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Jan. 25th, 2020 03:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anghrainetitle: The Jedi and the Sith Lord (4/?)
verse: Lucy Skywalker: my f!Luke AU, following from The Adventures of Lucy Skywalker and The Imperial Menace
characters: Luke/Lucy Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Tuvié (F-2VA); Ellex (LX-3), [spoiler]
stuff that happens: Lucy and Vader have another confrontation, Lucy has peculiar dreams, and Tuvié makes a request.
previous sections: one, two, three
CHAPTER FOUR
Yet again, Tuvié, Tisix, and Ellex led Lucy to meet with Darth Vader.
Yet again, she walked in the clothes of the woman who had helped Palpatine on his path to the imperial throne. The layers of under-skirts brushed against her legs as she walked, and she felt almost chilled by the inoffensive fabric. But Amidala had turned back. She couldn’t erase what she’d done, but she could fight against its consequences, and she had. Lucy was named for the later Amidala, the one who’d befriended Lucy’s father and helped kickstart the Rebellion.
She’d lost her Rebel uniform, but—this was one, too, Lucy decided, and smoothed out a pleat with her free hand. Amidala would want Lucy to take strength from her memory, surely.
Lucy didn’t aspire to the gravitas of a senator, the sort that Leia had, but she could be strong. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and walked unhesitatingly alongside Tuvié.
A door slid open, and Lucy immediately heard the unmistakable sound of Vader’s breathing. Fear rippled down her spine, but thinking of Amidala and Ben and Anakin, she refused to give into it. Instead, she reached for some scrap of the hard-earned calm from her training with Yoda, trying to slow her racing heart.
The currents of the Dark Side swirling around them didn’t help. Lucy focused; something here seemed less consuming than the rest, though it wasn’t the Light Side.
“Here she is!” said Tuvié brightly. “In quite good condition, as you can see.”
For several seconds, Vader just breathed. Lucy refused to shiver and stayed silent.
“Lucy,” he said at last.
She repressed a twitch, and he paused again.
“Leave us,” he told the droids, who promptly withdrew. Lucy knew better than to think any of them would defend her against Vader, but she still felt as if she’d lost some protection with their departure.
She remembered Ellex saying that Vader valued Lucy’s life. And she’d guessed as much yesterday. He wanted her here as Anakin Skywalker’s daughter, and an ally, not another body at his feet. She could probably afford some risks.
“Are you just going to say my name?” she asked. “Or did you need something?”
Vader ignored this.
“I assume you have yet to see reason,” he said.
“I have yet to see anything,” said Lucy.
“Your vision will return in a matter of days,” he said dismissively. “It wouldn’t matter if you didn’t insist on cutting yourself from the Force.”
Her hands clenched. “If I—”
“The Force is strong here,” said Vader, “and strong with you. You could grasp it if you tried.”
“Grasp the Dark Side, you mean?” Lucy shook her head. “Yes, I’ve heard it’s easier. Not all of us choose the easy path.”
“It is many things,” Vader told her, “but easy is not one of them. Still, it is necessary for your progress.”
“No, it’s not,” said Lucy stubbornly. “And even it were, I wouldn’t turn.”
“I once thought as you do,” he replied. “Soon, you will understand the truth. Now, go.”
Despite her intention of presenting an implacable face to him, Lucy started. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this was not it.
“That’s it?” she said.
“For the moment,” said Vader. “I have more pressing concerns right now. Leave.”
“Where am I supposed to go? I can’t see—”
To her horror, she heard the heavy thud of his footsteps coming towards her. Then, worse still, she felt two large, gloved hands grip her shoulders. If he wanted, he could break her neck with barely any effort.
He doesn’t want to, she reminded herself. But how long would his patience last? Did he mean to put up with her refusals forever? It seemed improbable.
Regardless, his tolerance at least lasted for the present.
“The Force is waiting for you,” Vader said. Then he simply turned her about and gave her a light shove in the direction she’d come from.
Lucy didn’t need to be urged more than twice. Trying not to trip over Amidala’s skirts, she fumbled her way to the door, then darted through once she found it. Once the door slid shut after her, she took several deep, gulping breaths.
