Unfortunately, the two had to take Anakin’s personal Maxillipede shuttle. With Mandalore being all the way in the North of the Galaxy, while Naboo being in the South, it meant that they would have to travel around the Core rather than through it. Therefore, his highly illegally modified shuttle would be necessary as it had technology several years beyond the current time installed.
The real problem wasn’t so much the time as the space, more so the company. He wasn’t sure if he felt safe sleeping in the same room with her. For some unknown reason, she looked furious at him.
“It’s Luke now, you should know how dangerous it is to use my real name.” He scowled at her, unbelievable that he was scowling at her of all people after all the stuff she had put up with over these last two years.
The death of Anakin had been a surprise, even to him. But Padme, this loop had been full of them so far. His hand subconsciously came to his heart. Using the Force to enter a near-death state was the pinnacle of meditation techniques. The only problem was that sometimes those who go near death sometimes cross that line, it wasn’t exactly a safe technique. Though it had its niches.
Surviving extreme cold, stopping poisons from spreading throughout the bloodstream, and faking even death.
Anakin’s hand massaged the burn scar on his chest, right over his heart. Where Dooku had provided the Sith Lightning to give him a wound that would explain his death. It had been painful, but he was no stranger to Sith Lightning. A necessary sacrifice for the deal struck between the three of them.
The rules of the deal were as followed:
- The death of Anakin Skywalker
- The birth of Luke Serenno
- Anakin under the identity of Luke would serve under Dooku
Those last two were a bit more complex; they needed a reason for someone to be close to Dooku and would explain his Force Sensitivity. Palpatine had always been a suspicious one, but he was fine so long as Dooku’s apprentices never posed a threat.
Fortunately, Dooku just happened to have a conveniently dead sister. A Jedi sister. Considering that Jedi weren’t allowed to have children, it explained his lack of birth records and closeness to Dooku. It wasn’t perfect, but there was enough to have plausible deniability that when Palpatine looked into him, he could deny it. It was a stupid plan, though most of Padme’s were. Unfortunately, Padme’s plans, for all their stupidity did have a habit of working.
And finally, one more condition. A condition forced by Dooku.
Naboo must leave the Republic.
Naboo posed no major benefit to the CIS, sure it was a planet rich in plasma, but that wasn’t a reason to risk Palpatine killing the three of them. No, it was for a far simpler reason.
His eyes fell to Padme, silently growling in her chair, sending daggers at him with her eyes. In saving his life, she had placed her own collar on. Linking her fate to the doomed CIS. Was she so desperate to save him that she would put shackles on herself with a smile?
“Dooku must be working you hard for you to never visit for two years.” She probed, though Anakin was unsure what answer she wanted.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Dooku underestimated him, giving him far more time than he needed. He couldn’t blame the Sith. He didn’t know he had a time-looper in his hands.
It was perfect for Anakin, though. The extra time allowed him to build his own plans and train himself for the upcoming war. This was a science to him, and he knew every optimal route. What would take some years, he could get done in weeks.
It was kind of similar to the Death Star, the first took twenty years, but the second only took three. That was because all the hard work had already been done, the acquiring of knowledge, the optimisation, figuring out how things worked. With his knowledge of the many many futures he knew more about this Galaxy than anyone should ever need.
He gave her a smile, one that she violently rejected. What was her problem?
“This is going to be a long trip to Mandalore.”
“This is not Mandalore,” Luke said, kicking up the sand.
“We've got to take strange hyperspace routes,” She shrugged. Though the pleased hum in her voice said this was anything but a coincidence. “All Major hyperspace highways go through the Core, and as you can imagine, that’s not really an option for us. So why not enjoy the scenery of some planets on the way?”
“Why, of all places, this planet?” He asked, wincing as the twin suns burned his eyes.
Tatooine was many things: hot, sandy, unpleasant, but most importantly, useless. The only person Anakin could remember of importance was Jabba the Hutt, and he doubted Padme was here for him. It at best was a good place to stage an assassination.
“So we can meet an important woman.” She rolled her eyes. “You of all people.”
Him of all people? What did she mean by that? Why the hell should he know?
