Jedi Insurgency 143 (Interlude 15)

“You're too late, Vader. Or perhaps you’re exactly on time.” The recording said in a smug tone that reminded Vader of Windu. “The shield generator is rigged to explode. You may survive the blast, but your pride? Perhaps not. Goodbye, Annie.”

For the last 10 days that it took to travel from Eriadu to Coruscant, the scene of his latest failure played repeatedly in Vader’s mind. Even when he thought he sensed her return, he knew it was nothing more than the Darkside toying with him, like it had countless times before. 

Floating in his bacta tank, the hum of the Venator exiting hyperspace shook his room, yet he hardly noticed it, so consumed by his inner monologue, external stimulus hardly bothered him anymore. All his attention, all his focus was on recordings of that man. 

He saw everything: The way Revan’s saber style was so familiar to Windu's. Or how he retrieved items from the void, how he appeared and disappeared despite a lack of a stealth generator, and his short-range teleportation that couldn't exceed 20 to 30ft. He saw everything. All this and more was presented to him by that Chiss, Thrawn. 

The taciturn alien had deserved his promotion, and would command his flagship going forward. With Yularan deceased, there was no one he could trust to hold down the fort whilst he advanced. 

For a moment, the faces of Ahsoka, Rex, and even Obi-Wan painfully, hatefully flashed across his mind's eye. His cracked skin burned despite the soothing gel-like bacta infusing his pores. The sting of betrayal, of their misdeeds haunted him. Obi-Wan, oh Obi-Wan, if only he had seen his vision, together they could have slain Palpatine! Instead, he brought her to confront him, and turned her against him! 

Vader’s breathing grew ragged, and the pulse monitor outside the tank was becoming frantic. His eyes turned yellow. Abandoned. He had no competent allies, no tools. Revan's mockery was what he had been accustomed to dishing out as Anakin Skywalker. Accompanied by two Padawans, loyal clones, and a penchant for daring, Vader felt as if he had been replaced. This only served to affirm his decision to join the Sith. That the Jedi had always been the duplicitous liars he knew them to be! 

This failure, this setback was nothing. Thrawn was his first piece, and many more would follow in the coming days. 

Closing his eyes, Vader began his training. Besides floating in the tank, reviewing Revan's weaknesses, he had been assembling, disassembling, and controlling his armor as if it were a plaything. By now, he could remotely operate the suit as easily as he flew a starfighter. With the power of Mechu-Deru, he could condense the materials of his suit at specific points, and harden them to such a degree, that no large scale explosion would prove itself a threat to him ever again. 

An ice cold, metallic tang entered his mouth, and hurt his teeth with the kind of pain one might feel from a drill. Yet Vader welcomed this change. The Darkside of the Force held many secrets, and came with much risk. Mechu Deru was not something any Jedi could learn precisely because of the dangers it held towards the user. If he was not careful, he may even come to think of himself as a droid, or even lose his mind in a string of binary. Yet his hatred, his will was unyielding. 

For hours, he spent his days like this, but today was his return to Coruscant. The day he would face Palpatine. Having fought Dooku numerous times, and interacted with both Ventress & Grievous, he was well aware of how the Sith treated failure.

Clenching a fist, he levitated himself out of the bacta tank, and then with a flick of his finger, assembled his armor in a matter of seconds. Each piece of gear clicked into place with a satisfying snap. Lastly, the black cloak floated over, and wrapped itself around his neck. 

Taking a deep breath, a ragged hiss escaped his lips, and his vision was colored red due to the mask that covered his face. 

His door then chimed, and slid open. Standing outside was the thin, blue skinned, slick haired alien that had salvaged the Eriadu campaign. 

“Lord Vader.” The man saluted, and then held out a datapad. “The report you ordered.” 

The hum of the Venator’s engines filled the Dark Lord’s private chambers with a low, ceaseless vibration that trembled through the blackened deck plates. Vader stood before the viewport, his armored frame was motionless, as if he hadn't heard the man's words. 

Behind him, Thrawn waited with the patience of a man accustomed to silence. His hands rested neatly behind his back, his posture was impeccable in the shadow of the Sith. The blue-skinned Chiss had brought with him a single datapad, its contents had been meticulously studied, reviewed, and then presented in such a way, even a child could understand. 

“You have reviewed the dossier.” Vader stated, there was no question in his voice. 