All right. That had happened. And all things considered, it could have been worse. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why it hadn’t been. Maybe the trouble with Admiral Whatsit had distracted him? Regardless, it seemed hardly worth the trouble of summoning her for that.
Maybe there wasn’t any point in trying to understand how Vader’s mind worked. Obviously, it wouldn’t follow the tracks of any normal person.
Still—it seemed odd.
-
Once Lucy had regained something of her composure, she peered around, straining to see any lighter or darker patches. Everything seemed an interrupted stretch of darkness.
Well, there was nothing to do but head out. Hesitantly, she moved in the direction she thought she’d come from, trying to retrace turns and curves as she counted steps. More than once, she scraped her outstretched hands on walls or tripped on irregularities in the floors. She was going to be left with bruises just from trying to walk back to bed. And stains on her dress.
This area of the castle must be isolated from the rest; she didn’t encounter any droids for a good hour, and then ones that only clacked at her in a dialect she couldn’t recognize. Probably laughing, she thought sullenly.
Of course this was meant to be humiliating. Maybe overpowering. Well, she refused to be either humiliated or overpowered, much less both, but—she didn’t have to like wandering around an unfamiliar fortress in endless darkness, either. By the time two hours passed, she was starting to feel a trickle of alarm about ever finding her way back. She no longer trusted her memory at all, or her sense of direction, or the Force.
It would be easy to reach for it, whatever he said. Just for a moment, for a little thing.
Lucy set her jaw, laid her palm against the wall, and wandered on. Soon, she could hear noises in the distance, mostly mechanical. But when she turned another corner, she made out a clear, familiar voice.
“Don’t be overconfident. There must be no—what are you doing here?”
“Ellex!” Lucy exclaimed. She’d never thought she’d be glad to hear her. “I’m lost.”
“Suspicious,” said Ellex. “Where is Lord Vader?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said, her voice rising shrilly. “He told me to leave and I did! But I can’t figure out how to get back to my room.”
“Why didn’t he have one of us escort you?” Ellex demanded.
“You’ll have to ask him,” said Lucy. “Can you tell me which way to go from here?”
Ellex gave a grating clank that Lucy couldn’t help but interpret as menacing.
“I doubt it would help you,” she said. “ZT-47, stay here and stand guard. Skywalker, come with me.”
Gladly, for once, Lucy followed after Ellex, too tired and confused to ask further questions. The path swerved in more directions than she could keep track of, but before long, Ellex came to a screeching halt.
“This is your chamber,” she announced, and the door whooshed open.
Lucy had hardly taken a step forward when she heard more clattering machinery, and then another voice.
“Oh, Miss Lucy! I’ve been so worried!”
“It’s all right,” said Lucy, more relieved than she wanted to be. “I was just lost.”
“I’m supposed to watch over you at all times,” Tuvié said, with what passed for sternness with her. “The Maker said so. He—”
“Lord Vader can change his mind if he wishes,” Ellex told her. “But you’d better take charge of the girl before she turns nonoperational, or you really will be in trouble.”
“Oh! Yes! Yes, of course!”
A considerably more welcome hand touched Lucy’s arm.
“You must be tired, poor thing. Come this way, Miss Lucy.”
Lucy didn’t see any point in repelling her.
“Thanks, Ellex,” she said, receiving only a clank in return, and followed the little nudges of Tuvié’s hand until she reached the bed. She didn’t even resist when Tuvié whisked her out of her robe and gown, tsking over the dust and dirt on it, took her through another door to a fresher, and then pulled a nightdress of some kind over her head.
“I don’t know what Lord Vader was thinking,” she said.
“I’ve got a few questions, myself,” said Lucy.
“I suppose it’s all over now, and you’re safe and sound! That’s what really matters, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” Lucy said.
“Are you ready to … ah, I always—that’s it, sleep? You needn’t worry about further mishaps. I will remain on full alert at all hours and prevent any inconvenience until you are fully operational again!”
“Um, thanks, but I’m going to stay awake for a little bit,” said Lucy.