“Does she owe you money?” He asked, trying to figure out who she could be talking about.
“What? No! This is the last time I do a favour for you.” Not money? A political ally? No, there was no one here besides the Hutts, and she hated them.
Anakin tried racking his brain. This planet had no important resources unless she was looking for a krayt dragon. Was she really looking to ally with those Hutt slugs? Did she really want Tatooine so desperately? There was no value in it for war, too far away from the Core to have any merit in taking and even as a factory planet, it was far from the best option he could choose from.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Padme asked, struggling to walk through the sand. She looked like some sort of strange penguin waddling through the sand.
“Who?”
“You know, though I suppose her name is Mrs Lars now.” She teased, as if it were some sort of inside joke between them that he should understand. Mrs Lars? A friend she had on Tattooine? No wonder he didn’t know, it was just some random lady she wanted to see. What a waste of time, he should be killing terrorists by now and forcing Mandalore to fall under his rule. He would need it for the upcoming war with Palpatine.
“It’s been what? A decade since I last saw her? I tried to get Sabe to buy her freedom after the whole Naboo incident however, Lars had already freed her, and they had started creating a home. Shame, I would have welcomed her to Naboo.” She continued, though Anakin just rolled his eyes. Padme and her saviour complex.
Anakin continued to make his displeasure known as the two trudged through the sand. He truly did hate it.
Eventually, they did come to a location. A small little farm surrounded by nothing but sand for miles. Outside, a single man who stood readily outside for them, probably seeing them miles away as there was nothing on this planet.
He looked ragged, and he held his blaster with a shaky grip. The man looked as Anakin expected from this hellhole. His eyes were baggy, he hadn’t slept in weeks, and clothes were not just dirty, but rather unkempt. Clothes always got dirty on these sandy planets, but people still put effort into looking presentable. This man clearly didn’t.
This man was dangerous, not to him. But to himself. Anakin didn’t even need the Force to sense the thick waves of depression flowing off the man. The man was one bad day away from sticking that blaster in his own mouth. Anakin’s hand fell to his lightsaber. If the man was depressed then he had nothing to lose, that made him a risk.
Padme, sensing his movements as if she were Force-sensitive herself tapped his leg urging him to stop.
“Who are you, strangers?” A man greeted them, though greeted wouldn’t be the correct term considering the blaster pointed at them.
“Friends!” She cheerfully exclaimed. “Are you Cliegg Lars?”
Not a name he could recognise, someone who didn’t matter. If he did, Anakin would know who this man was, but no face matched any name he could recall.
“Who wants to know?” The man levelled his blaster at him. However, his aim was poor, even for a farmer. He just couldn’t get the sights to land on them.
Anakin’s eyes flicked to the man’s legs. No… leg. He walked like a soldier getting used to a new prosthetic. A depressed war veteran? It wasn’t the most uncommon, though there wasn’t any Galactic war just yet. Soon though.
“Padme and Anakin Skywalker.”
“Skywalker?” The man looked shocked. As if a ghost had passed through him, causing him to lower the gun. Idiot, Anakin could easily make this distance and behead him in an instant. Must not be a soldier. “Follow me.”
Padme, like the suicidal lamb she was, walked gleefully into whatever slaughterhouse this butcher had prepared. Anakin wasn’t quite so eager to stand his ground, preferring to let himself roast in the twin suns. As if sensing his reluctance looked to him with those doe-like brown eyes, she gave him a ‘come on!’ look. He didn’t, but rather chose to grab her by the sleeve and pull her close. She blushed at his action, but he didn’t have time for this.
“You realise I have to kill him now?” Anakin said, annoyance clearly in his voice. “Palpatine already suspects I survived. The Luke alias is only hanging on by a thread of deniability. If word gets out that Anakin is alive, with blackened hair and brown eyes. Dooku will gladly give me up to save his own arse.” It wouldn’t be the first time he gave up an apprentice to save himself.
“You don’t have to kill anyone. I think of all the people who will keep your secret, these people will.” What’s with Padme and expecting the best out of these people? By the sounds of it she hasn’t even really met them, only hearing little facts from Sabe. Such trust in a bunch of hill billies.
