Chapter Text
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It really, really should not have gone like this.
The mission had been simple, supposed to be a quick introduction for him; to get him used to working within the Alliance. Nothing bad was supposed to happen. Especially not something like this!
Even as his thoughts swirled unendingly in his head, foreign animals mimicked his evident confusion, angrily screeching as they tried to make sense of the foreign object now occupying their murky jungle.
Great ropy vines hung down, some as thick as Luke’s thigh, darkening into the distance above, until they completely disappeared into pitch black. Despite their width and evident weight, they swayed gently in the non-existent breeze, causing ferns and tall grasses to rustle, disguising the sound of any incoming creatures. Roots shot from the dirt and burrowed back down in massive arches, overgrown with moss, shadows swaying and scurrying busily to and fro. With the constant overload of sound, swathes of bright colour and abundant movement, Luke couldn’t help feeling intensely claustrophobic. The vast expanses of the Jundland Wastes were almost an exact opposite to this vibrant, busy planet.
Thankfully, he had managed to crash in a clearing, avoiding ending up as a Rebel kebab, skewered on one of the many branches towering above his head. Grass around the wreckage was flattened and black, even burning in some places. His X-wing sat in the midst of this devastation, nose broken open and the guts of his ship had spilt out, sparking and leaking oil. Already, the jungle was overtaking his poor X-wing. Vines had crept over it within hours and the creatures, whose nests he suspected had been destroyed by the crash, were screeching and pecking at the exposed metal.
Luke sat a few metres from where the first vines where swaying, seemingly marking the spot where clearing ended, and true jungle began. He would have preferred to huddle next to his fighter, stay away from the strange sounds and far more greenery than he had ever imagined to be possible. But his mission hadn’t just gone wrong, it had gone disastrously wrong.
In the flickering, dying fires about the now-useless ship, flames were reflected by the durasteel of Vader’s helmet, and were swallowed in the black of his cloak. He was sprawled there, only a few metres from the split nose of his X-wing, where he had fallen hours before. Luke had crawled from his cockpit, stumbled away and collapsed where he now sat. Nothing had changed since then, minutes after the crash.
He supposed it might be safe to presume Vader was unconscious?
Dead would be preferable, but unconscious was still better than awake and rending Luke limb from limb. Also, if Vader was already dead, then he wouldn’t have to deal with the moral quandary of whether or not he should kill the unconscious mass-murdering psychotic madman whom had murdered his father and committed what was likely multiple genocides.
It wasn’t much of a moral quandary, was it?
Which meant he really didn’t have a good excuse not to kill the currently-harmless being sprawled in the grass before him.
Yes, he wanted to avenge Ben, and his father, and Alderaan. But. Murder was far easier to attempt and think of with the wizened old Jedi at his side. At that moment, Luke was sat, utterly alone, with only his blaster on his belt for company. And the wheezing breaths of his mortal enemy. Who he should kill.
He had killed thousands aboard the Death Star, why should he hesitate to do the same to Vader? Han would have done it in a heartbeat; Leia in less than that!
With some effort, he moved for the first time in hours, hauled himself upright and drew his weapon with shaky hands, pointed it at the figure.
Nobody even knew if Vader was human! It could just be some advanced droid in there, or a clone. Do this, and he’d be branded a hero, even more so than he already was. He would avenge Ben and make his father proud!
His finger was tightening on the trigger as he convinced himself. The creature or robot or whatever it was, was pure and inconceivable evil. Even if it was human, it had given up its humanity long ago. There was nothing wrong with killing such a thing, surely?
But he couldn’t pull the trigger. Aunt Beru’s voice, quietly, in the back of his head; her lectures on right and wrong had evidently not left him.
Luke plopped back down again, dead leaves puffing up about him, then settling. “What am I doing?!” He whisper-shouted to himself, blaster on the floor next to him, already almost buried in the mounds of twigs and other fallen debris.
A sudden explosion of movement. Luke flinched back, scrambled in the dirt for his weapon, grasped the handle and brought it up, the previous shaking stilled.
Flying creatures, blasts of colour in red and blue and purple, rose up, letting out cacophonous screeches. In a moment, they had cleared the distant treetops and began to circle, their calls quieter with distance. But Luke had yet to see what had sent them skywards.