She did her best to meditate again, struggling against the waves of the Dark Side, and her own weary frustration. I must be passive, she told herself. Calm.
Passivity here seemed inexpressibly dangerous. But Lucy did her best to settle into a mood of quiet acceptance, letting her thoughts come and go, pushing away anger and resentment. She didn’t know how long it took before she caught a familiar trace in the Force around her, a tiny chink in the Dark Side. She couldn’t seem to grasp it, but it was something. She wasn’t completely beyond the reach of hope here.
Lucy opened her eyes, unseeing as ever.
Automatically, she said, “Goodnight, Tuvié.”
Tuvié gave a startled little click.
“Well—goodnight, Miss Lucy.”
-
That night, Lucy dreamed she was in the desert city again. This time, she hurried past the stalls, prodded by a formless urgency.
“Hello?” she called out. “Hello!”
Everybody continued about their business as if she weren’t there. Or as if it were a Holonet recording, every piece of it running along prescribed paths. Curious, she stopped long enough to pick up a fruit from a nearby stand; the seller didn’t respond, and the fruit disappeared from her hand.
Again, a mingled sense of loss and unreality descended on her. She turned around, breezes catching in her skirts and hair.
“What’s going on?” she asked, and heard nothing but the wind in reply.
Lucy kept walking, following the same path as before. And just as before, her gaze landed on a man in dark robes, turned away from her and evidently listening to something. Yes, the red sash was the same. He seemed an odd figure, ill-fitting in a way she couldn’t identify.
He didn’t move, perhaps not given the sort of limited paths that the others seemed to be on, perhaps even more absent than the rest. Yet she felt a presence there, decided and curious.
“Um,” Lucy said, “pardon me?”
The man inclined his head a little, without turning around. “Do you need to be pardoned?”
She thought of turning her father’s lightsaber over to Darth Vader, of leaving Yoda for Han and Leia and the Rebellion for Yoda, of those she’d seen die and those who lived on.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I think I’m supposed to meet with you.”
“And who are you?” said the man.
Lucy looked around, as if the city would supply the answer, but it was gone. All that remained was a stretch of desert with crumbled rocks here and there, and a small oasis that the man sat by. His voice seemed to echo around and around: who are you? who are you? who are you?
“I—”
Even in her dream, she felt a wave of exhaustion. Without a word of warning, the desert and the man disappeared, and she could see only shifting darkness all around her.
Who are you?
-
The next few days followed a similar pattern. Each morning, Lucy woke up, used the fresher, and stood quietly by while Tuvié draped her in Padmé Amidala’s clothes and brushed her hair into a braid. Then they explored more of the castle, which must be truly vast. Lucy ate portions of lavish meals—she wasn’t sure if those came from some command of Vader’s, or the cooks’ desire to show off their skills, but they were always delicious. She never encountered Vader himself until evening, when he always sent for her. But he only lectured her about the need to turn to the Dark Side, dismissed her irritable replies, and sent her away. At first, she wandered until some droid or another gave her direction, or summoned Tuvié. But Tuvié was so dismayed by these misadventures that she insisted on Lucy waiting until she fetched her.
The whole situation struck Lucy as so strange and inexplicable that she hardly knew what to think. She couldn’t imagine that it would continue like this indefinitely, yet everyone seemed to behave as though it would. There must be some explanation, some purpose she couldn’t yet perceive. But despite her better instincts, her fears began to subside as she accustomed herself to her bizarre imprisonment.
Perhaps that had something to do with the Force. She still couldn’t touch the weak flickers of the Light Side, but she felt its presence more and more distinctly. With it came more dreams of the desert city and the robed man—strangely tiring dreams. They always woke her up or shifted into more ordinary dreams before long.
On the fourth night, she reached the man in time to hear his voice again.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy. “There’s something I’m supposed to be doing, but I don’t know what it is. What are you looking for?”
“Nothing,” he said, with a quick laugh. “I’m quite at peace.”
He wasn’t lying, Lucy decided. There was an easiness about him, a serenity. Ben had felt more contained than really peaceful.
