center of the universe.


Part 35

Luke and Anakin strode into the vast hall of the former Senate underground and was received by a company Alliance sentry. Quickly, upon signal from Luke, they saw themselves out leaving the Jedi to see themselves past the security checkpoint. The Jedi walked directly to a beautiful, broad and shallow staircase to a landing which was sparse of furniture and awash with ambient lighting. Seated patiently adjacent to a Imperial clone, Mon Mothma, smiled and motioned for the Jedi to join her with a graceful passing of her hand over the neighboring seats centrally positioned within the chamber. The Jedi approached her, bowed respectfully, and Luke introduced his father. The clone stood immediately, with military honor, but refrained from speaking.

"Mon Mothma, may I introduce you to my father, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Master," Luke announced. Mothma acknowledged with a regal nod, however conspicuously electing to not stand.

"Anakin, my I introduce Jix Corteen, liaison to the clone brotherhood, a lobby group looking to secure the rights of the clones and their patriation." The Jedi turned to Jix and gave a nod. Jix, centering his attention upon Anakin, gave a nearly inaudible response.

"M' Lord." Both Jedi's expressions drew blank, Luke's turning with a small jerk, eyeing the clone. A cloud of awkward silence blanked the room. Mothma recaptured the standing men into the need to proceed.

"Please, be seated," she offered. "We have much to discuss." Luke was not surprised nor reactive to the bluntness, and was actually grateful for getting this far. Anakin gave a gentle grin, then both Jedi took a seat. "The Senate's legitimacy has been ratified by the standing courts. Tomorrow we begin to vote in a new Supreme Chancellor. Thankfully, as the Majority Speaker, I'm ineligible. However, once this is complete, doubtlessly the first acts will be the formation of military tribunals." Mothma hesitated and looked into Anakin's eyes. "The desire to see heads roll are deep and unstoppable. I have no desire to see our fledgling Jedi Order being restored with any greater a disadvantage than it's already facing."

"Madame Speaker," Luke replied, "we're grateful for your support and concern. It's my assertion that my father can be acquitted on the basis of..." Mothma interrupted Luke.

"Commander Skywalker, I assure you that your father will not survive a military tribunal." Mothma turned her head to Anakin. "You have an ally in me, Anakin, but only because of your son's faith, of whom we owe everything to. However, expecting understanding from the trials is suicide. I have... an alternative."

Luke, visibly frustrated, restrained his wish to pursue his interests further, yielded to Mon Mothma's experience. Anakin was unshaken and silent. Mothma stood and walked slowly away from her seat. She clearly preferred against what she prepared to suggest, then continued without facing the Skywalkers.

"It would be much easier for me to explain that you'd vanished from our opportunity to bring you before the GMT than for me to see you defended to the fullest many feel you deserve." Luke gripped his seat's armrest.

"Are you suggesting my father go into exile?" Luke's voice was almost raised, and Anakin's hand placed upon his son's other hand offered as much comfort as it could. Anakin communicated a thought perceived by Luke to be an insistence to hear Mothma out. Mothma turned to Anakin, expecting a more realistic tolerance to her suggestion.

"You needn't construe that it be exile, because your abilities are needed as much outside the sovereignty of the Republic as much as it once was within it. I beg you, Anakin, go. Here, you'll only pay the price for what I agree wasn't your fault, and I'll be forced to do it. But, in countless deserving worlds, you'll be able to live out a never-exhausting purpose. Don't allow yourself to die here, an empty, unfulfilled death to service the lower Senate's need to cast blame elsewhere. Let not Tatooine be a sole example when there are countless more which need the same help. Anakin, you could pave the way for those worlds becoming not only civilized, but condition them as future respectable members of the Republic. If you wish to continue to serve the Republic, I cannot think of a better way for you to do so than that.

"In fact, there's many original clones who's patriation is equally as complicated, and have expressed a continued loyalty to you and moral outrage of their creation, purpose and treatment, and lukewarm reception from the reformed Senate, and would gladly follow you in a meaningful, life-long quest, on the expanding and bleeding edge of the New Republic. You can ensure it being one just and free. Who better to lead this than you? A former slave, leading clones born in servitude?

"I will do my best to legitimize your mission in the eyes of the Senate, after it's begun and become known to them, which will be much easier a task. Your Tatooine campaign will doubtlessly be interpreted an undeniable accomplishment. I can at least assure your unimpeded allowance to do what you see fit outside our jurisdiction."

