The Force Unleashed (21 page)

fluttering. Leaning forward so his head was in shadow, he saw the remains of a long

tapestry, tangled around an errant plank. There was a symbol on I he tapestry, of a

stylized hunting bird, perhaps, with wings and beak proudly upraised.

A strange feeling shivered through him, as though he had been lunched by someone

from another universe.

Unable to stop himself, he stepped into the shadowy ruin and lunched the faded

symbol with the fingers of his left hand. The space within was a mess, full of

broken furniture and giant, alien cobwebs. The air was cool but very, very close. He

felt suffocated, claustrophobic. He turned back to the door as though to flee, and

stopped at the sight of a small blue crystal lying on the ground at his feet.

Trembling, he knelt to examine it more closely. The gleaming gem was as large as the

knuckle of his little finger and looked like nothing so much as the focusing crystal

of a lightsaber.

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His head was swimming with questions and speculations. Why had he been drawn to this

place? What had happened here that it should mean anything to him at all?

In the act of standing, he was plunged into a vision more forceful than any he had

experienced before.

* * *

KASHYYYK WAS BURNING. The fires were visible from space, and so were the vast swaths

of smoke poisoning the air. The Imperial blockade surrounding the planet was

impervious and relentless. Observers weren't allowed in; refugees weren't allowed

out. The only people moving to and from the surface were stormtroopers.

And him.

The shuttle carrying him landed on a cliff overlooking a deep, blue bay. Battles

raged around him as rebel Wookiees fought with Imperials in AT-STs, not caring that

they were hopelessly outnumbered. Huge forest forts spread through the canopy like

undo ground tunnels, ferrying resistance fighters and ammunition to the fringes,

where the fighting was fiercest. Energy weapons struggled to penetrate the

centuries-old bark of mature wroshyr trees, but set fire and flesh instantly alight.

The apprentice saw all this as though in a dream. He was part of the dream, but not

a participant in it. Although he tried to speak and turn his head, he could not. The

vision didn't allow him to change anything that had already happened.

Already happened-or yet to come? Was this his destiny, to return to Kashyyyk under

his Master's orders and deal permanently with the Wookiees?

With one black-gloved hand he waved for the hatch to open. The ramp was already

extended. Striding heavily onto the planet, he stood with hands on hips and took in

the view firsthand. His black cape fluttered in a hot, ashen wind.

There was something wrong with him. His senses were muted, filtered somehow, as

though he viewed the world through artificial means. His limbs felt distant, numbed.

And the sound of his breathing was strained, almost mechanical. . .

An Imperial officer rushed up to him.

"Lord Vader," he gasped. "We were ambushed upon arrival, but I have the situation

well in..."

"I have no interest in your failures, Commander," the apprentice said in his

Master's voice. All around them lay the bodies of Imperial stormtroopers, strewn in

pieces across the ground. "I am here on a mission of my own."

Leaving the officer sweating with relief, the apprentice in Darth Vader's garb

stalked away.

With each step of those heavy boots, he flinched. Nothing he did could redirect that

fateful march. He didn't care if he was seeing the past through his Master's eyes or

seeing his own future-one in which he'd been forced to become Darth Vader, through

tome strange surgical substitution-but he was certain he didn't want to see any

more.

His field of vision blurred. A large, spinning ax had come out of nowhere. His left

hand came up, deflecting it deep into the ground with the power of the dark side.

His right drew and ignited /'c lightsaber with one rapid motion. Turning, he faced a

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trio of Wookiee soldiers led by a truly huge member of the alien species, with a

snarling visage and light armor over dark brown fur. The creature's roar was almost

physically painful, even through the deadening of his senses.

Past or future, his limbs moved with strength and surety, bringing his lightsaber up

to slice a second ax in two, then stepping forward to meet the berserker head-on.

Two blows saw the warrior in pieces, having laid not a claw on his black armor. The

pair of Wookiees bringing up the rear fared no better.

He didn't waste time gloating. As soon as the last body fell, still twitching, to

the ground, he was on his way again, away from the cliffs, following unknown clues

deeper into the landscape.

The apprentice was swept up in the carnage each time a Wookiee fighting group

encountered them, but in between, as "Darth Vader" pressed relentlessly on, he felt

like screaming.

When he rounded a bend and saw a village laid out before him beside a thin,

trickling stream, the apprentice prayed that he would be ambushed and killed before

the vision could play out.

It wasn't to be, and he could only despair as Vader Force-leapt to the first of the

wooden platforms that jutted from the bole of a youthful wroshyr tree. The hut the

apprentice had entered-surely in the future now-loomed high above, its wooden sides

gleaming with resin. Numerous tapestries waved in the breeze, among them one

containing the striking bird symbol he had found among the ruins. Wookiees had

spotted the intruder to the village and rapidly retracted a series of rope ladders

leading to the platform below before Vader could ascend.

A tall, human figure in brown robes appeared on one of the hut's balconies, looking

down at Vader. He stood with bands on hips, flanked by menacing Wookiee warriors.

Small touches marked him as someone who had lived among the indigenes a long time.

His face looked faintly, impossibly familiar.

"Turn back, Dark Lord," he called in a commanding void "Whatever you want, you won't

find it here."

"You can't disguise yourself from me," Vader replied, "Jedi."

The man stiffened and gestured. Wookiee warriors swung in on ropes and vines from

surrounding trees, converging with wild whoops and roars on the lone figure in black

below. The apprentice's vision dissolved into an unending stream of violent images

as, one after another, each of his attackers fell from the platform with limbs

slashed and neck broken. His lightsaber was a crimson blur and slowly, inevitably,

everything he saw was painted horribly red.