His eyes were immediately drawn to Vader, still an incongruous lump on the ground.
Yet, with the creatures now gone, he could hear beeping.
It was quite loud and consistent. Each time it sounded, what seemed to be a corresponding light flashed, bright against the black of Vader. As he listened, stock still, it grew louder and faster, more insistent.
Legs resisting, he once again stood, arms holding his weapon before him, as if that would work; it didn’t even give him the illusion of safety.
When Vader continued to remain still, unshifting against the unforgiving ground, Luke started forward. One foot in front of the other, he made is way. Despite attempting to be silent, it seemed as if every inch of ground was covered with snapping twigs and crunching leaves. He winced each time something gave way beneath his foot, deafeningly loud. But Vader did not move.
A few metres from the fallen Imperial, a new, higher-pitched beep erupted, tinny yet piercing. Luke flung himself backwards automatically, finger squeezing on the trigger, but not yet enough to fire. The new sound wailed on, assaulting his ears, enough to even cause some pain. One hand came loose from the blaster’s grip, reached up to cradle his head.
Then Darth Vader moved.
His arm, twisted and crumpled unnaturally, stretched out with the shriek of grinding gears. Then static burst out, completely masking whatever the thing inside had said. The destroyed arm was moved again, this time in a futile attempt to push his great bulk upright.
Luke stumbled back, feet catching and nearly tripping in his haste. The tremble was back and sweat trickled into his eyes.
More crackling, then Vader somehow managed to wriggle onto his back, his other arm now freed. It stuttered to life with another, ear-shattering scream of metal-on-metal, and found its way to the chest panel, gracelessly slapping at it until the right button was presumably pressed, silencing the incessant beeps.
After this task had been completed, Vader lay still, other than his breath heaving his chest up and down. Luke stood stock still, afraid to even breathe. He had heard of this thing’s extraordinary abilities; the powers of a Jedi, though to say so could be considered blasphemy.
But his fear seemed to be unwarranted.
None of Vader’s limbs looked to be in working order. Like the arm he had seen first, each one was twisted beyond recognition; only the suit seemed to hold them together. Sharp edges jutted, threatening to tear holes in the leather. One wrist was so badly twisted, the misshapen fingers were facing the wrong way, where they twitched slightly, like an oversized spider in its death throes. His thigh was bent to the side, at nearly a right angle, and a space below the knee seemed slack, as the suit dipped down, as if the remainder of his leg had become completely detached.
There was too much to take in – the dreaded helmet was dented, one visor partially shattered, spider-webbing cracks ran through his pauldron and even the lightsabre at his belt looked battered.
Vader’s lightsabre.
Luke stared at it. Was that the weapon used to cut down his father? Undoubtedly, it had killed many.
With a lightsabre, Vader was unstoppable. Without it, he would be unstoppable. But, Luke would feel better if he had it. So.
The Rebel crept forward, focusing on the ‘sabre, carefully trying to ignore exactly whose belt it was strapped to. With a deep breath, Luke crouched down next to the immobile body, stretched out his arm. He reached over the twitching hand, down to where the metal cylinder rested. A few fumbling attempts, and he grasped it in his sweaty hand, knuckles white from the force of his desperate hold. Slowly, he slipped it from the belt, brought it up and scrambled away as quickly as he could, clutching the ‘sabre to his chest, holding out the blaster in his other hand. When he was nearly in the jungle, he plopped back down and gasped in a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
Vader remained still, so he slowly lowered the blaster and holstered it. The lightsabre was a heavy weight, as if the uncountable people it had killed bore down on the small thing. Luke held it up, looked it over. Surprisingly, it looked almost exactly like his father’s, even with the darker colour scheme. Without his father’s weapon on hand, he couldn’t say for sure, but this looked identical to it.
Just at that moment, Vader twitched, the breathing cycle seemed to be interrupted, heaving in a giant breath, then sputtered out, the usual raspy breathing turned wet and gasping. The whole body spasmed, and jutting parts twisted, writhed under the suit. More static, broken and incredibly loud, drowned out the ever-present screeching from the creatures circling above. Then Vader lay still again, chest rising and falling steadily. His head twitched to the side, as if attempting to assess what had happened. Luke sat, frozen.