Then, for the first time, the man turned to look at her. Or rather, to face her, because his eyes were pale and milky, and fixed on a point to the right of her.
“You’re blind,” she said, “like me.”
The city was almost swaying around her.
“Not like you,” said the man comfortably.
She tried to understand. Despite the difference from Ben and Yoda, he did remind her of them in some amorphous way.
“Well, are you a Jedi like me?” asked Lucy. Then her lips thinned. “Not that I’m a true Jedi.”
The city had faded to an oasis again, the man sitting on roughly-hewn bench. He patted a space beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, Lucy clambered up onto the bench.
“Neither of us are true Jedi,” said the man. “But we are as near as anyone comes in these times. The Force is with us both, and you are a storm. Even I did not hope—but who are you? Why did you call me?”
“I didn’t,” Lucy told him, swinging her legs a little. “I don’t know who you are. I’m Lucy Skywalker, though.”
Unexpectedly, the man tensed, his eyes flying wide. “Starkiller!”
“No, Skyw—”
With no further warning, he relaxed again. “Now I understand.”
“Well, I don’t,” said Lucy.
He smiled again, and was gone.
-
The next day, as Lucy and Tuvié left the bedchamber, Tuvié took up her usual prattle at full speed.
“—and then M-72b said that the Maker would have me disintegrated, but he didn’t—obviously—and actually said I’d followed the correct course of action. Of course I did, but it was very nice to hear it from the Maker himself, and M-72b hardly knew where to look.”
Lucy, who was growing acquainted with the assorted droid dramas that permeated the castle, nodded.
“And the Maker—”
“Yes?” said Lucy.
Uncharacteristically, Tuvié said nothing at all. Lucy left her to process as she would, wondering what form Vader’s ineffectual demands that she turn to the Dark Side would take today. Maybe it’d be worse than usual? Or maybe better. He’d yet to threaten her—which, well, she might have done in his position, as much as she could imagine being in his position, but—
“Miss Lucy?”
Tuvié actually sounded nervous.
“Yes?” Lucy said again.
“How would you say it?”
This came so far out of nowhere that Lucy halted, her brows drawing together.
“How would I say what?”
“Maker,” said Tuvié.
“I’d say Maker,” Lucy said blankly. Then her frown deepened. “Oh, you mean in Alsaraic?”
“The mystery language,” Tuvié replied. “Is that what it’s called?”
Lucy abruptly felt very uncomfortable. One word didn’t seem very important, but … she didn’t know.
“Yes,” she said.
“And Maker—”
“It doesn’t really translate.”
“Oh,” said Tuvié, plainly disappointed.
For several more minutes, they walked in silence. Then Tuvié said,
“It’s interesting that there is no way to refer to the person who made you. It seems like it would make some interactions quite complex. How did one of your people address the person who made them?”
“Valiya,” said Lucy, without thinking. She bit her lip. But it couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Valiya,” Tuvié repeated. “So the Maker is Valiya Vader. Is that correct?”
Lucy couldn’t help laughing.
“No, it’s—well, it’d be strange, because it’s more like … mother,” she said. Alsaraic hadn’t developed with droids in mind, though she wasn’t about to say so. “And it doesn’t have to just be the one who, um, made you. My aunt called my grandmother valiya even though Aunt Beru was only the fiancée of Grandmother’s husband’s son.”
“And this … aunt of yours was your valiya?” said Tuvié.
Lucy thought about it.
“No,” she said at last. “I loved her, but I wasn’t brought up to think of them that way, and I never called them that. My valì and valiya are dead.”
Tuvié managed to imbue her answering whirr with sympathy.
“Now I understand,” she said. “You would say Valiya Amidala.”
Lucy blinked. “No. She’s my namesake, but I never knew her.”
“That is very probable,” said Tuvié. “Senator Amidala’s date of termination would have occurred very shortly after your period of functionality began, and humanoid memory banks do not usually develop until a significant amount of time and development has taken place.”
“That’s right,” Lucy said.
Tuvié clicked. “Unless I am misunderstanding you, however, it is the appropriate term for her.”
Puzzled, Lucy asked, “Why?”