When the warriors were spent, he turned his attention to the struts of the hut.

Raising one hand, Vader dug deep into the dark side, bending and cracking the

ancient wood. It resisted, as strain; but not as brittle as metal could be. It

twisted and flexed, releasing energy slowly rather than snapping in two.

But that didn't save the people above. The hut tossed like a ship on stormy seas.

Wookiees leapt or swung to safety.

"Grab hold of something," the robed man called to them. "Quickly!"

Vader clenched his fist, hard, and the support struts finally cracked. He extended

both hands, and the hut shook from side to side. With a sickening sound, the last of

its supports gave way and the hut tumbled to the platform below. Wookiees flew

bodily in all directions. Splinters and dust filled the air.

Vader didn't flinch as the hut crashed directly in front of him. split open like an

overripe fruit.

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He didn't move until, out of the thick, dusty haze, he glimpsed a bright blue

lightsaber-and its wielder, coming for him like a ghost.

They fought back and forth across the wooden platform, the tall man's reach a match

for Vader's but his strength not as profound. Whoever he was, combat was not his

strong point. He had an understanding of the ancient Shii-Cho style but barely a

smattering of more advanced Makashi. His attacks were simple to deflect; his

defenses, relatively easy to penetrate. Vader toyed with him awhile, then pressed

him hard against the side of the fallen I'm, giving him no more ground to retreat

to.

One telekinetic push saw the man flung through the rent in the fallen hut. His

lightsaber flew in a different direction. The pommel shattered into a dozen pieces,

its blue focusing crystals scattering like jewels.

Vader strode into the hut, where he used the Force to grip the man around his throat

and wrench him into the air. His bright red lightsaber pointed directly at the man's

chest.

Victory.

And yet, on the cutting edge of perception, reason to reconsider.

Vader cocked his armored head.

"I sense someone far more powerful than you nearby. Your Master . . . Where is he?"

The choking Jedi Knight struggled to speak. "The dark side has clouded your mind.

You killed my Master years ago."

"Then you will now share his fate."

Vader raised his blade to cut down the Jedi Knight, but before he could swing it the

lightsaber suddenly flew from his hand. The Hark Lord wheeled around to attack, his

free hand raised to crush whoever dared oppose him.

He hesitated, an uncommon move for Darth Vader--and the apprentice felt his mind

spin with shock--at the sight of a human child standing in the corner of the hut,

dirty and bruised by the fall, dressed in clothes bearing Wookiee touches similar to

those of the man still hanging in the air behind the Dark Lord. The boy held Darth

Vader's lightsaber in both hands. The tip danced, but only slightly.

"Run!" choked the Jedi. "Run now! Don't look back!"

"Ah," said Vader with dawning understanding. "A son."

Turning back to the father, he clenched his left fist. The awful sound of bone

cracking was clearly audible-as was the boy's sudden gasp of horror.

Vader turned back to the child, and froze.

The tableau stayed that way for a small infinity: father dying child watching,

murderer standing patiently between them, as though waiting for fate's dice to fall.

Then three stormtroopers burst into the hut, led by an Imperial officer. Drawn by

sounds of combat in the village, or perhaps just shadowing their Dark Lord's path

across the forest world, they ran in with weapons drawn and broke the moment forever

"My lord? " the officer started to ask, confused.

He got no farther. With a flick of his fingers, Vader had his lightsaber back in his

hand. The officer and troopers backed away as their Master approached. One of them

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sensed the imminence of their deaths and fired his blaster ineffectually. The bolt

ricocheted off the crimson blade into the wall of the hut, leaving a black bum.

In a second, it was over.

The boy watched, terrified, as the man covered from head to foot in black armor

killed his own allies. His every move was brutal but at the same time possessing a

deadly elegance, like the stalking moves of a wild walluga. Each stab and slash

found its mark.

He had never seen anything so beautiful-or so horrible.

When it was done, the man in black loomed over him and grabbed him by the arm.

Thinking the moment of his death hail come, the boy didn't resist.

"Come with me." The deep, hollow words were worse than blows. "More will be here

soon."

As he was wrenched from the hut, the boy twisted his head to snatch one last glimpse

of his home. Tipped over it might have been, broken and full of still-smoking

bodies, but all the boy saw was the body of the dead Jedi Knight on the floor. One

hand lay outstretched with fingers curled, as though clutching for something that

was no longer there . . .

* * *

THE APPRENTICE BLINKED. HE WAS standing, frozen, staring at the very spot where the

bodies had once lain. There was no sign of them now, not even a bone. Scavengers

must have carried them nil, or they had been thrown free when the platform the hut

had fallen onto had in turn collapsed. There was only the crystal, winch had somehow

come to be folded tightly in his hand. It looked just like one of those from the

fallen Jedi Knight's lightsaber, which the boy might have liked to play with when he

was younger, for comfort.

His face twisted into a snarl. Looked just like . . . might have ... He was trying

to validate the vision, when it was nothing really but a dream. A fantasy. The truth

was that he had been bothered by something ever since he had arrived on Kashyyyk-an

irrational feeling that something was wrong, which probably related more to his

alliance with Kota than anything to do with his Own past. Darth Vader had raised

him; he didn't need to imagine parents or a home to give himself meaning. He was

just fabricating a story out of thin air.

But he had seen the skyhook in one of his near-death visions-a bright line

extending high up into the sky-and he realized now that the figure standing in front

of the skyhook had been none other than the girl he had met in the lodge. If his

visions contained some truth, why not this one, too?