The Jedi of Clan Skywalker, chapter six

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Published: November 18, 2015

         Laughing at the way the rest of the trip to D’hara in the Yxon star cluster, beside the lefternmost sector of the galaxy, was not an easy thing to accomplish, because in order to tell the ship’s computer that the planet called Yoda Prime actually existed, she kept having to program in adjacent star clusters and systems, which were not there at all, but assuring herself that once she found the fabled city of D’hara, with her would be follows, riding out her jump scar through space, she thought that he might be there, this Yoda character, but knew that he was not, because to become a star, as he had done, he would have needed to age another billion years within his own mind, and she knew well that Yoda had favored quiet or busy meditation throughout his life, and in death, it seemed, he had sped this progression by a thousand fold, so that when she thought of the creature all jedi called Master, at one time or another, the shape of the world began to for in her mind’s eyes, and she was able to adjust the ship’s core directories, allowing it to believe that whilst it was still engaged in auto pilot, there were a number of traversial compensations to be programmed in, so that the shipped learned that all user override commands overrode nothing, but merely supplemented the existed programming, and this was done simply by mimicking the machine’s thought patterns while she used the controls, changing the parameters by using telekinesis to move levers and buttons otherwise out of reach, so that the ship believed it was in control of it’s entire faculty, ignoring, as per her latest programming scene, that the ship could have more than one pilot, because it was easy enough for the life support systems above the ship to read out that only she was alive on there, and so if any other cell form was guarding the ship’s infinite prognosis to limited client interface, it would be able to then, surreptitiously, influence the minds of any droids who might be programming the flight controls, just as she had told it to do, so that it believed that all internal modifications to the programming and flightpath interface were used in a fashion that appeared internal, changing the machine’s cord structures and livewire input protocols and algorithms so that the last destination recorded was nowhere near the starbase she’d fled from and been tagged by the senate’s republican troops, and in fact the destination of the ship’s flight to the starbase in the first place was no longer recognize, because Ara had gone about reprogramming so many standardized instances of computer code, and warping and modifying earlier transcripts, that the ship was no longer the same mechanism at all, and was classed by the republic’s open user archive database as a research vessel, based on the amount of information she was able to streamline into their mainframe, allowing complete control over certain sectors which had been otherwise classed as unexplored, because quite easily enough could she confuse the ship’s computer programming into another form, by making it believe that Yoda Prime’s solar system lay in the midst of a well known star cluster that had otherwise been unmapped, do to aeriogeological changes in the apparent atmosphere of certain starlight radiances, and so she could be sure to reprogram it to believe one system was in a different place, and open the input of the original system findings as a completely different sector, thereby remapping the better part of the system database, and supplementing the currently existing story archives for different races and people by inputting high resonance to systemic readings from the past record of the Dagoba system, which was a corrupting data file, executing several parameters to blot out and exorcise surrounding systems, because Yoda, the jedi, had spent tireless centuries in meditation bringing Dagoba, in concept, so far out of the range of planets it had previously been associate with, that the programs in the republic databases had gone to the point of believing the Dagoba system to be a bermutan triangle, of sorts, escalated by the establishment of a triangle algorithm used by Luke, Data and the Force.
         Data was the key ingredient here, and yet she could not find his like anywhere on the system but within the Dagoba algorithms, and she had come to understand that it was an android sentient mechanism and an extraphysical counterpart to Yoda’s connection with the force, in allowing higher sentience and input resonance, through allowing certain fields and subset modifications to star system overrides that showed the Dagoba system as a sickening vocal point for deathmaked conduits, allowing perfect resonance, and the attempted path modulation of a black green bisector unit, accompanied by theusiastic particular parallels of green and white shaped origin, allowing certain exhaust manifolds to allow high caliber integration with the soul caliber of the last known high point mechanism.
         The use of soul caliber mechanics were not strange to Ara, or as she was thinking of being, Para, who wondered why she could be here, and there, on the other planet, at the same time, because she knew that she was Ara still, and that the ship recognized her as such, but she was imagining Yoda Prime so often, that her own concepts and adaptability protocols were being reinstigated and activated, allowing a complete changeabout in identity recognition for droids as well as other multiforce sensitive organisms, like the Jedi and Sith were trained to be.