“Well,” Tuvié said, “she was your Maker.”
verse: Lucy Skywalker: my f!Luke AU, following from The Adventures of Lucy Skywalker and The Imperial Menace
characters: Luke/Lucy Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Tuvié (F-2VA); Ellex (LX-3), [spoiler]
stuff that happens: Lucy and Vader have another confrontation, Lucy has peculiar dreams, and Tuvié makes a request.
previous sections: one, two, three
CHAPTER FOUR
Yet again, Tuvié, Tisix, and Ellex led Lucy to meet with Darth Vader.
Yet again, she walked in the clothes of the woman who had helped Palpatine on his path to the imperial throne. The layers of under-skirts brushed against her legs as she walked, and she felt almost chilled by the inoffensive fabric. But Amidala had turned back. She couldn’t erase what she’d done, but she could fight against its consequences, and she had. Lucy was named for the later Amidala, the one who’d befriended Lucy’s father and helped kickstart the Rebellion.
She’d lost her Rebel uniform, but—this was one, too, Lucy decided, and smoothed out a pleat with her free hand. Amidala would want Lucy to take strength from her memory, surely.
Lucy didn’t aspire to the gravitas of a senator, the sort that Leia had, but she could be strong. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and walked unhesitatingly alongside Tuvié.
A door slid open, and Lucy immediately heard the unmistakable sound of Vader’s breathing. Fear rippled down her spine, but thinking of Amidala and Ben and Anakin, she refused to give into it. Instead, she reached for some scrap of the hard-earned calm from her training with Yoda, trying to slow her racing heart.
The currents of the Dark Side swirling around them didn’t help. Lucy focused; something here seemed less consuming than the rest, though it wasn’t the Light Side.
“Here she is!” said Tuvié brightly. “In quite good condition, as you can see.”
For several seconds, Vader just breathed. Lucy refused to shiver and stayed silent.
“Lucy,” he said at last.
She repressed a twitch, and he paused again.
“Leave us,” he told the droids, who promptly withdrew. Lucy knew better than to think any of them would defend her against Vader, but she still felt as if she’d lost some protection with their departure.
She remembered Ellex saying that Vader valued Lucy’s life. And she’d guessed as much yesterday. He wanted her here as Anakin Skywalker’s daughter, and an ally, not another body at his feet. She could probably afford some risks.
“Are you just going to say my name?” she asked. “Or did you need something?”
Vader ignored this.
“I assume you have yet to see reason,” he said.
“I have yet to see anything,” said Lucy.
“Your vision will return in a matter of days,” he said dismissively. “It wouldn’t matter if you didn’t insist on cutting yourself from the Force.”
Her hands clenched. “If I—”
“The Force is strong here,” said Vader, “and strong with you. You could grasp it if you tried.”
“Grasp the Dark Side, you mean?” Lucy shook her head. “Yes, I’ve heard it’s easier. Not all of us choose the easy path.”
“It is many things,” Vader told her, “but easy is not one of them. Still, it is necessary for your progress.”
“No, it’s not,” said Lucy stubbornly. “And even it were, I wouldn’t turn.”
“I once thought as you do,” he replied. “Soon, you will understand the truth. Now, go.”
Despite her intention of presenting an implacable face to him, Lucy started. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this was not it.
“That’s it?” she said.
“For the moment,” said Vader. “I have more pressing concerns right now. Leave.”
“Where am I supposed to go? I can’t see—”
To her horror, she heard the heavy thud of his footsteps coming towards her. Then, worse still, she felt two large, gloved hands grip her shoulders. If he wanted, he could break her neck with barely any effort.
He doesn’t want to, she reminded herself. But how long would his patience last? Did he mean to put up with her refusals forever? It seemed improbable.
Regardless, his tolerance at least lasted for the present.
“The Force is waiting for you,” Vader said. Then he simply turned her about and gave her a light shove in the direction she’d come from.
Lucy didn’t need to be urged more than twice. Trying not to trip over Amidala’s skirts, she fumbled her way to the door, then darted through once she found it. Once the door slid shut after her, she took several deep, gulping breaths.
