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Anakin Skywalker had successfully controlled the Son and the Daughter. As the stars swirled overhead on the Force-Rich planet of Mortis, Anakin felt as if he’d suddenly been tugged into orbit, his whole world shifting violently. One minute it was as if he was a part of the greater cosmos looking down on the galaxy and then the next he was pushing himself off the cold durasteel floor of a hangar bay.
Glancing around he found the layout was similar to a Republic Light Cruiser yet not exactly the same. Stretching out with the Force for any sign of his old master or his Padawan, he sensed an unexpected signature. A youngling’s signature. What the heck was a youngling doing out here on a battle ship? Why did the kid feel so frightened? Anakin ignited his lightsaber and advanced. The only way to get the answers he sought was to move forward.
He met some mild resistance in the form of some very advanced droids. If they weren’t actively trying to blast him, he would have relished the opportunity to examine their construction. Where had the Separatists been hiding these beauties? He sighed. A pity he had to render them down to scrap. He demolished the last of them in front of the sealed blast doors of the bridge.
He scowled and plunged his lightsaber through the control panel for the doors, short-circuiting its system and disengaging the lock. Finally. He thought. Now, whoever was holed up on this bridge could tell him where in the Force he was and why there was a youngling on this ship?
Anakin’s eyes swept over the assembled group. Three Mandos, one bounty hunter, an unconscious man in binders, a tank of a woman, and, oh, one baby Yoda! His eyes narrowed. Hadn’t he seen this child in the Temple’s Creche once or twice? What was his name again? Also, why was the little gremlin shrieking at him in terror?
“Yo, kid, chill.” Anakin stated, disengaging his blade and returning it to his belt.
The shiny Mandalorian with a spear -- and was that a lightsaber hilt -- stepped forward. Was this Mando some kind of Jedi killer on top of being a kidnapper? Anakin glared, his saber instantly returned to his hand.
“What are you doing with that kid, Mando? And, where did you get that lightsaber?” Anakin growled.
“Are...are you a Jedi?” Mando asked carefully, as if he was in a state of numb shock.
Was he a…. “No, I’m a Hutt, clearly.” Anakin rolled his eyes. Was this guy an idiot?
“So you are a Jedi?” Mando persisted, taking a step away from Anakin.
Fine. Anakin sighed. If that was how it was gonna be, he’d play along. “Jedi-General Anakin Skywalker, at your service.”
Now with introductions out of the way-- wait. Why was one of the blue armoured Mando’s convulsing. And why was the tank lady suddenly training her rifle on him.
“Anakin Skywalker has been dead for nearly thirty years. Try again.” Tank lady snapped.
Shiny Mando stepped back even further, drawing both his blaster and the lightsaber. “Who are you?” He demanded, placing himself between Anakin and the baby Yoda.
Grogu! Anakin thought. That was the kid’s name. “I already told you my name, Mando.” Anakin retorted, shifting into the opening stance of Djem So, ready to launch an attack. Grab the kid, grab the saber, and get the kriff out of here.
“Skywalker?” The convulsing blue Mando’s voice cut through the tension as she reached up and removed her helmet.
He didn’t think he knew this lady. Though her eyes and nose were kinda familiar, as was her vibrant red hair. His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head in thought.
“Bo-Katan Kryze.” She stated.
“Kryze? Like the Duchess?” Anakin blinked, recalling his old master’s “not girlfriend” girlfriend.
“She was my sister.” Bo-Katan said.
Huh? “One more detail Obi-Wan never shared.” Anakin grumbled.
“You...how are you here, Skywalker?” Kryze persisted. “You’re dead!”
Okay, why did everyone in the galaxy suddenly think he was some kind of ghost? “I’m not dead...obviously.” Anakin drawled, gesturing to himself with his blade.
“You’re actually alive?” Kryze stared.
“Wait, so that’s really the Anakin Skywalker?” Tank lady demanded. “The Commander’s old man.”
“The whose what now?” Anakin said.
Before anyone could respond the lift chimed behind Anakin, announcing the arrival of company. Anakin shifted his stance to keep the strange group of people on the bridge in his line of sight while he glanced over his shoulder to the lift doors. Out of the lift a black cloaked figure appeared, their hooded gaze swept to Anakin first and froze.
“Father?”
“Come again?” Anakin snapped.
Was this some kind of spice dream? Had he been drugged? Anakin wondered, as the newcomer lowered his hood and Anakin found himself staring at an eerie replica of himself.
“Who the kriff are you?” His voice cracked.
The kid, and really he did look very young and short -- like Padme -- … oh, Force! No! No. No! Uh-uh! He was not even going to let his mind go there! This was a dream. A spice induced hallucination. Yep, that was all it was. Any minute now Anakin would wake up on the Twilight with Snips and Obi-Wan. Mortis and all of this would be forgotten.