Desperate, hissing static and Vader spasmed, just as Luke’s senses blasted him with the unmistakeable feeling of danger. An immense force hit him from behind. He was flattened against it with the speed of its impact and then flung forward, away from the trees, toward where Vader lay. When he landed, moments later, he scrambled away, first on hands and knees then his feet, looked back, only to see one of the giant vines curling about the spot he had been seconds previously. He glanced back to Vader, confused. More static, no twitching this time.
“Your vocoder’s broken, isn’t it,” Luke said, his voice neutral. Vader didn’t bother even attempting to reply.
Luke sighed, pulled his knees to his chest. “Okay, I can work with this.” He glanced back to the wall of hanging vines. “Living plants that’ll eat me. Got it.” He looked back to Vader. “You saved me. Why?”
Vader seemed to attempt speech again, but the crackling quickly cut off, and Luke could feel the Imperial staring at him, as if berating him for attempting conversation with someone seemingly incapable of replying.
But, it wasn’t too different from talking with Artoo. “If you can’t fight back, it’s murder. You might not think it’s wrong but I do.” Luke sighed, shook his head. “Maybe that makes me an idiot. But I won’t kill you, not like this. I won’t be like you.”
When there were no more attempted replies, Luke stood again, somewhat more confident that Vader really couldn’t move.
He walked back to his X-wing and examined the damage – where Vader had split the nose in two, a branch lodged through the cockpit, broken off just before where it would have pierced him in his seat. He hated that he couldn’t remember the crash itself. On one of the panels, dried blood showed where he had cracked his head against it, rendering himself unconscious. A cursory examination of the dials and lights showed that the X-wing’s computer had been destroyed, along with anything even remotely useful for sending long-range transmissions. Where his radio had been, a branch or rock had smashed a hole in the ship, leaving nothing behind. An entire wing had been shorn off at some point and he could see it, between the trees a few metres into the jungle, lodged into the ground.
He doubted the fighter was going anywhere. Which left him stranded with Darth Vader.
Luke turned back round to examine the fallen Imperial. Thankfully, he had been stranded with an immobile Vader, who looked even worse for wear than his poor X-wing. If not for that particular stroke of good luck… He didn’t even want to think of the fate which could have awaited him. But, he still had no idea what to do.
He wasn’t going to kill Vader, he couldn’t repair his ship (or its radio) and get away, and he apparently couldn’t explore the jungle because of giant man-eating vines.
Luke gripped the lightsabre tighter as he pondered, then looked sharply down at it. Practicing what little he had learnt from Ben usually helped him think… He held it in his palm, felt the balance and was somewhat unsurprised when it was identical to his father’s. It was quite odd. He could think on that later.
With a snap-hiss, the blade activated, humming as he twirled it. A small smile tugged at his lips, like whenever else he held a lightsabre. Then, he remembered whose it was and forced his face to return to a neutral expression.
Luke settled into the stance Ben had taught him and tried his best to ignore the derisive crackling which Vader emitted.
Step back, quick slash. He couldn’t fix the ship. Not enough tools or parts
Block, sidestep. He couldn’t explore the jungle. He didn’t have anything to protect himself with and he wasn’t good enough with a ‘sabre to just use that.
Parry, sweeping cut. He could use Vader’s suit?
Thrust, step forward. Getting close enough to Vader to remove his suit was a bad idea. Very bad.
Then maybe fix the suit?
Luke froze at the thought. His immediate, gut reaction was no kreffin’ way but… It could work?
Vader had thrown him away from danger. Perhaps he would be willing to help him escape the planet?
He returned to the simple movements.
Step back, quick slash. Vader probably wanted to escape this planet, too. They could help each other.
Block, sidestep. Would Vader keep his word? Would he kill Luke the moment he could move again? No… Vader had saved him before. If he wanted Luke dead, he would already be so.
Parry, sweeping cut. He probably had the parts and tools. Despite the X-wing’s condition, it could definitely be torn apart to help fix the suit and his equipment sat untouched, safe in their compartment.
Thrust, step forward. He could do it. If he wanted to.
Did he?
Surprisingly, Luke found that he did.
His arm fell to his side and he flicked off the blade. He hung it at his belt and walked to the X-wing. With swift, practiced movements he jumped up to the ruined cockpit and retrieved his tools, then returned to the ground, set them out on the bed of leaves and flattened grass.