Despite the scope of Mothma's offer, Anakin felt remarkably at peace with the possibilities when considering it. In fact, he was drawn into it. Jix took the silence as an opportunity to speak up, with all the confidence of a military veteran and commander.

"You're still our commander, as far as my men are concerned. I've come to know more about you, and that you understand what it means to live without liberty. We feel no loyalty to the Republic, nor disfavor. We only feel outrage to our having been denied freedom on a very basic living level, as I believe you can understand as well as we. I ask that you take this on with us together, and allow us to give our lives the greatest meaning possible, and let us fight slavery and injustice in the outer frontier worlds. We trust nobody with this more than you. Let us not waste our time in political upheaval and authoritarian tribunals for years to come. Our kind can never be expected to be accepted here. Let us fight the good fight."

Luke, now slightly trembling, calmly turned to his father who was clearly not rejecting the notion, and asked, "a fugitive, father? Is that how you wish to live out the rest of your days?"

Mothma, answering for a silent, pensive Anakin, offered, "all I'm saying is weighing the two best possible outcomes, we need you more as a fugitive on frontier worlds leading a continued crusade against injustice and slavery than we need you here as a legally exonerated Jedi who never manages to be understood or forgiven and is rendered impotent and irrelevant in his inability to be entrusted to carry out justice."

Jix stands abruptly. "Your men stand ready now. What shall I tell them?"

[Annie]

Part 36

Leia and Han sat comfortably on an ornate couch facing a large, open window, soothed with the late evening city light and passing traffic lanes. Leia's back rested against Han, her bare toes tucked between the cushions. They each held warm drinks, and nourished themselves on the peace of the unspoken moment. Leia pulled the goblet from her lips at the sound of the door chime. She stood on the unpleasantly cold floor to proceed to the foyer, Han visibly displeased with the moment lost. She pulled her robe over her sheer gown as she rounded the corner to the door, activating it. With a whoosh of it's answer, she stood looking at Luke and Anakin.

The three stood motionless for a moment, and the moment grew.

"Leia," Luke said softly, "I'd like you to meet your father, Anakin."

Her father smiled slightly, bringing his shoulders in, looking almost like a child meeting a mysterious relative. Nobody knew how to begin to react. Anakin gingerly lifted his fingers from his side, meekly waving, then gently speaking.

"You're as beautiful as an angel."

Leia reacted slowly, not of expression, but of mere movement towards him, met her ear to his chest, then gently hugged him.

She closed her eyes. The moment was poignant, yet still strained and reserved. But mostly, it was sincere, and the family appreciated that as one.

Luke kept his distance for a time, then with a touch and an upturned palm, encouraged them to enter the door.

Part 37

The family had been seated together for a short time, sharing refreshments and several attempts to begin a constructive conversation, but it never really began. Luke had caught Leia up on the meeting with Mothma, and it was the most profitable suggestion to discuss, as at least the two siblings began exchanging their views on their father's fate and what each thought was the right thing to do. Neither seemed to gather too much of their father's attention who seemed distant, in deep, private consideration. When Anakin began to share his thoughts, it was apparent he wasn't conversing as much as conveying what he clearly had made his mind up about and was just sharing the product with his children.

"As a servant of the empire," he started, staring at the table top, "I had dealings with exploratory programs aimed at the maximum expansion of it's control into worlds that were not only outside the empire's domain, but even the former Republic's. There are seemingly limitless numbers of populated frontier worlds which have had little to no outside contact, and many of which were saturated in evil, injustice and oppression that made the empire seem like a flawless utopia. Now, the Jedi had stood long before the Republic, or any such galactic body, and served their individual views of what best represented justice and peace. I don't see why anyone must view myself any less serving the Lightside of the Force to continue to apply myself where best, on the countless worlds in just as much need, but not despite the lack of centralized government, but because of it. The Jedi didn't require the approval or even existence of the Republic to function for thousands of years before, why now? We not only don't require it, but injustice is actually even more rampant outside the Republic's influence. Frankly, not only are the Jedi needed there as well, but moreso. Likewise, the Jedi are not the first or only crusaders standing against the Darkside. Force-sensitives have used their powers to take stands for moral authority long before the first Jedi.