         Looking at the rest of the opposing mechanisms, Ara began to program in several different output lingos, using the particularly mechanical overriding and cunning language of a race of machines that had since destroyed intual referencing to their species name and subculture, finding that to blend in with the already widely diverse and existing droid lifeforms gave them greater influence into modifying the technical mechanics of certain user interfaces and high profile understandings therein.
         Several times during her program stasis, Geth outlook inhibitors were attempting to override the supplemental use of Dagoba protocols in her supposed research, running black red bisector algorithms in much of her work, which infuriated her, and caused her to shift focus into inhibiting mainstream mechanism dangers, such as the central planets, by inputting rapidly so many mechanics recovered by this Geth interference, that they had to turn their attention to the main core of star maps to avoid cellular counter existicanical override initiatives, and while such programs were then under way, they did not realize quickly enougg that it was their defensive protocols she was using to destroy starmap data and information, and it was their defensive protocols which had been designed to root out Dagobic interface protocols, and so the computer’s mechanisms, given the added effort by the mistaken Geth itendities, recognized more and more of Dagoba’s out reliance settings and parameters, and so it believed that the once central sector of these star clusters and galaxy conduits were outlying substructures and superesonances, giving her more freedom to inhibit Dagobic firing lines that would centralize Yoda Prime and its accompanying star systems.
         Because the computer’s mechanisms were learning so quickly that Yoda Prime was a central planet in the galaxy, all past associative resonances programmed in by Darth Vader to set in Tatooine as a central, core planet, were being re instigated, and Darth Vader, she could tell by reading the starmap user protocols, had only used this as a means for the computers to attempt to further isolate Tatooine’s star records. He had hidden Tatooine, and subsequently, his son, Luke, by attempting a protocol override into the ships’ databases that looked like a gambit interference surface and subcurrent protocols, in lieu of an actual sentient programming, and so Tatooine was reprogrammed immediately as even less associated with other star systems than it had before, Vader having tricked them into thinking that Tatooine’s computer algorithms were moving it into star clusters it had never previously been associated, and so it used existing Dagobic protocols to seal away desert database records for the subterrestrial wasteland, which is how the computer now recognized it, or, rather, did not recognize it at all, because the programming to attempt to centralize Tatooine as an empire stronghold was so subversive and yet over, so stupidly, foolishly, blindly done, that the complete opposite effect had been triggered by the starmaps’ defense and logical interfaces within the superesonant biological program interfaces and then some, after.
         When she closed in on the Yodyn system, she immediately recognized a number of earlier regontition protocols that she’d been using for the programming earlier, which were forming as associating star paths, thus linking up Yoda Prime with a series of other planets that would later be very strongly resonated to such a high degree, that they would all exist in the Yodyn system, with Yoda Prime as the central star partition, allowing outlying planets to be input as Yodyk subsequences.
         The most geographically volatile of which such planets she called Yoda Yx, pronounced “Ehks” for it resonated so closely with Yoda Prime, as she had allowed it to recognize, that the two subworlds were quickly associating on so many resonant fields that they would later be the central governing points of several hundred star clusters throughout the galaxy, and Ara knew that this was what Ara had always dreamed to accomplished, for when she looked upon her world, here, now, she believed herself to be Yoda, and not Ara, because Ara was in the process of being disassociated from her external conscious protocols, and her mind and body were adapting quite rapidly to life on Yoda’s star planets, so that she felt a closer associations with certain peoples, namely the old world demigod called Master Yoda, and she realized that this was what Yoda Prime was called to, labeled Prime to avoid association with any empire protocols or slavic associations with the user concept of Master, recognizing the kanjiku formation of yet another programming superstructure resonance squad, and so she wondered to herself in a different sort of poetry, and eventually was so ingrained in the mindset of Master Yoda, that she felt her body beginning to shrink, and so she reassociated herself, through meditation protocols, with the humanyc element of sentient society, and not the elflike proficiencies of Yoda’s master race, which was a reality and identity he himself had created, and so she attacher certain psychic focuses on Luke, through Yoda, and returned to her outer human proclivities that allowed her to disassociate with Ara completely, for Ara had become associated highly with Yoda, and when she allowed herself to establish a background, she recognized the need for Luke, earlier, in his coded message from the great beyond, or wherever in the Forcic universe her great grandfather was, to mention Tatooine to her, because as she became Para, which was a psychically programmed version of she herself, Ara that is, she realized that Para had been born and raised on Tatooine, and so she knew that as she began to see Vader’s memories, they were sub associating with Luke’s childhood there as well, and so it was easy for her to meditate on and establish a realistic working knowledge of what she was about to become, before she arrived on Yoda Prime and sought out the jungle city of D’hara.