“If even a hint that Anakin is alive escapes this house, I’ll-.”
“You’ll what? Kill them?”
“Yes.” He gave her a guttural growl, bearing his teeth. Did she not understand just how dangerous this was?
“That’s your answer to everything, how about you talk for once in your life.” She hissed with more heat than usual. Was she on her period? She was angrier at him than usual recently.
The house was modest to say the least. Though to call it a house was generous, it was more like a hole with walls. It was all he expected from a moisture farm. Well, except the moisture, the air was hot and dry. A miserable life for miserable people.
Presumably, the man’s son greeted him with a nod. Though his eyes had a curiosity to them, more so than just a stranger. Was the son into him? Anakin was in no mood to be hit on by a poor person. Instead, Anakin’s eyes fell anywhere else, though there wasn’t much to look at. His eye did eventually catch a glimpse of the photo frame sitting on one of the shelves.
A man, a child and a woman. Lars, his son, and his wife. Strange, he could only sense a second Force signature. Lars looked the same as he did in the photo, so it must have been somewhat recent, and the fact that there were still three seats at the dinner table meant someone was missing.
He couldn’t help reaching out to examine it. There was something about this photo, the Force was clinging to it the way it did when it wanted him to see something. Though rotating it around in his hands, he couldn’t find anything particularly interesting about it. Still, the Force clung to it. Did it have some sort of hidden Sith dagger inside?
Anakin held it up to his ear giving it a shake to see if there was something inside. Nothing.
“She’s beautiful isn’t she,” Padme came up behind him, looking at the photo. “We’ll have to get a photo of you two together.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Why?” She certainly wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t like Padme to be his wingman. What was her strange infatuation with this place?
“Anakin,” Lars called out to him from the tiny living room. He gestured to the table, expecting the two of them to take a seat. The looper only narrowed his eyes, the seat would place his back to the door, allowing people to sneak up on him. Was that his game? Just as he was about to reject Padme followed pulling him along with her.
“Son, it’s best if you sit down for this.”
“I prefer to stand,” it was easier for him to kill him if he stood. However, Padme had different plans as she dragged him down next to her. Annoying woman.
The seat was as uncomfortable as he expected, more rock than cushion. Lars didn’t look too much better, he looked… constipated? No, his eyes were too dilated, something activating his fight or flight response . It was emotional rather than a physical problem. He was… sad? An easy mix up.
“You okay old man?” Anakin asked, earning him a kick under the table from Padme.
“I’ve heard a lot about you from Shmi.” He gave him a sad smile.
“Weird,” Padme kicked him harder under the table.
“I don’t know how to tell you this but,” he looked up at them, his eyes beginning to redden. “Shmi is dead.”
Oh no?
“Sand people came and took her, a few of us tried to fight them off but.” He tapped his metal leg. “We didn’t succeed.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Anakin lied. Some farmer wife got killed by a bunch of savages, big deal. He dealt in Planetary destruction and galaxy enslavement, some widower was not high on his priority list.
Just as he was about to turn around to Padme to finally get her to leave this sandy he found her hand gripping his. It was strangely pleasant, though weird. Why was she so touchy all of a sudden?
“Anakin, are you okay?”
“No.” He was stuck on a stupid planet having to listen to some farmer whine about his dead wife.
He definitely wasn’t okay when Padme wrapped her arms around him. Okay, hugging was new? He thought she hated him again. This day was just getting weirder.
“I’m sorry Anakin.” She stroked his back, like a mother who would console a child.
“You’re forgiven?”
Cliegg awkwardly scooted around the table as well finding his way to the other side of Anakin, only to wrap his arms around him as well. That was really strange. Did someone drug them?
“It’s okay boy, we’re here for you. I know you must be in shock right now but we will do anything we need for you.”
“Thanks?”
“I’m sorry, I know what it’s like to lose a mother. If you need anything man I’m here.” Owen nodded to him. Of course he does, he was literally just told his mother was dead.
