Anakin Solo sits in the interrogation room, watching his reflection in the one-way window. He looks around the room again, austere, simple, with faded yellow walls, and the chipped and battered table in front of him. In no uncertain terms, this is an interrogation room. And judging by the sound proofing built into the walls, as well as the scuffed floors and walls, some rather painful interrogation sessions have occurred in here. Silently he wonders to himself when the officer would come back into the room, when someone would come and once more ask him questions.
Impatient aren’t we?
Anakin chuckles to himself as Tahiri’s thoughts intrude onto his consciousness. Ever since he rescued her from the Yuuzhan Vong, he could feel her feelings and hear the thoughts she broadcasted so much better. Closing his eyes, he reaches out to see if he can feel Corran, and finds him as a vague impression of concern in the distance.
Opening his eyes, he caresses Tahiri through the Force. His lips twist into a grin, as she returns the caress. Then the door to the interrogation cell opens, and in walks a middle-aged man. His hair is iron-grey, his face creased with lines. After a moment, he sits in the chair on the opposite side of the table from Anakin.
“I am Jero Inart. What’s your name?”
Anakin does not respond.
“That’s okay Anakin; we really do know who you are. And we know how much you’re worth.”
Two more men walk into the cell, and take up flanking positions on either side of him. Jero nods his head.
“Since you’ve decided to not answer our questions, we’ve decided to do something a little different. Please don’t make this hard on yourself.” He motions with his hand for Anakin to stand. “Now, be a good Jedi and come along.”
Anakin stands, sending reassurance to Tahiri through the Force. Jero turns around and walks out of the room with Anakin silently following him.
As they go down the stairs, Anakin reaches out with the Force, touching Tahiri, seeing if they’re moving her as well. When he gets a negative feeling back from her, he frowns.
The sudden blast of sunlight as he steps outside causes him to squint. As his eyes adjust, he looks around and notices that there are two dozen of the guards standing around the courtyard in front of the building. His two escorts each grab an arm and drag him further away from the building.
Jero pulls a small black box from his pocket, fingering it. “So tell me what ship you came in on.”
Anakin tightens his mouth slightly. Jero shakes his head. “Last chance, Jedi. Tell me which ship you came in on, or else I’ll blow up the building, with your little girlfriend inside.”
Anakin can feel Tahiri’s caress in the Force, a questioning probe. Then Jero speaks again. “So be it, Jedi. Just remember, you caused this yourself.”
Anakin can hear the click as Jero pushes a button on the small black box, and then his danger sense goes into overdrive. Through his bond with Tahiri, he can feel her danger sense, the sense of urgency that floods her body with adrenaline and the pain in her knuckles as she slams her fists against the door to her cell, he sends a sense of urgency for her to get out through the Force even as he struggles against the men holding his arms back.
He tries to lunge forward, but the two men on either side of him tighten their grips, pulling him to a stop, one of them knocks his feet out from beneath him, slamming him hard down against the ground.
The pressure in the Force builds to a crescendo, and Tahiri’s name erupts from Anakin’s throat. The sound of his scream is lost in the roar of the explosion. Anakin pushes himself up into a half standing position, the guards still clinging to his arms.
Agony rips through Anakin and he crumbles to the ground, his inarticulate screams giving voice to his pain. A moment later, he pushes out with the Force, throwing the two men who hold his arms against the surrounding buildings. They land against those walls with sickening crunches, sliding down and landing in lifeless piles.
Anakin doesn’t care.
Through the pain, he struggles to his feet and takes a staggering step towards the burning building. He stretches out with the Force, trying to find her in the Force, but all he can feel is a great gaping hole, a gouge in his soul.
Where Tahiri should be within the Force, within his mind, where there should be love, light and laughter, there is nothing but an empty desolate void.
He bursts through the doors, into the flaming building, the heat and ash stinging his eyes. Ignoring the flames as they caress his flesh, he pushes further in, once more climbing the stairs. Anakin feels a twinge in the Force, and he jumps ahead, just as a support beam comes crashing down, showering him with ash and cinders. He takes a second to glance behind him, and sees the broken and mangled steps. Turning back, he begins to run up the stairs. He arrives at the second floor, and glances left and right.
He stretches out with the Force again, hoping, begging, and praying to feel some glimmer of her.
He roars his anger and pain again and turns down the hall towards the left. Opening room after room, he searches for her, and finally comes to one which is locked. With a flash of anger-driven power, the door is ripped from the wall and tossed behind him.