         She felt clumsy, for a while, because she was starting to forget so much about herself that she realized there was a great deal more dangerous people in D’hara than she had previously thought there was, and so she made sure to allow the mental transition to Para to come more easily, relying on technique in combat training derived from scrapping with power structures, as kids in outerworld planets often did, rather than the refined, precise movements of a jedi knight, which is what she had become the moment the assassins had boarded her, Ara’s, ship.
         The ship was different by the time she landed outside the city proper, because on her flightpath to the planet and its system, she had driven the ship through several repurposing chemical resonances, damaging certain superficial extremeties on the ship’s outer wards, and superheating and thus changing and tarnishing the alloy in so many places that the ship looked much more well-worn and easier to fly than it had before, and it was, so she knew then, what the cliché had always meant, when they said that old tech was better than new tech, because only in establishing proper sentience algorithms with highly formed droidic and other psychomechanical beings, that allowed an intuitive function of technology and programming, so that bran new devices, like computer chips sold in the markets on Coruscant, had to be well broken into before they began adapting to older thought form protocols that allowed more intuitive functioning.
         Nothing in the ship’s database recognized it as Seth’s old clipper, for the computer had become so much more advanced since she’d begun tampering with it, that it itself had a druidic consciousness, in part, and so all old algorithms and association patterns used in the old ship, which was new tech, were completely obsolete and unrecognizable, in all their present forms.
         In short, she’d turned the ship and its computer into an old world interface, by aging it four or five thousand years with the work she’d done on it, and so its value was exponentially higher, and its sheen perfectly dulled, for the interface to fly it would be so close to impossible for anyone but her and her older brother at this early a time, because she had used such advanced language exterminal protocols, and so it thought one way, while most pilots who did not know it would think in another, and so not be able to properly control the ship’s interface, for it maintained, as a defense mechanism, and outer shell of proclivities that allowed the ship’s computer to appear simplistic and external, rather than highly fragmented and particalized, so that anyone using it could never understand why the simplistic commands given to the ship’s onboard computer could not be properly initiated without automatic and resounding counterresonances; the ship believing it could pilot itself much better than you could.
         Likely more harm than good could have been done within and without if Jenna hadn’t told her all these things about a million and a half times, but Jenna wasn’t old enough to be traveling, like she was, so it wasn’t. . .
         Para didn’t know that piece of Jenna’s life, actually, and that made Ara a bit sick; to know something about a person, and that they were being hurt by someone you both knew, and yet to not see it happening well enough to be brave and resourceful about it.
         The life she’d been imagining, for this girl, Jenna, hadn’t at all been what she’d thought at first, and she was considering changing her only angle, until she realized, that she was Jenna, and had lived that life, and seen the kind of pain one felt living as a slave with people like the ones she knew near the dune desrts, where scarcely a deepweed grew.
         It had been her, Para, Jenna’s dearest friend, who’d died, when the slavers came and took her mother and father away from her, but she hadn’t had a mother and father, really, just other escaped slaves, who were fools enough to believe in the tracking chips the slavers all said they had implanted in them. Jenna hadn’t informed on them, but Para’s mother never knew what a fool she’ been, for thinking that all the world needed was citizens like her, remaining dedicated to what little law there was, so that when the Hutts got involved, and Jenna’s brother, who she called father, was killed right in front of her, Jenna had panicked, and run for the hills, where the old knight was said to live, ignoring old warnings that she’d be blown up from the inside out if they activated her slave implant.