Speaking of which why weren’t they hugging Owen instead of him, his mother was dead. Unless he wasn’t the boy’s biological child, she could be a more recent step-mother if the photo is anything to go by. But if that was the case why were they… oh… OH! That’s why! He was so stupid, of course now it all made sense. The tears, the hugs, the pointlessness.
“Shmi is my mother,” He finally realised.
“I’m sorry, we only have one guest bed.” Cliegg gave him a respectful nod. The man had offered them his son’s bed for the night while he took a couch somewhere else. The one-legged farmer gave the two of them a solemn, respectful nod before leaving.
The room was horrid, and Anakin did nothing to hide the look of disgust.
This planet was a mess, and to think most people who wasn’t a Hutt lived like this. Was this the place Padme always sent his kids to hide from him? He knew he was an evil dictator half of the loops but this should be considered child abuse. He dragged a finger against the wall, feeling the layer of sand and dirt grind against his finger. What a miserable planet.
There was one benefit, though.
“A single bed,” Anakin wiggled his eyebrows at her, expecting some sort of reaction. To his displeasure, all she did was look at him with pity. Him! Him of all things! Her eyes were soft and she looked as if he was some heartbroken maiden.
“So how are you feeling?” Her voice was gentle, as if he was some sort of child. Pathetic.
“Eh,” Anakin shrugged, landing on the bed. It was lumpy and hard, just what he wanted. Miserable planet.
“Eh? Anakin, you don’t have to put on the mask around me.” She sat down next to him. Her face wincing from the feel of the bed. At least he wasn’t alone in that regard.
“A woman died, big deal. They all do. Except Talzin, she can be difficult if you don’t know what you are doing.”
His words stunned her. She looked at him as if she was trying to unravel a puzzle, but the sheer effort of it hurt her brain. He was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, she would never be able to truly understand the complicated soul that was him.
“You… you don't care.” Finally! Now she was getting it, it took her long enough.
“Guilty, as charged.” He smiled at her.
“What’s wrong with you?!” She was no longer sitting carefully beside him, she had now jumped in front of him, red in the face. Oh wonderful, another argument.
“With me?” What did he do?
“Yes you? Your mother is dead and all you can say is ‘boo fricken hoo’!” He never said that. “Does nothing matter to you?”
“So you're mad at me for something I can’t control? I didn’t kill her!”
“Yes, yes it fucking matters!”
“Well that doesn’t seem very fair.” He pouted.
“It’s not meant to be fair! It’s emotional, emotions don’t make sense!” Of course they did. You could use them to lure your enemies into traps, or trick someone into doing something you wanted for no cost.
“Padme,” he sighed. “What do you want me to do? Care about a woman I barely knew?” More like had no memory whatsoever.
She at her best was a slave. At least she that way she was at least useful in some regard. She had no talent in the Force, she was not some political power-house, she couldn’t even kill some Tusken Raiders. In his war she wasn’t even a pawn she was just a woman he would be forced to spend a weekend lunch with.
“I want you to care!”
“I don’t though!” He roared back. A vein pulsed in his temple, ever since getting his emotions back they had been annoying, with more often than not anger being the emotion he felt. “It’s a waste of time to care, why spend weeks wallowing in my own self-pity when I could actually fucking do something. Results matter more than emotions. Do you think I would cry in my bed trying to process how much I miss mommy? I’m a fucking adult!”
“No, of course not. You just abandon any problem you have for two years. Then you’d go run off with your dathomirian girlfriend doing body shots of Twi’leks.” Did everyone know about the Twi’lek thing?
“Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?”
“Yes it does!”
“How?” He exclaimed, his voice cracking like a prepubescent child.
“Because if you can’t even care about your Mother, then you won’t care about-” Her face scrunched up so tight. There was something she wanted to say, something he knew was selfish. Something she couldn’t bring herself to say cause she still needed to pretend she was a selfless person, when she wasn’t.
Anakin went for a walk.
He didn’t know how far he walked or where he was truly going but he walked for hours in the night. A dune became many, as he walked leaving a long trail of footprints in the sand, only to be soon blown away by the wind.
