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Darth Vader hated Tatooine.
The harsh pellets of sand were dry, clinging granules of death and discomfort; the unforgiving Tatooinian suns were merciless in beating down on any hapless travelers; and there was not a worthwhile being on the entire planet, just pathetic moisture farmers and mercenaries. Even the Imperials on Tatooine were incompetent. No one would be stationed on a backwater planet such as this unless they had proven themselves to be incompetent or had angered someone in a position of power.
Were it not for rumors of the presence of a strange wizard, Vader would never have again stepped foot on the wretched desert planet. He despised the place and would have readily wiped it from the galaxy had he possessed the ability.
Still, any rumors that might hint at the presence of a Jedi had to be properly explored. The primary problem he faced was that he lacked details on the Jedi’s location—if indeed there was a Jedi.
To learn more about the so-called wizard, he decided to begin with Mos Espa. He only hoped that some of the information brokers he had known in his childhood could still be found.
His Stormtrooper escort followed him down the Imperial shuttle ramp in perfect formation and had only moved a few feet before Vader turned to the Stormtrooper captain to command, “Wait here.”
The captain hesitated for the briefest of moments before saying with an uneasy tone, “Yes, my lord.” No doubt he deemed it prudent not to argue with his superior even if he had misgivings.
Vader left the docking bay without another word. He was loath to let even the members of his escort know how well he knew this place. He would face the ghosts of his past alone. As he always did.
Children scattered at the sight of Vader walking down the street. Their fearful shrieks and cries caused adults to stop haggling over food and fuel and run to their aid. A Rodian toddler in ragged clothes stood in the middle of the street, transfixed at the sight of him, until his mother carried him off into a dark alleyway beside a nearby cantina. The street was almost deserted before Vader had reached the end.
His steps began to falter and then stopped completely as he felt a tug at his Force sense. He turned around, lowering his helmet to look at a small boy standing a few feet away from a doorway which he must have just exited.
The child—a human who was perhaps seven years of age—had mussed blonde hair, tanned skin, and startlingly clear blue eyes. He held a droid servomotor in his hands and was rather impressed by Vader’s large stature if the wideness of his eyes was any indication. On seeing the Sith Lord’s attention focused on him, however, the boy broke away his gaze and quickly resumed moving down the street toward his original destination.
Intrigued for reasons he could not explain, Vader followed the boy. Before long, he found himself standing in front of a junkshop he knew very well.
The Force hummed in his veins as he watched the boy disappear into the building, and he felt a rising sense of trepidation like none in recent memory. As Darth Vader, he feared nothing. But at present, he did not feel like Darth Vader. He felt more like—
But no. He was not Anakin Skywalker any longer. Why had he been drawn here? Why did he feel such a strong urge to follow that boy?
Despite the questions hammering at his brain, Vader knew he had to abide by the Force’s call. He gathered his resolve and entered the junkshop.
The place certainly looked better than it had the last time he was here; evidently, there had been a bit of a windfall, as the inside was tidier and appeared to be in better condition.
“Hi chuba da nago?" a familiar voice asked in Huttese.
Vader turned his helmet slightly to the left to study Watto.
The Toydarian had his back facing him, as he was busy looking down at something. Even looking at Watto from behind, Vader could tell he had aged. Still, his wings seemed to be beating as fast as they always had, keeping him aloft without any difficulty.
The Sith Lord’s breathing echoed throughout the room, and it took Watto only a few moments to realize his latest visitor was not intent on responding to his question. He turned around from the table, knocking off a pit droid in startlement after witnessing Vader’s imposing figure. “Unnhh, who are youuh?”
“I should think it would be obvious,” Vader said dryly.
There was a tic in Watto’s face that only appeared when he was nervous. It was appearing right now.
“Whatuh,” the Toydarian said at last, “you think you can come in here and scare poor Watto with a silly prank, eh? Well, I’m not fooled by your silly costume, hmm.” He buzzed up by Vader, studying the suit. The Sith Lord could feel that he was still anxious, though Watto was trying desperately to hide it. “Wald must have spent a fortune on that costume, heh heh . . . . Where is he anyway, mmm? Is he hiding?” He flew behind Vader to the entrance to his shop and looked outside. He frowned as he noticed how quiet the street was.
“I am Darth Vader, Military Executor for the Empire,” the Sith Lord said in a low, threatening voice. “I am not some Rodian’s prank.”
Watto turned and looked at the armor-clad human. Then he looked outside. Then he bolted.
Darth Vader lifted a hand in the air and used the Force to bring a struggling Watto back inside the shop.
The Toydarian was practically in hysterics by that point. “Please don’t kill me! I have several more years to live, mmm? I have a wife and two kids—”
“You have never been married in your life.”
“Well, yeah, but, unhh, I could be. Think of all the little Toydarians you would be letting downuh—”
He released Watto from his Force-grip. “Stop your useless prattle. I did not come here to kill you.”
The Toydarian’s eyes started to glint with hope. “You didn’t, unh?” He looked down at the floor and then back up at Vader, and he shouted over his shoulder, “Peedunkee!” With a bit of a sheepish grin, he queried, “What are you doing here in my humble shop then, hmm?”
Vader watched as the boy he had seen earlier came into the main area of the shop.
Listening to the Toydarian’s brief exchange with the boy, Vader was reminded much of what his own life had been like, but he instantly banished those thoughts from his mind.
After advising the boy they needed to do whatever was asked of them, Watto returned his attention to Vader. “Is there some part I canuh get for you, hmm?” He pressed his hands together nervously.