All right. That had happened. And all things considered, it could have been worse. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why it hadn’t been. Maybe the trouble with Admiral Whatsit had distracted him? Regardless, it seemed hardly worth the trouble of summoning her for that.
Maybe there wasn’t any point in trying to understand how Vader’s mind worked. Obviously, it wouldn’t follow the tracks of any normal person.
Still—it seemed odd.
-
Once Lucy had regained something of her composure, she peered around, straining to see any lighter or darker patches. Everything seemed an interrupted stretch of darkness.
Well, there was nothing to do but head out. Hesitantly, she moved in the direction she thought she’d come from, trying to retrace turns and curves as she counted steps. More than once, she scraped her outstretched hands on walls or tripped on irregularities in the floors. She was going to be left with bruises just from trying to walk back to bed. And stains on her dress.
This area of the castle must be isolated from the rest; she didn’t encounter any droids for a good hour, and then ones that only clacked at her in a dialect she couldn’t recognize. Probably laughing, she thought sullenly.
Of course this was meant to be humiliating. Maybe overpowering. Well, she refused to be either humiliated or overpowered, much less both, but—she didn’t have to like wandering around an unfamiliar fortress in endless darkness, either. By the time two hours passed, she was starting to feel a trickle of alarm about ever finding her way back. She no longer trusted her memory at all, or her sense of direction, or the Force.
It would be easy to reach for it, whatever he said. Just for a moment, for a little thing.
Lucy set her jaw, laid her palm against the wall, and wandered on. Soon, she could hear noises in the distance, mostly mechanical. But when she turned another corner, she made out a clear, familiar voice.
“Don’t be overconfident. There must be no—what are you doing here?”
“Ellex!” Lucy exclaimed. She’d never thought she’d be glad to hear her. “I’m lost.”
“Suspicious,” said Ellex. “Where is Lord Vader?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said, her voice rising shrilly. “He told me to leave and I did! But I can’t figure out how to get back to my room.”
“Why didn’t he have one of us escort you?” Ellex demanded.
“You’ll have to ask him,” said Lucy. “Can you tell me which way to go from here?”
Ellex gave a grating clank that Lucy couldn’t help but interpret as menacing.
“I doubt it would help you,” she said. “ZT-47, stay here and stand guard. Skywalker, come with me.”
Gladly, for once, Lucy followed after Ellex, too tired and confused to ask further questions. The path swerved in more directions than she could keep track of, but before long, Ellex came to a screeching halt.
“This is your chamber,” she announced, and the door whooshed open.
Lucy had hardly taken a step forward when she heard more clattering machinery, and then another voice.
“Oh, Miss Lucy! I’ve been so worried!”
“It’s all right,” said Lucy, more relieved than she wanted to be. “I was just lost.”
“I’m supposed to watch over you at all times,” Tuvié said, with what passed for sternness with her. “The Maker said so. He—”
“Lord Vader can change his mind if he wishes,” Ellex told her. “But you’d better take charge of the girl before she turns nonoperational, or you really will be in trouble.”
“Oh! Yes! Yes, of course!”
A considerably more welcome hand touched Lucy’s arm.
“You must be tired, poor thing. Come this way, Miss Lucy.”
Lucy didn’t see any point in repelling her.
“Thanks, Ellex,” she said, receiving only a clank in return, and followed the little nudges of Tuvié’s hand until she reached the bed. She didn’t even resist when Tuvié whisked her out of her robe and gown, tsking over the dust and dirt on it, took her through another door to a fresher, and then pulled a nightdress of some kind over her head.
“I don’t know what Lord Vader was thinking,” she said.
“I’ve got a few questions, myself,” said Lucy.
“I suppose it’s all over now, and you’re safe and sound! That’s what really matters, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” Lucy said.
“Are you ready to … ah, I always—that’s it, sleep? You needn’t worry about further mishaps. I will remain on full alert at all hours and prevent any inconvenience until you are fully operational again!”
“Um, thanks, but I’m going to stay awake for a little bit,” said Lucy.