He hadn’t needed to walk off his emotions since… ever! He was an effective killing machine, yet here he was kicked out of bed by someone who he wasn’t even dating. Where was the eternal warrior he once was? Why is he acting so… so… so childish! This was something he would have expected during his first loops not now, not when he was meant to be perfect.
A cry woke him from his thought. Not the cry of a child but the cry of someone ready to hunt. Sand People. His eyes found them in the distance, catching a small glimmer of moonlight off the lens of their macrobinoculars.
A long line of people covered in cloaks alongside Banthas. A raiding party, and considering the closeness to the Lars residence it is quite likely they were the very ones who killed his mother, how convenient. Perhaps the Force had plans for him and them, a duel of fates long forgotten to both of them.
He wasn’t the only one who took notice as the Sand People pointed at him in the distance, waving their poles in the air, screaming their heads off. Was that supposed to be intimidating? He was used to real psychological warfare. Impalement of captives on the streets of captured planets, shock and awe tactics, exhausting enemies to the point of death. These people were just too primitive in their combat.
They didn’t fire at him from a distance, instead choosing to come towards him face to face. Good, he hated running through sand. Why would they, though, he was just one man and plasma could ruin any goodies he had. Better to beat him down with their sticks and take all he has of worth.
Between the decreasing distance of the large raiding party and Anakin, there was excitement in the stale dry air of Tatooine as they ran to him. Each of them trying to beat the person next to them to steal his cloak. For them, it was a friendly game to kill him, like children racing for a ball. For him, it was a fascination with what he would feel. What anger would he feel? Hunting down and avenging his mother through the slaughter of Sand People, what a rush it will be.
His grip tightened on his lightsaber, he could feel his heart rising in anticipation. He wouldn’t just feel emotions he would drown in it. Swim in its entirety and experience something he lost many, many years ago.
“I’m supposed to hate you.” Anakin looked down at his feet, hearing the sand crunching under several feet. “So why don’t I?”
They surrounded him. It was by no means a small raiding party. Thirty? No, forty men. This was a large group of them. A proper raiding party. No wonder the farmers couldn’t stop them, they were severely outmatched.
Considering the ornaments of one individual, Anakin could even guess this was maybe even the chieftain or whatever sort of hierarchy these people had. Or at least someone high-ranking.
But he is not the same man as he was eons ago. He is a machine bred for the death of a single man, he was nothing but a being who peddles death and war. They killed some random woman who he can’t even remember, honestly he would be more upset if they have killed a random clone. At least they have value to him as a soldier. Still… Here he was, searching for some sort of feeling. He only recently got them back actually, he kind of expected to feel something meeting you. Some sort of rage. But… nothing.
They charged at him. Yet when Anakin cut one down he still felt nothing besides a mild disinterest. Killing Nute Gunray had been more interesting. At least his death furthered his goals. What was the point of this? To avenge some woman he couldn’t remember? Why didn’t he care? He should? He couldn’t bring himself too.
Amongst the chaos, there was sand, cinders and dissected limbs.
He saw them cower, he saw them try to run and he saw them weep over the corpse of what must have been a friend. There was an anger building up in Anakin, but not one of romanticised vengeance, but rather of jealousy.
“Why do you get to feel this?!” Whose voice was yelling? Was a sand person speaking basic? That was unusual.
He put his back to one, bringing his lightsaber with him in a reverse grip, stabbing another’s abdomen. How many people cared for the person he just killed? Would a Raider weep for the death of another?
Anakin cut down two more, adding to the corpses piling up around his feet. There were already so many, these people weren’t trained for real combat. They were raiders, pathetic and weak. All he felt for them was pity, being forced to live on this waste of a planet.
There was a rhythm to his slaughter, a beat that the Sand People couldn’t keep up with as the number of the dead on the ground began to outnumber those still standing. Anakin spun through the bodies, leaving only evaporated blood, glassed sand and a trail of hot plasma in his wake, as those close enough to realise the death God before them discovered it too late.
He spun, cutting down nothing but air, the person behind him hadn’t been standing behind him, weapon in hand. But rather was kneeling in the sand with his bisected friend in his arms, sobbing like a child. The crying was loud and ugly, painful to hear, and for a moment was enough for Anakin to take a pause from his rhythm.