I know now, this is my ultimate destiny. The Republic can fair better without Jedi than those who have no Republic or Jedi of their own to come save them... ever. I can, and will, do this, with or without your blessing."

Luke's eyes lowered to the table top. Anakin turned to face his children.

"But I'd rather have it," Anakin concluded. Luke stood and walked to his father. They hesitated, and took each other into their eyes. Leia followed, and pressed her shoulder against her brother's. The siblings then enjoyed a look between themselves which became a warm smile, and they each took a hand from their father. Neither satisfied with the lifelessness of their form, they both lifted their hands up to until they felt his living biceps instead. The trio, now smiling in unison, were startled by an unseen Han's clumsy lack of social sensitivity, who spoke suddenly and with awkward volume, "well pop, if you're going to the out that far, you'll need a fast ship, won't you?"

From around the corner emerged Chewbacca, howling a greeting. The Skywalkers broke into joyous laughter at the Falcon's crew's reuniting. Anakin was about to move their direction when he felt both arms being clutched, then stopped. "Father," Leia said, "just be sure you are always within our ability to contact you. My brother may need your help at short notice."

"Master," Luke said, almost officially, "may the Force be with you."

Part 38

Jix and two clone copilots prepped the Millennium Falcon for take off. They each gave the other a wary glance, uncertain of this bucket of bolts they're expected to take into sparsely charted space. In the cargo area, a small squad of clones dumped their gear and found places to buckle down. They shared equally uncertain expressions about the quality of their transportation. However, each were glad to be what they thought fortunate in being selected for this virgin mission, running headlong against their life-long enemy, enslavement. Two of them tapped clinched fists in their enthusiasm.

"Let's do this."

Outside, on the flight deck outside Leia's residence, Anakin stood alone, his new bright maroon robe rolling in the breeze of the early morning sun. He stared to the horizon, motionless. The sound of the Falcon's reactor became audible. He knew the time was drawing near. He knew time was drawing to a close.

His two children emerged together, from the open doorway leading to the terrace. They glanced to each other as they stood looking at their father's back. Anakin turned to greet the last of his volunteers as they made their way up the gangplank. He gave them a firm pat on their shoulders, and a nod. One even received a grip to the wrist, full of passion, a sense of mission. Change was thick in the air. Anakin loved the smell, and he wasn't afraid.

Leia's hand slipped into her brothers as they discreetly took in the view, each feeling proud to be Skywalker, but still yearning. Luke turned his head to meet his sister's face just as she whispered.

"Thank you. Thank you for saving him." Her upper lip drawn in, Luke gave a shrug, making light of his contribution. Artoo and Threepio eased up behind the twins, almost quiet. They started their way down the last flight of stairs to the large deck with their father.

He turned and grinned then faced them. Leia opened the conversation, with a pleasant, yet decided tone.

"Can we talk just a moment before you have to go?"

"Yes, Leia," her father replied. The droids approached as well, giving a respectful distance, but still inching forward, Threepio only coming as far as Artoo dared. "Of course." Leia asked flatly, and clinched the blood out of her brother's fingertips.

"Where is our mother?"

Anakin was rattled to his very soul. His strength left him, and his knee buckled. He almost braced himself, but not before he found himself on his knees, then one hand, with the other pressing a fist to his chest. The siblings were aghast, mouths agape, and raced forward to him, each taking an underarm.

"Father! Are you alright?!" Luke blurted, each dumbfounded as to what was wrong. Anakin himself didn't even fully realize the extent of what was wrong. He found himself rearing back, seated between his mechanical feet, knees splayed. His children couldn't have prepared themselves for the shock of the blood-curtling scream of a man dying inside out. His eyes were that of a madman's, looking skyward, lifeless. Leia got down to her knees, leveling herself to her tortured father, embracing him and crying aloud. Luke stepping back in mortal shock. Jix raced halfway down the ramp to see what was the matter, however, knowing the complex past of this man who stood a breath away from becoming his emperor, he stayed himself. A couple more clones came as far as he down the ramp before he put his hand to their chest, and indicated they return inside the ship, and closed the ramp. The droids huddled close, partly confused, partly understanding even better than their human masters. They offered no comfort to anyone but each other, as they turned and headed away from the disturbing spectacle.