First, he needed to get Vader talking again. He would know more about his suit than Luke. So, his short-range radio and oxygen feed would have to be cannibalised. He didn’t know if the outdated Alliance tech would be compatible with Vader’s suit, but he had to try.
To get at the necessary components, he would need to cut through metal. Perhaps Vader’s lightsabre would be useful? Luke studied it for a moment, but then shook his head. The weapon was too long for what he needed, and he wasn’t going to run the risk of accidentally damaging whatever useful tech was left in his ship.
After selecting the right tool, Luke clambered back up, baggy orange flight suit catching on the sharp edges, but he made it onto the back of his fighter, just behind the astromech socket. If only Artoo was there, things would be so much easier. The witty droid would have probably known exactly what to do in this situation. Luke shook away the thought – it wouldn’t help him now – and grasped his multi-tool. The heavy bolts and thick metal were not meant to be opened and were capable of withstanding direct blaster fire. He would just have to make do.
After a quick flip through the functions, he found an appropriate-looking drill. The battery wouldn’t last long with such heavy-duty work, but it would have to be enough.
Luke positioned it carefully, balanced himself as far from the machine’s business end as possible, and then held down the trigger. It flung out sparks and blasted his face with almost-unendurable heat, but it was over soon enough. When the drill eventually slid down with a satisfying ka-chunk, Luke quickly powered it down and pulled it from the hole it had made.
The original bolt was completely destroyed, and the new tunnel sides were glowing hot. Luke smiled, pleased with his handiwork. He checked the battery and his grin widened; there was just enough to work the plate free. With a determined expression, the Rebel positioned the multi-tool again and got ready for some manual labour.
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Eventually, Luke was finished.
His multi-tool was beeping angrily, the battery almost completely depleted, but he had made eight, neat little holes in the back plate of his X-wing!
He took a moment to sit back and not contemplate the very-difficult act of removing said incredibly heavy plate. He had done it, so he gave himself a few minutes to do nothing and relax.
Luke slid from where he had been crouched and thumped gracelessly to the ground, legs wobbling from exhaustion. When he tried to stand, straighten them out, the most intense pins-and-needles sensation shot through him. Apparently, crouching in place for Force-knew-how-long gave you dead legs, and Luke was seriously regretting ever deciding to so much as think about helping Vader.
It was Vader! He shouldn’t be helping him, and evidently some cruel god had cursed him with dead legs for attempting such an act. Han would have laughed at him until the Falcon shook! Luke scowled at the perpetrator of all his misery, lying helpless on the ground. Previously, he would have sworn he wasn’t as naïve as Leia and Han and even Chewie thought he was. But now… He wasn’t so sure.
Seriously, helping Vader…!
He was doing it now, and he didn’t want his multi-tool’s battery going to waste. Also, there wasn’t much else to do, was there? Fix the quite-interesting suit whilst starving to death or starve to death in boredom. Not much of a choice for a young mechanic like himself.
Thinking of starving to death, Luke’s stomach let out a rather loud grumble. He glanced down at it, somewhat confused, and then the hunger hit him. For the past five-or-so hours, the only thing filling his stomach had been adrenaline, and the relaxingly familiar mechanical work had evidently eased it out of his system.
He sighed, rifled through the spacious pockets of his flight suit and found a few ration bars he had left in there at Leia’s insistence. Other than when he helped destroy the Death Star, this was his first mission, and she had been worried. Even though it was simple – fly there, gather information, fly back – she had made sure he was prepared. He had Leia to thank for the multi-tool and the rations, which would now probably keep him alive for a little while.
Luke pulled out the pile of supplies; only four ration bars, each one barely a meal and a small bottle of water. With a sigh, he picked one up and tore open the packet and began to eat the chewy, quite disgusting slab of reconstituted calories. He had enough for the remainder of this day, and half the next and maybe a little more if he tried to conserve them…
Living on Tatooine should have taught him about situations like this but, relatively speaking, he had been quite well-off. Food had sometimes been scarce, but there was always enough to live on, and rationing hadn’t been truly necessary. Even if it was, Luke didn’t have to worry about it: his aunt and uncle had taken care of it.
Once his meal was eaten, and he had taken a small sip of water, Luke was back on his feet. He shook out his legs, the last of the pins and needles finally gone, and then scrambled back on top of his X-wing.