Why was this person so sad? This beast was a raider, murderer and kidnapper. What right did it have to feel emotions he couldn’t? Where was the justice? Anakin couldn’t help but sneer as he loomed over the crying man, an anger he was annoyed to feel. Not the anger he wanted, the anger of a son who lost his mother, but rather a childish anger of seeing another kid play with the toy he wanted.
Pathetic jealousy.
“You don’t get to feel sad! I do! I’m meant to be…” it was only then he realised the person roaring in basic was him. His thoughts were swimming as he tried to find a word that was lost to him. Trying to attract an emotion he couldn’t grasp. “Something! I’m meant to feel something from this! Not you!”
The chieftain roared swinging at Anakin but before he could even get close a single finger from him sent the Sand Person up several metres in the air before…
Crunch!
Several bones broke as the chieftain hit the sand at an awkward angle. He was still alive but his spine was clearly shattered and his body mangled. He would either die from the pain or die from the desert. Still Anakin felt nothing at the man’s fate.
There was no grandiose feeling of accomplishment at the death of these mongrels. No pride to be won, no guilt to be felt. Where the FUCK was his emotions! He deserved this! He needed this! It wasn’t fucking fair!
Some of the few survivors tried to flee on the back of Banthas but Anakin held up his fingers, aiming it at their backs as they tried to flee. Their numbers had been decimated, they would die to the desert without their tribe, just more kills to the desert. Fuck the desert, these were his kills.
Anakin was always good at reeling in the Dark Side. He had eons of experience swimming against its currents, not like Vader who got picked up in the torrent. But not this time. The Dark Side sang to him in its horrid voice, but he was in no mood for argument. Following its waltz Anakin willingly danced to the beat, lifting his fingers ever so slightly to the fleeing survivors.
Lightning danced across the dunes, exposing dunes in the dark blue light of personified jealousy. The lightning travelled, leaving the song of a thousand chirping birds at once, but once it hit its mark, the sound transformed into something horrid. Into cries of people whose skin curled from the heat of the lightning, into the sound of sand turning to glass, and tears flash burning into steam.
Still he felt nothing.
He knew the answer, but he was hoping it was wrong.
Death had numbed him. War had desensitised him and the eons of it, left his neurons bare. He tapped his head with his finger as if trying to shake the barren neurotransmitters back awake, desperate to get that hit of dopamine he craved since the return of his feelings. The tapping did nothing.
He couldn’t be a killer and a person at the same time. For all his loops, for all his experience, for all his power, not even he could achieve the impossible.
Anakin sat next to the mangled body of the chieftain, who writhed in pain.
How many other people did he forget just cause they couldn’t wield a lightsaber or kill others at his command? Had he fallen in love centuries ago, had he forgotten a son that wasn’t useful like Luke?
For all his powers, he was still a victim of memory loss. He really was an old man.
A small laugh escaped his lips. His brain had millions of gigabytes of capacity and he had used every single cell to the memory of Lightsaber techniques, secret Sith stashes, weaknesses of his enemies. Fuck, he knew more about Jango Fett’s genome then he did his own mother.
He knew what type of berries the Yuuzhan Vong didn’t like but he couldn’t recall a time Ashoka wasn’t a piece on his board. His life was a joke. He had eons to experience every aspect of life but he has never once seen Luke die of old age. He had forced his son to fight a war that wasn’t his. Has Luke been anything besides a Jedi? Would he ever want to try to be an accountant? What a novel concept.
“I wasted too much of my memory on war.”
“Are you ready to go, you unfeeling arsehole?” Padme scowled waiting patiently at the ramp of the ship. Her foot repeatedly tapping the ramp, creating a rhythmic beat he found himself following.
He looked up at her. Despite all that happened last night, she still waited for him, huh, he half expected to leave him on this desert planet. Charming.
“I’m glad I didn’t forget you.” He found the words leaving his mouth as he thought them.
A blush found itself on her cheeks. So beautiful. She was pretty when bashful.
“What’s gotten into you?” She hurriedly said.
“Nothing, just appreciating the small things.”