Anakin was reduced to fetal position, in absolute emotional collapse. Sobbing, weeping and crying out incoherent syllables. His children ended up laying over him like a single, warm blanket of living, unconditional compassion. They knew their answer. They knew. They could feel the answer lasering it's way straight from their father's fractured heart to theirs. The broken family each, one by one, lifted their heads to face each other again, their faces transformed by grief. Anakin attempted to use his soaked, unresponsive lips to speak.

"I'm so sorry. I... I'm responsible. I...," Leia interrupted him abruptly.

"No, it's not true! THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!" Leia's hands sprang away from Anakin. Luke's red eye's squinted as he muttered the same response. Anakin writhed his mechanical hands so forcefully, the alloy squeaked and strained.

"It was my doing," Anakin groaned. Anakin freed his right hand from his own left with a snap. With a wild eye, he glanced down to his waist belt, and slipped in towards his awaiting lightsaber. Luke could feel his father's thoughts, and was terrified.

Suddenly, a loud, chirpy series of bleeps emerged from Artoo. Threepio was urging Artoo to stop as he ended up following him back out to the scene, Artoo leading the way without delay. "What do you think you're doing? Stop at once!" Artoo peddled all the way up to the three grief-striken persons, a heap on the ground. He began tooting and clicking urgently. Threepio attempted to extricate his companion from what he determined was a critical error in his social reasoning.

"I'm sorry, sirs," Threepio began. "I'll have this stupid excuse for a..." Artoo twisted his head into the protocol droid's general direction and began relaying, in no uncertain terms, what he was expected to do. Threepio was taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

The Skywalkers were not irritated, or confused, but at least distracted. While they were now silent, and looking towards the droid's interference, their collective mind was not on them. Threepio jerked his posture to attention as he took in Artoo's statements. It was quiet for a moment, as Threepio considered what he was about to translate.

"Excuse me, Mistress Leia, but it appears something of utmost importance has come up," he stated, with a regrettable tone.

"What is it, Threepio," she replied, nobody making a move to right themselves from their awkward positions on the ground.

"It appears Artoo has information for you, all of you. Messages he was supposedly instructed to not present until, for some forsaken reason, this particular moment." Artoo blipped a few tones. "Oh, well, I mean it's apparently been activated by some predetermined stimuli. I don't even think HE knows why it's now." The Astromech droid begins orating again, this time, his eye turns to meet the faces of the Skywalkers, one by one. He goes on, and on, Threepio intently listening. The droid continued translating.

"It appears that our friend here has some messages for you all to see. The first, Mistress Leia, is for you."

The family is now genuinely listening, if still not fully withdrawn from their emotional state. Artoo suddenly activates his hologram emitter. There before them, the base adjacent to Leia, stood a small image of Breha Organa, Leia's adoptive mother. Leia gasped. The other's looked on in intense curiosity. The woman's ten inch image was clear and bright. Her dress was plain, her hair relaxed. She seated herself in an ornate armchair, of which Leia recognized immediately as the one in their formal guest room. Leia's emotional roller coaster now saw her enveloped in another, yet different sadness, that of missing the only beloved mother she's ever known. She almost wanted to apologize to the artificial image of her adoptive mother for not remembering her during this painful hour centered around her biological mother, but the delight in the sight saw her smiling.

"Mom," she whispered.

"Leia, my darling. I'm making this message to lead in to an important message that you seem to have activated while playing with this droid, you little mischievous girl. You seem to have watched it a few times before I realized what you were doing. I should have suspected it was there, as I knew it was with your family during it's separation. Well, it's not my place to obstruct it, as it is your real mother, however, I'm modifying this droid's instructions to only play it when it finds you and your brother discussing your true parentage. I seriously doubt you'll be in the company of your father at the same time, but likewise. Anyway, you should see it together. Perhaps I'll have this droid consult Mon Mothma to how to get this message to the both of you."

As the message played, Leia crawled up to it, with childlike wonder. She eased out her pointed finger to touch at her mother's tiny formless image, her intangible cheek. The emotional turbulence prevented Leia from believing it was unreal.