He steps into the room and sees her.
He collapses to his knees, giving in to his grief as he pulls her broken and bloody body up to him. He touches her face and lips with his fingertips, praying once more that the Force would not take her from him. Slowly, gingerly he picks up her body, cradling it to him.
He steps into the hallway, and sees the flames have engulfed the entire building. Turning the other way, he sees a window, a blur of a glow in the smoke and flames. Running that way, he pushes with the Force, knocking the window out of the wall. Without hesitation he jumps out and touches the Force, allowing him to land softly in the middle of the courtyard below.
He lays her on the ground, brushing her hair away from her face, tracing her cheekbones with his finger. He notices as a drop of water splashes against her nose, and then realizes that it is a tear. One of his.
“You did this to her Jedi.”
Anakin looks up at Jero. He can feel his anger and hate as they spiral out of control. He lowers his head, and steadies his breathing, his eyes locked on her glassy, lifeless ones.
In the back of his mind, he can hear his uncle’s voice, as it repeats the words that have been drilled into him since birth. Words saying that anger and hate leads to the Dark Side. That revenge is of the Dark Side. That he should rejoice in her death, rejoice that she has joined the Force.
The shuffle of booted feet, and clicks of weapons, attracts his attention. He glances up and sees his captors, those who placed her in the building. Those who blew her up, who killed her.
He hears his uncle’s words, but they hold no meaning, no power over him.
After all, they are merely words.
Anger, hate, vengeance. That is what holds meaning for him; that is what powers him. They are real, viable things. Not the abstract ideas that are words.
Her broken and burned body screams that she needs to be avenged. That those who did this to her need to be punished. His soul cries out for hers, and in the echoing silence of his mind, the only thought that he can think is revenge.
Anakin glances around, finding his saber attached to the belt of one of the men. His eyes flash, and the saber rips from the man’s belt and smacks into his hand. He hefts the saber, comforted by the weight and pull of the weapon, the subtle whispers from the lambent. He presses the activator, glorying in the purple glow of his blade.
The thrum of his blade fills him, pushes its way into his mind, telling him that vengeance is nigh.
His eyes focus on Jero as his lips twist into a snarl. “You are going to pay for this.”
Pressing his fingertips to her lips once more, he stands and turns back towards Jero. The crackle of the fire behind him, and the hum of his saber are the only sounds that intrude on the scene.
Anakin takes a step forward and the first blaster fires at him. Without thought, Anakin’s blade moves and intercepts the bolt, sending it back at who shot it. The shooter flies back, his scream gurgling away with his life’s blood.
He grins, at their futility. If they had run they might have lived. He considers himself lucky that they stayed. Once more the sounds of a blaster discharge and two bolts fly towards him. His saber twists and twirls, sending the bolts flying harmlessly away.
His grin twists into something dark and feral as Jero takes a step backwards, fear coloring his face.
Then Anakin becomes a blur, as he pulls the Force to him, pushing extra oxygen into his muscles, overcharging them, his metabolism, his body speeds up. A slice and a scream, followed by another slice and Jero falls to the ground in two pieces.
He stretches out with the Force, gathering a feel for everything around him. Those opponents arrayed against him. Their weapons and the plasma combustion of tibanna gas which produces a blast. Even the rapid rate which his body is burning sugars to power his extra speed and agility. He sees Tahiri’s blade on another guard’s belt, and stretches out his hand, pulling her saber to his. It ignites as well, and his lips part in a snarl.
Anakin does not hesitate; he attacks the next guard and then the next, until he stands triumphant in revenge, until he stands over the corpses of those responsible for Tahiri’s death. For a moment he feels elation, joy and happiness that he has avenged her.
Gone are the doubts and concerns over what is good and right.
Gone are the questions of morality.
Then he turns back to Tahiri, and the despair, hate, anger and grief come crushing upon him again. He extinguishes his saber and kneels down beside her, once more pressing his fingers to her face, reaching with the Force to find any semblance of her, any glimmer of Tahiri left in this broken shell.
He feels the tears as they slide down his face, his entire body shakes as he sobs. The only thing that runs through his mind is that she is gone. The fires of his rage erupt, a flame hotter and brighter than the ones that killed her.
It is a fire that no amount of death and pain can extinguish.
Yet he needs to try. There are other Peace Brigade out there, the same Peace Brigade who were in legion with these killers.