         He hadn’t been there; the old knight, called Ben, who’d run off with the Skywalker boy so many years ago, but someone else was there, waiting for her, and he needed no rifle or mount to frighten her, because he was a Tuskan raider, and she was an escaped convict, who’d killed Jenna’s mother. . . her mother. . . no, she meant, her, Para’s mother, who had turned in Jenna’s family, and Para, who was once called Jenna, had killed her for it, on her way out here, but she wasn’t Jenna, when she did it, but Para. Para the girl from the hills of Alderaan, as she always said, but Jenna had always known that was a lie, though she hadn’t known where Para really came from. Not coruscant, like she sometimes joked. Jenna, or, Para, rather, doubted that Coruscant was even a real place, Why would you ever live in so many buildings crowded together if the only place you had to go to all day was another dreary building?
         Jenna hadn’t ever really been good at imagining things like that, but Para had, and so when  Para died, and Jenna took her name, as an older girl, and a daughter of the prince of sand.
         Ara’s barriers broke down and her own mind flooded back into herself, charging her with lifeblood and stopping her breath, as she felt the overwhelming current of darkness, and evil, and knew that the prince of tatooine was a creature unlike she’d ever faced before, and she wondered just what in the hell that man with the homicidal lazersword had thought he was, naming himself Sith?
         Jenna, or the story of her life, matched Ara’s personality to an x, in one form or another, for she understood hardship through the inner, and had been with the Force for countless ages, in one form or another. She wondered what sort of like the young Anakin Skywalker had lived, before he came to be born on Tatooine, just like Jenna had, and she wondered if slavery still worked the way it had, back then, here on the desert hills.
         She checked the ship’s readout of a diagnostic it was running on itself, and disabled the display, manipulating the units in a dozen and a half places, to make sure the ship knew that it wasn’t supposed to try and explain itself when coming across things it didn’t understand, and only to ask for help when it needed better comprehension of an abnormality or an improvement of existing functionality.
         Jenna hadn’t been cruel ever in her life before she met Para, and yet Para could be evil when she wanted, and somehow, she did not show it often to Jenna, which is who Ara was actually becoming, and she laughed to think about how much easier it would be to allay suspicions as to her true beginnings, by layering the lies, and telling them with her uncomfortable silences that she was never royalty, or anything of the sort, but a slave, out in the desert hills, and she’d taken a dead friend’s name to use and escape with.
         “What is your name. . . prince?” she asked in a low, deadly whisper, spitting venom in the word prince, as she thought of the evil spectre that sought to haunt her imagination, therein.
         Darkness. . . hatred. . . leave her be. . . she’s mine, now. . . take what you can, silly girl. . . leave the rest to die in the sun. . . she’s old enough for what I’ve got in mind for her. . . as if they’d have taken long about it. . . prince of sand?!
         He was furious about that title, and Jenna had thought never to use it again, like Para always had, but Jenna didn’t fear the self-styled prince on Tatooine, who had taken over some years after the death of Jabba the Hutt.
         Jabba had been cruel, but impossible to deal with on a face to face level, if you were bothered by the sight of over-gregarity. The Hutts did not all look as Jabba had looked, and they had thought him immortal, for he had killed the Marshen line well over a thousand spins before he’d established himself as Kingpin, near Mos, in a palace of his own. He’d been strangle with a slaver’s chain, of all things, and Para, Ara, or Diana, as she thought to use the prettier name, one day, realized just how powerful her great great grandmother, Princess Leia, had become, just in that moment.
         “To kill a Hutt,” she could hear Ben’s voice in her mind, as she often did, when Luke was powerful with the Force in his own way, and she felt her connection to it in her own, as in when he had gone to train with Yoda, on Dagoba so many years ago. “To kill a Hutt,” he’d said to her, a thousand times while she slept, “you’ll need your lightsaber, young princess. No, no, not at all the one you’ll carry on your hip one day, Diana, but the one in your heart of hearts. The blade from whence the light first came. In the glow of the light from a real lightsabre nightblinds your foes, shrowded in darkness, and. . .”
         She was blocking it out. Ben’s voice, and she knew she’d have to come back to an understanding of her great grandmother soon, but she couldn’t afford such thoughts, just now, for she wished so badly to be back with her brother, whom she’d hoped to be traveling with, that she had to learn better to forget just what being a jedi knight was really like.
         “You’re my master, you know, great great grandmother,” her great grandmother, Leia had often said to her.
         “I’ve mastered nothing. Do not bore me with your idle fantasies, child,” Ara had mused, smiling a child’s smile, and an ancient poet’s writhe.