She did her best to meditate again, struggling against the waves of the Dark Side, and her own weary frustration. I must be passive, she told herself. Calm.
Passivity here seemed inexpressibly dangerous. But Lucy did her best to settle into a mood of quiet acceptance, letting her thoughts come and go, pushing away anger and resentment. She didn’t know how long it took before she caught a familiar trace in the Force around her, a tiny chink in the Dark Side. She couldn’t seem to grasp it, but it was something. She wasn’t completely beyond the reach of hope here.
Lucy opened her eyes, unseeing as ever.
Automatically, she said, “Goodnight, Tuvié.”
Tuvié gave a startled little click.
“Well—goodnight, Miss Lucy.”
-
That night, Lucy dreamed she was in the desert city again. This time, she hurried past the stalls, prodded by a formless urgency.
“Hello?” she called out. “Hello!”
Everybody continued about their business as if she weren’t there. Or as if it were a Holonet recording, every piece of it running along prescribed paths. Curious, she stopped long enough to pick up a fruit from a nearby stand; the seller didn’t respond, and the fruit disappeared from her hand.
Again, a mingled sense of loss and unreality descended on her. She turned around, breezes catching in her skirts and hair.
“What’s going on?” she asked, and heard nothing but the wind in reply.
Lucy kept walking, following the same path as before. And just as before, her gaze landed on a man in dark robes, turned away from her and evidently listening to something. Yes, the red sash was the same. He seemed an odd figure, ill-fitting in a way she couldn’t identify.
He didn’t move, perhaps not given the sort of limited paths that the others seemed to be on, perhaps even more absent than the rest. Yet she felt a presence there, decided and curious.
“Um,” Lucy said, “pardon me?”
The man inclined his head a little, without turning around. “Do you need to be pardoned?”
She thought of turning her father’s lightsaber over to Darth Vader, of leaving Yoda for Han and Leia and the Rebellion for Yoda, of those she’d seen die and those who lived on.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I think I’m supposed to meet with you.”
“And who are you?” said the man.
Lucy looked around, as if the city would supply the answer, but it was gone. All that remained was a stretch of desert with crumbled rocks here and there, and a small oasis that the man sat by. His voice seemed to echo around and around: who are you? who are you? who are you?
“I—”
Even in her dream, she felt a wave of exhaustion. Without a word of warning, the desert and the man disappeared, and she could see only shifting darkness all around her.
Who are you?
-
The next few days followed a similar pattern. Each morning, Lucy woke up, used the fresher, and stood quietly by while Tuvié draped her in Padmé Amidala’s clothes and brushed her hair into a braid. Then they explored more of the castle, which must be truly vast. Lucy ate portions of lavish meals—she wasn’t sure if those came from some command of Vader’s, or the cooks’ desire to show off their skills, but they were always delicious. She never encountered Vader himself until evening, when he always sent for her. But he only lectured her about the need to turn to the Dark Side, dismissed her irritable replies, and sent her away. At first, she wandered until some droid or another gave her direction, or summoned Tuvié. But Tuvié was so dismayed by these misadventures that she insisted on Lucy waiting until she fetched her.
The whole situation struck Lucy as so strange and inexplicable that she hardly knew what to think. She couldn’t imagine that it would continue like this indefinitely, yet everyone seemed to behave as though it would. There must be some explanation, some purpose she couldn’t yet perceive. But despite her better instincts, her fears began to subside as she accustomed herself to her bizarre imprisonment.
Perhaps that had something to do with the Force. She still couldn’t touch the weak flickers of the Light Side, but she felt its presence more and more distinctly. With it came more dreams of the desert city and the robed man—strangely tiring dreams. They always woke her up or shifted into more ordinary dreams before long.
On the fourth night, she reached the man in time to hear his voice again.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy. “There’s something I’m supposed to be doing, but I don’t know what it is. What are you looking for?”
“Nothing,” he said, with a quick laugh. “I’m quite at peace.”
He wasn’t lying, Lucy decided. There was an easiness about him, a serenity. Ben had felt more contained than really peaceful.
Then, for the first time, the man turned to look at her. Or rather, to face her, because his eyes were pale and milky, and fixed on a point to the right of her.