“I have, my lord. It is...fascinating. Revan is not merely a relic resurrected from the Old Republic, he is, in many ways, a synthesis of the old & the new.” Thrawn replied in a calm, academic tone. 

Vader’s head turned slightly, and regarded Thrawn’s reflection through the mirror. Already, he had attained a reputation for a hatred of fools. Several officers had had their necks crushed due to their idiocy. Thrawn-thus far-had distinguished himself as an intellectual. He would humor the man, but only so far as the Chiss produced results. 

“Explain.”

Thrawn stepped forward, activating the datapad. A pale blue hologram flickered to life, depicting a stylized image of Revan in his ancient armor. “During the twilight of the Old Republic, Revan was both savior and destroyer. A warrior who walked between the light and the dark with deliberate intent. The parallels between his actions then and his current campaign are a mirror into his heart. Into what he plans to do next”

“You imply that there is a pattern behind his movements.” Vader said heavily, his gaze never left the Chiss's reflection, as he wondered if they could set a trap for Revan. 

“I imply intelligence. Revan’s revolt is not a mere rebellion, it is art. A reenactment, a statement. His rescue of the surviving Jedi mirrors his intervention during the Mandalorian Wars, where he saved the Republic by defying the Jedi Council's orders. In that sense, he paints history itself as his medium, war is his canvas, and the blood of our soldiers his paint.” Thrawn analyzed. 

The mechanical breathing filled the space between them, and jealousy coursed through Vader’s veins as Revan was everything Vader had been. 

“You speak of him as though he were an artist, or some hero.” Vader spat, his words edged with contempt. “He is a traitor. A manipulator of fools, and a conman with a silver tongue.”

“History often mistakes art for heresy, my Lord.” Thrawn said softly. “Revan understands the psychology of symbolism. The Jedi follow him not because he commands them, but because he embodies something older than the Empire, older even than your Master’s order. He is a memory of something grand. A living Legend.” Thrawn said almost breathlessly. 

Vader slowly turned around, the sound of his boots striking the deck was heavy, and the red lenses of his mask met Thrawn’s crimson eyes. The alien did not shy away from Vader’s aggression, and maintained a placid expression. Through the Force, Vader knew this wasn't an act. Thrawn truly believed his words, held no fear towards him, and was delivering the report to the best of his ability. 

How it irked him. 

“Memories. Legends.” Vader echoed, his tone low, dangerous. “They deserve to be told in bars, brothels, plays and museums. They have no place in this galaxy. Now that we have prepared, he will not escape upon our next meeting.”

Thrawn’s crimson eyes flickered with an unreadable glint as he processed Vader’s rant. 

“As you did on Eriadu?”

For a moment, the room seemed to contract. The air grew colder, the steady rhythm of Vader’s breathing louder, harsher, and the sound of the Venator's engines disappeared. 

“You tread close to insolence, Captain.” Vader said each word with a measured, dangerous tone. 

Thrawn inclined his head slightly, neither apologizing nor retreating. A slight curl of his lips was here and gone in a flash, and unseen due to the tilting of his chin. 

“Insolence? Merely analysis, my Lord. Revan’s tactics on Eriadu were…enlightening. His feints exploited your preference for direct confrontation. He studied you as one studies a holosculpture. Understanding its balance, its flaws, its maker’s intent, he won the war before it even began. Truly remarkable.”

The red lenses of Vader’s mask flared as he stepped closer. He was practically breathing on Thrawn at this point, yet the Chiss did not yield. 

Vader struggled not to snap his neck. Cold fury pounded his heart, yet the burning hot shame at such an obvious loss singed his pride far more than any word of reprimand. Furthermore, to end such a competent tool so soon would be a waste. 

“I shall not make that mistake again.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. Nor will you. But do you think Revan will adjust as you have? Do you think he will remain static? What would a Jedi maverick do? What would Anakin Skywalker do?” Thrawn asked calmly at first, and then whispered that last part as he walked past Vader, and stared out the viewport like he owned the room, as if Vader’s intimidations meant nothing. 

A silence followed. It was tense, electric, dangerous. Outside, the stars drifted by, indifferent witnesses to two of the Empire’s most brilliant and militarily inclined minds.

Finally, Vader turned back to the viewport, his voice low, almost a growl.

“Prepare your ship, Captain. When next we meet Revan, I will see this art you are so enamored with...destroyed.”

Thrawn’s lips curved ever so slightly. “As you wish, my lord. Oh, and before I go, I have taken the liberty of using your authority to command the ISB. Based upon his history, it is highly likely Revan is to move to Nar Shaddaa, or Tatooine.”