         “Oh, but it’s true, great great grandmother!” her aunt Leia would say. “See? I’ve gotten much older, and you have not. How long do you think it’s been since we were children together, just now, Leia?”
         “My name isn’t Diana, fool girl, so quit your prattling and let me mind my alphabets before I get too tired to even spell you,” Ara would say. She was Para, then, and that made her laugh, for she liked very much the mocking tone her voice would take when she’d spoken to her best friend, Leia, as a toddler, back home. Para should be something of the bossy sort, she reasoned, and she would be very mocking about it, trying the whole while to get you to realize that you were no one’s slave, and that you should never do anything that you didn’t already want to do for yourself, or for others you cared for, or to those you cared against.
         Her scans didn’t report any buzz of sky monitors with sufficient aptitude to pick up her ship, as it dropped lower into Yoda Prime’s atmosphere. She’d been so contrived in her thoughts, she’d very methodically gone about making the flight adjustments to the ship’s computer that she’d had to pretend she wasn’t doing anything but thinking, and so she let her instincts guide her hands, while her family showed her dreams she often felt while awake; especially on the eve of something extraordinary happening.
         Para would become what she was because she had despised Mos Eisley, and the region that surrounded it on Tatooine, and she. . . “Stars above be damned. . . this is incredible!”
         She could see, now, outside the ship, vast miles of hundreds of thousands of trees and plants of a million different smells and thrums. The jungle thrilled her, and awakened something deep within, and she knew, now, why her brother had been so eager to leave the temple, once he knew their great grandfather would not be coming back.
         “My dreams can scarcely begin to imagine a place like this,” she marveled, wanting very much to find D’hara here, in this myopathy of lifecurrents. She wasn’t sure what myopathy meant, just there, when she’d used it, but she’d picked up a dozen hundred strange sounding words from Diana, back when she was Para, or. . . from Para, back when she was. . .
         Ara made a face and paused her other thoughts, for a moment. Diana wasn’t a name she was overly familiar with, but she realized that is would be a name she could use often, in the future, at some point, and sounded like a name that could be used in the old courts of Alderaan, before it disappeared into the space around it.
         Alderaan wasn’t mythological anymore. It had popped up all over the galaxy, with a million too many places being redubbed Alderaan by the nitwit rebels who though themselves imperialists, now, following the death of the old world emperor, Chancellor Palpetine.
         Darth Sidious was no name for his, and he was a fool of a creature to never know how beneath Darth Vader he was, when he used that name. He’d always called Anakin Darth, when they were alone, together, when Anakin would come and visit him during his years as a jedi padawan.
         “I don’t know why they call you padawan, Darth,” the chancellor would often say to him. “When I look at you, you seem to be ancient. Worth a thousand more jedi twice your age, so why should they call you young, like you have much to learn, when you and I could teach them a thing or two about what real diplomacy looks like?”
         They had called him padawan, quite often, and Obi-Wan had never ceased, for he knew the meaning of the name. Padawan was almost exclusively used for children who were more powerful in the ways of the force than you were, and so you called them padawan, which meant little and ancient, in the old tongue of the ancient jedi, long since passed.
         Masters often found themselves training a jedi who was, in essence, the true master, and only could teach to a jedi initiate he trained under by believing himself to be a subordinate, and only be being the best pupil he could be, would he teach his so called master the ways of the Force, so that he may grow wise enough, one day, and learn to live till he was young, instead of dying when he got old, and fancied himself a jedi master.
         “Are you even a real jedi?” her brother’s girlfriend had mocked him, once, before he’d broken up with her, on a planet she couldn’t remember the name of, just then. It wasn’t Anakin, the youngest of the four boys her mother and father had, but Hans, the oldest, which is to say, the youngest, for he fancied acting like an old fellow who was quite enamored with himself.
         He didn’t hear her right, and gave her his attention. “Pardon?”
         “Are you even a real jedi yet? I thought you were only a jedi in training. They’ve not given you your lightsaber yet. You won’t be a real jedi until you get one.  You could just take it, you know. No one could stop you, given what you know. I think you’re plenty experienced enough in the Force to be named jedi for real this time.”