“I’m Luke Skywalker.” The kid said.
Spice-dream! Spice-dream! Anakin tried desperately to convince himself.
“Two Skywalkers?” Kryze swore.
“Commander Skywalker?” Tank gaped at the young man. “What are you doing here?”
Luke glanced around Anakin and his eyes lit up with recognition. “Dune? Hey, it’s been a while, huh?” He waved.
“Uh, yeah.” The tank, named Dune, waved back.
“Are you a Jedi?” Shiny Mando reiterated his earlier query to Luke.
“Well, Yoda said I was...so yeah. I’m a Jedi like my father before me.” He shrugged, throwing a pointed look to Anakin.
“Well, that was very convincing.” Fennec muttered.
“Hey, my training amounted to a two week, three day crash course and seven years of experimentation. Forgive me if I’m a bit reluctant to embrace a title that once took decades of rigorous training to attain.” Luke frowned at the bounty hunter.
“Okay.” Fennec held up her hands in a pacifying manner. This was the Jedi that had beat Boba Fett?
“Whoa, rewind. You’ve only had two weeks of training?” Anakin bellowed. “Where the heck is your master, Kid?” Anakin would like to have words...What kind of laser-brain thought that two weeks was a sufficient amount of training before shipping a kid out into the greater galaxy?
“They’re dead.” Luke said.
“What?”
“Master Obi-Wan and Master Yoda have been dead for over seven years.” The kid stated.
Ignoring the crushing grief which threatened to overwhelm him at the discovery of his Old Master’s demise. But then this was only a spice-induced hallucination, so there was no need for tears. Anakin pushed forward. “Why has no one else taken over your training? And while we’re on the subject, how is it possible you’ve only had two weeks of training when you’re so old?!”
“Okay, first of all, I am only 28. I’m hardly ‘old’,” Luke quoted, rolling his eyes, “ and second of all I didn’t actually start training until I was 19. Then Ol’ Ben was only able to train me for three days before he died. I didn’t find Master Yoda until nearly two years later, and then I only had a couple weeks before….” Luke’s explanation dried up as tearful recollections swam in the limpid blue of his eyes.
Depression descended over him like a tangible cloak. Anakin could not handle so much emotion coming off of another person. He could finally understand Obi-Wan’s complaints about his ‘projecting’. They needed to refocus and get off this grief-tinged tangent.
“Nineteen!” He squawked, pleased by the kid’s startled and less mopey expression, “ What the kriff? And the Jedi had the nerve to tell me I was too old to be trained at nine years old!” Anakin ranted.
“Wait, seriously?” Luke blinked. “Father, you never told me that.” He addressed Anakin.
“Kid, do not call me father, I’m only twenty-two.” Anakin repressed a shudder. He had enough self-awareness to realize he was nowhere near emotionally mature enough to raise a kid. Ahsoka didn’t count. She was been fourteen and he wasn’t raising her, but training her. There was a big difference!
Luke blanched, counting something down on his fingers. “Okay, well that’s just disturbing.” He mumbled.
A loud, and familiar, blat echoed down the hallway, drawing everyone’s attention away from the dysfunctional family reunion, and to the blue and white astromech rolling onto the bridge.
“Artoo?” Anakin gaped.
“You know Artoo?” Luke whirled on his droid companion, narrowing his eyes. “Funny, he’s never mentioned that little detail.”
Artoo trilled sweetly, trundling forward to gently bump into Luke’s leg. Anakin felt his mouth drop, indistinguishable sounds spilling forth. Forgive his incoherency, but that was his maniacal little murder bot. What have they done to you? Anakin clutched his chest. The horror, R2 rendered down to sugar and spice without a sign of his mischief or homicidal intent.
“Ow!” Anakin yelped, rubbing his bruised shin.
He’d thought too soon. R2-D2 was still a little...he paused actually listening to the astromech’s tirade. The droid’s photo-receptors had gone blood red, a color Anakin had never before had trained on him. His former copilot, waved his arc-probe menacingly, herding Anakin as far from Luke as the confined space of the ship’s bridge would allow.
“What? Artoo, pal, what’s the matter with you? Don’t you recognize me?” He said, dodging R2-D2’s repeated attempts to zap him. “It’s me, Anakin.”
The droid’s already vulgar sounding bleeps and whistles suddenly reached the shrieking upper range of R2-D2’s audio transmitter. Anakin swore, diving on top of the navigation controls. “Artoo, hey!” He fussed, trying to make any sense out of the vicious stream of binary. “ A Vader-Virus? What are you going on about, Artoo?”
The bridge cooled a few degrees. “Artooie.” Luke cautioned, eyeing the heavily armoured strangers. His words fell on deaf audio receptors as R2-D2 continued to rant.