Despite drilling away heavy-duty bolts, the plate was still almost flush with the rest of the body, impossible to fit his fingers into the miniscule gap to lever it up. Luke studied it, wiped sweat from his brow. The muggy air made thinking almost impossible, so he unzipped his flight suit and pulled it down halfway, tied the arms about his waist like a belt. Underneath, his white tank top was saturated with sweat, but he thankfully started to feel cooler with his torso exposed to the air instead of wrapped up in that fluorescent plastic bag.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t brought a crowbar with him, so removing the plate wasn’t going to be easy. Since it protected his life support system, and the ship was made for space battles, he highly doubted it was thin or light. Luke sighed, perused the multi-tool’s menu once more, but couldn’t find anything which might be remotely useful, unless the fork could double as a crowbar.
Which left him with the Force.
He had lifted rocks before, with difficulty, but it could work, right? It was just bigger… and heavier. A lot heavier. Luke shook his head, scooted back until he was sitting between the fuselages of his X-wing, and concentrated.
Reaching out for that sense, always in the back of his mind, he tried to find the metal plate through the Force. His mental fingers slowly inched along the ship, until he found it, whirring with his own signature from the time he had spent drilling away. Just as Ben had taught him, Luke centred himself, wrapped the metal in his mind, willed it upwards. He felt it shift, heard the metal groaning in his ears, and was startled back to his body.
Luke’s eyes shot open, he scowled. He was about to spring up, declare it impossible, but then Ben’s voice returned to him. “Patience, yeah, I know,” He said to himself, ran a hand through his hair.
On his second try, he didn’t loose focus when the metal shifted, but it did remind him of the task he was attempting to accomplish.
That plate weighed more than a ton and was about three times his body length. And he was trying to lift it with his mind. It was impossible! It couldn’t be done. Maybe Ben could have, but he was a legendary Jedi Master and Clone War General. How could he, an Outer Rim farm boy even hope to be on the same level as that!
Luke’s eyes snapped open with a frustrated hiss, but then a soothing, dark and swirling presence engulfed his senses. It was dangerous, and he felt as if vibroblades were whipped into a hurricane about him. Just missing, the flat edges of blades slid across his skin sending shivers down his spine, both from the sudden and intense cold, but also from the barely-reined-in violence that surrounded him.
Vader, it had to be. The presence hummed, as if nodding an affirmative. Luke shivered, shrank in on himself and the dark cloud, invisible to his eyes yet very present in the Force, seemed to flinch back. Vader’s vocoder crackled and he exuded impatience, but then the chill began to fade. It was still cold, but now far more pleasant, especially when the alternatives seemed to be freezing or boiling alive. Luke stared at the Imperial from his vantage point warily, eyes narrowed. But, when the presence seemed to beckon him into the Force, his curiosity got the better of him.
His eyes closed and shut out the physical world, leaving Luke alone with the X-wing panel and Vader’s presence, hunched over the cockpit, as if leaving room between them would make him feel safer.
Slowly, the Imperial seemed to… Demonstrate? How to grasp the panel. Luke, cautiously, copied. When Vader began to pull up, he did the same, but was once again filled with the feeling of incompetency, and it slipped from his grasp, too heavy to hold up. The other side slid down as well and Luke began to scowl, shove himself away in frustration, but he could feel disappointment emanating from Vader, which stilled him, caused anger to rattle through his veins. Luke shoved it down, reached into the Force with steely determination and, with Vader’s help, pulled up the metal plate. Inched it over the body. Sent it tumbling down to the clearing floor.
The resulting crash startled him from whatever sort of Force trance he had slipped into, shocked him to his feet. Luke pulled in air, gasped at it like a diver coming up to breathe, and then blinked, bewildered, down at the plate. It had felt weightless when he had moved it! It had been nothing to fling it down there with just a thought. A grin pulled at his lips and a lightning bolt of delight shot through him. How proud his father would have been!
Before he started to dance a merry jig (which would have been rather embarrassing), Luke distracted himself by peering down at the now-exposed life support system, assessing damage.
Thankfully, the plate had done its job. Oxygen canisters only looked a little battered and the apparatus to attach the tangle of tubes to his cockpit looked nearly brand new! Luke reached down, freed it with little effort and held it up, examining it closely.