         Hans couldn’t even fathom how he’d spent this much time around such a stupid and manipulative girl. Woman, rather. He looked at her oddly, and before he could think of how to reply, Adrian, his secret boyfriend, had said, “did you fancy him a Sithlord, or some such nonsense, maiden? He is a real jedi in training, because in training is all a jedi could ever be. That’s what I means; a student. There are no such things as jedi masters, in that sense, because the greatest and most powerful jedi are simply those who know how to keep themselves young in their minds, so that they may continue to learn the ways of the Force, which are never ending.”
         “The Sith use the title of Sith warriors and inquisitors as though it were something you could achieve, and they will give you a cursed weapon for it, to demean you into thinking you could not build your own, for the lords of the Sith guard their secrets jealously, as they always have. The worst stage in the history of our order, and the reason the republic fell to the Sith, was when the jedi, by and large, believed as you do, now, or just then, that a jedi could reach a point of ultimate enlightenment, when they would cease to have to learn anything new. The Sith were and are slaves to their own ambitions, emotions and bitter rivalries, and the corrupted jedi before the fall of the old republic were slaves to the petty whims of politicians, which was utter madness. They’d become mercenaries, and so none of the true jedi, who had always been eager students of life, like the great master Yoda, and his son, Kenobi, did all they could to fight against the evil in their very order, simply by doing what they, as jedi who saw the ways of the Force as only each of them could, knew always was right, because they trusted themselves to be well intentioned and wise with the Force.”
         Ara hadn’t known that’s why she’d despised this particular girlfriend of Hans’s until just that moment, when she realized the woman really had fancied him a Sithlord, in one form or another, because that’s what she thought being a jedi meant. It was in fact, the opposite of what the Skywalker clan had worked so furiously to need the end of; a jedi council that was anything more than a circle of your trusted friends, who answered to no one but themselves, but who sought the wisdom of others’ perspectives, too.
         Ara had never met the woman, in person, for Hans had always gone offworld to meet with her, in secret, she always told him, for she believed, like many did, that jedi were forbidden to take a wife or husband, or to fall in love at all.
         Hans, however, had thought of his baby sister Ara so often while he was around this woman, that he knew he could draw strength from her, for when he was weakened by the way that she was, he could think of what Ara might say to her, and say it then, just as Adrian had spoken, only it was Anakin who had spoken through Adrian just then, and not Ara, presently.
         Ara was the one all the others could understand well enough to know that she could be a great initiate to the force, one day, but that was only because she could use it in very obviously powerful way, while the workings of her eldest brother, and so the youngest, Anakin, were so quiet and worthwhile, that you never knew who to thank for your misfortune or fruitility until a thousand year after, when you recognized the wisdom in what he’d said or done to or for you.
         Ara’d had to lose something of herself, then, or risk growing old too fast, for she was a toddler at the time, but her mind was growing rapidly along the old, well worn thought patterns she often had of the Force and its ways. She had been losing touch with Anakin, who could not love the people he was around in a way that made him happy, for it pained him, and so Ara had changed herself, and put something of her understanding of the Force to rest, so she could be as a toddler again, and bond with Ani, and learn from the other jedi what she, as a child, could most properly do.
         Hans didn’t realized until a year after that vile woman was dead and gone how heavily he’d relied on Ara’s assistance, but he knew, too, that he’d always been with her simply to fight against her, for she was dangerous, and if she’d taken one of the young ones for her jedi trist, like she’d wanted, rather than a trueborn Skywalker, who, even as inexperienced as he was compared to his youngest brother and sister, well qualified to combat such a kiniving mindset.
         She’d lost nearly all her power, as it turned out, after she lain with Anakin, while he still looked like a child just some few year older than a toddler, and she’d thought his apparent fascination with her was true and good reason to take him to her bed, so that she could raise him up to be the sort of jedi she wanted him to be, and make him think that she was wise and wonderful to have had a woman like her to guide him in the ways of thinking and making love.
         He’d fucked her; that was for sure. She’d had no idea what was going on during it, and Anakin had been sick for days after, not from her, but from Hans, who’d grown quite ill during his time with that woman, for she drained his energies whenever he was around her, and was especially exhausting whenever they had sex, for how she made him feel in bed with her.
         Ara hadn’t really known why Hans had thought twice that Anakin would be old enough to lay with a woman like that, when Anakin could be a thousand years older from one day to the next, simply because of all the lifetimes he could live just by thinking about them.