“I’m not malfunctioning!” Anakin retorted, suddenly back on the bridge floor and defending himself against such slander by an astromech.
Luke rubbed at his forehead. Great. Just what they needed.
“Ah,” Anakin gasped, clutching at his own chest in affront, “I would never!”
Artoo whistled emphatically, gesturing towards Luke. Leave me out of this, thank you very much. Luke stared.
“I? Why would I cut off his hand?” Anakin shouted.
Artoo’s buzzsaw popped out of his sealed compartment and he began shooing Anakin even farther away from Luke, who’s face had gone ashen as he swayed unsteadily on his feet.
“Luke, what is he talking about?” Anakin looked to the one person on this bridge who seemed to know what was going on.
Any answer Luke might have given was drowned out by the sound of a very loud respirator. All muttering and whistled threats fell silent. The shiny Mando’s helmeted head swiveled around trying to pinpoint the source of this new sound. The rest of his companions, who’d originally been on the bridge when Anakin arrived, appeared to be sharing a collective out-of-body experience. As for Luke, he just heaved a spine-rattling sigh.
“What’s going on?” Shiny Mando asked, rubbing Grogu’s ears. The kid had finally stopped screeching at the tall Jedi, too absorbed in watching the drama.
Shockingly, Grogu cooed an answer, pointing to a spot just behind Luke’s shoulder where the air seemed almost to ripple. The ripple became a nearly tangible sizzle. then suddenly imploded in a blue-tinged cloud of smoke. From the smoke emerged a shimmering, translucent... cyborg? Din could swear he’d seen that suit of armour somewhere before, but where? He’d apparently voiced these thoughts, as his inquiry was met with everyone’s, save the tall Jedi, unimpressed stares.
“What the kark is that?” The tall Jedi asked, waving his still ignited lightsaber at the creature.
See. Din gestured. He was not the only one who was lost here, people.
“Is that Vader?” Cara hissed.
“Is that Vader’s ghost?” Koska Reeves swore, blaster shaking in her hands.
Ghost? Wait Vader? Now, Din knew he’d heard that name somewhere. Aha! Vader was an imp.
“Yes, good Mando. Have a cookie.” Fennec crooned, sardonically.
“Can it, Shand.” Din snapped.
It wasn’t like he had ever personally interacted with the Empire’s infamous enforcer and the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces. He’d only seen a handful of propaganda holos of the guy and heard a great many disturbing rumours. Enough that Din had been in no way tempted to ever work for him, even if the payouts were astronomical. Well, that was if you survived. Still,he’d never thought the trade-off was worth it.
“A wise decision, Mandalorian.” Vader’s ghostly baritone rumbled, chilling everyone to the bone.
Everyone but Luke, that was. The young Jedi just shook his head and turned to the face the specter. “Really, Father? The suit?” He arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Who?” Cara screeched and Moff Gideon’s face paled.
Luke swiped his gloved hand over his face, gesturing vaguely in the ghost’s direction with his left. “Everybody, this is my Father. Formerly, he was a Jedi known as Anakin Skywalker…”
“Formerly?” Anakin mouthed.
Luke continued… “he was also Darth Vader. A Sith Lord.”
“Sith!” Anakin screeched. “Okay, even if this is just some spice-dream, a Sith Lord is taking things too far!”
“Oh, this is no dream, my younger, foolish, headstrong, blind, imbecilic….” Vader- Anakin trailed off at the look on his son’s face.
“Do I need to arrange another session with Master Che’s spirit?” Luke asked.
“No.” Vader folded his glowing arms over his chest.
Holy….Din goggled. Darth Vader was pouting! He was forced to wonder if perhaps he was the one experiencing a spice-fueled dream.
“Alright.” Luke clapped his hands. “A quick summary for my living, time displaced father.” He jabbed for the ghostly apparition to take it away.
“Why me?” Vader actually whined.
“I don’t know everything which caused this mess, now do I?” Luke retorted. “No one ever exactly told me.”
Vader caved. “Only for you, my son.”
The dark Lord’s ghost reached into the folds of his cape and produced a host of finger puppets and an elaborate diorama with which to better illustrate his tale.
Din was impressed, in spite of himself. Could all Jedi just fabricate things from the ether? Could his kid do that? Through the Dark Lord’s story he learned a very important fact, Jedi were apparently bereft of common sense. He must insure Grogu did not become infected by his people’s wide-spread insanity. Exposure to normal people was important. Even if he let the young Jedi train Grogu, Din would be arranging to take him out to interact with those who were not overpowered space wizards.
“A wise decision.” Vader paused his narration on the Jedi Purges, nodding at Din. “Isolation can lead to fear. Fear can lead to self-loathing. Self-loathing can lead to an emotional meltdown which warps the entire galaxy into a slaving Sith Empire.” Vader’s intangible chest heaved as his tirade ended.