“You’re blind,” she said, “like me.”
The city was almost swaying around her.
“Not like you,” said the man comfortably.
She tried to understand. Despite the difference from Ben and Yoda, he did remind her of them in some amorphous way.
“Well, are you a Jedi like me?” asked Lucy. Then her lips thinned. “Not that I’m a true Jedi.”
The city had faded to an oasis again, the man sitting on roughly-hewn bench. He patted a space beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, Lucy clambered up onto the bench.
“Neither of us are true Jedi,” said the man. “But we are as near as anyone comes in these times. The Force is with us both, and you are a storm. Even I did not hope—but who are you? Why did you call me?”
“I didn’t,” Lucy told him, swinging her legs a little. “I don’t know who you are. I’m Lucy Skywalker, though.”
Unexpectedly, the man tensed, his eyes flying wide. “Starkiller!”
“No, Skyw—”
With no further warning, he relaxed again. “Now I understand.”
“Well, I don’t,” said Lucy.
He smiled again, and was gone.
-
The next day, as Lucy and Tuvié left the bedchamber, Tuvié took up her usual prattle at full speed.
“—and then M-72b said that the Maker would have me disintegrated, but he didn’t—obviously—and actually said I’d followed the correct course of action. Of course I did, but it was very nice to hear it from the Maker himself, and M-72b hardly knew where to look.”
Lucy, who was growing acquainted with the assorted droid dramas that permeated the castle, nodded.
“And the Maker—”
“Yes?” said Lucy.
Uncharacteristically, Tuvié said nothing at all. Lucy left her to process as she would, wondering what form Vader’s ineffectual demands that she turn to the Dark Side would take today. Maybe it’d be worse than usual? Or maybe better. He’d yet to threaten her—which, well, she might have done in his position, as much as she could imagine being in his position, but—
“Miss Lucy?”
Tuvié actually sounded nervous.
“Yes?” Lucy said again.
“How would you say it?”
This came so far out of nowhere that Lucy halted, her brows drawing together.
“How would I say what?”
“Maker,” said Tuvié.
“I’d say Maker,” Lucy said blankly. Then her frown deepened. “Oh, you mean in Alsaraic?”
“The mystery language,” Tuvié replied. “Is that what it’s called?”
Lucy abruptly felt very uncomfortable. One word didn’t seem very important, but … she didn’t know.
“Yes,” she said.
“And Maker—”
“It doesn’t really translate.”
“Oh,” said Tuvié, plainly disappointed.
For several more minutes, they walked in silence. Then Tuvié said,
“It’s interesting that there is no way to refer to the person who made you. It seems like it would make some interactions quite complex. How did one of your people address the person who made them?”
“Valiya,” said Lucy, without thinking. She bit her lip. But it couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Valiya,” Tuvié repeated. “So the Maker is Valiya Vader. Is that correct?”
Lucy couldn’t help laughing.
“No, it’s—well, it’d be strange, because it’s more like … mother,” she said. Alsaraic hadn’t developed with droids in mind, though she wasn’t about to say so. “And it doesn’t have to just be the one who, um, made you. My aunt called my grandmother valiya even though Aunt Beru was only the fiancée of Grandmother’s husband’s son.”
“And this … aunt of yours was your valiya?” said Tuvié.
Lucy thought about it.
“No,” she said at last. “I loved her, but I wasn’t brought up to think of them that way, and I never called them that. My valì and valiya are dead.”
Tuvié managed to imbue her answering whirr with sympathy.
“Now I understand,” she said. “You would say Valiya Amidala.”
Lucy blinked. “No. She’s my namesake, but I never knew her.”
“That is very probable,” said Tuvié. “Senator Amidala’s date of termination would have occurred very shortly after your period of functionality began, and humanoid memory banks do not usually develop until a significant amount of time and development has taken place.”
“That’s right,” Lucy said.
Tuvié clicked. “Unless I am misunderstanding you, however, it is the appropriate term for her.”
Puzzled, Lucy asked, “Why?”
“Well,” Tuvié said, “she was your Maker.”