If he wasn’t wrong, this oxygen feed looked about the right size, and he knew from the HoloNet that it contained many of the same parts as a standard vocoder. He hadn’t expected Five Minute Hacks to have ever been useful to him, but apparently not!
“Okay…” Luke said to himself as he slid down from his perch, scooped up his multi-tool and flicked to the hydrospanner function. “This’ll have to do.” He glanced up at Vader and slowly walked towards him.
Before, Luke would have been terrified to do so, but he was tired and the Sith could have certainly killed him, or just let him die quite recently. So, only a few inches from Vader’s side, he crouched down.
The breathing was no longer thundering in his ears, strong, loud and powerful. It had become somewhat irregular, and he could barely see the damaged pauldron rise and fall with each struggling breath. Pity shot through him but was quickly locked away. Vader didn’t deserve it.
Luke leant down, fear a faint tingling in his belly. He didn’t know how to get at the parts he would need, and the Imp evidently couldn’t tell him how. Then, his eyes rested on what looked like two… Screws? Bolts? He didn’t know, but they looked somewhat removable.
“I’m going to try take out this bit, here,” Luke tapped at the piece. He looked up at the mask, as if expecting an expression from the solid metal. “Don’t try anything.”
Vader crackled.
Was that menacing static…? Luke really couldn’t tell.
A deep breath, then he leant forward, tool in hand, and began trying to figure out how in the Force Vader’s helmet worked.
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It had taken hours, but Luke had finally gotten his head around the mechanism.
Vader had barely moved throughout but working on his head had still been quite distracting, especially when one of the mask’s eyes was partially broken. The usually impassable visor had a triangular chip missing, barely the size of the nail on a pinkie finger. It revealed incredibly pale skin, already turning red with sunburn. Even though it was a tiny patch, almost all of it looked to be covered in scar tissue.
Luke had tried his best to ignore it, but nobody had seen Vader’s face. Nobody. He was allowed to be interested. However, despite his burning curiosity, the Rebel had managed to figure out what he needed to.
He had managed to remove a bottom section of Vader’s helmet, revealing a mess of wires, shoddily stored and evidently installed by a rather bad mechanic. Luke tried not to let himself think about that too much.
With everything that he needed exposed, it didn’t take long to figure out where everything needed to go, be screwed into place, connected here and there. Once he had a clear idea of what to do, Luke set to work, taking apart his scavenged X-wing part and then grasped his soldering iron. Everything was connected and ready to go in minutes. He hadn’t done the best job, and he was pretty certain whatever programming or fancy settings it had previously were gone, but Vader should be able to speak now.
Luke leant back, his spine popping. He stretched, then flicked the removed panel back into place and fastened it. Now that he knew how to use it, the mechanism was incredibly simple.
“It should work now,” He said, exhausted. The light had faded some time ago, and for the past half hour Luke had been working in semi-darkness, lit only by the sunlight filtering between trees and whichever few stars that had appeared.
A crackle of static, and words emerged from the mess of sound. “-pparently so.” It wasn’t the booming bass Luke had been expecting, but a higher, more natural pitch. “Get some sleep, you are exhausted.”
Of course, the moment Vader could speak, he was giving orders.
However, Luke was exhausted. Just the mention of sleep had his eyes starting to slip closed. Just then, one of the vines caught his eye – it was swinging, as if trying to get enough momentum to be within reach of the two. Which reminded him that, whilst Vader was incapacitated, this planet’s flora was by far the most dangerous thing.
Apparently, his thoughts were written on his face. “I will protect you.”
“You can’t even move!” Luke said, “What are you going to do, order plants about?!”
“The Force is a pathway to many abilities some might consider to be unnatural.”
Luke snorted. “Why should I trust you?”
No answer. Even with his underdeveloped Force abilities, Vader’s turmoil was thick enough to make breathing difficult and chill him to the bone.
“Exactly.”
They sat in silence for a while, Vader’s breathing more even with his vocoder somewhat repaired, but still not like it had been only a few hours ago. He seemed to be deteriorating, and surprisingly quickly. Dark was creeping in ever quicker, the rays of light were dwindling, but cast their light over the two one last time before fading completely.
“I will survive the night, Luke. Sleep.”
And he did.
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