Another Chapter!!
Ok so I'm having a major bunny. I hope I don't lose momentum.
Chapter 3
1 Month Earlier - Mustafar
Anakin watched himself burn.
Any lesser person would have been driven mad by the inexorable scene before him. He was here, though he should not be. The tortured expression on Obi-wan’s face hurt him just as much as seeing himself, a shred of who he was, scream “I hate you!” at his master and friend.
He didn’t care why he was standing there, whole, watching his own descent into darkness. He didn’t ask why his right arm was complete, organic and his own flesh and blood. He looked exactly like the man who had, mere seconds ago, stood on the shaky collection droid, hatred flashing in his eyes. He had watched as he, him, the other Anakin, had leapt into the air towards Obi-wan, his entire body poised for a deadly strike. He watched Obi-wan swiftly defend himself, severing both legs and the left arm of the hateful mockery of himself.
Obi-wan had proclaimed that he had loved Anakin as a brother, hurt stinging his voice. How Anakin had longed to burst from his hiding place and embrace his master, apologizing for every time he had questioned Obi-wan’s opinion, every time he had gotten angry at him, every time he had hurt him. His muscles were tensed, ready to leap forward at any minute.
He stayed where he was. The events unfolding in front of him must happen. He was an observer only, the result of something in the Force going horribly wrong.
His last memory had been a joyful, if chaotic one. Him and Obi-wan had been flying above Coruscant, defending it from the droid attack. Obi-wan’s cockpit was fogging up, the result of the intrusive buzz droids swarming all over it. Anakin was using the wings of his own fighter to brush the lethal droids off his master’s ship. Suddenly there was two of him in the cockpit. Then there were two fighters, exact duplicates. The other fighter continued to follow Obi-wan’s fighter while his began spinning out of control away from the battle. He had seen the two tiny fighters blast there way into General Grievous’ ship, but he was moving too quickly away from the action to see if they had made it.
The planet-city had become small and vanished into the darkness around him. The stars grew dim and he was sitting in blackness. Suddenly a red blazing planet appeared in front of him and he was caught in its gravity before he could react. He tried to land his ship, but it had crashed into a lake of lava. He had managed to eject and land on the searing scaffolding of a collection center overhanging the lake. For hours he had wandered the planet, choking on the fumes of the air, until he spotted two people dueling with lightsabers in the middle of a river of lava. Blue lightsabers. Not a Sith and Jedi, but two Jedi of almost equal skill. The situation became more and more surreal after that as he drew closer and discovered just who was fighting. One of them was him. The other, his master.
Now he had to sit still and watch his master walk away from his own corpse, burning with fire and hatred. Anakin crouched down and waited. It will all make sense soon, he kept telling himself.
It will all make sense soon.
1 Month Later - Tatooine - Mos Eisley
“Excuse me, sir.” Obi-wan said, his hood concealing most of his face.
“What do you want?” the merchant bit out harshly.
“I need to arrange for transportation. Can you tell me where I might find pilots who would be willing to hire themselves out?”
“You expect a lot from just a common merchant, sir,” he laughed dryly. “There’s a cantina just around the corner and down the alleyway there. Lots of pilots. Not a lot of decency, but if you need someone to help you, that’s the place.”
Obi-wan smiled. “Thank you, sir, for your help.”
The merchant grunted, but said no more. Obi-Wan quietly glided down the empty streets.
The cantina was far dirtier than Obi-wan had thought. Low grubby tables huddled against the grimy walls. A small band screeched out irritating music. Obi-wan approached the Twi’lek bartender.
“I’m looking for transport. I need a pilot who I could hire.”
The bartender didn’t even blink at such a common request. “What are you carrying? If it’s illegal, I’d suggest that fellow over there,” he said, pointing to a surly looking humanoid nursing an ale. “However, if you’re doing legal business, then I’d suggest that fellow there.” He pointed to a Rodian watching the band and tapping his hands on the table in time with the jittery beat.
“Thank you.” Obi-wan inclined his head and headed for the Rodian.
“Greetings.” The insectoid being said in his own language. Obi-wan allowed the Force to come between them, bridging the linguistic gap.
“I am looking for transport to a remote system.” Obi-wan began. “I have no money to pay you, sir, but I am willing to work in your service until it is paid.”
The Rodian raised an aqua hand. “I can see that you are an honest person. The subject of payment will not be questioned until later. Where are you heading?”
“I wish to travel to Mustafar to pick up a friend of mind.” Obi-wan almost faltered. The sentence seemed to drift in front of him, twisting in the hazy light of the cantina. He had spoken those words. It must be true.
The Rodian’s head cocked slightly. “Mustafar is an industrial planet, and a dangerous one at that. You are sure this friend of yours is the only reason you are going?”
“Absolutely. Your ship will not be on the planet for more than an hour, I promise you.”
“Then I will hold you to your promise.”
“Thank you.”
“My name is Budo. My ship is the Wingjewel in docking bay 37.”
“I am…” he paused for a microsecond. His name would arouse far too much suspicion. A false name would be better. “I am Ben Kenobi,” he said.
The Rodian sensed the pause, but inclined his head politely anyway. “Very well, Ben Kenobi. We shall depart in 1 hour’s time.”
As Obi-wan ducked out of the entrance to the cantina, he glanced around, memorizing the surroundings. “I should remember this place,” he said to himself softly.
1.5 hours later
The Rodian ship effortlessly leapt into hyperspace, leaving the sandy world behind.