“I am looking for information,” Vader said. He tried to concentrate on his mission—finding the Jedi—but for some reason, he could not stop looking at that boy.
“Enhh, I am notuh much of an information broker, but if I can help, I will. Whatuh do you need to know, mm?” Watto’s facial tic was still working.
“What is that child’s name?” Vader heard himself asking.
“I’m not a child,” the boy inserted dourly.
“Be quiet, boy,” Watto growled. He turned his attention back to Vader. “He is a no oneuh, just a slave I bought from Jabba, eh. Seems his aunt and uncle were killed by Sand People. It happens a lot around these parts, eh? He’s a good worker—best mechanic in Mos Espa, heh heh. Bet you wouldn’t know ituh to look at him, mm?”
“What is his name?” the Sith Lord asked, a threatening edge to his voice.
“Hisuh name is Luke Skywalker,” the Toydarian said swiftly. Terrified, he started to ramble. “He is the son of a slave I had years ago, I thinkuh. Kind of strange, ehh? Anakin was great with machines just likeuh him.” He jerked his head in the boy’s direction for emphasis. “He would raceuh pods for me. That’s how I lost him—made a bet with someone who rigged the race, hmm . . . .
“Podracing is illegal now, of course,” Watto noted quickly, “but I’ve entered him in a few swoop races, heh. It’s all legal here, anduh he’s the youngest racer out there, heh heh. Won quite a few races, too, ehh.”
Certain that the breathing of his respirator was quickening to match the pulse of his pounding heart, Vader moved his eyes from Watto to the boy. Luke Skywalker . . .
“I’muh thinking of retiring soon with the money he’s won me, heh. Are you in the market for a slave, eh?”
Vader slowly turned his helmet toward Watto, feeling a hot rage bubble up in his chest due to the treatment of his son as a slave. He lifted a hand, and with the Force, he began to lift Watto higher into the air and cut off his airflow.
The Toydarian had not seen it coming, and he struggled in vain against the invisible grip, trying to pry the formless fingers from his throat.
“Stop!” the boy commanded.
Vader, startled at the outburst, released Watto, dropping him to the ground.
Terrified, Watto stayed on the ground and rubbed his throat, watching Vader with wide eyes.
“You are a slave,” Vader said to the boy. “You should be pleased if I kill your master.”
Luke shook his head. “Killing is evil.”
“Slavery is evil,” the Sith Lord returned.
“But at least Watto would never kill anyone,” the boy said stubbornly.
“Do you know who I am?” Vader asked in a low voice. Before Luke could answer, he swiveled to face Watto.
The Toydarian looked up at him in fear, no doubt believing that his end was near.
Instead, Vader said quietly, “Chut-chut, Watto,” echoing words he had used several years ago near this same junkyard.
Watto looked at the Sith Lord in confusion, and then suddenly comprehension passed over his face, and his jaw dropped in surprise. “Ani?” The Toydarian looked from Vader to Luke, repeating the motion one more time before resting his eyes on Vader. Then he spoke the words that he had said years before: “Little Ani?”
“The child is coming with me,” Vader said authoritatively as he stepped toward Luke.
But the boy backed away, looking frightened. “I don’t want to go with you.”
Watto was smart enough to realize that resisting the Empire was futile, and he said, “Ehhh, Luke, you had better go with him, I thinkuh.”
Luke crossed his arms stubbornly. “Why? He’s evil. He was going to kill you.”
“You uh got the wrong idea, I thinkuh. He wants to free you from the slave’s life, mmm.”
“Where will he take me?”
“To the stars, I thinkuh. Maybe you will get to fly, hmm?” Watto, seeming to feel a little more confident, rose from the floor, his wings slicing through the air rapidly.
“But why would he want to free me?” the boy asked, his brow furrowed.
“He’suh your father, Luke.”
The child’s mouth formed an “o.” He appeared dazed.
Watto gestured toward Vader. “I canuh disarm your transmitter, Luke, and you can go with him, mm . . . . You’d like that, ehh?”
Luke looked at the Sith Lord thoughtfully. “You’re really my father?”
The Sith Lord inclined his head. “Yes.”
The boy frowned. “But my father wasn’t a murderer.”
“I am not a murderer, Luke,” Vader said in a voice that was almost gentle. “I am someone who has helped bring peace to the galaxy.”
Meanwhile, Watto had found the remote that could disarm the transmitter in Luke’s body. After inputting a few codes and messing with the contraption, the Toydarian exclaimed, “There! You are a free boy nowuh, heh heh.” His nervousness was just barely perceptible.
“I’ll miss you, Watto,” Luke said quietly. Vader could sense the sincerity behind the boy’s words, and he knew from his own experience as a child that as far as masters went, Watto had not been an overly harsh one.
“I’ll missuh you, too, boy,” the Toydarian said, flying over to pat him on the head.
After blinking up at Watto, Luke walked over to stand by Vader, who gestured for him to exit the shop.
The boy stared up at him for a few seconds before saying, “I’ll go with you, but I won’t become a murderer, too.” Then he walked out of the junkshop.
Vader took a few steps forward, intent on following his son outside. Then, on a sudden whim, he turned back to speak to Watto one last time. “Five million credits will be deposited in an account for you. But if I should ever hear anything about you owning slaves . . .” He let the threat hang in the air for a few moments. “Keep all of this quiet, or you will find yourself regretting having ever crossed paths with a Skywalker.”
“My lips are sealeduh,” the Toydarian promised.
As Vader left the junkshop, Watto’s grateful whisper followed him: “Thank you, little Ani.”