Chapter Text
The blackness of space was all around him. No distant stars, no glittering planets. No fleet. No ship. He held up a hand in front of his face. He spread his fingers; flexed each digit individually. Black elastex with a heavy duraplast cuff. Clearly designed for pilots, but he did not remember owning such a glove. He put both hands to his head. They met a smooth, resistant shape. A pilot’s helmet? He could not recall putting on a helmet when climbing into his ship.
His ship? What ship? He stretched his mind outwards, beyond the boundaries of his own body. Reaching for…
Something. Something—or someone—he was meant to remember. There had been a mission. A politician. He had been… no, he still was on a mission. A mission to escort a politician. He was a pilot, he knew that. He was a damn good pilot, he was certain. There was a threat of some kind. A minor threat, easily handled. Pirates? Raiders? He could feel the truth of it hovering, right outside his conscious mind; a predator in a cave, daring him to come deeper, to hunt it in its own home.
He hesitated for only a moment. He had always been reckless and impulsive. His master had told him that more times than he could… but that memory too, slipped from his grasp like a sand eel. He shut his eyes, centered himself, and let go of his body.
Images flooded his mind; dense, overlapping information. A woman’s face. A voice. Look how much you’ve grown. Armies of machines, sweeping across fields, trampling everything natural. Sand. A different woman, older, larger. Oh, Ani. Blood. Pain. A light-skinned, brown-haired man with a beard. A different light-skinned, brown-haired man with a beard. A blue, flying creature with leathery skin and distended eyes, yelling and throwing pieces of junk. Let’s try spinning. A red glowing beam of energy. The low thrum of power. A feeling of dread.
And then, a new face. Young, male, with a straight brow and dusty green eyes. A Greek nose and a strong, cleft chin separated by soft, full lips. Soft brown hair that fell in waves to the nape of his neck. There was something timeless in that face; what should be the face of a boy, given age by the weight of unfathomable knowledge. His expression said nothing, and in saying nothing, it conveyed control.
The dread had dissipated, leaving behind curiosity; anticipation, even. The boy opened his mouth to speak…
Klaxons blared. His eyes snapped open, and were immediately dazed by flashing warning lights all over the control panel of his fighter. He had taken a hit; a severe hit. Every system showed critical damage.
“R5B!” he shouted into the microphone on his chinstrap. “Damage report!” But the astromech droid didn’t respond. Blue sparks spat from what used to be the weapon control unit, and the acrid smell of scorched synthplast choked him. No weapons. No drive. No communications. Damn. He looked out through the thankfully intact viewscreen and saw stars spinning by. A blue planet travelled from the top of his sight to the bottom, disappearing under the nose of his fighter, and then reappearing at the top again about twenty seconds later. He was in a slow tumble.
Anakin!
He felt the presence in his mind; weak, but clear enough.
Master Obi-wan, he responded, projecting his thoughts through the Living Force. Anakin had never been particularly talented at this skill. If Kenobi had not been the one to open the channel, he doubted he would have been capable of finding any voice, let alone his master’s. I’m alive, but my ship is disabled.
There was a [teatrra-ngyv-erth-oeli]. It’s been three days, the Jedi Knight’s voice spoke in his mind. He didn’t understand.
Can you repeat? Anakin asked. His head felt like someone had stabbed an ice pick into his frontal cortex.
A [oeromwhl], the message came after a brief silence as the planet rotated past again. It was larger this time. Part of Anakin’s mind was calculating collision vectors, while part of it strained to understand what Obi-wan was trying to tell him. He cursed himself for a thousand fools for not drilling this skill harder during his year at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. …duke…son…worm… He could make out that much, but the rest was muffled to his mind’s ear.
Master, I’m going to crash land on a planet.
Planet? Obi-wan’s voice was fading. It felt like only a whisper now.
It’s covered in water. I will try to make contact.
The planet had begun to assert its gravity on his little fighter. There was now a definite Down, where before he had simply been floating on excess velocity from whatever had flung him here. Wherever “here” was.
…force…with you. And he was gone.
“And also with you,” Anakin said aloud. He chuckled, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. Whatever had hit him had clearly jellied his brain. He listed the things he could remember.
First, he was a fighter pilot. The best pilot in the fleet.
Second, he was a Jedi, apprenticed to Jedi Knight Obi-wan Kenobi. A Jedi was a monk, he thought. There had been a temple. Was he religious? He didn’t recall, but he knew that he had skills that most people did not, like the ability to speak mind-to-mind with his master.
Third, he had been on a mission to protect a politician. A duke? A duke’s son? He couldn’t remember past Obi-wan’s message.
Fourth, he knew how to fix machines out of trash, junk, and spit. He was more certain of this than anything else. He could fix this damaged fighter enough to survive crashing down on this unknown planet.
Fifth, he could not get the vision of that boy out of his mind. He had been about to speak to Anakin. To tell him something of vital importance, he was sure of it!
Sixth, he did not know where the empty black space had been, but he was afraid of it.
“There is no emotion, there is peace,” he said, reaching under the burned out control console and releasing a latch.
“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.” He knew how to reroute control to the thrusters, assuming they were still physically attached to the ship.
“There is no passion, there is serenity.” Saying the words aloud calmed his pulse, sharpened his senses. He had recited them a thousand times, and could intone them without thought or effort.
“There is no chaos, there is harmony.” Everything in his life had led him here, to this moment. There was a reason, even if he did not know it yet. He would find it. The secondary control panel flicked to life. Everything blinked yellow or red. Yellow. Yellow. The planet sped closer. The analytical part of his mind knew he had twenty seconds to right his ship before his duraplast cockpit hatch collided violently with the looming planet’s atmosphere. He clicked the Run/Eng button. No response.
“There is no death, there is the Force,” he said, and he felt the truth of it, not just in his mind, but in his bones. He pressed the start button again. The J-44 flamed to life. Lights flicked from yellow to green across the board, and he calmly tilted the yolk, flipping the cockpit skyward. The thermoplast underside of his ship slammed into the stratosphere.
So far, so good.