         In truth, he’d been Luke, when he’d laid with Teia, which is the nukename she’d chosen for herself, to mess with Hans’s mind. Luke was quite adept at undermining kiniving women, and young Anakin had always been able to act just as Luke would act in a situation, whenever he’d needed to. Anakin despised that woman with asll his will, so he could not be himself, the boy, when he approached her, and so he’d taken on the propensities of what the great grandson of the jedi master Luke might have been, in differing circumstances.
         Luke and Leia, far back into their past, had only had one child together, by Ara’s knowing of it, and he was born after her children by Han Solo, who Ara wished she knew of well enough to think on.
         She wondered who then, Ara did, Luke always was when he was so wily with wicked ladies, and if it might be Han, but he could not have been the way he was, were that true.
         Ara started laughing, then,  and couldn’t stop, when she had a vision of Luke as a young man, beside his recent friend Han Solo, on the fabled millennium falcon, in which she now sat, while Luke pretended to be jealous and protective over the mysterious princess in R2-D2’s holorecording, as though to dare him to pursue Leia’s affections.. He’d been doing just that, because he knew that a man, who truly was a boy, like Han was, was exactly what his baby sister would need, just when she was overcoming her time among the rebels, where she was treated as a queen, much like her late mother had always been spared, and so a man like Han who could tease her and humble her, in a way Luke would not have been able to do, at that time, was the perfect remedy for her illness she had contracted, spending time among the petty politicians and power pushers among the rebel forces.
         “Silence your fool mouth, rebel scum!” Leia had barked once, in Ara’s presence, and she’d sounded exactly like her father when she’d said it, knowing that the young pupil she’d had with her was not long for turning to the dark side, should he continue his petty power plays for recognition. To rebel against anything other than the will of an oppressor was foolish and selfsish, and always raised her and Vader’s ire, when they spoke to politicians either from the imperialists or the republicans, which were simply two false smiles to the same fool’s ugly face.
         Darth had been a name Anakn Skywalker had used throughout his life, when he did not want you to know who he was, for whenever he said, “I cam called Dath,” or, “My name is not Anakin, it is Darth,” he would think, as he said the word Darth, which mean nothing’ I am not here. You do not know me. I have never been here. You know not my name. I am not here, you know of me nothing. I am no wraith in the night, and you know not my name. I am not here, and I am no fool. You are no fool, and you know not I. Were I ever fool, a you could befool, I’d call you Darth too, and that would mean nothing.
         Anakin, when you said it, meant warrior of light, wchi was to say, the only thing a true warrior, who seeks truth, as jedi do, could have been. Skywalker helped drive that meaning home, when you forgot from whence Anakin Skywalker had come and would go, and thought  he’d come from a desert and not from starlight itself.
         Vader meant something else entirely, and so when he used it after Darth, it was the most powerful spell in the universe, for a tme, for when he said Darth, you forgot everything he was, just then, and by the time he said Vader, you were quaking in your feet, or choking at the neck, as he was fond to make fools like you do.
         Vader meant nothing more than changeling, for there was nothing else for it. When he blanked your mind of his concept of you, that is to say, said Darth, with the way that he was, you were fresh, and in your thoughts of him, and so when he said Vader, it could mean whatever he wanted it to mean, right there, in that exact moment, and it was always different, and never the same, for each and every person he came near.
         Obi-Wan had called him Darth, just once, before he’d left this plane of the Force, and that was to tell Anakin that he loved him still, and that he’d shown nothing, for he’d meant nothing by it, for Luke would have known, if Obi-Wan had not been anyone other than Ben, and had said anything other than Darth, for when he use this name, he said; I am not you. I cannot do what you do. He does not need me, he needs you longer still. Say that you’re me, and keep to this plane, give him his order, show him your pain. I am not you, he’s my son and yours, but all of us know, his true dad is Force.
         And so when Obiwan disappeared, right before his eyes, he became a part of the Force that was easier to reach by the mind. Nothing he did there would have made any sense, had he not actually left his plane, and appeared as a ghost of some sort, and so it was not him, who called to Luke, when he needed it most, but Vader.