The door hissed open, and Thrawn departed, leaving Vader alone with recordings of Revan engaging in combat. 

As Vader was deep in contemplation, he sensed something dark, terrible, and beyond his comprehension. The Force seemed to scream out in a panic, and the Darkside absolutely exploded, bathing him in a deluge of cursed thoughts. 

Melancholy, anger, pain, jealousy, depression, love. 

All the things that contributed to his transformation into a Sith ice-picked his mind all at once. He relived the death of his mother, his wife & children, years spent as a slave, and the agony of Mustafar all at once. 

Falling to one knee, he gasped, almost losing consciousness, he felt his mind slip for a moment, and a string of corrupted binary became all he could think of: 0101010111010101001010000000000. 

“Lord Vader. Lord Vader, can you hear me?” 

Vader snapped his eyes open, and he knew his psyche had been transported to another place, as he was sitting in the Senate chambers with Chancellor Palpatine. This was the moment he had learnt about the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise. Breathing in a lung full of air, it all seemed so real. 

“Welcome home, my son. One day, we shall make you whole again, I promise.” Palpatine smiled at him like a charming old grandfather. 

Vader saw the reflection of Anakin in one of the bubbles from the performance, and touched his face. 

“This is no dream, my friend.” 

“How is this possible, my Master?” Anakin looked down, once again feeling like the boy that he had been. 

“Anything is possible with the Darkside. Even the resurrection of your beloved.” Palpatine gently patted him on the arm, and smiled in pity. 

“But you said-!” 

“The Darkside of the Force, my apprentice, is a pathway some consider to be unnatural.” Palpatine reassured, and looked out at the bubble-play while Anakin continued to glance at Palpatine in astonishment. 

“You trust me, don't you, my son?” 

Anakin warred with himself. He knew his ambition, yet he felt the power that Palpatine wielded. It was nothing like he had ever experienced before. Furthermore, Palpatine had held to his promises, and was already teaching him more than the Jedi ever had. 

“Yes, Master.” Anakin bowed his head. 

“Good. I knew you would see it that way. Which is why you must stay away from her.” 

“No, I-!” Anakin rose from his seat, and roared. The illusion they found themselves in rippled, and threatened to tear apart, but a sigh from Palpatine was all it took to mend any holes. 

“I brought her back with good intentions, not for you to go and kill her all over again!” Palpatine thundered. 

“I would never!” 

“Search your feelings, my disciple, you and I both know how fragile you are. Center yourself, pull upon this joy, this angst, and recall the hatred of those who took her from you! Obi-Wan, and the Jedi wish to keep her from you. Only with them gone can you truly break your chains, and set yourself free!” Palpatine delivered with fiery conviction. 

Anakin warred with himself. His brows furrowed, and sweat poured down his back. He wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, to explain to Padmé how sorry he was, to explain everything that had happened. How Obi-Wan and the Jedi had betrayed their ideals, that the Republic was a corrupt system that fought for injustice. She would see it his way!...but Palpatine was right. With them standing in the way, and their lies poisoning her ears, not a word he said would be believed! 

“I can trust you, can't I, my friend?” Palpatine calmly looked him in the eyes. 

Right then and there, he had made up his mind. 

“What is thy bidding, my Master?” Lord Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith took a knee, and bowed. 

“Rise, Lord Vader. Rise! The Jedi think themselves strong, that they have a new hope with the return of Revan. Fret not, my apprentice, for so long as I sit upon Coruscant, none shall withstand the might of the Sith!” Palpatine declared with a grin. 

Vader remained bowing, and felt Palpatine ruffle his hair affectionately. 

“Come my son, my spies have located a Jedi hiding on Coruscant who wields significant power. It would seem it takes more than a severed hand, and a fall from my office to kill this man.” 

Vader looked up into his Master's gleaming eyes, and growled. 

“Windu.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: Poor Anakin. He really needed Qui-Gon to be his father figure, not “older brother Kenobi.” Even Yoda basically said “sucks to be you bro” when he had visions of his mother being raped/murdered. Is it any wonder that he clings to the most supportive hand to reach out to him?

Anyway, YES Palpatine stole the credit for Padmé's revival, and his fear of Vader surpassing him is diminished thanks to the Force Nexus link. This is a “what if Palpatine actually trained Vader” story. Force help us all.