“Yeah, I’m calling Ben.” Luke said, abruptly dropping down into a lotus position, hands folded in his lap.
“No. No, my child, there is no need.” Vader dropped his metaphysical puppets in his panic.
“It’s for your own good, Father.” Luke cracked one eye open to stare down his father.
“Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord.” Anakin squeaked, finally absorbing the details of his alternate, dead, Force-Ghost’s story.
“And people think I’m slow.” Din snorted.
The little astromech, whistled his agreement. Ack! When had the droid made it’s way over here? Din panicked.
“Calm down, Mando.” Luke said. “Artoo is harmless.”
“Yeah, though there was that one time he tried to kill the bounty hunters on a downed cruiser. Oh, and the time he reprogrammed a squad of B1’s to help infiltrate a Separatist prison to retrieve sensitive intel and ...Tarkin!” Anakin suddenly snarled. “I should have taken Ahsoka’s advice and left him. Or better yet, I should have run him through when he tried to have My Padawan executed!” His blue eyes began flickering an unsettling shade of gold.
Luke gave his young father a quick once over. “And, with that I’m definitely calling Obi-Wan.”
“What, no? There is no need to call Obi-Wan.” Anakin flipped.
“Too late.” Luke said as a second fizzling pop echoed through the bridge.
Din was somewhat underwhelmed by the old, scraggly bearded man which appeared.
This second apparition turned instantly to the cyborg and gave him a flat look. “The suit, really?”
“It’s called dramatic effect. Something I think you of all Jedi would understand, O Master of the Robe Drop.” Vader intoned primly.
“Hn.” Obi-Wan nodded. “What did you do this time?”
Vader gasped, the ghostly cyborg’s mask cracking to reveal the visage of an older Anakin Skywalker. “Rude. I’ve done nothing. Luke, tell him I’ve done nothing!”
“He’s not the reason I called you, exactly.” Luke rolled his eyes.
“Oh? A first time for everything I suppose.” Obi-Wan smirked.
“Meddlesome old coot.” Vader grumbled.
“What was that, my dear?” Obi-Wan’s ghost gave the other a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Master. Father, please try to act your ages.” Luke pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Apologies, young one.”
“I’m sorry, son.”
“Now, Master Ben, this is the reason I’ve called you.” Luke turned the ghost’s attention towards the other Anakin.
Having sicked his old master on his younger father, Luke rose to his feet. He weaved around the squabbling trio of Jedi and moved to stand before Mando. “Sorry about all of that.” He waved a hand behind him at the strange group.
“It’s fine.” Din offered.
Families were messy affairs. The poor kid’s just happened to include time-travelers, Sith Lords, and Force-Ghosts. Yeah, Din didn’t want to try and expend the gray cells necessary to even begin comprehending that cluster storm.
“So, is this your son?” Luke asked, glancing down at Grogu.
“Yes.” Din introduced the Jedi to his son who was already beaming up at the young man.
“Hello, little one. I heard your call.” Luke said.
Grogu babbled excitedly then sobered. His ears drooped as he whimpered, his brown-eyed gaze trained on the gaggle of bizarre Jedi in the corner. Luke frowned and glanced over his shoulder.
“I know, believe me, kid.” He muttered, clenching his right hand into a tight fist. “Father, get over here, please.”Luke bellowed. The intensity of his voice shocked Mando.
“Who me?” Both versions’ heads snapped towards Luke.
“Vaderkin.” Luke clarified.
Cara snorted and collapsed into hysterical chortling.
“Vaderkin? You are spending far too much time with Solo.” The older Anakin, no longer a glowing cyborg, but looking more and more like an older variant of the other Anakin -- still on the receiving end of a lecture from the ghost named Obi-Wan -- said.
Makes sense. They are the same person. Din shrugged.
“Well, you never know when your best friend might be encased in carbonite and sold to a Hutt, meaning you don’t get to hang out for over a year.” Luke said, voice drier than the arid Jundland Wastes.
“I did apologize to him for that incident.” Vaderkin protested.
“Hm, yes, and speaking of apologies.” Luke jerked his head towards little Grogu.
“Ah, right. Of course.” Vaderkin shuffled -- though his feet never actually touched the floor -- awkwardly.
Din hears the most stilted and bizarre apology. for inflicting unmeasurable trauma on a child. Luke then gave Din his contact information and a rough proposal for Grogu’s training and Din’s visitations.
Younger Anakin receives further chastisement from his dead master and ghostly self. He blinks awake back on Mortis, in his own time or universe. It didn’t really matter. With determination not to make the same mistakes thundering in his blood, Anakin turns down the Father, for now, and leaves with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. He goes straight to Coruscant to ‘debrief’ the Chancellor. Sheev never could figure out, as he brooded in the Sith Hells, how his perfect scheme had gone sour.
THE END