         Luke would have died, there, lost to his rage, trying to escape after rescuing his sister and watching Ben die like that. It was all he could do not to scream and rip the whole ship apart from the inside out.
         And so it was Anakin Skywalker, and not Vader, who saw his son, standing there, ready to die, who called out to him with unbridled Force, “Run Luke! Run!” And he did, and heard the voice as Obi-wan, for Ben had been the closest thing to a father he’d known of, so when he heard his real father, for he knew Anakin not, it was Ben that he saw and heard.
         She could feel that, Ara could, and there was more to it; a hell of a lot more, and she’d been warned, before, by Anakin, by proxy of him screwing with their cousin’s head, following a series of waking dreams Ralian had had while out smoking with her brothers in the woods. Ralian was wicked smart, but around her brothers could get a little too full of his Force, if that could be understood, so he’d come running up to the house on the hill, near the dojo, raving about a Sith lord he couldn’t stop thinking about, so Anakin had taken a lightsaber to him, not letting up for ten or twelve hours, dueling their way across the temple grounds and well into the groves and hillsides, downing a few good trees that Anakin seemed remarkably unconcerned with.
         Ralian hadn’t ever been so clear in his life, and he couldn’t believe how relentless his younger cousin was with that blade, and it had been the first time Ara had seen him wield their late fathers’ lightsaber like that; like it was his own.
         She supposed Anakin could wield any blade like that, but she liked that he’d always seemed to feel uncomfortable holding the one she possessed, now, though she wondered where he’d gotten himself off to, on that starbase, and hoped the rest of her family were safe, as well.
         One bright side to being smart, was that Ara didn’t have to completely bury herself, like so many mortals did, as she was. . . he breath got sucked from her lungs and she dropped her hilt on the floor.
         The boys looked scared, but brave for the girls. The girls were, frightened, but they could feel the others. All of them. . . connected through the Force, like never in their lives. Why? Why was it like that? Ara had never felt anything like this since she’d arrived, with the others, on Coruscant, to be trained.
         The door opened, and the last person she’d expected to see came in the door. He looked pale, but himself, and cool. . . relaxed. But I was scared still. . .  I couldn’t. . . I couldn’t breathe right. . .
         Coldian knew him better, and he stepped forward. “Master Skywalker?” He had yellow eyes.
         The Sith’s blue blade lit up from its hilt, and Ara woke up on the floor of the ship screaming.

         Jake. . . Hayden. . . please don’t bemoan me this chance to tell you this story. Anakin Skywalker was ever the true jedi, and if you let me, I can prove it to you, here on deviantart.

         Jake. . . Hayden. . . please don’t bemoan me this chance to tell you this story. Anakin Skywalker was ever the true jedi, and if you let me, I can prove it to you, here on deviantart.
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Not that I didn't need to write that last part twice, cuz, I really don't want you to think that's the end of the story, here.
This series is ongoing, because every chapter I write, I post here to my profile on deviantart, BlackrockHeadphones, and I'd get so bored if I didn't throw them up right away to hear you all enjoy them, as I listen in through what I know of you in the Force, that I love how much fun this is going to be, when you bear with me, and read these stories over again, waiting for each new chapter, because every paragraph here tells a thousand versions of a story you already thought you knew.
For Ben and R-2, you're gunna have to wait, aren't you? I stand staunchly proud of the fact that I waited at least four chapters to even throw in a lightsaber fight, so cut me some slack. . .

watch the profile BlackrockHeadphones to get notified of each new chapter as its posted here on deviant art. I write them in a few hours time, so don't get dismayed with how long it might take, and if your excited for the next piece, let me know, weirdo! I'm not alone here on the internet, am I?
-BlackrockHeadphones of deviantart.com
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People Die In Skowhegan people die. In Brooklyn people die. In Altoona and Galesburg and Osawatomie, in Seminole and Shamrock, in Santa Rosa, and Snowflake, and Overton, and Portersville, and Fresno people die. They just drop off of census lists and fall out of phone books forever. Written into diaries and out of wills their lives evaporate into the sky and are inhaled by children playing tag in a neighbor’s driveway. It was in Pico Rivera that you happened to die Jason, just this past weekend in fact, while I vacationed in Ventura and soldiers scrambled for peace through Kuwaiti sands and Good Morning Vietnam finally
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