Then there are the Vong. He decides that they to need to be punished, to pay for their crimes which have lead him here, kneeling beside her.
He touches the side of her face, running his fingers down her cheek once again, sobbing as he can feel the warmth fading from her skin.
A hand falls on his shoulder and he turns his head, seeing Corran standing over him, with a stricken look on his face.
His voice cracks as he speaks. “She’s dead.”
Corran’s voice is thick with emotion, his face stretched in ways that Anakin has never seen before. “Come on, we need to get off planet.”
Anakin nods his head, and picks up her slim form. His mind casts back to a previous time he carried her, she was a comforting weight, light and supple in his arms, a far different thing than the heavy bulk of dead flesh that he carries today. He remembers her smile, how it would light up her eyes. Now her face is slack, her eyes empty. He keeps his head bowed as he follows Corran back to their ship.
After they board, he carries her body to her bunk, and gently places her upon it, laying his head down beside her still form. He can feel the shudders as the ship launches, and the pulse of energy as they enter hyperspace.
Time passes and Corran appears beside him once more. “You need medical attention.”
“Go away.”
Corran places his hand on Anakin’s elbow, trying to lift him, and Anakin has to bite back the growl that tries to rip from his throat. Corran’s words burn into Anakin’s heart. “Come on kid, there’s nothing you can do for her.
Anakin yanks his elbow from Corran’s grasp; he stands and spins towards the older Knight, adopting an aggressive posture. “I can avenge her!”
“You’re not falling to the Dark Side on my watch.”
Anakin can feel the hate and anger surge through him, making him powerful. “And who’s going to stop me.”
Corran reaches for his saber, but Anakin is faster. In an eye-blink, he has placed his palm against the older man’s chest, and then pulses out with his hate and rage. A blast of lightning pours into and through Corran, slamming through him and against the wall, as if he was not there. In the inferno of energy that courses through his body, Corran is left with a brief moment of pain and anguish, and then every muscle and nerve in his chest erupts under the onslaught of unnatural energies. Anakin stands over him, his breath coming in shallow gulps as he looks down at the dead body, still twitching from the residue of lightning.
Turning away, he once more takes up his vigil over Tahiri’s body, trying to decide what he should do next, who he should kill next.
Finally he decides that it doesn’t matter. Yuuzhan Vong, Peace Brigade, and anyone else who tries to stop him from avenging her. They will all suffer.
As his finger traces the three scars on his forehead, he decides that he needs to become more than what he is. He needs to become a symbol. A symbol which will strike fear into his enemies’ hearts, make them hesitate and ultimately make them regret coming to this galaxy.
Something to make them regret killing her.
Nodding his head, he stands and goes to the cockpit, dropping the ship from hyperspace. Without hesitation, he reprograms the navicomputer, and sends the ship back into hyperspace.
Hours later, Anakin pulls the levers once again, and the blue swirl of hyperspace drops away revealing a planet swathed in sickly yellow clouds. Anakin closes his eyes and can feel the Force radiating from the planet. He opens his eyes again, and swiftly enters Vjun’s atmosphere, heading towards Bast Castle from memory.
He lands and carrying Tahiri, once more enters Bast Castle. Deactivating the security system, he calmly goes to the med center, and delivers Tahiri’s body to the droids. Two of them take her away, and Anakin feels a moment of anguish as she disappears, but he quickly crushes the emotion, and turns towards the remaining droids.
“I want Vader’s armor.”
He smiles as the droids carry in the black plasteel armor pieces. Quietly Anakin dresses, covering himself with the black armor, piece by piece, taking up his birthright, his namesake. He clips the cape around him, feeling the steelweave flow and shift against him. Then he picks up the helmet, and looks at it for a moment.
For as long as he can remember, he has been plagued by dreams of becoming his grandfather. Of looking out at the world through the blood colored lenses of the death’s head mask. The dreams, tinged with blood and smoke and pain have haunted and dogged his footsteps as he trained in the Force.
He has often wondered if she was what kept them from coming true.
Yet as he pulls the helmet over his head, he is not afraid. It is a comforting thing; it almost feels like coming home.
The helmet clicks into place, and Anakin opens his eyes onto the world. Gone are the blues and yellows and whites. Now everything is shades of red. A press of a button on his chest plate, and the sound from the nightmares of billions of beings is heard once more.
An inhaling hiss, followed by a loud mechanical exhale.
It is the sound of the labored breath of a creature which used to be a man.