Chapter 3
1 Month Earlier - Mustafar
Anakin watched himself burn.
Any lesser person would have been driven mad by the inexorable scene before him. He was here, though he should not be. The tortured expression on Obi-wan’s face hurt him just as much as seeing himself, a shred of who he was, scream “I hate you!” at his master and friend.
He didn’t care why he was standing there, whole, watching his own descent into darkness. He didn’t ask why his right arm was complete, organic and his own flesh and blood. He looked exactly like the man who had, mere seconds ago, stood on the shaky collection droid, hatred flashing in his eyes. He had watched as he, him, the other Anakin, had leapt into the air towards Obi-wan, his entire body poised for a deadly strike. He watched Obi-wan swiftly defend himself, severing both legs and the left arm of the hateful mockery of himself.
Obi-wan had proclaimed that he had loved Anakin as a brother, hurt stinging his voice. How Anakin had longed to burst from his hiding place and embrace his master, apologizing for every time he had questioned Obi-wan’s opinion, every time he had gotten angry at him, every time he had hurt him. His muscles were tensed, ready to leap forward at any minute.
He stayed where he was. The events unfolding in front of him must happen. He was an observer only, the result of something in the Force going horribly wrong.
His last memory had been a joyful, if chaotic one. Him and Obi-wan had been flying above Coruscant, defending it from the droid attack. Obi-wan’s cockpit was fogging up, the result of the intrusive buzz droids swarming all over it. Anakin was using the wings of his own fighter to brush the lethal droids off his master’s ship. Suddenly there was two of him in the cockpit. Then there were two fighters, exact duplicates. The other fighter continued to follow Obi-wan’s fighter while his began spinning out of control away from the battle. He had seen the two tiny fighters blast there way into General Grievous’ ship, but he was moving too quickly away from the action to see if they had made it.
The planet-city had become small and vanished into the darkness around him. The stars grew dim and he was sitting in blackness. Suddenly a red blazing planet appeared in front of him and he was caught in its gravity before he could react. He tried to land his ship, but it had crashed into a lake of lava. He had managed to eject and land on the searing scaffolding of a collection center overhanging the lake. For hours he had wandered the planet, choking on the fumes of the air, until he spotted two people dueling with lightsabers in the middle of a river of lava. Blue lightsabers. Not a Sith and Jedi, but two Jedi of almost equal skill. The situation became more and more surreal after that as he drew closer and discovered just who was fighting. One of them was him. The other, his master.
Now he had to sit still and watch his master walk away from his own corpse, burning with fire and hatred. Anakin crouched down and waited. It will all make sense soon, he kept telling himself.
It will all make sense soon.
1 Month Later - Tatooine - Mos Eisley
“Excuse me, sir.” Obi-wan said, his hood concealing most of his face.
“What do you want?” the merchant bit out harshly.
“I need to arrange for transportation. Can you tell me where I might find pilots who would be willing to hire themselves out?”
“You expect a lot from just a common merchant, sir,” he laughed dryly. “There’s a cantina just around the corner and down the alleyway there. Lots of pilots. Not a lot of decency, but if you need someone to help you, that’s the place.”
Obi-wan smiled. “Thank you, sir, for your help.”
The merchant grunted, but said no more. Obi-Wan quietly glided down the empty streets.
The cantina was far dirtier than Obi-wan had thought. Low grubby tables huddled against the grimy walls. A small band screeched out irritating music. Obi-wan approached the Twi’lek bartender.
“I’m looking for transport. I need a pilot who I could hire.”
The bartender didn’t even blink at such a common request. “What are you carrying? If it’s illegal, I’d suggest that fellow over there,” he said, pointing to a surly looking humanoid nursing an ale. “However, if you’re doing legal business, then I’d suggest that fellow there.” He pointed to a Rodian watching the band and tapping his hands on the table in time with the jittery beat.
“Thank you.” Obi-wan inclined his head and headed for the Rodian.
“Greetings.” The insectoid being said in his own language. Obi-wan allowed the Force to come between them, bridging the linguistic gap.
“I am looking for transport to a remote system.” Obi-wan began. “I have no money to pay you, sir, but I am willing to work in your service until it is paid.”
The Rodian raised an aqua hand. “I can see that you are an honest person. The subject of payment will not be questioned until later. Where are you heading?”
“I wish to travel to Mustafar to pick up a friend of mind.” Obi-wan almost faltered. The sentence seemed to drift in front of him, twisting in the hazy light of the cantina. He had spoken those words. It must be true.
The Rodian’s head cocked slightly. “Mustafar is an industrial planet, and a dangerous one at that. You are sure this friend of yours is the only reason you are going?”
“Absolutely. Your ship will not be on the planet for more than an hour, I promise you.”
“Then I will hold you to your promise.”
“Thank you.”
“My name is Budo. My ship is the Wingjewel in docking bay 37.”
“I am…” he paused for a microsecond. His name would arouse far too much suspicion. A false name would be better. “I am Ben Kenobi,” he said.
The Rodian sensed the pause, but inclined his head politely anyway. “Very well, Ben Kenobi. We shall depart in 1 hour’s time.”
As Obi-wan ducked out of the entrance to the cantina, he glanced around, memorizing the surroundings. “I should remember this place,” he said to himself softly.
1.5 hours later
The Rodian ship effortlessly leapt into hyperspace, leaving the sandy world behind.