"I don't believe it will be possible for you to remember seeing this, however, I hope when you see this, you'll either be home with us, or able to come to our side so we can talk about it. Perhaps it's better you see this without us, well, ME around. I don't know. We will see, shall we? Anyway, I hope you and your brother, wherever he may be now, will realize that we're here for you to help you, and that you're loved. Have strength, my darling Leia." Suddenly, the bubbly, happy voice of a youngster racing into the room lead the image of a four year-old Leia to her mother's receptive knee. They laughed, and cuddled and Breha turned the only daughter she'd ever known around to face the adult Leia, weeping, still caressing the uncaressible image. "Say bye bye," her mother prompted sweetly, wagging the child's hand in hers. "Bye bye," giggled the young girl to her unknowing self.

"Bye bye," whispered Leia to her lost childhood, her lost mother, her lost innocence.

The image flickered out.

The men looked to Leia in wonder. They couldn't bring themselves to move to her. They collectively knew that what was to come would impact them all the same. Leia's smile slipped away.

The emitter flashed back on. The equally-small image that met their eyes was of a lovely young woman, prone, on simple, featureless platform with Threepio attending to her. She was large in pregnancy, cradling her belly. She did not look well. Threepio saw himself in the message, and released a quiet, "oh", and examined everyone else's reaction, which was not returned. The image of Threepio vanished from the hologram composite as the young lady's hand motioned him to move. Her hologram enlargened as the Astromech must have moved in closer to her. Her eyes were closed, but she appeared conscious, and her face had enough definition to discern she was in an emotional condition not unlike those beholding the hologram decades later.

Anakin and Luke inched forward, their outward awareness reduced, channeled, focused solely upon the hologram. They now were huddled as three around Artoo's minute projection. Artoo modified his emitter to make the woman's form perfectly scaled. Her children and her husband huddled about her form, yearning beyond description to comfort her. After a few failed attempts, she finally, weakly spoke.

"I can feel my life escaping me," she faintly conveyed. "Something... something is not right."

Anakin's hand, outreached, lay upon the space that would have been her hair. He moved his open fingers through the unreacting strands, passing affectionately without returned feeling through the hologram's beams. Luke's rested upon his father's, and Leia touched Luke's. They formed a loving chain of contact, relying upon each other in their inability to reach her, so close, and yet so far. The three felt more than what could be explained as simply a cold hologram representation.

"I need to tell you... what I feel," she whimpered. "Please, I'm afraid... I think I'm...," she sobbed, "going to... no, I won't take you with me. You will live. I want to tell you, Leia or... Luke, that if your father is still lost... to the Darkside... you must save him. He still has good in him. Don't blame him for... what might... happen... I love your father. Please, bring him... back to me." Her voice weakened, fainter and fainter, until it was just a stream of breath.

"Padme," Anakin begged, through clinched teeth. The children looked to their father, then to each other. Each then opened their mouths, and their lips formed the word in unison, in silence, savoring it's beauty internally... "Padme."

The figure's eyes slowly opened, then closed. A voice could be heard through Artoo's playback, of Threepio speaking to someone, then the hologram dimmed, and disappeared. The three remained motionless, unwilling to move, or speak. They were drained, spent, weak. However, each felt a new wholeness. They felt, Padme.

Threepio abruptly began to speak, almost shocking the family awake. "Artoo was present at your births on Polis Massa. He had the opportunity to obtain details about Padme's demise directly from the medical droids. Artoo suggests that it is not possible for you to blame yourself, Anakin, because the cause was not attributed to bodily injury at all. It was the final opinion of the medical examination that she died of undetermined complications of childbirth. You are simply not to blame." Artoo tweeted in emphasis.

A father was lovingly embraced by his children. A father was forgivingly embraced by himself.

Part 39

The Falcon surpassed the zenith of Coruscant's atmosphere, entering the starscape. Alongside, two more vessels closed in and synchronized their orientation and speed. They were light cruisers, carrying a battalion of clone veterans and their supplies. They signaled the smaller lead ship of their readiness.

"Trajectory laid in. We're ready for hyperspace on your mark."

Anakin, seated in the copilot's position, performed the tasks of that duty. He glanced to his right and observed the craft, then the planet below. He thought of his children. He wondered for a moment if he'd see them again. His heart told him, yes, he would. He returned his view forward.

"Roger that," Jix acknowledged. "H.S. on my mark."

The Falcon's engines whined and screamed followed by it's vanishing in a roar of energy, chased instantly by the two cruisers. Their shared heading, a system known only to Anakin. His reason for choosing it first out of the millions of such worlds, also his knowledge alone.



The End